Word of Honor (51 page)

The one Mr. Anthony Scorello and Mr. Paul Sadowski are putting out. You see, Mr. Tyson, I am not much of a courtroom actor, and when Brandt and Farley get on the stand and start their version of the bullshit, I want to look appropriately incredulous. You know the Japanese play Rashomon?

Read it. See you tomorrow. Fort Hamilton. Buy me dinner, seven P.m.

Coffee at your place. I want to meet your wife."

Tyson remained standing in the doorway. At length he said, "I once heard a true war story. A Confederate officer's account of Gettysburg. He wrote, 'We all went up to Gettysburg, the summer of sixty-three, and some of us came back from there; and that's all except for the details.' "

Corva smiled appreciatively. "Yes, except for the details. Good-bye, Mr.

Tyson. "

"Good-bye, Mr. Corva.

Benjamin Tyson said, "Pass he cucumbers, please. "

cucumbers.

Marcy said to Vin

cent Corva, "More

iced tea, Vincent?"

"No, thank you."

Tyson sat in his

rolled-up shirt sleeves

33 and loosened his black

uniform tie. "Hot."

Marcy rose and closed the blinds, blocking out the noon sun from the small dining room.

Tyson surveyed the room, a ten-foot-square area, opening onto the living room. Marcy had purchased a dinette table from the post thrift shop and carried it home in the Jeep along with some framed pictures, including a scene of Mount Fuji painted in iridescent colors on black velvet. Tyson regarded the picture as he picked at his cucumbers. On the opposite wall of the dining room hung his commission.

Marcy said to Vincent Corva, "More chicken salad?"

396

WORD OF HONOR * 397

"No, thank you, Marcy. That was a good lunch."

Tyson snorted, "Bullshit."

"No, really-"

"Protestant food, Vincent. You are what you eat. Today you're cool cucumbers and chicken salad made with Miracle Whip on white bread. By tonight you'll be speaking in aphorisms and lose your sex drive."

Corva smiled embarrassedly.

Marcy gave Tyson a look of mock scorn. "Ethnic slurs are not welcome at my table." She turned to Corva. "Wasn't that a good lunch for a hot day?"

" Yes. ' I

David said, "Dad, I'm taking the bus and subway to Sheepshead Bay this afternoon. I'm going to hang around the boats and help out. Okay?"

Tyson said, "Why not?"

Marcy said, "Because I don't think I want him taking a bus and subway."

"How are we ever going to live on West Seventy-something Street if he can't take buses and subways?"

"Well . . . he has no experience with public transportation, and--

"I had no experience with combat until a machine gun opened up on me one day. You talk about suburban turkeys-" He turned to Corva. "What do you think, Vincent?"

"Well . . . how old is-"

Tyson interrupted, "What's the kid going to do around here all day?"

Marcy snapped, "What do I do around here all day?"

Tyson snapped back, "What do I do all day? I have a two-minute commute to work, I give guided tours to geriatrics and stare at the damned cannon the rest of the day. Don't I take you to the club for dinner and lunch?"

"I know the damned menu by heart, including the printer's name and address."

David cleared his throat. "Well, can I go or not?"

"Yes.-

"No.-

Tyson slammed his hand on the table. "Yes!" He turned to Corva. "Italian wives aren't like this."

398 * NELSON DEMILLE

"Well-"

Marcy addressed Corva. "Would you let your fifteenyear-old son---

"Sixteen," said Tyson and David simultaneously.

"Sixteen-year-old son take a subway?"

"Subways are safe," declared Tyson. "Don't believe everything you read in the papers. That's the trouble around here. Everybody believes what they read in the papers."

David said, "Maybe I'll just go down to the baseball field. "

"Okay," said Tyson. "Why don't you go now?"

"Right." He stood, grabbed some plates, and disappeared into the kitchen, calling out good-byes. The kitchen screen door opened and shut.

Marcy looked at Corva. "Why do you and Ben have to see Colonel Levin today?"

Corva replied, "Some administrative matter, I suppose."

Marcy stared at him for some time. "Bullshit."

Tyson said, "Let's stop browbeating our guest." He turned to Corva. "The food may be dull, but the company isn't."

"I really like chicken salad."

