‘Yeah, but you got me one. That was nice.’
Condley allowed himself a small smile, squeezing her hand a little to show her he wasn’t really mad. They walked from the beach back to the sidewalk. Off to their left was a park where the old Fort DeRussy bungalows had once bordered the beach. The bungalows, built by the Army to house recuperating casualties from the Pacific battles of World War Two, had been a favorite R and R spot for the American military for a full generation after that.
The mind trick worked even on the beach in Hawaii. Ghosts haunted Condley as he passed the park. In his mind the bungalows were still there, low and shabby. Young men with new tattoos and fresh scars from battle strolled the beach uncertainly with teenage wives or girlfriends, trying to find and mend their brains with a week on Waikiki before flying directly back into combat. Yes, that had really happened, and why didn’t anybody care enough to remember?
At the edge of the park a brick-brown young man with ten tattoos and hair as wild as a lion’s mane offered to take a picture of them with his parrot. Condley absently waved off the man, who then squeezed his bird’s legs, a secret command, until it began to curse them.
‘Fuck you,’ squawked the pissed-off parrot as they walked away. ‘Fuck you. Fuck you.’
Condley finally laughed, flipping off the parrot, and then gave Maria an apologetic look. ‘Sorry I’m a jerk. Some things are bothering me.’
She thought about that for a moment, eyeing him shrewdly. ‘Brandon, you are my prince. I would give anything to see you happy. But you are a very emotional man. You have too much emotion, really. That’s why you hide it with your silly jokes and waste it with all your fighting.’
‘Well, here I go again.’
‘What, Brandon?’
‘I can’t talk about it.’
‘You always say that.’
‘Then it must be true.’
They neared the old hotels at the center of Waikiki’s most famous stretch of beach. Looking at them and remembering his early days on Oahu, Condley was overwhelmed with a sudden undefinable nostalgia, and on top of it a sense of hopelessness. Life moved on. Kids were born and grew up, parents grew old and died. Beaches and cities and civilisations rearranged themselves to meet the new needs of the future. But Brandon Condley still puttered along, now passing checkpoint infinity on the road to nowhere in particular.
Maria watched him carefully, seeking clues in his averted gaze. ‘You want to have the final conversation. You don’t want to be around me anymore. You’re moving to Viet Nam. You’re not coming back, is that right, Brandon?’
‘I can’t even see tomorrow, and you’re talking about next week?’ He put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him for a moment as they walked, a gesture of reassurance. It seemed impossible, but he really did care for this woman who had gathered up the best assets God had given her and turned them into a successful business, however publicly deplored. ‘I just need to go see somebody.’
‘A different woman?’
‘It’s not a woman, Maria. Why does everything have to be about another woman? It’s business.’
‘Your business is dead people. Dead people can wait until tomorrow.’
‘It’s important.’
She sagged a little as they walked. ‘I took the whole day off just for you, Brandon.’
‘Then come with me.’
‘Where do you want to go?’
‘Have you ever met a Marine Corps general?’
She brightened, a devilish smile growing on her beautiful face. ‘I think I knew a few. Before they were generals, anyway.’
* * *
As Maria’s Mercedes approached Halawa Heights’s main gate, the corporal standing duty stepped from his sentry box into the road, putting up a hand and halting the car. Condley dutifully flashed his government ID card from the driver’s window, but by then the young Marine was not looking at him anymore. He had gone into a hypnotic trance, unable to restrain his dumbfounded eyes from travelling all along Maria’s lithe, bikini-clad frame. And just to rub it in, she waved cheerily to the young man, taking off her sunglasses for a moment and giving him a playful wink.
‘Corporal, stop slobbering on my Mercedes.’ Condley’s hand was still dangling outside the window as he continued to hold his ID card up for the sentry’s inspection.
‘Sorry, sir.’ The embarrassed corporal shook his head like a dog snapping water out of its ears. He leaned forward, checking Condley’s identification. ‘You have business at Cinc Pac Fleet, sir?’
