The Enemy
"What would they be looking for?"
"Anything at all."
"OK," Franz said.
"I’ll see you tomorrow," I said.
I hung up and turned the pages in the army directory all the way from F for Fort Irwin to P for Pentagon. Slid my finger down the subsection to C for Chief of Staff’s Office. I left it there, briefly.
"Vassell and Coomer are at Irwin," I said.
"Why?" Summer said.
"Hiding out," I said. "They think we’re still in Europe. They know Willard is watching the airports. They’re sitting ducks."
"Do we want them?" Summer said. "They didn’t know about Mrs. Kramer. That was clear. They were shocked when you told them, that night in your office. So I guess they authorized the burglary, but not the collateral damage."
I nodded. She was right. They had been surprised, that night in my office. Coomer had gone pale and asked: Was it a burglary? It was a question that came straight from a guilty conscience. That meant Marshall hadn’t told them yet. He had kept the really bad news to himself. He had come back to the D.C. hotel at twenty past three in the morning, and he had told them the briefcase hadn’t been there, but he hadn’t told them what else had gone down. Vassell and Coomer must have been piecing it together on the fly, that night in my office, in the dark and after the event. It must have been an interesting ride home. Harsh words must have been exchanged.
"It’s down to Marshall alone," Summer said. "He panicked, is all."
"Technically it was a conspiracy," I said. "Legally they all share the blame."
"Hard to prosecute."
"That’s JAG Corps’ problem."
"It’s a weak case. Hard to prove."