The staked Goat

kid’s play. ”Yessir, old Curl ought to be awingin’ his way to Boston right now, havin’ checked out of your hotel for you and havin’ paid cash and all for room, cab, and airfare.” Ricker tilted his head so his face and mine were on parallel planes. ”Yeah, he don’t really favor you a lot, Lootenant, but him and you are about the same size and he was wearin’ your suit and all. Even got your overcoat back.” Ricker righted his head. ”For room clerks and cabbies and stewardi, I reckon he’ll pass.”
    I heard the cellar door open and the clacking approach of my earlier visitor.
    ”Ah,” said Ricker looking up. ”Here comes the wife.”
    She came into my view, carrying a TV tray with a towel draped over it. I couldn’t see what was on the tray, but I didn’t smell any food. Despite the cold, I could feel the sweat forming in my armpits.
    ”This is Jacquie, my wife.” He winked at me. ”But then I understand you met a bit earlier.”
    Jacquie gave her husband a light cuff on the shoulder, then let her hand rest on the back of his neck. She aligned her body in an S curve like the Madonna statues in medieval churches, but without the spiritual aspirations.
    ”Hello,” she said to me, smiling.
    I nodded a greeting.
    ”Jacquie’s a real helpmate, Mr. Cuddy. Yessir, we met when I was in the ‘Nam, of course. I promised her daddy I’d take her back to The World and be real good to her.” He looked up at her lovingly. ”And once you promised her daddy something, you made good on it. He was a major in the National Police.” Ricker let his gaze slide slowly, melodramatically over to me. ”Interrogation specialist. He taught Jacquie everything she knows.”
    I tried to keep a poker face, but I expect that my eyes might have flickered toward the TV tray. My mind certainly went back to a different basement, halfway around the world, and the condition of Al’s body.
    ”Haw!” Ricker slapped his thigh. Jacquie giggled. ”Oh, Lootenant, you’re a good one, you are. But you can relax.” He signaled toward the tray. Jacquie stepped to it. She picked up a syringe and did a careful squirt test.
    ”Yessir,” said Ricker, rising and stepping behind me. ”We can’t have another incident like Lootenant Sachs. No sir, that would be real suspicious. My orders, from another member of that club I mentioned, are truth serum for you. Yessir, I’d run clear out of old sodium P. Wouldn’t you know it? Would’ve had to chase after some today, but fortunately old Curl had a bit of some new stuff in stock here. He got it through the club. Don’t kill your memory or leave traces in the bloodstream. Now, how about that for progress?”
    Jacquie crossed over to me as Ricker clamped down hard on my left arm, immobilizing it. ”Good old Curl. He was Quartermaster Corps in-country. Like a squirrel, Curl is. Even now, he never lets go a nothin’ that might come in handy.”
    Jacquie kneeled down on the floor alongside me. She pushed and bunched my sleeve past Ricker’s grasp and above my elbow. She was wearing terrific perfume. She smiled a little more vividly as she jabbed the needle in. I felt the unwelcome, insistent surge of the drug into my arm. She pulled the needle out, and daubed my arm with a cold, wet cotton ball. Ricker let me go, and they rearranged themselves over by the chair. The perfect peacetime couple, a dream matching of cultures.
    I began to float, and I grew warm. Even comfy. I sank deeper into my cot. It felt like a feather bed. Or more accurately, a bed of feathers, completely cushioned and completely conforming to my body. No matter which way I turned or settled I was equally, infinitely comfortable. I felt my eyelids closing, drooping really, to slits against the now bright-seeming light.
    ”You are feeling good, now?” asked Jacquie.
    I nodded agreeably.
    I smelled her perfume again. Her nails gently started a corner of the tape away from my mouth and snicked it, carefully and painlessly, all the way off. I didn’t look up, but I bet she was smiling.
    ”Do you have any questions for us first?” she said sweetly into my ear.
    They were going to let me ask questions. That was very considerate.
    ”Yes,” I said honestly. ”What kind of perfume are you wearing?”
    They both laughed. Her laugh was closer and rose above his, like the clinking of fine crystal glasses over dinner conversation. I hadn’t heard female Vietnamese laughter in a long time.
    I felt marvelous. I was