On Thursday morning, Keith woke up not feeling particularly well and didn't know why. By stages, he remembered the Porters being over for dinner, then recalled breaking out the hard liquor and realized why he had a headache and recalled what they had been celebrating.
He got out of bed and opened the window, feeling the cool air rush in. It looked like another sunny day, a good day for the corn, but they could use one more good rain before the harvest.
He walked down the hall in his underwear toward the bathroom and bumped into Jeffrey, also in his underwear. Jeffrey said, "I'm not well."
"You slept here?"
"No, I came back in my underwear to get the Tupperware containers."
"Where's Gail?"
"She went to get us breakfast. You want to use the bathroom?"
"No, go ahead." Keith got his robe and went down the stairs into the kitchen. He washed his face in the sink, found aspirin in the cupboard and took two, then put on a pot of coffee.
A car pulled around to the back door, and Gail came in, carrying a grocery bag. "How are you feeling?"
"Okay." He sat at the kitchen table, and Gail unpacked a bottle of orange juice and three corn muffins.
She said, "A police car followed me from here all the way to town."
Keith nodded. He said, "Now they know there's a connection between us. You're on the list."
"Hey, I was on the list before you got here." She sat down and poured a glass of juice for each of them.
Keith sipped his juice. He asked, "Did they pull you over?"
"No, I pulled them over. I got out of my car, identified myself as a councilwoman, and told them to fuck off or I'd have their badges."
"You've become very establishment, Gail. You're supposed to scream about your civil rights."
"They wouldn't know what the hell I was talking about. The only thing that scares them is the thought of losing their guns and their badges."
"Yeah, these cops turned bad. They have a bad boss."
She stayed quiet a minute, then asked him, "Were you serious about killing Baxter?"
"No."
She looked at him awhile, then said, "I was scared out there on the highway."
"I know. I'd like to take care of the problem before I leave, but I promised I wouldn't."
"I understand. Can I ask you... have you ever done that? I mean, I guess in Vietnam..."
Keith didn't reply, but he thought about her question. Yes, he'd killed in Vietnam, but that was in combat. In his early years in intelligence work, he'd literally had a license to kill, but before they'd given him his gun and silencer, they'd given him the rules: There were only two absolute times for killing — in combat and in self-defense. But everyone in America had the same right. His license, however, extended into murkier areas, such as a preemptive kill, if you felt threatened. And it got even murkier than that, like the right to kill in order to remove a great evil, whatever that was. Keith thought that Cliff Baxter was a great evil, for instance, but Mr. Baxter's parents and children might not agree. It was sort of a case-by-case thing, and Keith never had to make the decision by himself, and neither did he have to be the gunman if he had a problem with the committee decision. Here in Spencerville, however, far removed from any restraints or advice, he was on his own.
She said, "Have you thought about the fact that you'll never be really safe as long as he's around?"
"I don't think Cliff Baxter's balls travel well. We'll stay away from his turf."
"Did you ever think he might take out his rage on... well, let's say Annie's family?"
"What are you suggesting, Gail? I thought you were a pacifist."
"Jeffrey is a pacifist. If someone threatened my life, or the lives of my family or friends, I'd kill them."
"With what? A carrot?"
"Be serious. Listen, I feel threatened, and I obviously can't go to the police. I'll take that rifle."
"Okay. I'll get it." He stood, but Jeffrey came down the stairs.
Gail said to Keith, "We'll put it in my trunk later."
Jeffrey came into the kitchen. "Put what in the trunk?"
Gail replied, "The Tupperware."
"Right." He sat down, and they had breakfast.
Jeffrey said, "Hell of a party last night. Glad we could finally celebrate the Landry-Prentis engagement announcement."
Keith asked, "Did you ever wonder what our lives would have been like without the war and the turmoil?"
"Yeah, I thought about that. Dull, I think. Like now. I think we had a unique experience. Yeah, a lot of people got hurt and fucked-up, but most of us came through it okay. We're better people because of it." He added, "My students were totally boring, self-centered, selfish, irresolute, and without character. Christ, you'd think they were Republicans, but they thought they were rebels. Right. Rebels without a clue."
Gail said, "You got him started."
Keith said to Jeffrey, "You remember Billy Marlon?"
"Sure. Goofy kid. An obsessive pleaser, wanted to be everyone's best friend. In fact, I ran into him a few times. I wanted to be nice, for old time's sake, but he's a burnout."
