Дэвид Балдаччи - No Man's Land

“There’s a lot of wisdom in that philosophy,” noted Robert.

“Your father had seen more combat than just about anyone I knew. He knew how terrible it was. He thought Jericho was a cancer that the Army should just cut out of itself.”

“But he didn’t win that battle?” said Puller slowly.

Coleman shook his head. “Only battle I know the man to have lost. Ballard and Jericho were too well entrenched. They had too many connections. They managed huge budgets that got many an officer promoted up the ranks. It was wrong. It was cronyism at its worst. And it still happened.”

“And our father?”

“He never let it drop. Fought it for years.” He eyed them closely. “And it finally cost him. It cost him dearly.”

Robert got there faster than Puller.

“It cost him his fourth star.”

Coleman nodded. “They couldn’t very well deny him the second and third stars. He flat-out earned those. But when you get to four, there’s more politics than merit. And the stand your father had taken came home to roost, because he had pissed off a lot of people who would determine if he got the fourth star or not. And he didn’t get it. And he was basically forced to retire.”

Coleman stopped and tapped the fourth star on his shoulder. “When I got this pinned on, do you know who I was thinking about? Your old man. He deserved the fourth star far more than I ever did. And ever since I got it part of me has been ashamed that I walk around with it while he never had that honor.”

Coleman sighed and sat back. “I know his current condition. But I want to propose something to both of you.” He paused, seemingly to marshal his thoughts. “We’ve never done this before and it carries no official weight. But I’ve run this up the flagpole and got nothing but salutes from both the brass and the civilian side.” He paused again. “We want to award an honorary fourth star to your father. I wish it could be the real deal, but that’s not possible now. But we want to do this. Out of respect for your father. We want to try to make this, if not right, at least better.” He leaned forward. “What do you say?”

“I say it’s about time,” both Pullers replied simultaneously.

THE CEREMONY WAS carried out in Puller Sr.’s room at the VA. Dignitaries both military and civilian were in attendance, including the Secretary of Defense and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. General Coleman presided over the presentation of the honorary fourth star.

Puller Sr. at first did not seem to understand what was going on, but as the ceremony continued and Coleman whispered some words to him and he saw the star, he seemed to grasp the enormity of what was happening.

When it was over and everyone left, though, Puller motioned for his sons to take off his uniform jacket. They helped him out of it and then he tapped the cassette recorder that was on his bedside table.

Robert quickly turned it on and Puller Sr. sat back on his bed, turned to face the recorder, closed his eyes, and smiled as he listened to his wife singing.

They left him there and headed out.

“I don’t think the fourth star meant as much to him as hearing her voice does,” said Robert.

“Not even close,” said Puller. He hesitated.

Robert noticed this and said, “What?”

“Coleman said Dad confronted Jericho. Do you think he ever thought Jericho was responsible for Mom’s disappearance?”

“I think if Dad remotely thought that was what happened he would have gone over and shot Jericho himself.”

“You’re right.”

“So what happens to the stuff they were doing at Building Q?”

“It’ll go on. The company is under a government contract.”

“Anne Shepard described some of the stuff they’re doing there. The liquid armor, the electrical stuff that makes soldiers think faster on the battlefield. Some of it actually sounded good.”

“Yeah, but just think if we spent that money on early childhood education and nutrition.”

“Right.”

“And I can guarantee that somewhere in the military-industrial complex people are working on stuff that will mean one day a million Paul Rogerses will be running around doing the fighting. And then it’s lights-out for the human race.”

“That’s why I like hanging with you, Bobby. You’re always so uplifting.”

* * *

When Puller got back to his apartment, someone was waiting for him.

Veronica Knox said, “I heard about the fourth star. I think that’s great.”

“Well, the truth is he preferred hearing my mother’s voice to the fourth star.”

When she looked puzzled he quickly explained.

“I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Romantic? I didn’t think you thought about stuff like that, Knox.”

“There’s obviously a lot you still don’t know about me.”

He let her into the apartment and took a minute to let his cat, AWOL, out. They sat at his small kitchen table.

Puller said, “They said Jericho killed herself. But Bobby got a look at the postmortem report on her. Her spine was crushed. And there was something else.”

“What?”

“A ring was found in her stomach.”

“Really? A ring?”

“It was inscribed with a phrase, For the greater good . And it had the initials CJ . Claire Jericho.” He looked at her. “Rogers wore a ring.”

“That’s right, he did,” said Knox. “I remember seeing it.”

“What I can’t figure out is how Rogers found out where Jericho lived. It was classified. Bobby couldn’t figure it out either.”

“Well, he was a resourceful guy. I guess he found a way. But what does it matter now?” Before Puller could say anything Knox added, “Now, let’s move on to something else.”

She pulled an envelope from her pocket.

He looked at it and then glanced at her. “Don’t tell me those are two plane tickets to Rome?”

“Okay, I won’t, because they’re not. They’re two tickets to a Nats baseball game. And I’ll spring for the hot dogs and beer too.”

He smiled. “The theory being start small?”

“Considering who we are, I think it’s best.” She leaned across the table and kissed him.

“So does this mean no more secrets?”

She eyed him directly. “Can anyone ever promise that, Puller?”

He considered this. “I guess not.”

They took a walk around the neighborhood with Knox’s hand slipped inside his. When she looked at him he seemed lost in thought.

“What’s going on up there?” she asked.

“Just wondering where Rogers is.”

She nodded. “Wherever he is, I wish him a better life than the one he’s had so far.”

* * *

The car pulled up to the shack at the end of the dirt road.

The woman got out and walked up to the door. It opened before she got to it.

Suzanne Davis looked at Paul Rogers. He was pale and thin and rubbing the back of his head.

“You ready?” she asked.

“You sure about this?” he said.

“You ask me that again, I’m going to shoot you in the nuts. And I don’t care if you can’t feel pain, that’s still going to hurt mentally.”

They walked out to her car and climbed in.

“Where to?” asked Rogers.

“I just feel like driving until I stop feeling like driving.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“I’m surprised they let you walk away,” she said.

Rogers touched the spot on his head. “They took it out, the implant. It changed me. I’m…better.”

He took a prescription bottle out of his pocket, popped some pills, and swallowed them with his spit.

She eyed him. “Where’d you get those?”