Hoodwink

by Rhonda Roberts

  Honeycutt picked up the phone and dialled. ‘Hallo, Devereaux here. Could you send up a pot of tea with my order, please?’ He listened then said, ‘Wait a minute,’ and handed the receiver to me. ‘They want to know what kind.’

  I put the phone to my ear. ‘Yes?’

  The waiter rattled off a long list of teas, most of which I’d never even heard of. I picked Irish Breakfast and we hung up.

  ‘I didn’t realise Americans drank so much tea now.’

  ‘They don’t … It’s just there are a lot of British actors in Hollywood at the moment,’ replied Honeycutt. ‘The most successful ones stay in this hotel.’

  Honeycutt lounged across one corner of the sofa, tucking a long, lean leg under him as he sat. Borneo must have been tough because here, in this time, he was too comfortable, too at ease. That, or Honeycutt was just one of those lucky people who could relax in any situation.

  Which reminded me, I needed to relax myself. I wanted some quality time with a hot jet of water. ‘While you wait for your meal I’ll grab a quick shower.’

  ‘Do you need anything?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  The ensuite was complete with thick, fluffy towels and exotic soaps, and the shower was the way I like it: hot and strong. But when I came back into the bedroom wrapped in my towel I was not happy with my clothing options.

  What I’d give for a pair of jeans!

  Everything except my stalking clothes was too restricting or just plain horrible.

  Or both.

  I had another buttoned-up suit just like the one I’d worn on the first day, a sparkly evening dress, a frilly white nightgown, a pair of overalls and my stalking clothes. Brigham had rejected everything else I’d packed as anachronistic. I opened the closet in desperation and found a long cream bathrobe.

  Hmm, it was that or put my stalking clothes back on.

  Over the last little while, Honeycutt in his guise as Devereaux had slunk way too close to my personal boundaries. I got the distinct feeling that if I gave him even a microsecond of encouragement he’d scale them like a cat climbing into an aviary …

  I pulled on fresh underwear but kept the ski pants and shirt.

  Room service had arrived and Honeycutt was lounging on the sofa munching his way through a club sandwich. There was a half-finished bottle of beer on the table in front of him.

  Behind the sofa was a room-service trolley; on it was an expensive bone china tea set. I poured myself some tea and made myself comfortable in the lounge chair opposite Honeycutt.

  Honeycutt had finished eating and was lazily watching me … like a big honey-coloured tomcat waiting for a bird to land.

  I wasn’t used to feeling like Tweetie Bird.

  His sleek grace made me alternate between wanting to smack him and feeling awkwardly attracted.

  Which made me want to smack him even more.

  ‘So, Kannon, what’s your plan for tomorrow?’ He must’ve read my mood because his tone was businesslike.

  ‘I need more information about Lewis Renfrow. I have to confirm whether he’s the best lead or not.’

  ‘What exactly do you want to find out?’

  ‘If Renfrow knows about Earl and his wife, Ruby, because I’m not convinced he does … I can’t see a man like him sitting around while his wife gets busy with Earl in the cabana. If Renfrow does know then he’s the most likely person to have ordered Earl’s cement suit.’ I shrugged. ‘Of course, Renfrow could find out over the next day or so, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’

  ‘Short of asking him, what do you have in mind?’

  ‘Someone in Renfrow’s circle has got to know something.’

  ‘And just how are you going to get to them?’

  ‘I can’t.’ I stared at Honeycutt pointedly.

  ‘So you’re asking me for a favour, Kannon?’ His tone implied he might want payback … the private kind.

  ‘Don’t get any ideas, Honeycutt. I’m asking a United States Marshal to do his duty.’

  ‘Fair enough request,’ he conceded. ‘I’ll have a talk to Selznick and see if he knows anyone I can talk to.’

  ‘Good.’ I paused. ‘Thank you.’

  I sipped my tea while Honeycutt perused me like a dish on a menu he was about to order.

  ‘Just how did you get into all this, Kannon?’

  ‘You mean this mess?’

  ‘I mean the Time Investigator Program.’

