he thought there was someplace around the Center where he could be useful, and I said there was.”
“He came to you?” Bellmon asked, genuinely surprised. “He had his assignment. George Rand, who is writing his own TO and E, came up with an ‘executive assistant’ slot for him. It’s a damned good assignment.”
“He came to me,” Hanrahan repeated.
“I just don’t understand that,” Bellmon said.
“Well, he got together with his pal Lunsford—” Hanrahan said.
“He’s mentioned him. Who is he?” Bellmon interrupted.
“They knew each other in ’Nam. He was the A Team commander Johnny was trying to extract when he got shot down. Felter had him in the Congo, walking around in the woods with the Simbas. He got a Silver Star for it . . . from the President, incidentally. Who put him on the major’s list. Good officer.”
“And this is his idea, then?” Bellmon asked.
“No, it was Oliver’s idea. They showed up drunk.”
“Drunk?”
“Drunk. That didn’t surprise me about Lunsford, but I was surprised about Oliver. And then it occurred to me, Bob, that he was damned near as emotionally exhausted as Lunsford.”
“You’re suggesting I burned him out?” Bellmon asked coldly.
“I’m suggesting he broke his hump working for you,” Hanrahan said. “He thinks the only reason you don’t walk on water is that you don’t like wet shoes. And then he had some personal problems.”
“You mean the reluctant widow?” Bellmon asked.
“Yeah,” Hanrahan said. “She told him fish or cut bait. Her and the kid, or him and the Army. He chose the Army.”
“And then there was the beloved sister,” Lowell said.
“I don’t know about that,” Bellmon said.
“When he wouldn’t let her cheat him out of a million point three, she told him what an ungrateful sonofabitch he was.”
“I didn’t hear about that,” Bellmon said. “There was something about a sister, but—”
“From what I hear, she is a real bitch,” Lowell said. “But she did raise Johnny from a kid. . . . I know why it bothers him.”
“He told you all this?” Bellmon asked.
“No. He told Father Lunsford, and when I asked Father why Oliver wanted to join the Foreign Legion, he told me.”
“Tell me?”
“Right now, it’s those two against the world,” Hanrahan said. “Lunsford’s on the outs with his family—or some of them, anyway. And Oliver has been kicked in the balls by both his sister and the widow.”
“And he thinks running around in the woods with you guys, eating snakes, is going to make things better?”
“They both need a rest,” Hanrahan said. “After which, I can find something for them to do. I don’t intend to have them running around eating snakes. They’ve had all the on-the-job training they need in that area.”
“If he goes to work for George Rand,” Bellmon said firmly, “there is absolutely no question in my mind that he would make the major’s five-percent list in a year. I just wrote him one hell of an efficiency report.”
“What he does not need at this point in his career is another year or so of sixteen-hour days working for a general officer,” Hanrahan said just as firmly. “Can’t you see that? As soon as he gets home from ’Nam, you put him to work. He would work just as hard for George Rand. And with his lady love giving him the boot . . . That’s a prescription for a breakdown if I ever heard one.”
“I vote with the redhead,” Lowell said.
Bellmon looked at him coldly, shrugged, and then turned back to Hanrahan.
“So what would you do with him? Notice the tense. If you had him. I am still ten seconds away from calling the chief of staff.”
“I think you better tell him, Red,” Lowell said.
Hanrahan looked at Lowell for a long moment, obviously making up his mind.
“I suppose Bob will get involved sooner or later, won’t he?” he said finally, and looked at Bellmon.
“Involved with what?” Bellmon asked.
“Operation Earnest,” Hanrahan said. “It’s a Felter operation. And it’s classified Top Secret/Earnest.”
“What the hell is it?” Bellmon asked.
“Lunsford’s the action officer, and Oliver will be handling the aviation for him.”
“I asked what the hell it is,” Bellmon said impatiently. “What is ‘Operation Earnest’?”
Hanrahan looked at Lowell before replying. Lowell shrugged.
“Felter has information that Che Guevara’s going to Africa to cause trouble. They’re going to keep an eye on him,” Hanrahan said.
“His Christian name,” Lowell said dryly, “is Ernesto.”
“I’m not quite sure I understand,” Bellmon said. He obviously did not like what he had heard. “You’re going to try to locate him, is that what you’re saying? Isn’t