"I ran into him at John's Place."
"Christ, Landry, I wouldn't take a piss in that place."
"I was feeling nostalgic one night."
"Go to the sock hop. Why'd you ask about him?"
"Well, sometimes when I see a guy like that, I say to myself, 'There but for the grace of God go I.' "
Gail commented, "If God's grace existed, there wouldn't be people like that for you to say, 'There but for the grace of God.' "
Jeffrey said, "You got her started. I understand what you're saying, Keith, but I think the Billy Marlons of the world would have gotten fucked-up in any decade. That's not us."
"I wonder."
"Yeah, we're fuckups, but we're functional." He thought a moment and said, "We pulled ourselves out of this place, Keith, you and I and a few others. We weren't born with money like the Baxters, or into a tradition of education like the Prentis family. Your old man was a farmer, mine was a railroad worker. The sixties didn't fuck us up, they broke us loose from convention and class structure." He added, "And we got laid a lot. You know, I once figured out that I probably got laid more than every male and female in my family put together, going back to maybe 1945. I think people got laid a lot during the Second World War, but not before or after."
Keith smiled. "Was that one of your prepared lectures?"
"It was, actually."
"Okay, we had some great times. But as you once said, we did some shitty things then. You sent me a shitty letter, for instance. It's okay. I got the same kind of letters from total strangers. But we all talked love, love, love, and we did a lot of hateful things. Me, too." He added, "When I got your letter, I wanted to literally kill you. I would have if you were there."
"What can I say? We were young. There were solar storms, and Jupiter and Mars were lined up or something, and the price of grass dropped, and we went totally fucking bonkers. If it hadn't happened, you and I would have been at John's Place last night, bitching about farm prices and railroad wages, and maybe Billy Marlon would have owned the place and been a city councilman if he hadn't gone to Vietnam. Christ, I don't know." He took a bite of muffin and said, "Some of who we are is in our genes, some of it is our culture, some of it is in our stars, and a lot of it is our personal history. You, me, Cliff Baxter, Annie Prentis, and Billy Marlon. We were born in the same hospital within a year of one another. I don't have any answers."
"Me, neither. I'd like you to do me another favor. After I'm gone, go see if there's anything you can do for Marlon. He lives out at the Cowley farm on Route 8. See if you can get him into a VA hospital."
"Sure. You're a good guy."
"Don't let it get around."
Gail said, "You must have a lot of mixed feelings right now. You're about to leave home again, and you're embarking on a great and unknown journey into a new life with another person. Are you excited or scared shitless?"
"Yes."
They finished breakfast and Gail asked Keith if he had an extra toothbrush.
"Sure. I'll find it. Come on up."
They went upstairs and into Keith's room. He opened the wardrobe.
Gail looked at the uniforms, the saber, the bulletproof vest, and the odds and ends of a career that required many accessories. She asked, "What exactly did you do?"
"This and that." He took out the M-16 rifle. "Basically, I spent twenty-five years fighting commies. They got tired of it about the same time I did."
"Was it fulfilling?"
"Toward the end, it was about as fulfilling as your job. Here — this is called the fire control selector. It's on safety now. Move it here, and it's ready to fire. You just keep pulling the trigger. It chambers a new round and cocks itself automatically. This is the magazine. It holds twenty rounds. After you empty the magazine, you push this catch and the magazine pops out, then you push a fresh magazine in and make sure it clicks in place, then you pull this handle back and it will chamber the first round, then it's automatic again." He handed the rifle to her.
She said, "It's so light."
"And it doesn't have much kick."
She practiced loading a magazine, chambering a round, and aiming. She said, "It's pretty simple."
"Right. It was designed for people like a Billy Marlon. It's simple, light, easy to aim, and very deadly. All you need is the will to pull the trigger."
"That I don't know."
"Then you shouldn't take it."
"I'll take it."
"Okay. Here's the carrying case. There are four fully loaded magazines in these side pouches, and in this pouch is a scope, but don't bother with that. It's for long-distance firing. I don't think you'll wind up in a firefight with the Spencerville police, but you'll feel better at night if this is under your bed. Okay?"
"Okay."
She said, "I'll go unlock the trunk, then take Jeffrey for a walk." She went downstairs, and a few minutes later, as Keith got dressed, he saw them through the window out by the barn. He went downstairs and out the back door and put the carrying case in their trunk beside the empty food containers. He closed the trunk and went inside and poured another cup of coffee.
