"I met him last night," Valentine said, remembering the vigorous young officer, exchanging jibes with the rest of the table, frightened only by the bar tab he was running up. "But he wasn't on the trip out to the Consul's Residence."
"No. No, he wasn't. Apparently he went rooting through my papers while I was away."
"He had access to them?"
"He was my chief of staff's assistant," Hamm said, eyes leveled like firing squad muzzles at Reeves. Reeves looked a little pale in the morning sunshine.
Valentine tucked his collar under his tunic, hiding Ali's pasty smear.
"Who came-"
"The usual," Hamm cut him off. "By the time they woke me, he was gone, or I'd have asked some questions. I can't figure out why someone with access to my office would steal everyday correspondence. Something from the safe, yes, that'd be valuable to those crackers. But why steal letters about the state of the transport system in northern Arkansas ... err, the Upper Trans-Mississippi? We're supposed to stop with the old state designations, by the way, Le Sain. Solon's orders."
"Because he wasn't a spy, someone wanted him to look like one?" Valentine said, feeling that it was a rhetorical question due out of Hamm's mouth within about five seconds.
Hamm leaned closer to him. "It's looking like there's a spy in my headquarters, Knox. We got royally raped last October, and I think it's because someone knew the hour and date we were pulling out of the line and sidling."
"Ask Solon for different orders for the offensive, or to move up the date, and keep them to yourself until the last minute, is my suggestion, sir. That or get a bigger safe."
"I'm wondering if I need a new chief of staff. I get the feeling you can organize and think for yourself. I need to replace Williams. You want the job? Staff work's a lot nicer than line duty."
"Sir, your offer is tempting, but I have to stay with my men-at least until all this is over. I want to see them blooded."
"Thought you were looking for promotion, responsibility. That'd come with a staff position. They make general more often than not."
"I am, sir, but responsibility is like water. It flows better from the top down."
Hamm murmured Valentine's words, trying them out on his tongue. "Hey, I like that. Mind if I use it in my next speech to the division?"
"I'd be honored, sir. But I need to get back across the river-oh, speaking of the river, where can I find Captain Mantilla? I'd like to put in an order."
"His tug's tied up at the wharf right now. It's battleship gray, with big blue letters on it. OGL. You need something, son?"
"Bourbon and tobacco. Not for me, for my officers."
"I like your style, Le Sain. I'm glad you're in my division."
* * * *
The barge was even uglier than the old Thunderbolt. It looked like a couple of aluminum mobile homes piled on a raft, and needed a lot of rust-stripping before another coat of gray. Sure enough, gigantic letters stood out on the side just below the carbon-coated stack, OGL.
The anchor watch was asleep. A fleshy man, bald as Valentine and bronze-skinned by birth and sun, slept in the sun at the end of the gangway. An iodine-colored bottle rested between his legs.
"Excuse me, boatman?" Valentine said, venturing up the gangplank. He still felt as though there was an inch of air between his feet and the ground-and he couldn't stop looking at the bridge over the Arkansas River, and Solon's Residence hill beyond.
If anything, the snoring grew louder.
"Sir?"
Valentine came closer. The man was a dedicated napper, so much so that he sacrificed shaving and bathing in its pursuit.
Valentine flicked his fingernail against the bottle, eliciting a ting. "Closing time. Last call," Valentine tried, a little more loudly.
"Hrumph ... umpfh ... umpfh ... double me up again, good buddy," the anchor watch said, coming awake in eye-blinking confusion.
"Did I guess the password?"
"Sorry there, sir. I was resting my eyes, didn't see you come up."