A God in Ruins - Leon Uris [74]
“You’re telling me to lie, sir?”
“Oh, hell, no. Just be creative with the truth. We weren’t raised that way, but our countrymen expect us to be saints, to be sparkly clean and pure. All the shit you had to go through to train and carry out a raid against terrorism. Now you’ve still got to justify it. And the press can be as bloodthirsty as the enemy. From what Jeremiah told me about you, you’ll know how to handle it.”
Keith Brickhouse troweled on the mortar of honor and duty and set the bricks of responsibility on his shoulders. Quinn had a sense of capability, a calm feeling of his own capacity.
Although Quinn wanted to walk to the conference room, Mandy would not let him. She wheeled him in. It was not only the wound, but he had expended blood and stamina unconditionally, and his entire body needed revitalizing. The flight from Urbakkan had demanded his final ounce of strength. He had borrowed too much strength from his own willpower, and it had debilitated him with recurring migraines.
The commandant and Senator Sol Lightner came in and took seats at the conference table. The committee lawyer looked up from the table, half rose, and nodded.
Quinn detected an adversarial relationship at once. V. VINCENT ZACCO, his card read: SPECIAL COUNSEL. The card was undersized but expensive, as was Vincent himself. Form-fitting suit, Hoover collar, and the big mustache that small men of the world wear to send a message of their macho. The handshake told Quinn that the counsel had not made his way up through hard labor.
Senator Lightner was honored, honored, honored. He purred on, “We ought to have this little visit before the President’s news conference tomorrow to see if we are all on the same page. I think informality is the order of the day. Now, you do understand, Gunner, that hearings are a usual way of life in the Congress, and you might be asked the same questions later, under oath.”
Jesus, Quinn thought, the last clone of Senator Claghorn on Fibber McGee and Molly, or was it Fred Allen? A senator’s senator, with honey-drawn banter. Hearings that ensure legislators a role in the separation of powers.
Lightner returned to his seat, lit a cigarillo, and nodded to Zacco, whose papers were rustling in anticipation. Zacco cleared his throat repetitively, tuning up. He oozed out a question or two to give a false impression of gentleness and feigned innocence. Quinn’s guard went on alert.
Vincent led Quinn through his acquaintance and relationship with the late Major General Duncan, his joining the RAM unit, and an “understanding” of Quinn’s role in the raid.
Quinn explained that there were separate entities within the company: namely, the fighting section, the front cabin men and command, and the aircraft itself. Quinn’s job had been to coordinate the three and oversee the training schedules. In addition, Quinn had worked on the logistics of possible future targets. Quinn had also had his voice in all meetings and a hand on every piece of equipment that flowed to the Marines and had been tested for the SCARAB.
“In actual fact,” Zacco said, “you were not only second in command, but the general’s complete staff.”
“In a manner of speaking,” Quinn answered. “This was his manner of operation, to travel light. Likewise, every man in the unit had a second, third, and fourth skill. Everyone knew how to handle every weapon we carried, and so forth.”
“But a drop in rank straight down from major general to Marine gunner? No disrespect, but shouldn’t there have been a stronger chain of command? Perhaps a colonel directly under Duncan?”
“Well, unfortunately,” Quinn said, “the man who could answer that is no longer here. However, and fortunately, it worked so well that we were right.”
Brickhouse allowed a meager smile to form up.
“‘Kiss,’ General Duncan would say.”
“‘Kiss,’ indeed!” Brickhouse retorted.
“It stands for, Keep It Simple, Stupid,” Quinn retorted.
The corners of Brickhouse’s lips smiled higher.
“I know you are