A few minutes later, Gail and Jeffrey returned. Gail said, "Really nice place here." They made small talk for a few minutes, then Gail said, "Well... time to go." She put her arms around him and kissed him. "Good luck, Keith. Call or write."
"I'll write. Meanwhile, get a security company down from Toledo to check out your phones, and get a mobile phone."
"Good idea." Jeffrey took his hand. "Hey, if you need anything before you take off, don't call — stop by."
"I think it's all set. The house key's under the workbench in the toolshed."
"Okay. We'll keep an eye on things until you get back."
"Thanks for everything. Good luck with the revolution."
They all embraced again, then the Porters left, and Keith watched them drive off, reasonably certain he'd see them again in better times.
At about ten A.M., Keith was on a ladder, replacing the rusted hinges on the door of the haymow. Working outdoors had cleared his head, and he felt better.
He heard the sound of tires on the gravel and turned to see a gray Ford Taurus coming up the long drive, a cloud of dust trailing it.
Keith couldn't imagine who it was, but it might be Annie. Then again, it might not be. He came down off the ladder in time to pick up his Glock 9mm from atop the toolbox, stick it in his waistband, and throw his shirt on over it. He walked toward the house as the driver's-side door of the car opened.
A man of about his own height and age, with sandy hair and wearing a blue suit, got out and looked around, then the man saw Keith and waved. "Howdy! This the Landry farm?"
Keith continued walking toward the man who came to meet him.
The man said, "Fine spread you got here, son. I'm fixin' to buy you out, or run you out. All you sod-busters got to clear out for my cattle."
Keith came up to the man. "This is Ohio, Charlie. We don't talk that way."
"I thought this was Kansas. How the hell are you?"
They shook hands, then embraced briefly and patted each other's backs.
Charlie Adair, of Washington, D.C., and the National Security Council, had been Keith Landry's immediate civilian superior and Keith's sometimes good friend. Keith wondered what he was doing here and guessed it was some administrative thing, paperwork to be signed, or maybe just a physical check to see that Keith was where he said he was, how he lived, that sort of thing. But somehow, Keith knew this wasn't so.
Charlie Adair asked, "How have you been, Keith?"
"Fine until two minutes ago. What's up?"
"Oh, I just came by to say hello."
"Hi."
Charlie looked around. "You were born here?"
"Yup."
"Was it a good place to grow up?"
"It was."
"You get cyclones here?"
"At least once a week. You just missed one. There's a tornado later today if you're still around."
Adair smiled, then asked, "So, you settled in?"
"I am."
"What's a place like this worth?"
"I don't know... four hundred acres, house, building, a little equipment... maybe four hundred thousand."
"No kidding? That's pretty good. But outside of D.C., in Virginia, those gentlemen's farms go for a million."
Keith didn't think Charlie Adair came to Spencer County to talk about the price of land. Keith asked him, "You just fly in?"
"Yeah, took an early morning flight to Columbus and rented a car. Nice drive. I found you without too many problems. Police knew right where you were."
"This is a real small place."
"I see that." Adair observed, "You got some good tan. Lost some weight."
"Lot of outdoor work on a farm."
"I guess." Adair stretched. "Hey, can we take a walk? Long flight and long drive."
"Sure. I'll show you around."
They walked around the farmyard, and Charlie feigned an interest in everything, while Keith feigned an interest in showing it to him. Charlie asked, "This all yours?"
"No. It belongs to my parents."
"Will you inherit it?"
"I have a brother and sister, and we don't have primogeniture in this country, so we'll have to make a decision someday."
"In other words, if one of you wanted to farm the place, that person would buy out the other two."
"That's what sometimes happens. Used to happen. Now the heirs usually sell out to a big concern and take the money and run."
"Too bad. That's what's killing the family farms. Plus estate taxes."
"No estate taxes on farms if you keep it in the family."
"Really? Hey, that's something those assholes in Congress did right."
"Yeah, that's a short list."
They went into the cornfields and walked between the rows. Charlie said, "This is where my cornflakes come from."
"If you're a cow. This is called field corn. You feed it to cattle, they get fat, you kill them, and they become hamburgers."
"You mean I can't eat this?"
"People eat sweet corn. The farmers plant a little of that, but it's mostly harvested by hand around August."
"I'm really learning something. You planted all this?"
"No, Charlie, it was planted about May. I got here in August. You don't think corn would get this high in two months."
