had to be dealt with at Kamina, and the authority at Stanleyville was now Lieutenant Colonel Dahdi, who wasn’t about to ask questions about aircraft, weapons or anything else.
That, unfortunately, it looked as if Jack was going to have to stay in the Congo for at least ninety days, and maybe even a little longer. Maybe, if that happened. Marjorie could fly to Brussels, and Jack could fly up, and they could have at least a couple of days together.
“You do have your passport, don’t you, honey?” Captain Portet inquired.
I’m drunk, Mrs. Marjorie Bellmon Portet decided. I had that double scotch at the house, and another one here, and the wine, and then the Grand Marnier. What I’m thinking is the booze talking.
[ TWO ]
Pope Air Force, North Carolina
1635 13 March 1965
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the Air Force air policeman said, “this is a restricted area. I can’t let you through.”
“I was told it was a restricted area,” Marjorie said. “Captain Oliver expects me.”
“Ma’am, I have my orders.”
“Not all of them, apparently,” Marjorie said. “Please take me to Captain Oliver.”
She was only a lieutenant’s wife, but on the other hand, she had spent most of her life as a general’s daughter. With that background, she spoke with a certain assurance.
“It’s all right, Sergeant,” Captain Oliver said to the air policeman. “I’ll take care of Mrs. Portet.”
He waited until the sergeant had driven off.
“That’s for Jack, huh?” he asked, nodding at her two suitcases. “We should have thought of that last night; it would have saved you the trip out here.”
“Johnny, why don’t you take off?” Marjorie said. “That way, you can truthfully say the last time you saw me I was talking to the crew, and you thought I was just going to give them suitcases for Jack.”
“You’re insane,” he said, immediately taking her meaning.
“Last night, I thought I was drunk,” she said. “But I’m stone sober now, and the question still is ‘why the hell not?’ ”
“Oh, Jesus, Marjorie!”
Marjorie picked up her suitcases and started up the ladder to the cargo door of the 707.
She had just reached the top when a gray-haired man in a white shirt, the epaulets of which bore the four stripes of a captain, came out of the airplane.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
“I’m Mrs. Portet,” Marjorie said. “I’m going with you.”
“Excuse me?”
“My father-in-law said he would try to phone before he caught the flight to Atlanta. Didn’t he?”
“No, ma’am, he didn’t.”
“Well, no problem,” Marjorie said. “I’m here.”
She fished in her purse and came out with a set of car keys. “Johnny,” she called. “I almost forgot. Take care of Jack’s car for me, will you, like a darling?”
He caught the keys.
Marjorie looked at the captain expectantly. After a moment, he understood she was waiting for him to pick up her bags.
He did so, and carried them into the airplane, and installed the new boss’s daughter-in-law in a seat. Then he went back out onto the head of the movable stairs, intending to ask the Army captain what the hell was going on.
The Army captain was walking toward Base Operations, and when the captain called to him, apparently couldn’t hear him.
“Oh, what the hell,” the captain said, and signaled for the ground crewmen to move the stairs away from the fuselage.
Then, with a grunt, he hauled on the door until it began to move.
He walked through the cabin and stopped at Marjorie’s chair.
“We’ll be lifting off in a couple of minutes,” he said. “Once we’re in the air, there’s a thermos of coffee on the bulkhead.”
“Thank you very much,” Marjorie said, giving him her most dazzling smile.
[ THREE ]
Quarters #9
Fort Bragg, North Carolina
1910 13 March 1965
“Good evening, sir,” Captain John S. Oliver said to Brigadier General Paul R. Hanrahan, as Hanrahan got out of his car.
“Jesus, you scared hell out of me,” Hanrahan said. “Why the hell are you lurking in the dark corners of my garage?”
“I thought it best if Mrs. Hanrahan didn’t see me, General,” Oliver said. “She would certainly have asked me what was on my mind.”
“And what is on your mind that wouldn’t wait until tomorrow morning? And that you didn’t want my bride to ask about?”
“Sir, I think I have fucked up by the numbers,” Oliver said.
“How?”
The door from the house to the garage opened. Patricia Hanrahan stepped into the garage.
“I thought I heard voices in here,” she said. “Hello, Johnny. What’s on your mind?”
“Captain Oliver was just about to tell me,” Hanrahan said.
“Marjorie got on the Intercontinental Air 707,” Oliver