of pay no criminal charges would be
brought. There was just one more
condition: to continue his work for
the inspector general's office for an
additional two years beyond the
expiration of his army commitment. By
that time, reasoned the superior
officer, the mess in Indochina would
be turned over to those messing, and
the IG caseloads reduced or
conveniently buried.
Reenlistment or Leavenworth.
So Major Sam Devereaux, patriotic
citizen-soldier, extended his tour of
duty. And the mess in Indochina was in
no way lessened, but indeed turned
over to the participants and Devereaux
was transferred back to Washington,
D.C.
One month and three days to go, he
mused, as he looked out his office
window and watched the MPs at the
guardhouse check the automobiles
driving out. It was after five; he had
to catch a plane at Dulles in two
hours. He had packed that morning and
brought his suitcase to the office..
The four years were coming to an
end. Two plus two. The time spent, he
reflected, might be resented, but it
had not been wasted. The abyss of
corruption that was Southeast Asia
reached into the hierarchical
corridors of Washington. The
inhabitants of these corridors knew
who he was, he had more offers from
prestigious law firms than he could
reply to, much less consider. And he
did not want to consider them; he
disapproved of them. Just as he
disapproved of the current
investigation on his desk.
The manipulators were at it again.
This time it was the thorough
discrediting of a career officer named
Hawkins. Lieutenant General MacKenzie
Hawkins.
At first Sam had been stunned.
MacKenzie Hawkins was an original. A
legend. The stuff of which cults were
14
born. Cults slightly to the political right
of Attila the Hun; Hawkins's place in the
military firmament was secure. Bantam
Books published his
biography serialization and Aeader's
Digest rights had been sold before a word
was on paper. Hollywood gave obscene
amounts of money to film his life story.
And the antimilitarists made him an object
of fascist-hatred.
The biography was not overly successful
because the subject was not overly
cooperative. Apparently there were certain
personal idiosyncrasies that did not
enhance the image, four wives paramount
among them. The motion picture was less
than triumphant insofar as it-comprised
endless battle scenes with little or no
hint of the man other than an actor
squinting through the battle dust yelling
to his men in a peculiar lisp to 'get
those Godless . . . [Roar of cannon] . .
. who would tear down Old Glory! At 'em,
boyst"
Hollywood, too, had discovered the four
wives and certain other peculiarities of
the studio's on-the-set technical adviser.
MacKenzie Hawkins went through starlets
three at a time and had intercourse with
the producer's wife in the swimming pool
while the producer watched in fury from
the living room window.
He did not stop the picture, however.
For Christ's sake it was costing damn near
six mill!
These misfired endeavors might have
caused another man to fade, if only from
embarrassment, but not so Mac Hawkins. In
private, among.his peers, he ridiculed
those responsible and regaled his
associates with stories of Manhattan and
Hollywood.
He was sent to the war college with a
new specialization: intelligence,
clandestine operations. His peers felt a
little more secure with the charismatic
Hawkins consigned to covert activities.
And the colonel became a brigadier and
absorbed all there was to learn of his new
specialty. He spent two years grinding
away, studying every phase of intelligence
work until the instructors had no more to
instruct him.
So he was sent to Saigon where the
escalating hostilities had blossomed into
a full-scale war. And in Vietnam both 15
, ,
Vietnams,and Laos, and Cambodia, and
Thailand, and Burma Hawkins corrupted
the corruptors and the ideologues
alike. Reports of his behind-the-lines
and across-theneutral-borders
activities made "protective reaction"
seem like a logical strategy. So
unorthodox, so blatantly criminal were
his methods of operation that G-2,
Saigon, found itself denying his
existence. After ail, there were
limits. Even for clandestine
activities.
If Amer1ca First was a maxim and it
was Hawkins saw no reason why it
should not apply to the filthy world
of covert operations.
And for~Hawkins, America was first.
Ir-re-fuckinggardlessl
So Sam Devereaux thought it was all
a little sad that such a man was about
to be knocked out of the box by the
manipulators who got to where they
were by draping the Bag so gloriously
and generously around themselves.