"I don't have a clue. So this isn't yours?"
"The land is mine. It's contracted. Rented."
"I got it. They pay you in corn or money?"
"Money." Keith made his way to the Indian burial mound, and they climbed atop it.
Charlie looked out over the fields. "This is the heartland, Keith. This is what we defended for all those years."
"From sea to shining sea."
"You miss the job?"
"No."
Charlie took a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket. "Can I smoke here?"
"Why not?"
He blew a stream of smoke into the air and pointed off in the distance. "What kind of corn is that?"
"That's soybean."
"Like in soy sauce?"
"Yup. There's a Japanese-owned processing plant not far from here."
"You mean to tell me there are Japanese here?"
"Why not? They can't ship a million acres of American farmland to Japan."
He thought a moment, then said, "That's... scary."
"Don't be xenophobic."
"Hey, comes with the job." He smoked for a while, then said, "Keith, they want you back."
Keith already knew that. He said, "Forget it."
"They sent me to bring you back."
"They told me to leave. So you go back and tell them I'm gone."
"Don't give me a hard time, Keith. I had a bumpy flight. They told me not to come back without you."
"Charlie, they can't just say you're out, then change their minds."
"They can say whatever they want. But they also want to extend an apology for any inconvenience this may have caused you. They acted hastily, without due consideration of the developing situation in the East. You remember where that is. Will you accept their apology?"
"Of course. Goodbye. When's your flight?"
"They offer a civilian contract for five years. You'll get your thirty in and full retirement pay."
"No."
"And a promotion. A military promotion. One-star general. How's that sound to you, Colonel?"
"Your timing's bad."
"This is a White House job, Keith. Very high visibility. You could be the next Alexander Haig. I mean, he thought he was president, but this job has such potential that you could actually run for president like people wanted Haig to do. The country is ready for a general as president again. I just read a secret poll about that. Think about it."
"Okay. Let me think a second. No."
"Everybody wants to be president."
"I want to be a farmer."
"That's the point. The public will love it. A tall, good-looking, honest man of the soil. You know the story of Cincinnatus?"
"I told you the story."
"Right. So your country needs you again. Time to step up to the plate and stop shoveling shit."
Keith wasn't sure about that mixed metaphor. He replied, "You know, if I were president, the first thing I'd do is fire you."
"That's very petty, Keith. Not very statesmanlike."
"Charlie, stop jerking me around. You wear thin."
"I'm not jerking you around. Forget president. After your White House job, you could come back here and run for Congress, then live in Washington. Best of both worlds. You could do something for your country and your community." Adair ground out his cigarette. "Come on, let's walk."
They walked between the rows of corn. Adair said, "Look, Keith, the president's got it in his mind that he'd like you to be on his staff. You owe him the courtesy of a personal reply. You got to do face time with this. So, even if you don't want the job, you have to tell him in person to fuck off."
"He told me to fuck off by letter."
"It wasn't him."
"Whoever it was, it doesn't matter. If someone screwed up, it's not my problem. You know I'm right."
"It's dangerous to be right when the government is wrong."
Keith stopped walking. "Is that a threat?"
"No. Just good advice, my friend."
They resumed their walk. Charlie said, "Will you like it here this time next year?"
"If I don't, I'll move on."
"Look, Keith, maybe you could rusticate out here and maybe be happy, and you could have stayed pissed off at those guys. But now that I brought you sincere apologies and an offer, you're not going to be at peace with yourself. So I fucked up your day and your retirement. Now you have to deal with the new situation."
"This is the new situation. Here. Back there is the old situation. You know, I was pissed off, but I'm not anymore. You guys did me a favor. You can't make me go back, so stop the bullshit."
"Well... you know, you're still in the military. You haven't worn a uniform in about fifteen years, but you're still a reserve colonel, and the president is commander in chief."
"Speak to my lawyer."
"The president may call on you from time to time to discharge the duties of your office, and so forth. The time has come, buddy."
"Don't try that with me."
"Okay, let me try this. Save my ass. Come to Washington with me and tell them Adair gave it his best shot, but you're there to tell them personally to fuck off. Okay? I know you want to do it that way. You don't owe them anything except a face-to-face fuck-off. But you owe me a few favors, and all I'm asking to square our account is that you come to D.C. with me. Then I'm off the hook, and you can say what's on your mind. Fair? You bet."
"I... I can't go with you..."
