Suddenly Katherine said, “Drummond, you’ve got to stop that.”

“Huh?” I said, thinking I’d just been caught peeping.

“Stop making your hetero judgments. Gays live in a different world with different standards. Particularly gays in the military.”

“Okay, so Moran’s a great guy,” I said, forgetting about her knees and feasting on her thighs. “The kind of noble buddy every man wishes he had. So who’s Jackson? Is he Moran’s steady? Or is he just some willing toady?”

“My guess is he’s nothing more than a compliant partner. Maybe Moran’s slept with him a few times. There’s physical involvement, but they’re emotionally detached.”

In a valiant display of strength, I jerked my eyes up from her legs and looked at her face. Her eyes, I suddenly noticed, were the greenest things I ever saw, utterly infinite pools of grass and forest and shimmering light. There was something odd about the way she was looking at me. But that was all wrong. She’s a lesbian. And we obviously disliked each other intensely. Otherwise, I might’ve sworn she was giving me what we men call the come-hither look.

I mean, we’re in this hotel room, it’s late at night, there’s this big, comfy bed right next to us, she’s damned close to naked, and she’s so close to me I can smell her hair. Smelled damned great, too.

But this was idiotic. Hell, we didn’t even like each other.

Idiotic or not, I decided I’d better leave, and damn quick, too. I mean, there’s something about having a gorgeous, half-naked woman perched within arm’s reach that’s very corrosive to your self-discipline.

I quickly stood up and gave her a lopsided grin. “Hey, I gotta go.”

She seemed momentarily stunned. Then she shot me a look that, had I not known better, seemed ever so slightly peeved. “You’re leaving? But you woke me.”

“I know. Sorry, really. It’s just that… uh, my brain’s fried. I’m, uh, exhausted,” I said, making a brisk retreat.

I got the door open and was halfway out when I heard Katherine grumble, “God, you can be such an ass, Drummond.”

Now where in the hell did that come from? She should’ve been thanking me for letting her get back to sleep. I closed the door and muttered to myself the whole way back to my room.

It took me a while, but I finally got hold of it. Most folks would guess I’d just made a rollicking blunder, that she’d just offered me a ticket to ride, that I’d been a damn fool and walked away. Maybe she wasn’t a purebred lesbian. Maybe she was AC/DC, and I just happened to blunder in on a night when she was in one of those enchanting DC moods.

But then, most folks don’t know Katherine Carlson the way I do. What I guessed was that maybe she wanted to teach me a lesson for waking her in the middle of the night. Or maybe she just wanted to put me in my place on generic principle. Some women can act that way: Please believe me about this. It’s all about power, and the quickest, most surefire way to get it is to flash a little leg, smile a crooked smile, and then act terrifically outraged when the randy bull starts snorting and scratching the ground.

She’d pulled down those covers, and climbed out of that bed, and I nearly fell for it, too. I’d almost made a damned fool out of myself. I didn’t, though. I didn’t give her the chance to mortify me, to coldly order me to stop pawing her and get the hell out of her room. In the battle of the sexes, I’d notched up a victory.

If it was anybody but Katherine Carlson, this would sound too contrived and Machiavellian by half. Only I knew her. I knew her well, too. She was the most vindictive, conniving lawyer I’d ever met. Nobody can build leakproof firewalls; some of that chilling guile has to seep over the edge into her personal life.

At any rate, the shower water was so frigid it was like being scalded by ice cubes. I nearly got frostbite, but I got over it.

CHAPTER 12

The alarm went off at four. I almost heaved it against the wall and yanked the covers back over my head. But I mumbled to myself that the early bird gets the worm, and all that shit, as I rolled out of bed and knocked off fifty quick push-ups to get my blood circulating.

The particular worm I wanted was to force Katherine off that bankrupt defense she was planning. To do that, I needed leverage. Unbeknownst to himself, Whitehall was going to give me that leverage. He was going to be my ace in the hole.

I groggily lifted up the phone and told room service to send up a freshly brewed pot of coffee. I stressed that freshly brewed thing quite adamantly. I wasn’t in any mood for the dregs of midnight’s pot.

Then I jumped into my second cold shower inside four hours. When I emerged, my eyes were so popped open that to the nice kid who brought my coffee I must’ve looked like I’d just stuck my finger into an electrical socket. I tipped him handsomely, then positioned the pot by the window. I opened the blinds and stared at the lights in the distance.

Koreans are hungry, industrious, hardworking folks, and the city was already popping to life. Little scooters piled high with textiles and other goods were careening around the streets, making their early-morning deliveries to shops and warehouses. The drivers had to have gotten up at three to be out this early. Some life.

I lifted up the phone and asked the operator to put me through to the office of the registrar at the United States Military Academy at West Point. A high, timid female voice answered. I said I wanted to speak with the registrar.

The receptionist politely inquired, “You mean Colonel Hal Menkle?” and I politely said yes, and she politely asked me to wait a moment.

This being West Point, some inspiring martial marching music came on the line. I marched gently in place, until a gruff voice said, “How can I help you?”

“Colonel Menkle?”

“That’s who you asked for, wasn’t it?”

Sometimes you just know, right away, you’re not going to like somebody.

I said, “I’m Sean Drummond, defense counsel for one of the less stellar graduates of that great institution of yours. Thomas Whitehall? Class of ’91? Ever hear of him?”

There was a brief pause before he said, “I wasn’t here back in ’91. I know who Whitehall is, though. Everybody does.”

“I’ll bet.”

“We’ve been flooded with press inquiries on that bastard for weeks. You wanta talk to his physics professor? His priest? We’ve even got one of his former roommates on the faculty. We gotta whole list. Who you wanta start with?”

“How about the roommate? That sounds good.”

“Captain Ernest Walters. He teaches mechanical engineering. Just a second, I’ll transfer you.”

After a moment, then three rings, a clipped, perfunctory voice said, “Department of Mechanical Engineering. Captain Walters.”

“Hello, Ernie,” I said, as though we were the best of friends, “my name’s Major Sean Drummond. I’m a lawyer and I’m on the defense team for your old roomie Thomas Whitehall.”

“How can I help you, sir?” he asked, so starchly that it sounded much more like, Hey, you and me, we ain’t buddies, and why don’t you go screw yourself.

“Heh-heh,” I chuckled, like I hadn’t even noticed. “Must’ve been a tough coupla weeks for you I guess, huh, Ernie?”

“I guess,” he coldly replied, still not cozying up to my bonfire of friendliness. This couldn’t last, though. I mean, I’m a pretty charming guy when I put a little elbow grease into it.

“I sure as hell don’t envy you,” I plugged away. “I’ll bet you’ve taken a lot of grief, huh?”

“If that’s what you’d call getting seven bogus appointment slips to report to the dispensary to take an AIDS test, I guess so.”

“Aw, come on, that’s not so bad,” I said.

“Yeah? That’s this afternoon. Yesterday, some asshole stuffed my desk drawers full of pink underpants. Last week, some cadets broke into my classroom at night, painted my desk flaming pink, and changed my name placard to ‘Mrs. Whitehall.’ ”