  I frowned. It’d been all over the US media last year.

  ‘I’m just trying to work out what’s going on, Kannon.’ He’d read my confusion perfectly. ‘I’ve been away on missions pretty much continuously for the past ten months … Borneo was just the last one. I know the famous Marshal Dupree is your mother … And that you went back to ancient Rome to find her. But I want to hear your side of the story.’ He added softly, ‘So tell me.’

  ‘Why?’ I was defensive.

  After the tirade Brigham had given me about privileged entry, I wanted to know where Honeycutt was going with this line of questioning.

  ‘Because I want to understand exactly why they let you in the program in the first place. It has to be about what happened last year … or is it?’

  ‘No, you’re right, it’s about last year.’ This bloody dialogue had followed me across time!

  ‘So why do you think they’ve let you in?’ He was still assessing me. But I had nothing to hide.

  ‘Well part of it’s just pure public relations.’

  ‘So you think they let you in the front door as a way of renewing public support for the NTA?’

  ‘That’s not all of it, Honeycutt … But it does matter.’

  ‘You’re under no illusions about yourself,’ he said with approval.

  ‘What did you think I was going to say? That I’m so naturally wonderful that I deserve this shot? The other nine people that made it into the training program were the best of the best.’ I muttered, ‘Or so they kept telling me.’

  Honeycutt didn’t reply.

  ‘Okay, you don’t have to say it, Honeycutt. I know that’s what Brigham and half of the NTA think. But I’ve slogged my guts out in the past year and the Menlo Park trainers haven’t managed to wash me out yet.’

  ‘That’s pretty good, Kannon. Basic’s a mean mother.’ He grinned, dimples framing his full mouth. ‘So what was the other reason the NTA let you in?’

  ‘Make no mistake, I am good enough to be in this program. I know what I’m capable of. But I also know I’m damned lucky to get the chance. The only reason I’m in the program is because last year the NTA stuffed up really badly. I almost died … Victoria almost died … and this is a kind of reparation.’

  Honeycutt wanted to say something but stopped. Then he said, ‘Don’t you think you did something pretty special in ancient Rome?’

  ‘What … in surviving?’

  ‘Yes, and in saving Marshal Dupree.’

  ‘What else could I do? I had no choice. I had to do what I did or die.’

  Honeycutt didn’t answer, just studied my face. ‘I’m starting to think that the media stories are true.’

  ‘Ugh! Which ones? And no, I have not had sex with aliens …’ I pursed my lips. ‘Well, not as far as I know.’

  ‘Sex with aliens? I haven’t read that one yet. Remind me to look it up when we get back … Are there pictures?’

  ‘Yes, but they’re not very detailed.’

  He clutched his bare chest. ‘Thank God for that, darlin’. I might have a heart attack if they were!’

  ‘You have that Southern charm on tap, don’t you?’ I was finding it hard not to respond in a way that was going to take us somewhere other than work.

  ‘No, darlin’ … I choose my targets.’ Jade eyes gleamed at me, full of sedition.

  All of a sudden the lounge room seemed too hot.

  ‘If you thought I was a spoilt brat, Honeycutt, why did you flirt with me? Before … when you were Devereaux?’

  ‘I didn’t say I th
ought that — that’s what Brigham said you were.’

  ‘So what about all the flirting?’

  ‘I’m a marshal, darlin’, not a saint. Devereaux got me in centre stage, right next to you and Earl. But I started to look at my assignment in a whole different light after meeting you.’ He leant forward … with intent. ‘How do you feel about me?’

  Alex’s face flashed into my head … This was moving way too fast. I was still dealing with him leaving me; I wasn’t ready to open up again.

  If ever …

  ‘I think we should drop this subject,’ I said.

  ‘Be more professional?’ He wasn’t put off one iota.

  ‘As much as possible.’

  ‘So you agree we can take this up when we get back?’

  I felt my heels digging in. I wasn’t used to being chased like this … not by someone I didn’t really want to run from.

  ‘Aren’t you in the middle of a mission.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘Let me worry about that, darlin’.’