Marcy laughed without humor. "Oh, God, sometimes I think we're going stir-crazy in this place." She addressed Corva. "It has been three weeks since you've been on this case. What have you done or discovered or whatever?"

"Well, I've spoken to Phillip Sloan, filed various motions in the Federal District Court, sent telegrams to the Department of the Army, Justice Department, the JAG, and the White House. I've held a press conference, and I've got my picture in Newsweek, Time, U.S. News, and the American Investigator. "

Marcy smiled, then turned to Tyson. "I haven't seen Wally Jones's byline for the last three weeks."

"Really? Probably on vacation."

Marcy turned back to Corva. "And you've contacted the witnesses?"

"Well, the government's witnesses' attorneys. And Karen Harper. She wasn't obligated to give me the fruits of a preliminary investigation, but she was most helpful."

"Yes, she was helpful to Ben, also. But what do you think she recommended?"

WORD OF HONOR a 399

Corva glanced at Tyson, then said to Marcy, "Based on the expected testimony of the two government witnesses she probably recommended pursuing the case."

"Further investigation? A formal hearing? More months of this?"

"I'm afraid so."

Tyson said, "Anyone want a drink? Gin and tonic, out on the patio?"

Marcy stood. "There is no patio, Ben. And I have no tonic or limes."

"Well, call Gristedes and have them deliver tonic and limes and a patio.

On the double."

"How about wine spritzers on the front stoop instead?" suggested Marcy.

"Fine." Tyson stood. He came around the table and kissed his wife. "Good lunch."

Marcy patted his cheek. "Bullshit."

Corva stood also. "I'll be out front." He took his suit jacket from the back of the chair and walked through the living room, leaving by the front door.

Marcy said, "Do you have faith in him?"

"Do you?"

"I'm not the one facing murder charges. Answer the question. -

Tyson considered a moment before replying. "He has an unusual philosophy of the iaw. Sometimes I think truth and legality are Protestant obsessions. Mr. Corva takes a more subjective view of life. He's not interested in the crime but in the law's perception of it, the witnesses against me, and why they are against me. Sloan was always quoting the law, asking what happened at that hospital. Corva wants to know all there is to know about Brandt and Farley and is trying to determine what they think happened at the hospital. Different approach.' : She nodded. ' But it makes sense, especially after all these years have gone by."

Tyson said, "On my first meeting with him he asked me to read the Japanese play Rashomon. So I did. Do you know it?"

She shook her head.

"Well, it was about a rape and a killing. And it was four 400 0 NELSON DEMILLE

perspectives of the crime, told by four people at a trial. No two people reported the same thing. The bandit said he killed the husband, the wife said she killed the husband, the ghost of the husband said he killed himself, and a woodcutter said the husband fell on his own sword by accident. Obviously at least three people were lying, perhaps all four. The point is that truth is in the eye of the beholder, and no single objective explanation for a human event can ever be found. " He smiled grimly. "Of course everyone on the receiving end of what happened at that hospital had the same ultimate experience. But if they were around to testify I think they would relate different perceptions."

Marcy nodded. "So Vincent Corva's defense is based on a Japanese play?"

Tyson shrugged. "Why not? Better than an Aesop's fable where everyone gets his just desserts."

Marcy looked doubtful. She looked into his eyes and said, "Ben, what is happening today?"

"Don't know, love. But I don't think it's an award ceremony. " Tyson said,

"Why don't you and David go back home?"

"We are home."

He let out a breath. "Well, why don't you go back to the big air-conditioned house we own with the patio out back?"

"You mean the house in Garden City where our country club is and all our friends are and where we have membership to the swimming pool and where all the nice stores and shops are, and the MPs don't ticket me every day for not having a parking sticker? That house?"

"Right. That's the place."

"Why would I want to go there if it meant leaving you?"

"Be still, my heart. Look, have you thought about David starting school?"

"Yes. I don't think he can go back to public school. Not here or in Garden City or anywhere. They would make his life miserable."

Tyson nodded.

Marcy said, "Your mother has a room for him, and he could stay with her in Florida and go to school under another name, or have a tutor-"

WORD OF HONOR a 401

"No. He's staying here. With me. And if there's a courtmartial he will attend."

"No, he will not."

