"This is a little fast for me," Sharon said, gently easing her hands away from Veil's and rising from the table. "Which is not to say that I'm turning down your offer—your invitation. As I mentioned. I've also been feeling under a bit of time pressure lately."
Veil stood up, smiled. "All right," he said evenly.
"We'll see what we shall see."
"Yes."
"Good night, Veil."
"Good night."
Chapter 12
______________________________
Veil dreams.
Colonel Bean visits him in the stockade on the twenty-sixth day of his imprisonment in solitary confinement. Bean seems strangely subdued, almost sad, as he eases himself down on a metal stool in a corner of the cell and breathes a small sigh. His uniform has been freshly laundered and smells of starch. Veil, sitting on the edge of his bunk, wonders what it is that seems different about Bean, then realizes that it is the first time he has ever seen the man without tension, anger, or frustration twisting the muscles in his face. The army officer is the first visitor Veil has had since he staggered out of the jungle and turned himself in to the Military Police.
"You don't look cured to me," Bean says with a slight shake of his head. The expression on his face and his tone of voice are not unkind.
"Cured of what?"
"Whatever it was that made you pull that damn fool stunt. Jesus H. Christ, Kendry, do you realize what you could have had if you'd just gone along and done what you were told to do? The war was over for you, and you were coming out of it a hero. You were about to become a media superstar, and that's the kind of attention that makes men rich and powerful. If you'd stayed in the Army, you almost certainly would have made general. If you'd left, you would probably have been elected to office. You'd have been sitting as comfortable as a pig in shit for the rest of your life. You threw it all away."
"What do you want, Colonel?"
"It would have made things one hell of a lot simpler if you'd died in that helicopter crash."
"Sorry to inconvenience you."
"You may wish you'd died."
"I doubt it."
"What happened up there, Kendry?"
"Don't you know?"
"Some of it. I'd like to know the whole story."
"There isn't much to tell," Veil says with a shrug in his voice. "There was no attack. Cheshire Cat had been aborted."
"Of course it had been aborted. What did you expect? Madison called it off."
"Something he'd told me he couldn't do."
"Neither Madison, ARVN, nor the United States were taking orders from you, Kendry," Bean snaps, anger flaring in his voice. "I've never much cared for Madison, and I sure as hell didn't care for the stunt he pulled with Po, but it was his prerogative to do that. You seemed to be under the impression that you were a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff."
Veil says nothing.
"Madison was telling the truth at the time he spoke to you," Bean continues, his anger gone. "He couldn't have aborted Cheshire Cat just because you wanted him to. The operation had to be called off after he told Joint Command that our newly minted war hero was on his way to fight on the side of the enemy against our allies. Who shot you down?"
"Pathet Lao."
"From your village?"
"Sure."
"You poor son of a bitch."
"They knew about Cheshire Cat; they probably learned about it five minutes after ARVN cut the orders. There were enough Pathet Lao in and around that village to fill Yankee Stadium. Po and his commandos would have had their asses shot off."
"That doesn't change the meaning of what you did, Kendry."
"I wasn't implying that it did. You asked me what happened."
"You must feel like a real loser."
"Do I, Colonel?"
"No," Bean replies after a long pause. He bows his head slightly and clasps his hands together. "I'm regular Army, Kendry. I believe in honest soldiering and honest combat. I don't go for this spy shit, and I don't go for renegades like you. If you hadn't been CIA from your training days, I'd have booted you out of this man's army a long time ago. I believe in soldiers following orders, no matter what. Now, having said that, I also want to say that I can't find the words to describe how much pleasure it gave me to learn that you'd beat the shit out of that fucking pig. I came here to tell you that I admire you for what you did—everything you did. I wouldn't have been man enough, Kendry. This Army colonel salutes you."
Veil is surprised. He stares at Bean, but the officer continues to gaze at the floor. "Thank you," Veil says simply. "I know how much it must rip your guts to say that."
"You weren't a good soldier, Kendry. Never. You were always a free-lancer, a renegade, but you were just too damn good at the things you did for us to do anything but use you. Still, soldiers follow orders, and not a single commanding officer you've ever served under ever knew what you were going to do or say from one minute to the next. You were a shit soldier, Kendry, but the finest warrior I've ever known. You were always too much of a free spirit to suit Madison, and he took it personally. He always felt the need to break you. He didn't have to put Po in that village."
"I know that."
"He had a pretty goddam good idea of what would happen; he wanted to rub your face in shit."
"I know that too. I can stand the smell of shit; what I couldn't stand was the fact that Madison was perfectly willing to sacrifice an entire village of brave people just so he could rap my knuckles."
"Well, you sure as hell rubbed his face in shit. But you're going to pay a hell of a cost."
"Am I, Colonel?"
"You haven't received the tab yet, Kendry. You think they're simply going to lock you away for twenty years, or maybe shoot you."
"Colonel, I haven't given a thought to what's going to be done to me. It isn't important."
"I believe you, but you'd better listen up, anyway. Madison has convinced everyone that the best thing to do with you is simply to cut you loose."
Veil feels a tightening in his stomach muscles. "Cut me loose?"
"You've got it. The Army and the politicians just want to forget you, and they can't forget you unless everyone forgets you. If you're stashed away in Leavenworth, some damn reporter is going to insist on knowing why. It's a story that can never be told, because this fucking war has already produced enough foolish stories about the United States Armed Forces; it may take decades for the Army to recover from what the politicians and the press have done to us. The solution is that your little session with Madison and your helicopter flight never happened. They're—we're—going to strip you of all your decorations, and your service record will be altered to cover it. You're getting bad paper—in this case a medical discharge as a loony."
"It sounds like a good plan."
"Oh, it is. Madison is very logical and very persuasive. He also has his own angle, naturally."
"Naturally."
"That fucker and I don't agree on many things, Kendry, but we do tend to agree on matters where you're concerned. Madison wants to destroy you, and he sees this as a way of doing it. He believes that the razor edge in you that makes you such a fine warrior is precisely what will gut you in civilian life. He thinks there's a good chance you'll end up a junkie, an alcoholic, or dead in some alley. I'm afraid he may be right."
"He told you this?"
"In so many words, yes. Hell, he wants you to know. He knew I'd tell you this, which is why he's using me as an errand boy to deliver a more official message."
"Which is?"
"Keep a low profile, by which I mean bury yourself someplace up to your eyeballs. If any reporters do track you down, refer them to the Pentagon. If you try to stir up old memories, the Army will come down on you. Hard. If they have to, they'll just see to it that you're put away—which was the original plan, anyway, until Madison unrolled his tongue. They'd like you to change your name." "No."