But what about my morale? I was holding it down successfully for the moment, but I could feel an awareness of dark panic knocking and ready to come in. I kept it at bay. We walked on down the company street, the lights coming on, lost in the milling military mass. How long would this last? The question was the answer: not very. The panic pushed a little harder.
I have heard it said that when a man knows that he is to be hanged, it concentrates his mind wonderfully. I wasn't going to be hanged, not for the present at least, but the foul breath of military prosecution on my neck was concentrating my mind almost as well. So much so that when an officer passed I turned to look at him. Turned and stopped until he vanished in the crowd. Morton was pulling feebly at my arm.
"What are you looking at? What's wrong?"
"Nothing wrong. Everything right. I know now exactly what we must do next."
"What?"
"Just come with me. I know that it is back this way, I noticed it when we passed. "
"What, what?"
"BOQ." Before he could say What? What? What? I explained. "Bachelor Officers Quarters. Where the officers live when they are not getting drunk and making life a hell for the enlisted men. That is where we are going. There." I pointed to the brightly lit building, guards at the front entrance, officers in their military finery pouring from it.
"That's suicide!" Morion said. The edge of hysteria back in his voice.
"Easy does it," I cozened. "We do not enter the building by this portal. Suicide as you say. But what has a front surely has a back. And from the exodus visible from that officerial snakepit it looks like everyone is on duty tonight. Everyone except us, that is." I chortled darkly and he looked at me out of the corners of his eyes as if I had gone mad. Perhaps I had. We would soon find out.
There was a wall behind the BOQ which we followed. A sort of alley led next to it, badly lit and just what I wanted. There was a door here let into the wall with a light above it. As we strolled past I read the sign, OFFICERS ONLY, and bent over and tied my shoe: it needed only a single glance to identify the lock. Then stood and on. I stopped in the shadows between two lights and bent to my shoe again. Only this time I came up with the lockpick.
"All right, here we go. The lock is nothing, single tumbler, pick it as easy as I pick my teeth. We walk back now and if no one is in sight we walk through it. Got that?" The chatter of his teeth was the only response. I took his quivering arm and squeezed it. "It's all right, Morton. You'll see. Just do as I say and we'll soon be safe. Nice and quiet—here we go."
I tried not to catch any of Morton's fears, but they were very contagious. We stopped under the light, I put the lockoick into the kevhole. Felt and twisted. It didn't ooen.
"Someone's coming," Morton wailed.
"Piece of cake," I muttered, perspiration running down my face. "Opened these with my eyes shut."
"Getting closer!"
"Eyes shut!"
It wouldn't open. I shut my eyes, closed out all sensations, felt for the tumblers. Clicked it open.
"Inside!" I said, pulling him after me, closing the gate behind us. We stood with our backs to it, shivering in the darkness as the footsteps came closer, came to the gate… L Passed it and went on.
"There, wasn't that easy?" I said, ruining the effect as my voice cracked and squeaked. Not that Morton noticed; he was shivering so hard that I could hear his teeth clatter. "Look, nice garden. Pathways for strolling, love seats for loving, all the nice things to keep the officerial classes happy. And beyond the garden the dark windows of their quarters, dark because the occupants have all gone
. out. So now all that we have to do is find a window to open — . ." ' "Jak—what are we doing here?"
"I thought that was obvious. The military powers are looking for one recruit now. When their computer coughs out the next bit of news they will be looking for a corporal and a sergeant." I tried to ignore his moan. "So we get into this building and become officers. As simple as that. " I caught him as he dropped and laid him gently on the grass. "That's it. Have a little rest. I'll be right back." The third window I tried was unlocked. I opened it and looked in. A mussed bed, open closet, empty room. Perfect. I found my way back to Morton who was just sitting up. He recoiled as I appeared out of the darkness and my quick hand over his mouth muffled his scream. "Everything is fine. Almost finished."
I boosted him through the window and let him drop onto the bed, then closed and locked the window behind us. There was a key in the door which made everything very much easier.
TUB eniMi BCC erKBi aaT MTC nDfBTBn
"Look," I said, "lie here and recuperate. I'm going to lock you in. The building is empty as far as I can see, so what I have to do should not be long. Take a rest and I'll be back as soon as I can."
I went carefully, but the building was empty of life and silent as the tomb. Its occupants away and hopefully hard at work. I had time to pick and choose, make my selections and select the right sizes. I heard a muffled moan of agony when I let myself back into the room, to which I responded as cheerfully as I could.
"New uniform—new persona!" I handed them over to Morton. "Get dressed and give me our old clothes. There's enough light from outside to make that easy. Here, let me tie that necktie, you are all butterfingers today." Dressed and ready, our caps square upon our heads,
our old clothes buried in a laundry basket, we sauntered forth into the corridor. Morton looked at me and gasped and fell away.
"Cheer up—you look the same way. Except that you are a second lieutenant while I am a captain. It is a young army."
"B-but," he stammered. "You are a… Military Policeman!"
"And so are you. No one ever questions a cop." We turned the corner as I said this and approached the front entrance. The major standing there with a clipboard looked up at us and scowled.
"Now I have vou." he said.
Chapter 12
I snapped to attention, I could think of nothing else to do—and hoped Morton was not too paralyzed to do the same. There were just two of them, the major and the guard at the door. After I dropped the major could I reach the guard before he could get out his gun? A neat problem. The major was looking at his clipboard. Now—get him!
He looked up as I swayed forward. The guard was looking at me too. I swayed back.
"I missed you at the airport," the major said. "You must have come on the earlier flight. But these shipping orders say two captains. Who is this lieutenant?"
Shipping orders? Two captains? I stopped my eyeballs spinning and finally threw my brain into gear.
"Could be an error, sir. Lot of confusion today. Might I see the orders?"
He grunted uncommunicatively and passed them over. I ran my finger down the list of crossed-off names to the remaining two at the bottom. Then passed them back.
"Error like I said, sir. I'm Captain Drem. This is Lieutenant Hesk, not captain the way they got it here."
"Right," he said, making the change on his sheet. "Let's go-" We went. Outside the door was a truck stuffed with Military Police, a very disgusting sight. The major climbed into the cab, rank does have its privileges, and I led Morton to the rear. Moving quickly because I saw something that I hoped the major had not seen. Two MP officers, both captains, walking toward us. They scowled and passed and turned into the BOQ. I scowled in return, turning the scowl into a glare when I looked into the back of the truck and saw that there were no officers among the redhats there.
"What is this—a meeting of the girls' club," I snarled. "Move back, make room, shut up, give us a hand." All of this was done with alacrity. Morton and I sat on the recently vacated bench and the truck pulled forward. I let out my breath slowly—from between still-snarling teeth. We bumped and swayed our way through the night and I began to feel very, very tired. It had been that kind of day.
"Do you know where we are going, captain?" a burly sergeant asked. "Shut up!"