«Right. You’ll call me back?»
«Of course.»
«Make it late in the day. I’ve got my own major from the Defense Department. He’s going to help me set up shop.»
«Christ! They don’t waste a minute. What’s his name?»
«Bonner. First name, Paul, I think he said.»
Madison laughed. It was a laugh of recognition, and not entirely pleasant. «Paul Bonner? They’re not very subtle, are they?»
«I don’t understand. What’s so funny?»
«Bonner’s one of the Pentagon’s Young Turks. The original bad boy of Southeast Asia. Remember a few years ago? A half-dozen or so officers got thrown out of Indochina for some highly questionable activities beyond the borders, behind the lines?»
«Yes, I do. The inquiry was squashed.»
«You know it. It was too damned hot. This Bonner was in command.»
11
By two o’clock Trevayne and Bonner had scouted three of the five office suites. The Army liaison tried to maintain a neutral attitude, but he was too candid. Trevayne realized that in several ways Bonner was like himself; at close range, it was difficult for the officer to disguise his opinion.
It was obvious that Bonner felt all the locations they’d seen were satisfactory. He couldn’t understand why Trevayne insisted on visiting the last two, both quite far from the central city. Why not pick one of the others?
Trevayne, on the other hand, had seen the first three out of courtesy, so it wouldn’t appear that he was subject to snap decisions. Bonner had allowed that the offices at the Potomac Towers did look out on the river; Trevayne had suspected as much, and that fact, in itself, was enough to convince him.
His offices would be at the Potomac Towers.
But he would find other reasons than the river, the water. He wouldn’t give Major Paul Bonner, the Young Turk of the Pentagon, the opportunity of saying that his V.I.P. had a thing about water. He wouldn’t lend himself to the ridicule that might so easily come from the blunt observations of a man whose actions had frightened the Department of the Army a few short years ago.
«There’s nothing against our taking a lunch break, is there, Major?»
«Christ, no. I’ll get my ass chewed if it doesn’t appear on my chit sheet. As a matter of fact, I’ll get reamed anyway for letting you make this tour. Frankly, I thought you’d have someone else do it for you.»
«Who, for instance.»
«Hell, I don’t know. Don’t you people always have other people do these things? Get offices and stuff like that?»
«Sometimes. But not if it’s a concentrated job that’s going to require a lot of time on the premises.»
«I forgot. You’re a self-made millionaire, according to the reading material.»
«Only because it was easier, Major.»
They went to the Chesapeake House, and Trevayne was at first amused, then amazed, at Bonner’s alcoholic capacity. The Major ordered double bourbons—three before lunch, two during, and one after. And they were generous singles to begin with.
Yet Bonner did not display the slightest indication of having had a drink.
Over coffee, Trevayne thought he’d try a more friendly approach than he’d shown throughout the morning.
«You know, Bonner, I haven’t said it, but I do appreciate your taking on a thankless chore. I can see why you resent it.»
«I don’t mind, really. Not now. Actually, I pictured you as some kind of computerized … prick, if you’ll forgive the expression. You know, a mincing slide-rule type who made his bread and thinks everyone else is worthless.»
«Did the ‘reading material’ indicate that?»
«Yeah. I think it did. Remind me to show it to you in a couple of months… If we’re still speaking.» Bonner laughed and drank the remainder of his bourbon. «It’s crazy, but they didn’t have any photographs of you. They never do with civilians, except in security cases. Isn’t that nuts? In the field I’d never look at a file unless there were at least three or four photographs. Not just one; I’d never accept just one.»
Trevayne thought for a moment. The major was right. One photograph was meaningless for a dozen reasons. Several were not.
«I read about your … field activity. You made a large impression.»
«That’s off-limits, I’m afraid. I won’t talk about that, which means I’m not supposed to admit I was ever west of San Diego.»
«Which strikes me as silly.»
«Me, too… So I’ve got a couple of programmed statements which don’t mean a damn thing. Why bring them up?»
Trevayne looked at Bonner and saw that he was sincere. He didn’t want to restate the programmed replies he’d been fed; yet there seemed to be something else he was perfectly willing to discuss. Andrew wasn’t sure, but it was worth a try.
«I’d like a brandy. How about you?»
«Stick to bourbon.»
«A double?»
«That’s right.»
The drinks came and were half-finished before Trevayne’s observation proved out.
«What’s this subcommittee all about, Mr. Trevayne? Why is everyone so uptight?»
«You said it this morning, Major. Defense is spending ‘zillions’ more than it should.»
«I understand that; nobody would argue. But why are we the heavies right off the top? There are thousands involved. Why are we singled out as the prime targets?»
«Because you issue contracts. Simple as that.»
«We issue contracts that congressional committees approve.»
«I don’t want to generalize, but it seems to me that Congress usually approves one figure and then is forced to approve another—the second being a lot higher than the first.»
«We’re not responsible for the economy.»
Trevayne lifted his half-empty brandy glass and revolved it. «Would you accept that kind of reasoning in the field, Major? I’m sure you’d accept the fact that your intelligence teams had a margin for error, but would you tolerate a hundred-percent inaccuracy?»
«It’s not the same.»
«They’re both information, aren’t they?»
«I refuse to equate lives with money.»
«I find that argument specious; you had no such consideration when your ‘field activity’ cost a great many lives.»
«Horseshit! That was a statistical-combat situation.»
«Double horseshit. There were an awful lot of people who thought the situation was totally uncalled for.»
«Then why the hell didn’t they do something about it? Don’t cry now.»
«As I recall, they tried,» said Trevayne, staring at his glass.
«And failed. Because they didn’t read their problem correctly. Their strategy was very un-pro.»
«That’s an interesting statement, Major… Provocative, too.»
«Look, I happen to think that particular war was necessary for all the reasons brighter men than me have stated time and again. I can also understand how a lot of those reasons could be rejected, traded off because of the price. That’s what those people didn’t concentrate on. They didn’t emphasize it.»
«You fascinate me.» Trevayne finished his brandy. «How could … those people have done that?»
«Visual-tactical maneuvers. I could even break down the logistics of cost and geography.»
«Please do,» said Trevayne, returning the Major’s smile.
«The visuaclass="underline" fifteen thousand coffins in three units of five thousand each. The real things—government issue, pine construction. Cost, two hundred dollars per item on bulk purchase. Geography: New York, Chicago, Los Angeles—Fifth Avenue, Michigan Avenue, Sunset Boulevard. Tactic: placing the coffins laterally at one-foot spacings, with every hundredth casket open and displaying a corpse. Mutilated, if possible. Personnel requirements: two men per coffin, with a side task force of one thousand per city employed to distract police or to prevent interference. Total troop requirements: thirty-three thousand … and a hundred and fifty corpses… Three cities completely inmobilized. Two miles of corpses, real and symbolic, blocking major thoroughfares. Total impact. Revulsion.»