It was sound advice. Hatcher played to Snyder’s left, constantly jabbing and moving, crowding the left so Snyder couldn’t break it loose. Twice he took good solid shots and shook them off, countering quickly with combinations of his own. He was faster than Snyder and, he quickly knew, smarter. Snyder was a flat-footed fighter, a plodder, stalking his opponent while looking for a shot. Hatcher didn’t give it to him. Then Snyder made a move. He jogged in, threw the right and then brought the left up hard. Hatcher took it on his shoulder and there, right in front of his eyes and wide open, was Snyder’s flat, ugly jaw. Hatcher fired a hard, straight right cross over Snyder’s shoulder, right into the jaw just under the ear. He felt the power of the punch telescope up his arm to his shoulder, saw Snyder’s eyes roam wildly out of control, saw his legs turn to jelly. Snyder turned halfway around and fell straight to the deck.
Cody walked across the ring and stared down at Snyder’s limp form for a moment, then nodded to Hatcher. ‘Welcome to the team,’ he said with a grin.
Graduation day, 1964. Outside Hatcher’s room, there seemed to be a constant scurrying of feet as the midshipmen rushed to and fro across the yard getting ready for the dress parade. Hatcher was setting his cap when Cody appeared in the doorway, that stern hawk face glowing.
‘All right, you’re still maggots until after the parade. Everybody out but Hatcher.’
Hatcher’s roommates vaulted out of the room. Hatcher stood at sharp attention in front of Cody, but for the first time he stared straight at the upperclassman, a practice forbidden the first-year frogs.
‘Maggot, do you know what a floogie bird is?’ demanded Cody.
‘No, sir.’
‘A floogie bird is a curious bird that flies in ever- decreasing concentric circles until it disappears up its own asshole, from which vantage point it slings shit at its adversaries. That’s what a floogie bird is, maggot. Well, mister, you had a tough time, but by God nothing could bend you. You are now a floogie bird, my friend, and you can start slinging shit at your adversaries.’
‘Yes sir!’
Cody took a bottle of vodka from under his tunic. A big grin spread across the stern hawk face. He handed the bottle to Hatcher. ‘You first, Mr. Hatcher. Welcome aboard,’ he said. And for the next two years he and Hatcher would be inseparable teammates and friends.
……anyway, Cody was a year ahead of me,’ Hatcher said to Sloan. ‘He went straight into the Navy Air Corps when he graduated. I went into intelligence. We didn’t see each other after that, but we kept in touch. Then in 1969 he asked me to be an usher in his wedding.’
‘Very fancy, I hear.’
‘Very high society D.C. affair, typical Washington bash. Congressmen, senators, admirals, generals, TV big shots, they were all there.’
‘What was his wife like?’ Sloan asked.
‘The model of icy perfection, a gorgeous woman, perfectly groomed. Had all the assets — proper schooling, proper background, proper, proper, proper.’
‘And you disliked her.’
‘No,- I think she disliked us. His old school pals were too rowdy. Her father was an admiral, you know the type.’ Hatcher thought back to the day, a collage of uniforms and chatty people. ‘I think Polo was unhappy about the marriage.’
‘What makes you think so?’
‘I don’t know. Seems like he was awfully — cynical that day. More like the old Cody from hazing days at the academy. I don’t know why he should have been. At that point Cody had done everything right. Graduated from the academy, breezed through flight training, married an admiral’s daughter.’
‘Like he was filling in the blanks of an outline,’ Sloan said.
‘Exactly. I don’t know how the hell he got in the Brown River Navy.’
‘He volunteered.’
‘No kidding? Gung ho to the last.’
‘His father-in-law tried to block it, but from what I understand, Cody was insistent,’ Sloan added.
‘That was really garbage work,’ Hatcher said.
‘Whatever,’ Sloan said with a shrug. ‘And you never saw him again after the wedding?’
‘Once. At San Diego Air Base. I was there doing a security check and he was stationed on the base.’
‘Must have been just before you joined the brigade.’
‘Yeah. I had already announced I was retiring my commission. . . . We had kind of a run-in.’
‘About what?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘I never saw him again after that. And I sure as hell can’t see him now.’
‘Don’t be too sure,’ Sloan said and his grin became mischievous.
‘What do you mean?’ Hatcher’s harsh whisper asked. ‘Supposing I told you that I got information that Murph Cody is alive.’
‘Where? Is he a prisoner?’
‘He’s free as a bad cold. Bangkok.’
A little shock went through Hatcher when he heard the word. Bangkok. A place he had pa ked and put away forever. ‘What kind of information?’
‘I trust it.’
‘That doesn’t answer the question. How reliable is this source?’
‘A small-time Thai politician. He —wants a free trip to the States and a work visa. According to our information, Cody’s marked, so he’s on the run.’
‘Marked by who?’
‘The White Palms,’ Sloan said.
‘That’s a Macao outfit. What would they be doing in Bangkok?’ asked Hatcher.
‘It’s the source. And you’ve beer away a long time. The damn triads are everywhere now
‘What’s this guy’s game — opium?’
‘We’re not sure. We suspect he was a courier for the White Palms. But we haven’t really dug into it for obvious reasons.’
‘What obvious reasons?’ Hatcher whispered, although he knew the answer already.
If Murphy Cody was alive in Bangkok and had remained silent for all these years, there had to be a reason. And if military intelligence didn’t know the reason, it didn’t look good for Cody.
‘Don’t play dumb,’ Sloan said. What the hell’s he doing in Thailand? I mean if he’s alive, why hasn’t he surfaced?’
Hatcher could think of a lot of reasons, none of them good.
‘Maybe he’s got amnesia,’ he finally offered.
‘Yeah, maybe I’m Doris Day, too, Sloan answered. ‘It’s a possibility. He could have amnesia.’
There was also the possibility that Cody had been a collaborator, or a defector, or a deserter, or that he was involved in drugs, murder, white 1avery or any of a dozen other crimes Hatcher could think of.
Sloan obviously had the same things in mind. He said, ‘I can’t think of a good way for this to turn out, if it’s true. There’s desertion, to start with. If he wasn’t killed, he still belongs to the U.S. Navy, heart and soul.’
‘Question is, why did he go underground in the first place?’ Hatcher said. ‘What I mean is, if he wasn’t killed and he wasn’t in Hanoi, where the hell was he?’
‘Well, wherever it was, the Navy was convinced he was KIA.’
‘Maybe that was his out.’
‘Or his trap.’
Hatcher nodded slowly. ‘Or his trap. So what’s this got to do with me?’
‘Nobody knows Thailand like you do, Hatch. You know the good guys and the bad guys, and you’ve worked both sides of the stream. I can’t let military intelligence handle this, everybody in the Pentagon’ll know about it in an hour. It has to be unofficial. If Cody’s alive and mixed up in something — improper, there’s the old man’s reputation to consider.’
‘Improper,’ Hatcher growled -with a chuckle. ‘Very delicate, Harry.’