"You owe me, Keith. I'm here to collect, not to beg, threaten, or cajole. To collect."
"Charlie, look..."
"Bucharest. Not to mention the messiness in Damascus."
"Look, Charlie... there's a woman..."
"There's always a woman. That's how you almost got us beheaded in Damascus."
"There's a woman here..."
"Here? Christ, buddy, you haven't even been here two months."
"From long ago. You know, high school and college. I may have mentioned her in a maudlin moment."
"Oh... yes. Yes, you did. I see." He thought a moment and asked, "Husband?"
Keith nodded.
"Well, we can't help you with that." He winked. "But we can work something out."
"I've already worked it out, thank you."
They came back into the farmyard, and Charlie sat on the small garden tractor. "Can I smoke on this thing?"
"Yeah. It's just a tractor. It doesn't fly."
"Right." He lit another cigarette and seemed to be thinking. He said, "I don't see the complication."
"She's married. How would it look if a presidential aide was living with a married woman?"
"We'll get her a divorce."
"That could take years."
"We can pull a few strings."
"No, you can't. You can't do whatever you want to do. You think you can, but you can't. There are laws that govern this."
"Right. Well, did you intend to live with her anytime soon?"
"Yeah. Real soon."
"So we get her a separate apartment in Washington. Why are you making such a big deal of this?"
"Charlie, this is not what she and I had in mind. I am not that important to global peace. The world will do fine without my advice. The danger has passed. I did my duty. My life is important to me now."
"That's good. It never was, but I hear you. You know, you can have a life and a career. Done all the time."
"Not that career."
"It won't be as crazy this time. Sure, the hours are still long, and you might have to fly here or there now and then, but you don't have to go behind the Iron Curtain anymore. It blew away."
"Yeah, I was there."
"Right." He studied the controls on the tractor and asked, "You know how to run this?"
"That's how it got out of the barn."
"I thought these things were bigger."
"This is a garden tractor. Sort of a utility vehicle for around the yard."
"No kidding? Where's the big one?"
"My father sold it." Keith said, "So thanks for stopping by. Say hello to everyone. What time is your flight?"
Charlie looked at his watch. "Return from Toledo at two-fifteen. How long will it take me to get to the airport from here?"
"Maybe an hour or more with traffic. You may want to leave now to play it safe."
"No. I have time for a beer."
"Come on inside."
Charlie got off the tractor, and they went into the house through the kitchen door. Keith said, "I'm out of beer."
"It's a little early anyway. I'm just thirsty."
"I don't doubt it. You've been blowing steam for the last half hour." Keith opened the refrigerator and got a jug of water. He poured two glasses. "This is genuine spring water."
Charlie drained off half the glass. "It's good."
"There's mostly limestone under the soil. This was a prehistoric sea. You know, a billion years of little sea creatures compressed into layers of limestone."
Charlie looked at the glass suspiciously. "Is that a fact?"
"I'm going to bottle it. Sell it to the yuppie swine in D.C."
"Good idea. Let's sit a minute." They sat at the big table, and Charlie stayed silent for a while, which Keith didn't like. Charlie said, "Did you intend to stay here with her?"
"No."
"Where were you planning to go?"
Keith didn't like the past tense of that sentence. He replied, "I don't know where we are going."
"You'd have to let us know. It's the law."
"I'll let you know so you can send my checks."
Charlie nodded absently. He said, "You know, something funny happened on my way here."
Keith didn't reply.
Charlie said, "When I stopped at the police station, this guy, the desk sergeant, named Blake, I think... I asked him if he knew where you lived, and he got sort of weird. Started questioning me. I mean, I'm asking the questions. Right? He wants to know what my business is with you. Can you believe that shit? I thought I was back in East Germany or something. Can I smoke in here?"
"Sure."
Charlie lit a cigarette and tapped the ash into his glass. "So I get to thinking. I mean, I'm a spy. Right? Used to be anyway. I'm thinking that maybe someone is bothering you here, and the police are being protective. Or maybe you contacted them when you got here, identified yourself as an ex-spook, and asked them to notify you if anyone was looking for you. Like someone named Igor with a Russian accent. But that didn't make sense, and when I got here, you looked surprised, so I know they didn't call to tip you off."
"Charlie, you've been in this business too long."
