The Enemy

need the Irwin conference agenda,” I said.
    There was another pause.
    “There wasn’t one,” Vassell said.
    “I’m sure there was,” I said. “This is the army. It’s not the Actors Studio. We don’t do free improvisation sessions.”
    There was a pause.
    “There was nothing on paper,” Coomer said. “I told you, Major, it was no big deal.”
    “How did you spend your day today?”
    “Chasing rumors about the general.”
    “How did you get down here from D.C.?”
    “We have a car and a driver on loan from the Pentagon.”
    “You checked out of the Jefferson?”
    “Yes, we did.”
    “So your bags are in the Pentagon car?”
    “Yes, they are.”
    “Where is the car?”
    “Waiting outside your post headquarters.”
    “It’s not my post headquarters,” I said. “I’m here on temporary detachment.”
    I turned to Summer and told her to go fetch their briefcases from the car. They got all outraged, but they knew they couldn’t stop me doing it. Civilian notions about unreasonable search and seizure and warrants and probable cause stop at an army post main gate. I watched their eyes while Summer was gone. They were annoyed, but they weren’t worried. So either they were telling the truth about the Irwin conference or they had already ditched the relevant paperwork. But I went through the motions anyway. Summer got back carrying two identical briefcases. They were exactly like the one Kramer had in his silver-framed photographs. Staffers kiss up in all kinds of ways.
    I searched through them on my desk. I found passports, plane tickets, travel vouchers, and itineraries in both of them. But no agendas for Fort Irwin.
    “Sorry for the inconvenience,” I said.
    “Happy now, son?” Vassell said.
    “Kramer’s wife is dead too,” I said. “Did you know that?”
    I watched them carefully, and I saw that they didn’t know. They stared at me and stared at each other and started to get pale and upset.
    “How?” Vassell said.
    “When?” Coomer said.
    “Last night,” I said. “She was a homicide victim.”
    “Where?”
    “In her house. There was an intruder.”
    “Do we know who it was?”
    “No, we don’t. It’s not our case. It’s a civilian jurisdiction.”
    “What was it? A burglary?”
    “It maybe started out that way.”
    They said nothing more. Summer and I walked them out to the sidewalk in front of post headquarters and watched them climb into their Pentagon car. It was a Mercury Grand Marquis, a couple of model years newer than Mrs. Kramer’s big old boat, and black rather than green. Their driver was a tall guy in BDUs. He had subdued-order badges on and I couldn’t make out his name or his rank in the dark. But he didn’t look like an enlisted man. He U-turned smoothly across the empty road and drove Vassell and Coomer away. We watched his taillights disappear north, through the main gate, and away into the darkness beyond.
    “What do you think?” Summer said.
    “I think they’re full of shit,” I said.
    “Important shit or regular flag-rank shit?”
    “They’re lying,” I said. “They’re uptight, they’re lying, and they’re stupid. Why am I worried about Kramer’s briefcase?”
    “Sensitive paperwork,” she said. “Whatever he was carrying to California.”
    I nodded. “They just defined it for me. It’s the conference agenda itself.”
    “You’re sure there was one?”
    “There’s always an agenda. And it’s always on paper. There’s a paper agenda for everything. You want to change the dog food in the K-9 kennels, you need forty-seven separate meetings with forty-seven separate paper agendas. So there was one for Irwin, that’s for damn sure. It was completely stupid to say there wasn’t. If they’ve got something to hide, they should have just said it’s too secret for me to see.”
    “Maybe the conference really wasn’t important.”
    “That’s bullshit too. It was very important.”
    “Why?”
    “Because a two-star general was going. And a one-star. And because it was New Year’s Eve, Summer. Who flies on New Year’s Eve and spends the night in a lousy stopover hotel? And this year in Germany was a big deal. The Wall is coming down. We won, after forty-five years. The parties must have been incredible. Who would miss them for something unimportant? To have gotten those three guys on a plane on New Year’s Eve, this Irwin thing had to be some kind of a very big deal.”
    “They were upset about Mrs. Kramer. More than