"Yes, he will. Find a private school or a tutor in the area. I I They stared at each other. Tyson looked at his watch. "Forget the spritzers. I have to go. Get this table cleaned up, then go down to the Laundromat and--

"Buzz off."

Tyson grabbed her and kissed her hard on the lips. "I love you."

"Me too. Good luck."

Tyson walked into the living room and took his tunic from the sofa. He left the house and found Corva sitting on the front stoop looking through his briefcase. Tyson said, "Sorry to keep you waiting. I couldn't find the wine."

"That's all right. -

"How about a drink at the club? It's on the way, sort of. -

"Thanks, anyway. We should get moving. We should be there by now." He closed his briefcase and stood.

Tyson ignored him and asked, "Did you ever play stoopball when you were a kid in the slums?"

"Actually I grew up in a nice section of Staten Island." He motioned across the Narrows. "Right over there. Big house and garden."

"Your father grew sweet basil and tomatoes and all that?"

"Right. Zucchini and eggplant. We had fig trees. Had to wrap and insulate them every winter. You ever taste a fresh fig?"

"No. But I saw them once at Gristedes for fifty cents apiece. My father grew roses and boxwoods. My mother couldn't cook."

:'Why would anyone want to cook roses and boxwoods?"

'I don't know. Protestants eat funny things. -

Corva smiled. "Listen, I'll take you and Marcy and David to the Feast of San Gennaro next month. Down on Mulberry Street. You can get fresh figs for a quarter."

"Good. Looking forward to it. - Neither man spoke. Finally Corva glanced at his watch. "Well, I think it's time. -

402 * NELSON DEMILLE

Tyson nodded. "Right."

Corva said, "Remember, it's only words. It's not incoming rounds."

Tyson smiled. "Right."

"And if we don't like the words they're saying, we can just beat the shit out of them."

"Can we do that?"

"Sure. Article 141. Let's go."

They began to walk to post headquarters.

Benjamin Tyson and Vincent Corva sat in the office of the assistant adjutant, Captain Hodges. Tyson glanced at the communicating door that led into Colonel Levin's office. He said to Corva, "Levin was the person who recommended you. "

Corva nodded.

"Do you know him?"

"No, but I had a manslaughter case at Fort Dix about a year ago, and Levin was on the court-martial board. He asked me a lot of questions."

"Good questions?"

"Too good."

"You lostT ,

"Well . . . the accused was found guilty."

"Is that the same as you losing?"

"I guess so." Corva yawned.

Tyson inquired, "Do you win any?"

Corva was leafing through his notebook. "What's that?" "Do you win any?"

"Oh. . . ." He seemed to be searching his memory. "A few." He leaned toward Tyson. "How many did you win? I mean, when you were defense counsel at special courtsmartial. "

Tyson said impatiently, "That's not relevant. I wasn't a lawyer. And nearly everyone I defended was patently guilty.

"Right. Or they wouldn't have been there."

"That's right," said Tyson.

Corva added, "The Army rarely convenes a court-martial unless they know the accused is guilty. If there's any doubt, they usually dismiss the charge, or they offer the accused nonjudicial punishment and see if he bites.

Occasionally

WORD OF HONOR 9 403

they'll order further investigation. But they don't enter a court-martial room with their fingers crossed the way a civilian DA does." He looked at Tyson and smiled. "So how many did you win when you were the prosecution?

All?"

"Most of them pleaded guilty. The rest were pretty much open and shut.

I mean like AWOLs. Either you are there when you're supposed to be or you are not. But this is not a special court-martial. This is a general court-martial, involving a capital crime, a very complex case. So I don't see any analogy."

"But there is a similarity. Most of the people I defend are as patently guilty as an AWOL soldier. By the time they call me they've fired their free Army attorney, and they are desperate. In this rather limited field I am known as Saint Jude, patron saint of hopeless causes.

"Now you tell me."

Corva smiled. "Be of good cheer, Benjamin. I'm due for a miracle.' ,

"Me too. " Tyson stood and went to the window. He stared out over the small post, watching the activity of military life below. "Sometimes I remember the faces of the accused men who were marched into a court-martial room. I don't like to see that look on men's faces. It's demoralizing to me to see men who are so frightened. It's embarrassing to everyone in the courtroom. I don't want to have that look on my face, Vince."