"I know. That's what I decided. But then I go outside, and this other cop follows me out to my car. Heavyset guy, said he was chief of police. Name's Baxter. He asks me what my business is out at the Landry farm. I'm too clever to tell him to fuck off because I want to draw him out. By this time, I'm thinking you're in trouble with the law. So I flash my official-looking ID and tell him it's official government business."
"You have to learn how to mind your own business, Charlie."
"No, I don't. Anyway, I'm concerned about you now. I mean, these guys were weird. Like in some grade B horror flick, you know, where that whole small town is taken over by aliens? You remember that one? Anyway, now this guy Baxter is a little less ballsy and asks me if he can be of any help. I say maybe. Mr. Landry has been pensioned off by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service." Both Charlie and Keith smiled at the old joke. "Anyway, Mr. Landry has applied for part-time work with the local office of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and I'm here to do a background check on him and see if he's of fine moral character and an accepted member of his community. That was pretty quick, wasn't it?"
"How are the mighty fallen. Is that what you've been reduced to?"
"Give me a break. I haven't done fieldwork in fifteen years, and I miss it. Anyway, Chief of Police Baxter informs me that Mr. Landry has had several scrapes with the law — in the park right across the street — drunk and disorderly. Trespassing on school property. Interfering with police officers in the performance of their duty in some parking lot. Menacing, harassment... what else? I think that's it. He said he talked with you about your antisocial tendencies, but you gave him a lot of lip. He recommended you not be hired. He also said someone should see if you deserved a government pension at all. I don't think he likes you."
"We were high school rivals."
"Really? Something else. He said he tried to run your D.C. plates through the Bureau of Motor Vehicles, but you don't exist. At that point, I got interested in Mr. Baxter." He dropped his cigarette in the glass. "What's happening, Keith? We did high school rivals already."
"Yeah. Well, then, cherchez la femme, wise guy."
"Ah."
"I'll take one of those cigarettes."
"Sure." Charlie handed him the pack and the lighter. Charlie asked, "You're not fucking the police chief's daughter, are you?"
Keith lit the cigarette and exhaled. "No. His wife."
"Right. The woman. I thought you came here to relax."
"I told you, this is a preexisting condition."
"Right. That's very romantic. Are you out of your fucking mind?"
"Probably."
"Well, we can integrate this situation into the equation."
"Speak English."
"Okay. Are you running off with her?"
"That's the plan."
"When?"
"Saturday morning."
"Can it wait?"
"No. It's getting hot here."
"I'll bet it is. That's why you have that piece stuck under your shirt."
Keith didn't reply.
Charlie asked, "Does the husband know?"
"No. If he did, this place would have been under fire when you drove up." Keith added, "He knows his wife and I were an item way back. He doesn't like that. He gave me until tomorrow to get out of town."
"Are you going to kill him?"
"No. I promised her I wouldn't. They have two kids. In college."
"Well, they had him around a long time. Good memories, life insurance, tuition taken care of."
"Charlie, don't joke about killing. I've had enough of that."
"Termination. You don't say kill, and you have to make a joke about it or it sounds ugly." He added, "Wouldn't life be easier for you if this guy committed suicide or had an accident? I didn't like him."
"He doesn't meet our requirements for termination."
"Did he threaten you with bodily harm?"
"Sort of."
"There you go. Paragraph five of the rules of termination."
"Commandment one. Old Testament."
"You got me. Hey, do what you have to do. Actually, if you come live in D.C., you'll be okay. She'll like the capital."
"Not to live there for five years. She's a country girl, Charlie."
"I'd like to meet her."
"Sure." Keith put out his cigarette.
Charlie said, "You're coming back with me on the two-fifteen. You know that, don't you?"
"First I've heard of it."
"There's no way out of this one, Keith. Believe me. But I'd rather you come as a favor to me. Not because you owe me a favor, but so I can owe you a favor."
"I'd like to keep the bullshit out in the farmyard."
"You're coming to Washington to save my ass. I can't go back there and report to the secretary of defense that I couldn't get you to see him and the president. Jesus, I'd be spending the next five years in Iceland counting radar blips. My wife would run off with somebody like you."
"Cut it out." Keith stayed quiet for a while, then said, "They rely on our loyalty toward one another more than our loyalty toward the government, don't they?"
"That's all that works these days."
"Don't you feel used?"
"Sure. Used, underpaid, unappreciated, and unneeded. You're right, the danger has passed, and we're... how does that ditty go? 'The danger's passed, the wrong is righted; the veteran's ignored, the soldier's slighted."
"There you are."
