The Enemy

to tell her, but she had anticipated every one of them. She had ordered a list of all base personnel, plus a copy of the gate log so we could add and subtract names as appropriate. She had arranged for Carbone’s quarters to be sealed, pending a search. She had arranged an interview with his CO to develop a better picture of his personal and professional life.
    “Excellent,” I said.
    “What’s this thing with Willard?” she asked.
    “A pissing contest, probably,” I said. “Important case like this, he wants to come down and direct things personally. To remind me I’m under a cloud.”
    But I was wrong.

    Willard finally showed after a total of exactly four hours. I heard his voice in the outer office. I was pretty sure my sergeant wasn’t offering him coffee. She had better instincts than that. My door opened and he came in. He didn’t look at me. Just closed the door behind him and turned around and sat down in my visitor’s chair. Immediately started up with the shuffling thing. He was going at it hard and plucking at the knees of his pants like they were burning his skin.
    “Yesterday,” he said. “I want a complete record of your movements. I want to hear it from your own lips.”
    “You’re down here to ask
me
questions?”
    “Yes,” he said.
    I shrugged.
    “I was on a plane until two,” I said. “I was with you until five.”
    “And then?”
    “I got back here at eleven.”
    “Six hours? I did it in four.”
    “You drove, presumably. I took two buses and hitched a ride.”
    “After that?”
    “I spoke to my brother on the phone,” I said.
    “I remember your brother,” Willard said. “I worked with him.”
    I nodded. “He mentioned that.”
    “And then what?”
    “I spoke to Lieutenant Summer,” I said. “Socially.”
    “And then?”
    “Carbone’s body was discovered about midnight.”
    He nodded and twitched and shuffled and looked uncomfortable.
    “Did you keep your bus tickets?” he said.
    “I doubt it,” I said.
    He smiled. “Remember who gave you a ride to the post?”
    “I doubt it. Why?”
    “Because I might need to know. To prove I didn’t make a mistake.”
    I said nothing.
    “
You
made mistakes,” Willard said.
    “Did I?”
    He nodded. “I can’t decide whether you’re an idiot or whether you’re doing this on purpose.”
    “Doing what?”
    “Are you
trying
to embarrass the army?”
    “What?”
    “What’s the big picture here, Major?” he said.
    “You tell me, Colonel.”
    “The Cold War is ending. Therefore there are big changes coming. The status quo will not be an option. Therefore we’ve got every part of the military trying to stand tall and make the cut. And you know what?”
    “What?”
    “The army is always at the bottom of the pile. The Air Force has got all those glamorous airplanes. The Navy has got submarines and carriers. The Marines are always untouchable. And we’re stuck down there in the mud, literally. The bottom of the pile. The army is
boring,
Reacher. That’s the view in Washington.”
    “So?”
    “This Carbone guy was a shirtlifter. He was a damn
fudgepacker,
for Christ’s sake. An elite unit has got
perverts
in it? You think the army needs for people to know that? At a time like this? You should have written him up as a training accident.”
    “That wouldn’t have been true.”
    “Who cares?”
    “He wasn’t killed because of his orientation.”
    “Of course he was.”
    “I do this stuff for a living,” I said. “And I say he wasn’t.”
    He glared at me. Went quiet for a moment.
    “OK,” he said. “We’ll come back to that. Who else but you saw the body?”
    “My guys,” I said. “Plus a Psy-Ops light colonel I wanted an opinion from. Plus the pathologist.”
    He nodded. “You deal with your guys. I’ll tell Psy-Ops and the doctor.”
    “Tell them what?”
    “That we’re writing it up as a training accident. They’ll understand. No harm, no foul. No investigation.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “You think the army wants this to get around? Now? That Delta had an illegal soldier for four years? Are you nuts?”
    “The sergeants want an investigation.”
    “I’m pretty sure their CO won’t. Believe me. You can take that as gospel.”
    “You’ll have to give me a direct order,” I said. “Words of one syllable.”
    “Watch my lips,” Willard said. “Do not investigate the fag. Write a situation report indicating that he died in a training accident. A night maneuver, a run, an