Jonathan Kellerman - The Web

"Certainly, Senator," said the red-faced officer. His voice was raspy. Neither he nor the swarthy man had budged during the introductions. "You're at the head, sir."

Hoffman strode quickly to his place and removed his jacket. The taller officer rushed to take it from him, but he'd already hung it on the back of the chair and sat down, removing his collar pin and loosening his tie.

"Drink, Senator?" the officer said.

"Iced tea, Walt. Thanks."

The tall man left. The red-faced man remained in place near the door.

"Join us, Captain Ewing," said Hoffman, motioning to one of the two empty chairs.

Ewing removed his hat and complied, leaving lots of space between his back and the chair.

"Can I assume everyone knows everyone, Elvin?" said Hoffman.

"I know everyone by name," said Ewing. "But we've never met."

"Mr. Creedman, Dr. Pam Moreland, Dr. and Mrs. Delaware," said Hoffman, "Captain Elvin Ewing, base commander."

Ewing put a finger to his eyeglasses. He looked as comfortable as a eunuch in a locker room.

The officer returned with Hoffman's tea. The glass was oversized and a mint sprig floated on top.

"Anything else, Senator?"

"No. Sit down, Walt."

As he started to obey, Ewing said, "Introduce yourself, Lieutenant."

"Lieutenant Zondervein," said the tall man, looking straight ahead.

"There," said Hoffman. "Now we're all friends." Emptying most of the glass with one gulp, he picked out the mint sprig and chewed on a leaf.

"Are you traveling alone, Senator?" said Creedman.

Hoffman grinned at him. "Just can't turn it off, can you? If you mean do I have an entourage, no, just me. And yes, it's a leased government jet, but I rode along with the base supplies."

The sleek craft I'd noticed.

"Actually," continued Hoffman, "there are three other legislative luminaries assigned to this particular trip. Senators Bering, Petrucci, and Hammersmith. They're in Hawaii right now, arriving in Guam tomorrow, and I can't promise you they haven't been sunbathing." Grinning. "I decided to come early so I could revisit my old stomping grounds, see old friends. No, Mr. Creedman, it didn't cost the taxpayers an extra penny, because my assignment is to assess facilities on several of the smaller Micronesian islands, including Aruk, and by coming alone I turned it into a cheap date."

He finished the tea, crushed an ice cube, swallowed, and laughed. "I got to sit up with the pilot. God, the instrumentation on these things. Might as well have been trying to play one of those damn computer games my grandkids are addicted to- did you know the average seven-year-old has more computer proficiency than his parents will ever achieve? Great eye-hand skills, too. Maybe we should train seven-year-olds to fly combat, Elvin."

Ewing's smile was anemic.

"Let me get you a refill, Senator," said Zondervein, starting to get up.

Hoffman said, "No, thanks- anyone else?"

Creedman lifted his martini glass.

Lieutenant Zondervein took it and went to the door. "I'll check on the first course."

Hoffman unfolded his napkin and tucked it into his collar. "Mafia style," he said. "But one wirephoto with grease spots on the tie and you learn. So what's on the menu, Elvin?"

"Chicken," said Ewing.

"Does it bounce?"

"I hope not, sir."

"Roast or fried?"

"Roast."

"See that, Mr. Creedman? Simple fare."

He turned to Ewing. "And for Dr. Moreland?"

"Sir?"

Hoffman's lips maintained a smile but his eyes narrowed until they disappeared. "Dr. Moreland's a vegetarian, Captain. I believe I radioed you that from the plane."

"Yes, sir. There are vegetables."

"There are vegetables. Fresh ones?"

"I believe so, sir."

"I hope so," said Hoffman, too gently. "Dr. Moreland maintains a very healthy diet- or at least he used to. I assume that hasn't changed, Bill?"

"Anything's fine," said Moreland.

"You were way ahead of your time, Bill. Eating right while the rest of us went merrily about, clogging our arteries. You look great. Been keeping up with the bridge?"

"No."

"No? You had how many master points- ten, fifteen?"

"Haven't played at all since you left, Nicholas."

"Really." Hoffman looked around. "Bill was a great bridge player- photographic memory and you couldn't read his face. The rest of us were amateurs, but we did manage to put together some spirited matches, didn't we, Bill? You really quit? No more duplicate tournaments like the ones you used to play at the Saipan club?"

Another shake of Moreland's head.

"Anyone here play?" said Hoffman. "Maybe we can get a game going after dinner."

Silence.

"Oh, well… great game. Skill plus the luck of the draw. A lot more realistic than something like chess."

Zondervein returned with Creedman's martini. Two sailors followed with a rolling cart of appetizers.

Honeydew melon wrapped in ham.

Hoffman said, "Take the meat off Dr. Moreland's."

Zondervein rushed to obey.

The ham tasted like canned sausage. The melon was more starch than sugar.

Gladys had said Hoffman was a gourmet, but gourmand was more like it: he dug in enthusiastically, scraping honeydew flesh down to bare rind and emptying his water glass three times.

"Dad's been writing to you," said Pam. "Did you receive his letters?"

"I did indeed," said Hoffman. "Two letters, right, Bill? Or did you send some I didn't get?"

"Just two."

"Would you believe they just made their way to my desk? The filtering process. Actually only the second one got to me directly. Maybe the three times you wrote "personal' on the envelope did the trick. Anyway, I was tickled to receive it. Then I read the reference to your first letter and put out a search for it. Finally found it in some aide's office filed under "Ecology.' You probably would have received a form letter in two or three months- where do you get the ham, Elvin? Not Smithwood or Parma, that's for sure."

"It's through the general mess, sir," said Ewing. "As you instructed."

Hoffman stared at him.

Ewing turned to Zondervein. "Where's the ham from, Lieutenant?"

"I'm not sure, sir."

"Find out ASAP. Before the senator leaves."

"Yes, sir. I'll go to the kitchen right now-"

"No," said Hoffman. "Not important- see, Tom, we eat frugally when the public picks up the tab."

"If you want great grub, Senator, come over to my house."

"You cook, do you?"

"Love to cook. Got a great beef tournedos recipe." Creedman smiled at Moreland. "I'm into meat."

"Get much meat on the island?" said Hoffman.

"I make do. It takes some creativity."

"How about you, Pam? Do you like to cook?"

"Not particularly."

"Only thing I can do is biscuits. Campside biscuits, recipe handed down from my great-grandmother- flour, baking soda, salt, sugar, bacon drippings."

"How long will you be staying?" said Moreland.

"Just till tomorrow."

"You've finished assessing Stanton?"

"The process began stateside."

"Are you planning to close it down?"

Hoffman put down his fork and rubbed the rim of his plate. "We're not at the decision stage, yet."

"Meaning closure is likely."

"I can't eliminate any possibilities, Bill."

"If the base closes, what will happen to Aruk?"

"You're probably in a better position to say, Bill."

"I probably am," said Moreland. "Do you remember what I wrote about the blockade of South Beach road?"

"Yes, I mentioned that to Captain Ewing."

"Did Captain Ewing give you his reason?"

Hoffman looked at Ewing. "Elvin?"

Ewing's red face was aflame. "Security," he rasped.

"Meaning?" said Moreland.

Ewing directed his answer at Hoffman. "I'm not free to discuss it openly, sir."