"But so what? We'll play if they pay." He looked at Keith. "You know, buddy, I sometimes feel like I'm on a football team that just won the big game. The other team's gone home, the stands are empty, and we're running plays against nobody, in the dark." He sat quietly a moment, and Keith could see that Charlie Adair was having his own little crisis of conscience and confidence. But with Charlie, you never really knew.
Charlie looked up. "The meeting is tomorrow morning."
Keith said, "In fact, I had planned to fly to Washington on Saturday on the two-fifteen. Can we make the meeting for Monday?"
Charlie adopted his make-believe officious tone of voice, and replied, "My good man, you have an appointment with the secretary of defense at eleven-thirty A.M. tomorrow in the Cabinet Room, then you will go into the Oval Office at precisely eleven fifty-five where you will shake hands with and say hello to the president of the United States. As much as these two gentlemen would like to work their schedules around yours, they may possibly have other appointments on Monday."
"Perhaps a little advance notice would have been appreciated by a private citizen who has all sorts of constitutional rights not to be summoned by..."
"Keith. Cut it. You're no more a private citizen than I am. And you know how these things happen. It happened to Sir Patrick Spence."
"Who?"
"The guy in the Scottish ballad. My people are Scottish, and this place is named Spencerville. That's how I happened to think of it."
"Think of what?"
"The Scottish ballad." He recited, " 'The king sits in Dumferling Town, drinking his blood-red wine, oh, where will I get a good sailor, to sail this ship of mine?' — that's the president talking. Then, 'Up and spoke an elderly knight, who sat at the king's right knee' — that's the secretary of defense, who says, 'Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor, that sails upon the sea.' That's you. Then, 'The king wrote an official letter, and signed it with his hand, and sent it to Sir Patrick Spence who was walking on the sand.' That's me coming here. Then, 'The first line that Sir Patrick read, a loud laugh laughed he; the next line that Sir Patrick read, a tear blinded his eye' — that's you again."
"Thank you, Charlie."
" 'Oh, who is this that has done this deed, this ill deed to me, to send me out this time of year, to sail upon the sea? Make haste, make haste, my merry men all, our good ship sails at morn' — actually two-fifteen — 'Oh say no more my master dear, for I fear a deadly storm.' " Charlie Adair said to Keith, "So that's how these things happen. That's how they've happened since the beginning of time. The king's sitting around, not doing shit, pounding down a few, and some harebrained idea pops into his head, and some asshole flunky tells him it's a great idea. Then they send me to pass it on." He looked at his watch. "So make haste, make haste, Mr. Landry."
"What happened to Sir Patrick Spence, if I may ask?"
"He drowned in the storm." Charlie stood. "Okay, you can travel as you are, minus gun, but please pack a suit. We don't want to overdo the Cincinnatus thing in the West Wing."
"I have to be back here tomorrow night, latest."
"You got it. Hey, if you're coming to D.C. with your lady on Saturday, Katherine and I will take you to dinner. It's on Uncle Sam. I'd like to meet her."
"I'm turning down the job."
"Wrong. You'll tell them you need the weekend to think it over. You have to speak to your fiancee. Okay?"
"Why mess around?"
"Maybe you owe it to — what's her name?"
"Annie."
"To Annie to be consulted. We'll take her around Washington, we'll have private tours of everything, and we'll talk it over. Katherine is good at that."
"Annie is a simple country girl. I told you, this is not the life..."
"Women love cities. Shopping, good restaurants, shopping. Where are you staying?"
"I don't know."
"I'll book the Four Seasons. She'll love Georgetown. Looks like downtown Spencerville. You can show her your old haunts. Stay away from Chadwick's. Linda still hangs out there, and we don't want a scene. I'm looking forward to this weekend. Let's roll."
"You're a shit."
"I know."
Keith left Charlie in the kitchen, went upstairs, and packed a garment bag.
On the way to the airport, Keith said, "When they asked me to leave, you didn't stand up for me, Charlie."
Charlie lit a cigarette as he drove. "I didn't want to. You were burned-out, buddy. You wanted to leave. You know that. Why would I want to prolong your unhappiness?"
"What makes you think I'm any less burned-out now?"
"I don't know. This was not my idea. They think there's some energy left. It's like carbon soot, you know? You run it through the afterburners and apply more heat, and you get a little more fire out of it."
"Interesting analogy. What happens to the burned soot?"
"It turns into vapor and blows away."