he indicated and watched him rummagethrough a desk drawer. He didn’t find what he was looking for and slammed the drawer shut. Then he looked at her as though surprised that she was there. “Sorry I haven’t been able to devote much attention to you since you arrived,” he said.
“That’s all right, Colonel. I’ve been taken good care of. The staff has been extremely helpful.”
“Glad to hear that.” It was common knowledge that Colonel Bellis was not particularly pleased with several of his staff, particularly the civilian contingent. He preferred military attorneys, they said, and could be unnecessarily harsh on those who did not wear a uniform. His temper was well known. Margit had not, at least as yet, been victim of it, although once she had heard him bellow through the oak door that separated him from the rest of the free world. A tough boss, one to be understood and accommodated.
“I’d offer you coffee, or tea,” he said, “but I don’t have any made. Helen usually does that for me.” He was referring to Helen Matthei, his administrative assistant, who performed myriad tasks far more important than filling the coffeepot in the morning.
“I’ve had coffee, Colonel, but thank you for thinking of it.”
It was evident that Bellis, blunt as a bombardier, was having trouble getting to the point. Why? He was her superior. Did he want to assign her something unpleasant? Then do it. Along with making the choice of clothing in the morning easy, the military also made Margit appreciate its straightforward command process. No need to cajole, convince, even con, an employee to take on a task. Give the order. That simple, unless the order was clearly illegal, in which case the employee—someone of lesser rank—could balk on the basis of its illegality. He’d called her here. Tell her what to do, and, unless it
was
illegal, she’d do it. It was known as following orders.
Maybe Bellis sensed what Margit was thinking, because he leaned his elbows on his desk and said, “Let me get tothe point, Major Falk. I have an important assignment for you.”
“Yes, sir?”
“You’ve heard that Dr. Joycelen’s murderer has been apprehended.”
Margit withheld a smile. Did anyone
not
know that? “Yes, sir, I have.”
“What have you heard?”
“That his name is Robert Cobol. That he’s an army captain assigned to the CIA but stationed here at the Pentagon. I heard on the news that it was his weapon that was used to kill Dr. Joycelen.” She paused. “I think that’s all.”
“There’s more.”
“Oh?”
“It’s full of twists and turns, some of them not very pleasant.”
She said nothing.
“Look, Major, let me ask you a couple of questions. Have you had much experience with military law?”
“No, sir, not much. Not enough, anyhow. I was assigned the defense of a couple of airmen at my previous assignment.”
“How’d you do?”
She smiled. “I won both cases.”
“Beat the system, did you? Beat our employer?”
“I never viewed it that way. In both cases the Command was wrong in its charges. They weren’t cases involving serious crime, just infractions.”
“Murdering the deputy director of DARPA is no infraction.”
“I would agree with that.”
“Would you have trouble defending a fellow officer who gunned down somebody like Joycelen?”
She didn’t know how to respond. My God, Lanning had been right. She was being interviewed for the role of defense counsel for Captain Cobol. If there was a right moment to beg off, this was it. He was giving her an out.
“Trouble defending such a person?” she asked. The question filled the gap in her thinking.
“Yes, for you. Philosophical difficulties. Outraged at the crime and unable to mount a decent defense.” He cocked his head. “Afraid defending such a person wouldn’t be good for the career.”
His last comment nettled. “I’m very secure in my military career, Colonel,” she said. “I think I’m a good officer. I
“That’s all right, Colonel. I’ve been taken good care of. The staff has been extremely helpful.”
“Glad to hear that.” It was common knowledge that Colonel Bellis was not particularly pleased with several of his staff, particularly the civilian contingent. He preferred military attorneys, they said, and could be unnecessarily harsh on those who did not wear a uniform. His temper was well known. Margit had not, at least as yet, been victim of it, although once she had heard him bellow through the oak door that separated him from the rest of the free world. A tough boss, one to be understood and accommodated.
“I’d offer you coffee, or tea,” he said, “but I don’t have any made. Helen usually does that for me.” He was referring to Helen Matthei, his administrative assistant, who performed myriad tasks far more important than filling the coffeepot in the morning.
“I’ve had coffee, Colonel, but thank you for thinking of it.”
It was evident that Bellis, blunt as a bombardier, was having trouble getting to the point. Why? He was her superior. Did he want to assign her something unpleasant? Then do it. Along with making the choice of clothing in the morning easy, the military also made Margit appreciate its straightforward command process. No need to cajole, convince, even con, an employee to take on a task. Give the order. That simple, unless the order was clearly illegal, in which case the employee—someone of lesser rank—could balk on the basis of its illegality. He’d called her here. Tell her what to do, and, unless it
was
illegal, she’d do it. It was known as following orders.
Maybe Bellis sensed what Margit was thinking, because he leaned his elbows on his desk and said, “Let me get tothe point, Major Falk. I have an important assignment for you.”
“Yes, sir?”
“You’ve heard that Dr. Joycelen’s murderer has been apprehended.”
Margit withheld a smile. Did anyone
not
know that? “Yes, sir, I have.”
“What have you heard?”
“That his name is Robert Cobol. That he’s an army captain assigned to the CIA but stationed here at the Pentagon. I heard on the news that it was his weapon that was used to kill Dr. Joycelen.” She paused. “I think that’s all.”
“There’s more.”
“Oh?”
“It’s full of twists and turns, some of them not very pleasant.”
She said nothing.
“Look, Major, let me ask you a couple of questions. Have you had much experience with military law?”
“No, sir, not much. Not enough, anyhow. I was assigned the defense of a couple of airmen at my previous assignment.”
“How’d you do?”
She smiled. “I won both cases.”
“Beat the system, did you? Beat our employer?”
“I never viewed it that way. In both cases the Command was wrong in its charges. They weren’t cases involving serious crime, just infractions.”
“Murdering the deputy director of DARPA is no infraction.”
“I would agree with that.”
“Would you have trouble defending a fellow officer who gunned down somebody like Joycelen?”
She didn’t know how to respond. My God, Lanning had been right. She was being interviewed for the role of defense counsel for Captain Cobol. If there was a right moment to beg off, this was it. He was giving her an out.
“Trouble defending such a person?” she asked. The question filled the gap in her thinking.
“Yes, for you. Philosophical difficulties. Outraged at the crime and unable to mount a decent defense.” He cocked his head. “Afraid defending such a person wouldn’t be good for the career.”
His last comment nettled. “I’m very secure in my military career, Colonel,” she said. “I think I’m a good officer. I
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