  ‘You’re really hard to discourage, aren’t you?’

  ‘Darlin’, I’m a Marine … I don’t give up.’

  ‘A Marine?’ I hadn’t heard of a Time Marshal with that kind of background before. I thought they were all from law enforcement.

  ‘I came in via Naval Intelligence,’ he said off-handedly.

  Intelligence?

  Then it clicked … He said he was a military specialist.

  ‘You were an intelligence operative, weren’t you? No wonder you slid under my radar — you’re a professional spy. How good are you?’

  Honeycutt was miffed at being called a spy. ‘Good.’

  ‘So where are you from? I’m still working out American accents.’

  ‘Louisiana,’ he said curtly. ‘What’s it like living in America now?’

  ‘Confusing as hell …’ Now why had he changed the subject so abruptly? ‘Why don’t you want to talk about your background, Honeycutt? You know mine.’

  He laughed, surprised. ‘Grill away.’

  ‘So, you’re a military expert. What NTA missions have you been on?’

  ‘I can’t talk about that …’

  ‘Well, what ones can you tell me about?’

  He thought for a moment. ‘My first mission was a missing persons location … It was part of the Veterans’ Memorial Initiative.’ He assumed I’d heard of it.

  ‘Ah, I don’t know …’

  For the first time Honeycutt seemed other than totally at ease. Maybe the word was withdrawn.

  ‘I spent a year in Vietnam hunting for MIAs,’ he said casually.

  MIA. Missing In Action. Soldiers lost in battle. Honeycutt was making it sound like nothing, but I knew it wasn’t …

  ‘What year?’

  ‘1968.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Quang Tri Province … during the Tet offensive.’

  ‘My God! You went into the jungle searching for MIAs?’

  ‘No.’

  I waited.

  ‘I went with them.’

  ‘Holy hell! You went through the capture?’

  Honeycutt gave a faint shrug. ‘It was the only way to know for sure what happened to them.’

  Why had he risked so much? Marshals who died in the field stayed dead. They couldn’t be rescued.

  ‘Who were they?’

  ‘A squad of Marines. They’d been sent in to guard a South Vietnamese politician. There was some dispute about who actually took them.’

  ‘Took them?’

  ‘New evidence had been uncovered that it was a setup by a member of the South Vietnamese government. There was reason to believe he wanted to get rid of a rival.’

  ‘Were there any survivors?’

  ‘Most died in the initial attack. But two were kept for … other purposes.’

  Other purposes … interrogation. Torture.

  ‘They were the two you had to follow?’

  ‘That’s why I went with them.’

  Had he been tortured?

  ‘How close did you come?’

  ‘To finding out what happened?’

  ‘No, Honeycutt, I know you stayed with them until you found out … Didn’t you?’

  He gave just the hint of a nod.

  ‘I meant how close did you come to dying?’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘That close?’

  He didn’t answer.

  We studied each other for a moment.

  I felt bad enough watching Earl wend his blundering way to his undoubtedly self-inflicted death. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must’ve been like witnessing a band of fellow Marines meet such a harrowing fate.

  ‘When was that mission?’

  ‘Three years ago. I was seconded into the NTA for that specific task. I went through Basic to do it. So when the NTA said they wanted new marshals — ones with no suspect connections to the previous administration — I applied.’

  ‘You must’ve been jaw-droppingly amazing to get a chance at a permanent place … in front of all the other trained marshals.’

  He didn’t reply.

  ‘What’ve you been working on this year? Didn’t you say Brigham pulled you straight off a mission in Borneo?’

  ‘Sorry, Kannon, I can’t tell you anything more specific.’

  ‘Okay, I understand. But you must’ve had less time to prepare for this mission than I did?’

  ‘Yeah, I’d just made it back through the portal when Brigham pretty much sent me through to here.’

  Honeycutt scanned the comfortable room. ‘But then there’s no bat dung, no cutthroat pirates and I don’t lie awake at night swatting stinging insects the size of my dog.’

  ‘Pirates? Bat dung? What the hell kind of mission were you on?’

  ‘The kind that makes this one seem like an invalid’s recovery program.’