Hawkins was now an offending lion in
the diplomatic arena and had to be
eliminated in the cause of
double-think. The men who should have
been upholding the general's point of
honor were doing their best to sink
him fast in ten days, to be precise.
Normally Sam would have taken
pleasure out of building a case
against a messianic ass like Hawkins;
and regardless of his feelings to the
contrary, he would build a case
against him. It was his last file for
the inspector general's office, and he
was not going to risk another two-year
alternative. But he was still sad. The
Hawk, as he was known misguided
fanatic as he might be deserved better
than what he was getting.
Perhaps, thought Sam, his depression
was brought about by the last:
operative" instruction from the White
House: find something in the morals
area Hawkins can't deny. Check to see
if he was ever in the care of a
psychiatrist.
A psychiatrist! Jesust They never
learned.
In the meantime, Sam had dispatched
a team of IG investigators to Saigon
to see if they could dig up a few
negative specifics. And he was off to
Dulles airport to catch a plane to Los
Angeles.
All of Hawkins's ex-wives lived within a
radius of thirty 16
1
<
br /> miles of each other, from Malibu to
Beverly Hills. They'd be better than
any psychiatrist. Christ! A
psychiatrist!
At 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue,
Washington, D.C., they were all
novocained above the shoulders.
17
CHAPTER TWO
"My name is Lin Shoo," said the
uniformed Communist softly,
slant-eyeing the large, disheveled
American soldier who sat in a leather
chair, holding a glass of whiskey in
one hand and a well-chewed cigar in
the other. "I am commander of the
People's Police, Peking. And you are
under house arrest at this moment.
There is no point in being abusive,
these are merely formalities.'
"Formalities for what?" MacKenzie
Hawkins shouted from his armchair the
only occidental piece of furniture in
the oriental house. He put his heavy
boot on a black lacquered table and
flung his hand over the leather back,
the lighted cigar dangerously close to
a silk screen room divider. "There
aren't any goddamned formalities
except through the diplomatic mission.
Go down there and make your
complaints. You'll probably have to
get in line."
Hawkins chuckled and drank from his
glass.
"You have chosen to reside outside
the mission," continued the Chinese
named Lin Shoo, his eyes darting be-
tween the cigar and the screen.
"Therefore you are not technically
within United States territory. So you
are subject to the disciplines of the
People's Police. However, we know you
will not go anywhere, General. That is
why I say it is a formality."
"What have you got out there?"
Hawkins waved his cigar toward the
thin, rectangular windows.
"There are two patrols on each side
of your residence. Eight in all."
"That's a big Sucking guard detail
for someone who's not going anywhere."
"Small liberties. Photographically,
two is more desirable than one and
three is menacing."
18
'You taking liberties?" Hawkins drew
on his cigar and again rested his hand
over the back of the leather chair.
The lighted butt was no more than an
inch from the silk.
"The Ministry of Education has done
so, yes. You will admit, General, your
place of isolation is most pleasant,
is it not? This is a lovely house on
a lovely hill. So very peaceful, and
with a fine view." Lin Shoo walked
around the chair and unobtrusively
moved the panel of the silk screen
away from Hawkins's cigar. It was too
late; the heat of the butt had caused
a small circular burn in the fabric.
"It's a high-rent district," replied
Hawkins. "Somebody in this people's
paradise, where nobody owns anything
but everyone owns everything, is
making a fast buck. Four hundred of
'em every month."
"You were fortunate to find it.
Property can be purchased by
collectives. A collective is not
private ownership." The police officer
walked to the narrow opening that led
to the single sleeping room of the
house. It was dark, where sunlight
should have been streaming through the
wide window there was a blanket nailed
across the frame into the thin
surrounding wall. On the floor a
number of mats had been piled one on
top of another; wrappings from
American candy bars were scattered
about and there was a distinct odor of
whiskey.
"Why the photographs?"