‘I’m from CILHI,’ answered Condley with just the right tone of mystery in his voice. ‘We’re here on an MIA case.’ The sentry nodded knowingly, returning Condley’s ID card. To his surprise, Condley handed the young man one of Maria’s business cards in exchange. ‘If you like what you’re looking at, they’re open seven days a week. Bring a friend.’
The corporal checked the card, looking hungrily back at Maria, and put it into a trouser pocket. ‘She works there?’
‘She is the proprietor of this fine establishment,’ said Condley dryly. ‘But she’s got lots of highly talented employees with, shall we say, equally admirable assets.’
‘I’ll be there Friday night,’ said the grinning corporal. ‘If you’re coming on Friday bring lots of friends. The SEALs think they own the place.’
The corporal gave them a secret thumbs-up as he waved them through the gate. Driving inside the headquarters compound, Condley glanced casually at Maria, feigning anger. ‘I should get a tip, pimping for you.’
‘Don’t say you’re pimping for me, Brandon. You hurt my feelings. And, anyway, I don’t do that anymore.’
He gave her a teasing glance. ‘No kidding? I seem to remember having done it about three hours ago.’
She held her chin high, looking airily out the window. ‘Not for money, not anymore. Except for you, I’ve been a virgin now for almost three years.’
Her comment startled him. ‘You’re not turning tricks?’
‘Except for you.’ Her eyes flashed as they navigated past perfectly manicured lawns. ‘I have my green card, and we’ve already been married. So why should I lie?’
The thought that sweet Maria was actually being faithful to him after all these years of uncomplicated friendship made him suddenly nervous. It was as if a different woman were sitting next to him, and he did not know what to do about it. ‘You changed the rules without telling me. Why’d you do that?’
‘Brandon!’ She laughed, taken with the notion that her new-found semi-virginity brought with it a subtle power. ‘I didn’t change anything. I just don’t see anyone but you that I would like to have sex with.’
He thought about that for a moment. ‘But if you did, you would?’
‘What are you talking about?’
He gave her an earnest look, as if somehow his own freedom were now at risk. ‘If you did see someone you wanted to sleep with, you would. I mean, you don’t feel…’ He couldn’t finish the thought. ‘OK. What I mean is, you can’t put this on me. It’s not my fault. I didn’t do anything to make you act this way.’
She seemed touched. Her sharp, doll-like face melted a bit and her huge eyes made her look for that moment like a child. ‘That was so sweet.’
‘That’s not the answer I was looking for, Maria.’
‘Yes, it was.’
They were nearing General Wayne Duncan’s house. For the first time he became aware of how Maureen Duncan might receive them. ‘I, ah, kind of wish you weren’t wearing that thong.’
She looked down at herself, seeing nothing to be ashamed of, and then shrugged. ‘I have a sarong in my bag.’
He parked the car and walked around to the passenger side, opening the door for Maria. Standing next to the car, she took a multicoloured wraparound dress from her bag and pulled it around herself.
‘Not bad.’ He smiled.
‘Admit it, Brandon. I look like a princess.’
Maureen Duncan stood in the open doorway as they wal
ked toward her, having seen them pull up at the curb in front of her house. Condley relaxed immediately, seeing that Maureen herself was dripping with sweat, dressed in spandex running shorts and a sports bra. She leaned against the doorway now, her arms folded underneath her breasts. She was grinning expectantly, more amused than surprised by their sudden appearance and by Maria’s decision to dress herself in public.
‘Well, Brandon Condley,’ she said in an amused, soft Southern drawl. ‘You look like you could use some Gatorade.’
Chapter Nineteen
‘That one. There. Recognise him?’
Condley grinned mischievously, watching Maria’s expression as General Wayne Duncan stormed through the front door. She turned in her chair and surveyed Duncan carefully as he headed through the living room toward the back veranda, where Condley and Maria now sat with Maureen under a yellow sun umbrella at a large round picnic table.
Duncan grew increasingly nervous under Maria’s bold and playful gaze. She faced him, her glass of iced tea held just below her chin and her crossed legs aimed directly at his approach, and took off her sunglasses, getting a better look. When her sunglasses came off, the general froze, looking from Maria to Maureen and then to Condley.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Maria finally.