  Hmm. No wonder he’d had no compunction in toying with me. And screwing around with the No Intervention rule. He thought this was playtime.

  Which reminded me of his brawl with Dunstable at the Open Day.

  ‘What was the story with Lamont Hull at the studio yesterday? Is he really French?’

  ‘No, Lamont was born in New Orleans. His grandfather was a lawyer there.’ He frowned. ‘Lamont said he was murdered for taking the wrong case.’

  I remembered Hull’s face when he was confronting Jennings. He was so fearless, and his conviction so deep, it had to be based on real experience.

  ‘Was his grandfather lynched?’

  ‘Unfortunately, yes. After that his father took the rest of the family to live in France. Lamont came back here when he was nineteen to go to law school.’

  ‘Why did Lamont attack Dunstable? It was over something to do with a massacre …’

  ‘Fort Case.’

  ‘That’s it. Didn’t that Life journalist, Bourke, say that General Montfort was responsible for that massacre?’

  ‘Yes. But Monfort’s guilt is a real sore point. North and South,’ he said tiredly. He’d obviously had this conversation before and was reluctant to restart it.

  ‘Still?’

  ‘Oh yeah.’

  ‘Tell me about what happened.’

  Honeycutt checked around for another beer, flipped the top off it and took a sip. ‘Fort Case was in Tennessee, on a bluff north of Memphis. It was used by Union forces to control the Mississippi approach to the city …’ He gathered his thoughts. ‘The local Confederate cavalry commander was desperate to regain control of the river and resupply his men. So he took one and a half thousand soldiers to raid Fort Case, which had only a third that many defenders.’

  ‘So the whole thing was really about starving soldiers and military positions?’

  ‘Er, not quite … The cavalry commander had also been told to make an example of Montfort’s No Quarter order, and that’s where the war crime claim comes in.’

  ‘By No Quarter, do you mean there were no surrenders accepted?’

  ‘
No, it was about the Confederate backlash against the Union using black soldiers. They’d started assembling African-American regiments led by white commanding officers a year or two before.’

  ‘How did that go down in the South?’

  ‘They alternated between seeing it as a huge joke and an absolute outrage. But when the black regiments began to prove their valour the Confederacy realised that it was their worst nightmare.’

  ‘So they were afraid these black Union regiments would incite the Southern slaves to revolt and the Confederacy would break apart?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s when Montfort issued the No Quarter order. All captured white officers of black regiments were to be executed on the spot and all black soldiers were to be presumed escaped slaves and punished as such.’

  ‘Oh God!’ I’d read about the terrible punishments escaped slaves had suffered in the South.

  ‘Of the six hundred Union soldiers at Fort Case, roughly half were from a black regiment. It was an easy target and meant to be an example to the North and to the slaves in the South.’

  ‘What happened?’ I asked softly.

  I didn’t really want to know. You never really want proof that other humans are capable of deliberate cruelty.

  ‘Accounts taken from both Union and Confederate witnesses say that most Union soldiers were killed after the Fort had fallen …’ Honeycutt stopped. ‘You asked me why Lamont attacked Dunstable. It was because of what was said to have been done to the black regiment after the battle had finished. There are stories of more … calculated atrocities. Burning, crucifixion … the wounded being buried alive.’

  My God. ‘And Dunstable had the nerve to taunt Lamont about it?’

  ‘Kannon, you’ve got to remember this is 1939. Don’t let this Hollywood veneer fool you, this is the past. These people are a world away from us.’

  ‘Just like those three old veterans, Honeycutt? I can’t imagine any of them committing atrocities …’

  ‘But, Kannon, by 1864 the war had turned everyone’s hearts to stone, not just the South.’

  ‘You’re talking about Sherman.’ He’d said the Union general had unleashed Total War tactics in his march through the defeated South.

  ‘Sherman … and others. It wasn’t that one man, or one side, was completely evil. This was a Civil War — killing your own brothers creates a hazardous schism in anyone’s soul. Once you’ve seen war close up, Kannon, you change your mind about a lot of things.’