The Chinese turned from the
unpleasant sight. "To show the world
that we are treating you better than
you treated us. This house is not a
tiger cage in Saigon, nor is it a
dungeon in the shark-infested waters
of Holcotaz."
"Alcatraz. The Indians got it."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Nothing. You're making a big splash
with this thing, aren't you?" .
Lin Shoo was silent for a moment; it
was the pause before profundity.
"Should someone who has for years
publicly denounced the deeply felt
objectives of your beloved
motherland dynamite your Lin-Kolon
Memorial inside your Washington Square
within your state of Columbia, the
robed barbarians on your Court of
Supreme Justice would, no doubt, have
executed him by now." The Chinese
smiled and smoothed the tunic of his
Mao uni19
form. "We do not.behave in such
primitive ways. All life is precious.
Even a diseased dog, such as you."
"And-you gooksnever denounced anybody,
is that it?"
"Our leaders reveal only truth. That
is common knowledge throughout the
world; the lessons of the infallible
chairman. Truth is not denunciation,
General. It is merely truth. All
knowing."
' Like my state of Columbia,"
muttered Hawkins, removing his foot
from the lacquered table. "Why the
hell did you pick me out? A lot of
people have done a lot of goddamned
denouncing. Why am I so special?"
"Because they are not so famous. Or
infamous, if you wilW. Although I did
enjoy the film of your life. Very
arbsbc; a poem of violence.
"You saw that, huh?"
"Privately. Certain portions were
extracted. Those showing the actor
portraying you murdering our heroic
youth. Very savage, General." The
Communist circled the black lacquered
table and smiled again. "Yes, you are
an infamous man. And now you have
insulted us by destroying a revered
monument
"Come off it. I don't even know what
happened. I was drugged and you
goddamned well know it. I was with
your General Lu Sin. With his broads,
in hi* house."
"You must give us our honor back
again, General Hawkins. Can't you see
that?" Lin Shoo spoke quietly, as
though Hawkins had not interrupted.
"It would be a simple matter for you
to render an apology. A ceremony has
been planned. With a small contingent
of the press in attendance. We have
written out the words for you."
"Oh, troy!" Hawkins sprang out of
the chair, towering over the
policeman. "We're back to that againl
How many times do I have to tell you
basturds? Americans don't crawll In
any goddamned ceremony, with or
without the goddamned pressl Read that
straight, you puke-skinned dwarfl"
"Do not upset yourself. You place
far too much emphasis on
a mere
ceremonial function; you place
everyone all of us in most difficult
positions. A small ceremony; so
little, so simple
"Not to me it isn'tl I represent the
armed forces of the 20
United States and nothing's little or
simple to usl We don't trip easy, buddy
boy; we march straight to the drumsl"
"I beg your pardon?"
Hawkins shrugged, a touch bewildered by
his own words. "Never mind. The answer's
no. You may scare the lace-pants boys
down at the mission, but you don't shake
me."
"They appealed to you because they were
instructed to do so. Certainly that must
have occurred to you."
"Double bullshit!" Hawkins walked around
to the fireplace, drank from his glass
and placed it on the mantel next to a
brightly colored box. "Those fags were
cooking up something with that group of
queens at State. Wait'll the White
House wait'll the Pentagon reads my
report. Oh, boy! You bowlegged runts will
hightail it to the mountains and then
we'll blow them upl" Hawkins grinned, his
eyes bright.
"You are so abusive," said Lin Shoo
quietly, shaking his head sadly. He
picked up the brightly colored box next
to the general's glass. "Tsing Taow
firecrackers. The finest made in the
world. So loud, so bright with white
light when they go bang, bang, bang. Very
lovely to watch and to hear."
"Yeah," agreed Ha'wkins, slightly
confused by the change
of subject. "Lu Sin gave 'em to me. We
shot off a motherk~ad
the other night. Before the Sucker
drugged me."
"Very beautiful, General Hawkins. They
are a fine gift."
"Christ knows he owed me something."
Robert Ludlum - Road To Gandolfo.txt Page 3