‘What is this?’ blustered Duncan.
‘Oh, Skipper, you’re a lucky man.’
Duncan gave his wife a quick, nervous glance and then took a deep breath, rising to his full height. ‘Maureen, I have never—’
‘Just kidding, Skipper.’ Condley rose and took the general’s hand as the two women laughed merrily. ‘This is Maria. We were married once. So stay away from my stuff.’
‘Hi, Maria, sorry you ended up with this underachieving troll, however temporarily.’ Duncan crushed Condley’s palm in his larger grasp, then slapped him on a shoulder, ‘You little shit, you’re lucky you’re not dead.’
‘I’m not pulling you away from any important golf games, am I?’
‘All my golf games are important.’ Duncan laughed, settling his large, muscular frame into the fourth chair at the table. He was carrying a sealed manila envelope, and now he put it on the table as Maureen poured him a glass of iced tea. ‘I’ve been looking for you, actually. So let’s call this a summoning of the minds from outer space.’
‘That’s where you’d have to find me. I’m pretty elusive these days. They started up a Dick Tracy watch in my neighbourhood. Whenever a polyester suit comes within a block of my apartment an alarm goes off.’
‘Agent Combs told me you were being unco-operative. That’s why I sent you a brain wave.’ Duncan fingered the manila envelope tentatively. ‘How’d it go with that skull you brought back? That was a true Brandon Condley moment, paying five thousand bucks to rent a dead head from a bunch of mountain tribesmen. It even made the Cinc Pac staff briefings.’
‘Don’t blow my cover, General! But if Cinc Pac knows about it, maybe you can get me reimbursed.’
‘Yeah, and what account do they use to reimburse you for renting skulls?’ The general chuckled some more, shaking his head from side to side. ‘Anyway, was it Pepper?’
‘I know it’s him,’ said Condley, feeling the hopeless anger surge again. ‘But Professor Muir says there’s no way to prove it.’
‘He’s probably right.’ Duncan drained his tea in large gulps, then set the glass back onto the table, where Maureen automatically refilled it. ‘We never got a positive ID on him before. Even with eyewitnesses it might be impossible to walk the cat back thirty years. Unless we can find someone who actually knew him and can testify that he was indeed the guy.’
‘So you found somebody who can do that?’
‘I’ve been following something,’ said Duncan quietly. He drained the second glass of iced tea and then nodded to Maureen. ‘Will you ladies excuse us for a few minutes?’
Maureen nodded back, accustomed to the necessity of being excluded from conversations that contained classified information. She stood, smiling to Maria and gesturing toward the house. ‘How’d you like to see my, ah… oh, I don’t know, my…’
‘Kitchen?’ said Maria helpfully, playfully joining the intrigue.
‘Kitchen. Absolutely.’ Maureen picked up the tea pitcher and headed toward the sliding glass door that led inside. ‘…OK, we’ll be going to the kitchen now,’ she said lightly.
Duncan watched them disappear, taking a long, full look at Maria’s departing frame. ‘What’s that all about?’
‘We were walking the beach.’ Condley shrugged. ‘And I must have got your call.’
‘I’m surprised my message made it through all the static.’
‘That kind of static I’m used to. Getting satellite pings from the fifth dimension is kind of new. What’d you guys do, implant a microchip in my butt when I was wounded?’ Condley watched Duncan carefully, enjoying his obvious distraction. ‘You’ve been long at sea, Skipper.’
‘No,’ he laughed. ‘I just appreciate your… versatility, that’s all.’
‘Hey, I’m all about diversity. I was way ahead of the government on that.’
‘Speaking of government.’ Duncan picked up the manila envelope, now growing earnest. ‘Call it instinct, but I think I’ve got something here.’
‘Pepper?’
‘I can’t say yet.’ The general opened the envelope, pulling out a sheaf of papers. ‘I had my G-2 staff start keywording Viet Nam into all the intelligence traffic. Quietly, just to see what came up. They’ve been marking the reports for me, and I just take them in bundles and read them either at night or when I’m travelling. I didn’t even tell them why I’m doing it. And most of it’s junk, anyway. But not all of it. And you know how it goes. Wherever there’s a pile of horseshit, sooner or later you’re going to find a pony.’
