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"You went up country with Starkey, Harris and Warren Griffin yourself. You
were there, Hutchinson, in the An Lao Valley. You're responsible for
everything that went wrong. You were there the fourth Blind Mouse."
Hutchinson suddenly turned around in his chair. "Walker, Taravela," he said,
'you can come in now. We've heard more than enough from this bastard."
Two men entered through a side door. They both had guns drawn, pointed at me.
"Now you don't get to leave, Dr. Cross," said Colonel Walker. "You don't get
to go home."
Chapter One Hundred and Twelve
My hands were cuffed tightly behind my back. Then I was pushed outside and
shoved down into the trunk of a dark sedan by the two armed men.
I lay curled up like a blanket in there. For a man my size, it was a tight
squeeze.
I could feel the car back out of Hutchinson's driveway, bump over the gutter,
then turn onto the street.
The sedan rode inside West Point at a reasonable speed. No more than twenty. I
was sure we were leaving the grounds as the car finally sped up.
I didn't know who was up front. Whether General Hutchinson had come along with
his men. It seemed likely that I was going to be killed soon. I couldn't
imagine how I could get out of this one. I thought about the kids and Nana,
and Jamilla, and I wondered why I'd risked my life again. Was it a sign of
good character, or a serious character flaw? And did it really matter anymore?
Eventually, the car turned off the smooth highway surface onto a seriously
bumpy road that was probably unpaved. I estimated we were about forty minutes
from West Point. So how much longer did I have to live?
The car rolled to a stop and I heard the doors open and slam shut. Then the
trunk was sprung.
The first face I saw was Hutchinson's. There was no emotion in his eyes.
Nothing human looked back at me.
The two others were behind him. They had handguns pointed my way. Their stares
were blank as well.
"What are you going to do?" I asked a question that I already knew the answer
to.
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"What we should have done the night you were with Owen Handler. Kill you,"
said Colonel Walker.
"With extreme prejudice," added the general.
Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen
I was lifted out of the car trunk and unceremoniously dropped on the ground. I
landed hard on my hip. Rain lanced my body. Just the beginning, I knew. These
bastards were out to hurt me before they killed me. I was handcuffed and there
was nothing I could do to stop them.
Colonel Walker reached toward me and ripped my shirt open. The other man was
pulling off my shoes, then my pants.
Suddenly, I was naked and shivering in the woods somewhere in upstate New
York. The air was cold, probably in the low forties.
"Do you know what my real crime is? Do you know what I did that was so wrong
in Vietnam? "Hutchinson asked. "I gave the fucking order to fight back. They
killed and maimed our men. They practiced terrorism and sadism. They tried to
intimidate us in every way they could. I wouldn't be intimidated. I fought
back, Cross. Just like I'm fighting back now."
also murdered non-combatants, disgraced your command," I spat the words at
him.
The general leaned in close. "You weren't there, so don't tell me what I did
or didn't do. We won in the An Lao Valley. Back then, we used to say there
were only two kinds in the world, the motherfuckers and the mother-fucked. I'm
a motherfucker, Cross. Guess what that makes you?"
Colonel Walker and the other man had paint and brushes. They began to swab
cold paint onto my body. "Thought you would appreciate this touch, "Walker
said. "I was in the An Lao Valley, too. You going to tell the Washington Post
on me?"
There was nothing I could do to stop this. No one could help me either. I was
naked in the world, and all alone, and now I was being painted. Their calling
card before they killed me.
I shivered in the cold. I could see in their eyes that killing me meant
nothing to them. They'd murdered before. Owen Handler for one.
So how much longer did I have? A few minutes? Maybe a couple of hours of
torture? No more than that.
A gunshot rang out in the blackness. It seemed to come from beyond the
headlights of the sedan we'd driven there in. What the hell?
A dark hole opened in Colonel Walker's face, just below his left eye. Blood
spurted. He flopped over backwards, landing with a heavy thud on the forest
floor. The back of his head was gone, just blown away.
The second soldier tried to duck, and a bullet drilled his lower spine. He
screamed, then fell and rolled right over me.
I saw men come swarming out of the woods at least half a dozen. I counted
nine, ten of them. I couldn't see who they were in the darkness. Who in hell
was rescuing me?
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