demille.thegeneralsdaughter-第3部分

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　〃This　is　going　to　take　priority；　Mr。　Brenner。　It's　a　big　one。〃
　〃So　is　this。〃　I　glanced　at　Sergeant　Elkins；　who　was　eyeing　me　carefully。
　Kent　said；　〃It　was　General　Campbell's　daughter。〃
　〃My　goodness。〃　I　thought　a　moment。　All　my　instincts　said　to　avoid　any　cases　that　involved　the　rape　and　murder　of　a　general's　daughter。　It　was　a　lose…lose　situation。　My　sense　of　duty；　honor；　and　justice　assured　me　that　some　other　sucker　in　the　special　unit　of　the　CID　could　handle　it。　Somebody　whose　career　was　down　the　toilet　anyway。　I　thought　of　several　candidates。　But；　duty　and　honor　aside；　my　natural　curiosity　was　aroused。　I　asked　Colonel　Kent；　〃Where　can　I　meet　you？〃
　〃I'll　meet　you　in　the　provost　building　parking　lot　and　take　you　to　the　scene。〃
　Being　undercover；　I　shouldn't　be　anywhere　near　the　provost　marshal's　office；　but　Kent　is　annoyingly　dense。　I　said；　〃Not　your　place。〃
　〃Oh　。。。　how　about　the　infantry　barracks？　The　Third　Battalion　HQ。　It's　on　the　way。〃
　Elkins；　tense　and　paranoid　already；　was　getting　fidgety。　I　said　to　Kent；　〃Okay；　sweetheart。　Ten　minutes。〃　I　hung　up　and　said　to　Sergeant　Elkins；　〃My　girlfriend。　Needs　some　lovin'。〃
　Elkins　looked　at　his　watch。　〃Kinda　late　。。。　or　early　。。。〃
　〃Not　for　this　little　gal。〃
　Elkins　smiled。
　As　per　armory　regulations；　I　was　wearing　a　sidearm；　and；　satisfied　that　Elkins　was　cooled　out；　I　unhooked　the　pistol　belt　and　left　it　there　as　per　post　regulations。　I　didn't　know　then　that　I　would　need　a　weapon　later。　I　said　to　Elkins；　〃Might　be　back。〃
　〃Yeah；　okay。　Give　her　one　for　me；　boy。〃
　〃Sure　thing。〃
　I　had　left　my　Blazer　back　at　the　trailer　park；　and　my　POV…that's　Army　talk　for　privately　owned　vehicle；　not　point　of　view…was　now　a　Ford　pickup　truck；　issued　to　me　for　my　current　impersonation。　It　was　plete　with　shotgun　rack；　dog　hair　on　the　upholstery；　and　a　pair　of　hip　waders　in　the　back。
　So　off　I　went；　through　the　main　post。　Within　a　few　minutes　I　was　into　the　area　of　the　Infantry　Training　Brigade；　long　wooden　World　War　II　era　barracks；　mostly　deserted　now　and　looking　dark　and　spooky。　The　cold　war　is　over；　and　the　Army；　while　not　exactly　withering　away；　is　definitely　downsizing；　and　the　bat　arms　branches…the　infantry；　armor；　and　artillery；　the　reason　for　the　Army's　existence…are　taking　the　biggest　cuts。　The　CID；　however；　dealing　as　it　does　with　crime；　is　a　growth　organization。
　As　a　young　private；　I　graduated　Advanced　Infantry　Training　School　here　at　Fort　Hadley　many　years　ago；　then　went　to　Airborne　School　and　Ranger　School　at　Fort　Benning；　not　far　from　here。　So　I'm　an　Airborne　Ranger…the　ultimate　weapon；　a　killing　machine；　mean；　lean；　death　from　the　skies；　good　to　go；　and　so　on。　But　I'm　a　little　older　now　and　the　CID　suits　me　fine。
　Ultimately；　even　government　institutions　have　to　justify　their　existence；　and　the　Army　was　doing　a　good　job　of　finding　a　new　role　for　itself　in　knocking　around　pissant　countries　who　get　out　of　line。　But　I've　noticed　a　certain　lack　of　esprit　and　purpose　in　the　officers　and　men　who　had　always　felt　that　they　were　the　only　thing　standing　between　the　Russian　hordes　and　their　loved　ones。　It's　sort　of　like　a　boxer；　training　for　years　for　the　title　match；　then　finding　out　that　the　other　contender　just　dropped　dead。　You're　a　little　relieved；　but　there's　also　a　letdown；　a　hollow　place　where　your　adrenaline　pump　used　to　be。
　Anyway；　it　was　that　time　of　day　that　the　Army　calls　first　light；　and　the　Georgia　sky　was　turning　pink；　and　the　air　was　heavy　with　humidity；　and　you　could　figure　out　it　was　going　to　be　a　ninety…degree　day。　I　could　smell　the　wet　Georgia　clay；　the　pine　trees；　and　the　aroma　of　Army　coffee　wafting　out　of　a　nearby　mess　hall；　or　as　we　call　it　now；　a　dining　facility。
　I　pulled　off　the　road　and　onto　the　grassy　field　in　front　of　the　old　Battalion　Headquarters。　Colonel　Kent　got　out　of　his　official　olive…drab　car；　and　I　got　out　of　my　pickup　truck。
　Kent　is　about　fifty；　tall；　medium　build；　with　a　pockmarked　face　and　icy　blue　eyes。　He's　a　bit　stiff　at　times；　not　clever；　as　I　said；　but　hardworking　and　efficient。　He's　the　military　equivalent　of　a　chief　of　police；　manding　all　the　uniformed　military　police　at　Fort　Hadley。　He's　a　stickler　for　rules　and　regulations；　and；　while　not　disliked；　he's　not　anyone's　best　buddy。
