Robert Randisi - Bullets & Lies

“That’s physically,” the captain said, “and he has become somewhat…frail. But I refer to his mental state.”

“Yes, I saw that, too.”

The captain paced while he spoke. The shine on his boots was almost painful. As he stared at Roper, his face remained expressionless, as if carved from granite.

“I am generally able to shield the colonel from contact with others,” Morressy said, “but somehow, he slipped away today.”

“He seemed to have had a pretty good guard dog in Corporal Prince,” Roper commented.

“Yes, Prince is a good lad,” Morressy agreed. “It was he who told me you were to see the colonel today.”

“I figured that, too. Do you want to know what else I figure?”

“Yes, I do,” the captain said. He stopped pacing and faced Roper. “Tell me what the country’s greatest detective has deduced.”

“I figure you’re worried I’ll talk about what I saw today,” Roper said. “I figure you came here to warn me, or threaten, or cajole, or whatever, not to talk about the condition I saw the colonel in.”

“He needs to stay in the service long enough to get his third bird,” Morressy said. “That’s all. It’s probably only a matter of months.”

“Well, Captain,” Roper said. “I’m not about to ruin the man’s chances. That’s not what I came to Washington to do.”

“But you and he…he’s told me about you, that you weren’t friends.”

“We were never friends,” Roper said, “and we never will be.”

The captain seemed surprised, the first crack in his countenance. “But…he’s a great man.”

“I respect him,” Roper said, “but he’s not a great man. Never was, never will be. On that, you and I disagree.”

“How can you—”

“However,” Roper said, cutting the man off, “I pledge not to say anything.”

“Can I depend on that?”

“Yes, you can.”

The captain stared at him.

“Depend on it, or kill me to shut me up, Captain. Your choice,” Roper said. “I assume you wouldn’t hesitate to kill for Colonel Sanderson.”

“No, I would not,” the man said. “But in this instance, I don’t believe I’ll have to.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“I think we are done here,” the captain said, and headed for the door.

As the door closed behind him, Roper said, “Yep, I think we are.”

15

Roper had a leisurely breakfast the next morning, once again in the hotel dining room. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Corporal Prince he’d seen enough of Washington D.C. He was only there to find out what he needed to, and then he’d be gone, and he didn’t intend to come back. Roper had never liked brass—respected some of them, but never liked them—and he detested politicians and their backroom deals.

After breakfast he took his book outside to the front of the hotel and read it sitting in a chair.

At lunchtime he went back into the dining room. After that he sent a telegram to his office, on the off chance that Lola—or someone else from Mrs. Batchelder’s school—would read it. After that he went back to the porch to read.

Around 3 p.m. he’d put the book down and was watching the people walk and ride by. The clerk came out and handed a telegram to him.

“Thanks.”

He unfolded it. It was Lola, telling him it was nice to know where he was and that no one was looking for him. That was fine with him. He wasn’t losing any other business while being in Washington. That would have just been adding insult to injury.

He went back to his book but was interrupted when a shadow fell across the pages. He looked up and saw Corporal Prince standing there, in uniform.

“Corporal,” he said, putting the book down in his lap, “who wants to see me now?”

“No one, sir,” Prince said. “I’m here for me. On my own time.”

“Is that a fact? And what’s on your mind?”

“Sir, I’ve heard stories about you, during the war, working for Mr. Pinkerton. And some of the things you’ve done since the war.”

“I’m sure everything you’ve heard about me in Washington has not been good.”

“No, sir,” Prince said, “but I know when people are speaking Washington.”

“ ‘Speaking Washington,’ ” Roper repeated. “I like that. “Do you want to get a drink, Corporal?”

“I would like to, sir, but I am due back on duty soon,” Prince said. “I just wanted to stop by and say…well, if there’s anything I can do to help—”

“With what, Corporal?”

“With…whatever you’re working on,” Prince said, “whatever brought you here. If I can help, I’d be available.”

“Would you be?”

“Yes, sir, I would.”

“Well, that’s good to know, Corporal,” Roper said. “Good to know.”

“You can contact me through the captain,” Prince said, then left, having had his say.

Roper had the feeling he knew a better way to contact the corporal if he needed to than through the captain.

At five o’clock, he went to his room to change for supper.

* * *

At five fifty-five, an open carriage pulled up in front. Donald White was sitting in it, and a young man was driving. Roper had no doubt the man was a soldier, but he was not in uniform. He reminded Roper of young Prince, but it was not him.

“Well,” White yelled, “you gonna just sit there?”

Roper stood up from his chair and walked to the carriage.

“You’ve had a busy day,” White said.

“Just been sitting in that chair,” Roper said.

“I mean yesterday,” White said. “Come on, get in.”

Roper climbed in and the carriage started forward.

“Have you been watching me?” Roper asked.

“Not exactly,” White said, “but I’ve got eyes everywhere.”

“So you know—”

“I don’t know shit for sure, Tal,” White said. “You can tell me all about it over a nice thick steak.”

They sat quietly for the next few miles and listened to the sound of the wheels on the cobblestone streets.

White took him to a steak house called The Texas Steer. It was a large room with high ceilings, hardwood floors, and rough-hewn wooden tables and chairs.

At the door a man wearing a suit greeted them.

“Mr. White. Nice to see you back.”

“Thank you, Winston. A quiet table, please?”

“Yes, sir, of course.”

They followed Winston across the large expanse of the room. Along the way several men greeted White, and a few of them even stuck their hands out to shake.

“Thank you, Winston,” White said to the man when they reached a table in the back from where they’d be able to see the entire room.

“Maxwell will be with you shortly, sir.”

The man walked away and Roper looked across the table at White.

“Winston? Maxwell?”

“I doubt those are their real names,” White said. “But they make sure I have an excellent dining experience every time I come here.”

Roper looked around. There were still some diners looking at them, no doubt wondering who White was to receive such preferential treatment.

“Who do they think you are?”

“Some bullshit government bureaucrat,” White said. “They don’t know what I do, just that I do it for the government. For that reason, they want to think they’re my friends.”

The waiter came over and White ordered two steak dinners and beer. The beer came first, in thick glass mugs with stems.

“To your health,” White said, raising his glass.

“And yours.”

White drank and set the glass down lightly.

“You saw the colonel yesterday.”

“I did.” Then Roper realized. “Prince is yours, isn’t he?”

White didn’t answer.

“You’ve got your men in the Army,” Roper said. “Probably the Navy, too. Captain Morressy thinks the boy is his.”