Duncan handed a dozen sheets of paper to Condley. ‘You can’t take these with you, because they’re classified, and I doubt somehow you have a safe in your apartment.’
‘In the neighbourhood where I live I’m lucky I even have a fucking bed in my apartment.’
‘My point exactly. But I want you to read them. And I want you to remember a name: Petrushinsky. Anatolie Petrushinsky. Actually, I’m going to write that down for you before you leave.’
‘Anatolie Petrushinsky.’ Condley tried the name, rolling it on his tongue. ‘Got it. Russian?’
‘Lives in Moscow.’ Duncan took a deep breath, speaking carefully, never having been given to wild speculation. ‘I have good reason to believe he may have known Salt and Pepper. It’s a long shot, but if I had to put money on it I’d actually give good odds.’
Condley read the pages voraciously as the general continued to talk. ‘Skip Rogers, a political officer from our embassy in Moscow, bumped into this guy at a street market in an area called the Arabat. He was selling off some of his old Soviet military badges. I’ve met Rogers before. Not a bad guy. Was a Marine before he went over to the Agency. He’s a little like you, Condley, only a lot younger and more, shall we say, urbane. After he left the Corps he started smoking a pipe, reading a lot, and using big words. Bottom line is, I trust him. Anyway, Rogers was escorting some American businessmen who’d served in Viet Nam during the war and as a matter of conversation told Petrushinsky that they were veterans. Petrushinsky kind of puffed up and responded that he’d spent a lot of time in Viet Nam as well, but when they tried to engage him in a longer conversation he ran away. Rogers, ever dutiful, wrote a little summary of the encounter for the files. After I read his initial report I sent him a message asking if he could follow up on the guy. I mean, this is news, right? Nobody’s ever admitted there were Russian soldiers in Viet Nam during the war. And Rogers has worked up a pretty interesting profile, not the least of which is that Petrushinsky has at various times bragged to his fellow veterans that he served as a so-called “observer” in the mountains near Da Nang. We can’t get to him, though. He won’t talk to us, and we can hardly make him. And the Russkies don’t like us very mu
ch these days, so there’s no chance of getting their government to co-operate with us. Not on this issue, anyway. What are they going to do, help us prove they’ve been lying about the level of their involvement in Viet Nam for thirty years?’
‘Great stuff,’ said Condley, finishing his perusal of the papers. ‘I like this Rogers, even if he’s joined the tweedy crowd. Skipper, can you sanitise these pages for me?’ He held the papers out as if he were weighing them. ‘I’ve got a few ideas. But I need an unclassified version with the important information on it, in a way that I could use it and still not compromise our sources.’
‘That’s easy to do,’ said Duncan, taking the papers back and putting them inside the envelope. He relaxed now and suddenly winked, nodding toward the inside of his house. ‘That’s a fine-looking woman, Condley. Exotic, huh? A little wild, though. You married her?’
‘Don’t pay any attention to that. It was more like a friendly date.’
‘You’re losing me here.’
‘Forget it.’
‘Are you in love with her?’
‘There’s only one woman I’ve ever really loved.’
Duncan softened, watching the jolt of pain that still was able to find its way into Condley’s sky-like eyes after all the years. ‘Brandon, let me give you a small piece of advice. It wasn’t your fault that Mai died. She made her choices too, just like we all did. So it’s OK to fall in love with somebody else. She wouldn’t mind. In fact, I’m sure she’d want you to. And quite frankly, you’re running out of time.’
‘I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. And maybe I just don’t want to be in love with anybody else.’
‘Everybody wants to be in love.’
Condley found himself chuckling softly. ‘Is this Mad Dog Duncan talking to me like that? The guy who once told me he was so horny he’d fuck a mud fence? For a minute I thought I was listening to a country song.’
‘It’s true,’ insisted Duncan. ‘We learn that as we grow older.’
‘All of us? What did you do, take a survey?’
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