　Kent　was　all　spiffy　in　his　provost　marshal's　uniform　with　his　white　helmet；　white　pistol　belt；　and　spit…shined　boots。　He　said　to　me；　〃I　have　six　MPs　securing　the　scene。　Nothing　has　been　touched。〃
　〃That's　a　start。〃　Kent　and　I　have　known　each　other　about　ten　years；　and　we've　developed　a　good　working　relationship；　though　in　fact　I　only　see　him　about　once　a　year　when　a　case　brings　me　to　Fort　Hadley。　Kent　outranks　me；　but　I　can　be　familiar　with　him；　actually　give　him　a　hard　time；　as　long　as　I'm　the　investigating　officer　on　the　case。　I've　seen　him　testify　at　courts…martial；　and　he's　everything　a　prosecutor　could　ask　for　in　a　cop：　believable；　logical；　unemotional；　and　organized　in　his　testimony。　Yet；　there's　something　about　him　that　didn't　play　right；　and　I　always　had　the　feeling　that　the　prosecutors　were　happy　to　get　him　off　the　stand。　I　think；　maybe；　he　es　across　as　a　little　too　stiff　and　unfeeling。　When　the　Army　has　to　court…martial　one　of　its　own；　there　is　usually　some　sympathy；　or　at　least　concern；　for　the　accused。　But　Kent　is　one　of　those　cops　who　only　sees　black　and　white；　and　anyone　who　breaks　the　law　at　Fort　Hadley　has　personally　affronted　Colonel　Kent。　I　actually　saw　him　smile　once　when　a　young　recruit；　who　burned　down　a　deserted　barracks　in　a　drunken　stupor；　got　ten　years　for　arson。　But　the　law　is　the　law；　I　suppose；　and　such　a　brittle　personality　as　William　Kent　has　found　his　niche　in　life。　That's　why　I　was　a　little　surprised　to　discover　that　he　was　somewhat　shaken　by　the　events　of　that　morning。　I　asked　him；　〃Have　you　informed　General　Campbell？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃Perhaps　you'd　better　go　to　his　house。〃
　He　nodded；　not　very　enthusiastically。　He　looked　awful；　actually；　and　I　deduced　that　he'd　been　to　the　scene　himself。　I　informed　Colonel　Kent；　〃The　general　is　going　to　have　your　ass　for　delaying　notification。〃
　He　explained；　〃Well；　I　didn't　have　a　positive　identification　until　I　saw　the　body　myself。　I　mean；　I　couldn't　go　to　his　house　and　tell　him　that　his　daughter…〃
　〃Who　made　the　tentative　identification？〃
　〃A　Sergeant　St。　John。　He　found　the　body。〃
　〃And　he　knew　her？〃
　〃They　were　on　duty　together。〃
　〃Well；　that's　a　pretty　positive　identification。　And　you　knew　her？〃
　〃Yes；　of　course。　I　made　a　positive　identification。〃
　〃Not　to　mention　dog　tags　and　the　name　on　her　uniform。〃
　〃Well；　that's　all　gone。〃
　〃Gone？〃
　〃Yes　。。。　whoever　did　it　took　her　uniform　and　dog　tags　。。。〃
　You　get　a　sense　for　these　things；　or　maybe　you　get　a　backlog　of　cases　stored　in　your　head；　and　when　you　hear　the　evidence　and　see　the　scene；　you　ask　yourself；　〃What's　wrong　with　this　picture？〃　I　asked　Colonel　Kent；　〃Underwear？〃
　〃What？　Oh　。。。　it's　there　。。。〃　He　added；　〃Usually　they　take　the　underwear。　Right？　This　is　weird。〃
　〃Is　Sergeant　St。　John　a　suspect？〃
　Colonel　Kent　shrugged。　〃That's　your　job。〃
　〃Well；　with　a　name　like　St。　John；　we'll　give　him　the　benefit　of　the　doubt　for　the　moment。〃　I　looked　around　at　the　deserted　barracks；　the　Battalion　Headquarters；　the　mess　hall；　and　the　pany　assembly　areas　overgrown　with　weeds　now；　and　in　the　gray　light　of　dawn；　I　could　imagine　the　young　troops　falling　in　for　roll　call。　I　can　still　remember　being　always　tired；　cold；　and　hungry　before　breakfast。　I　remember；　too；　being　frightened；　knowing　that　ninety　percent　of　us　standing　there　in　formation　were　going　to　Vietnam；　and　knowing　that　the　casualty　rate　among　the　frontline　troops　was　high　enough　so　that　a　Midland　bookie　wouldn't　give　you　better　than　two…to…one　odds　that　you'd　make　it　back　in　the　same　shape　you　left。　I　said　to　Kent；　〃That　was　my　pany　over　there。　Delta　pany。〃
　〃I　didn't　know　you　were　infantry。〃
　〃Long　time　ago。　Before　I　became　a　copper。　You？〃
　〃Always　an　MP。　But　I　saw　some　stuff　in　'Nam。　I　was　at　the　American　Embassy　when　the　Cong　came　over　the　walls　that　time。　January　'68。〃　He　added；　〃I　killed　one　of　them。〃
　I　nodded。　〃Sometimes　I　think　the　infantry　was　better。　The　bad　guys　were　never　one　of　your　own。　This　crap　is　diff