She leaned forward. "It's a setup for the benefit of some Oklahoma Quislings. According to my source at GHQ, Sime said, 'They need to see a few hangings to convince them.' Don't look like that. You've got your deal from Sime."
"Sime says. He's powerful enough to make it happen? Even with a Jagger judge?"
"The representatives"-she said the word with the inflection a bluenose might use to describe workers in a bordello as 'hostesses'- "are here and your trials are due to start. Luckily you were the last one arrested. The others will go first. They'll get their hangings."
"Is there anything you can do?" Valentine asked. So goddamn helpless in here. He felt an urge to lash out, punch the Plexiglas between himself and Styachowski. Perhaps even hit Styachowski, for nothing more than being the bearer of bad news. But the mad flash faded as quickly as it rose.
"I don't have much experience in this. A couple of classes on military law and that farce we had near Magazine Mountain sums up my experience."
"What about the newspapers? Your average townie thinks every Quisling should wind up in a ditch."
"Military trials aren't public. I'll see if I can talk to your counsel. If it makes you feel any better, Ahn-Kha is here. I set him up quietly in the woods nearby. I sent word to that Cat you're partial to but I haven't heard back."
"Who's your source at GHQ?"
Styachowski hesitated. "The lieutenant general's chief of staff, a major named Lambert. Says she remembers you from the war college, by the way."
Dots. Valentine had a feeling back then that she was destined to rise. She practically ran the war college as a cadet.
"Thank her," Valentine said.
"Val, if there's anything else I can do . . ."
"You've already exceeded expectations," Valentine said. "Again. Good-bye."
She visibly gulped. "You did right by those women." Styachowski got up and left, a little unsteadily.
Young escorted him back to his room/cell. "We turned away a visitor for you yesterday, Major. Guards say she was a bit of a meal. Red hair."
So Smoke had drifted into the vicinity after all.
"Turned away?"
"You're to get no visitors except by judge's order. Sorry."
"Is that usual?"
"Not for anyone in Southern Command. Sometimes we try Quislings, redhands, men caught as spies. They're kept I-C if it's thought they know something damaging if it gets out, but you guys are the first of ours."
"Should the lack of precedent worry me?"
"I only work here, Major. But, to tell the truth, it worries me."
* * * *
Thrush got his trial the next day. He ate his dinner alone and the "shooters" didn't see him until breakfast (reconstituted eggs that tasted like bottom sand). He wasn't inclined to talk about the proceedings.
"My counsel keeps objecting and getting overruled," Thrush said. "Six witnesses for the prosecution. My defense starts today. There was wrangling over the witnesses, my counsel only got two in."
"Do you have any family or friends in the audience?" Valentine asked.
Thrush scowled, pushing his utensils around on his tray. "There's an audience alright. You never saw such a bunch of hatchet faces. Tight-ass Kansas types. I wouldn't be surprised if they are Quislings."
"I'm going to ask for noseplugs if they're there at my trial," Roderick said.
* * * *
Valentine never saw Thrush again after that meal. Young, wary and somber, told him the verdict and sentence. Valentine wasn't surprised by the verdict but he was shocked at his reaction upon hearing the punishment. The Garage. Death by hanging. Thrush's sentence rang in his ears, rattled around in his head like a house-trapped bird frantic but unable to escape: Death by hanging.