The staked Goat

bearing only a room number. She knobbed it open.
    We entered a small suite of offices. A woman, probably my telephone partner, barely glanced at us as we walked past her toward a desk occupied by a youngish, male staff sergeant who looked tall sitting down. He had reddish brown hair, close-cropped. As we approached, he rose. And rose.
    I seemed to recall a six-foot-six maximum height, with a waiver for up to two additional inches. I guessed he needed the waiver. His name tag said ”Casey.”
    ”The Colonel will see you, Mr. Cuddy.” He winked at Waller. ”Thank you, Waller.”
    Waller nodded, said ”Sir” to me as a good-bye, and left us.
    Casey knocked on an office door to his left. He waited for an affirmation from inside before he opened it. ”Sir, Mr. Cuddy.”
    ”John! Good to see you!” I entered the room. J.T. sprang up and came forward as though we were brothers reunited after twenty years of separation. ”Thank you, Sergeant,” said J.T.
    ”Yessir.” Casey backed out and closed the door as J.T. pumped my hand a few times for effect and then motioned to one of several steel, green-cushioned government office chairs in front of his desk. We sat.
    ”Well,” he said. ”This hasn’t been easy.”
    ”Especially on such short notice.”
    ”Right. I had to pull strings and call in favors.” J.T. looked a bit distracted, checked a desk calendar. ”I have a meeting at fifteen hundred across the District, so I’ve got to rush. I have all the files from a month before Al and I got to Saigon to a month after he left. That’s roughly September ‘67 to December ‘68. The files are chronological.”
    ”I remember.”
    J.T. frowned and sank a little lower.
    ”I suppose you wondered how come I didn’t make the funeral.”
    I shook my head. ”Actually, no, not until you told me you’d read about it. I just assumed it wouldn’t be enough publicized for you to be aware of it.”
    ”We’ve been busy, John. Pressure-cooker busy down here. I just didn’t have time to come, or even return your calls.”
    I held up my hand. ”You don’t owe me any explanations. Or apologies.”
    ”But I owe... owed Al. Like you said. Everybody did. He was a great guy.”
    ”Yeah, he was.”
    There was an awkward silence as J.T. stared past me.
    ”Your meeting?” I said.
    ”Huh?”
    ”Your crosstown meeting. At three o’clock?”
    ”Oh, damn! Yes, thanks.” He tapped a buzzer on his phone, and Casey’s head was in the partially opened door before the buzzer sound had died away.
    ”Sir?”
    ”I’ll get Mr. Cuddy set up next door. You get the car and puli ‘round to Bravo Seven. I’ll see you there in five minutes.”
    ”Yessir.”
    ”And Case?”
    ”Yessir?”
    ”Get Ricker to relieve you on the desk.”
    ”Yessir.” Casey’s head was gone.
    J.T. got up and moved toward the door. I did likewise.
    J.T. said, ”Everything’s in the next room, kind of a conference room. You can take notes, but no photocopying, understood?”
    ”Understood.”
    We walked out his door and into the next room. ”I’ll be gone the rest of the day with Casey and,” he dropped his voice, ”the receptionist is an airhead. But if you have any questions, Sergeant Ricker can field them. Be sure Ricker leads you out when you’re finished.”
    ”How late can I stay?”
    ”Eighteen hundred. I’m sorry, but no later.”
    ”I appreciate it, J.T.”
    ”Yeah.” He gave me a quick smile and handshake. ”Just keep the door closed, O.K.?”
    ”O.K. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
    ”Right.” He sighed and swung his head around the room. ”I hope it’s here,” he said and left.
    I closed the door behind him. I tugged off my suit jacket, undid my collar button, and pulled down my tie.
    The room measured about ten by fifteen. There was a slate-green rectangular table with a half dozen pencils, two pads, and some ice water and paper cups. There were five chairs. The space for a sixth chair was occupied by an olive-drab file cabinet with five drawers. It would contain fifteen months of operational paperwork for our MP unit in Saigon. Somewhere in there was Al’s killer. Maybe.
    I rolled up my sleeves and yanked open the top drawer. The files were packed in tightly. I levered ten out and sat down with them. I poured and drank one cup of ice water. Then I opened the first file and stepped back fourteen years and as many thousand miles.
     

Sixteen
     
     
     
    A T FIRST IT WAS ALMOST AS IF I WEREN’T READING THE reports