Without remorse - Tom Clancy [17]
'What the hell is that?' Sam Rosen asked. 'That' was one of the bunkers that had been built in 1943, two thousand square feet, with a roof fully three feet thick. The entire structure was reinforced concrete and was almost as sturdy as it looked. A second, smaller bunker lay beside it.
'This place used to belong to the Navy,' Kelly explained, 'but I lease it now.'
'Nice dock they built for you,' Rosen noted.
'Not bad at all,' Kelly agreed. 'Mind if I ask what you do?'
'Surgeon,' Rosen replied.
'Oh, yeah?' That explained the hands.
'Professor of surgery,' Sarah corrected. 'But he can't drive a boat worth a damn!'
'The goddamned charts were off!' the professor grumbled as Kelly led them inside. 'Didn't you hear?'
'People, that's history now, and lunch and a beer will allow us to consider it in comfort.' Kelly surprised himself with his words. Just then his ears caught a sharp crack coming across the water from somewhere to the south. It was funny how sound carried across the water.
"What was that?' Sam Rosen had sharp ears, too.
'Probably some kid taking a muskrat with his .22,' Kelly judged. 'It's a pretty quiet neighborhood, except for that. In the fall it can get a little noisy around dawn - ducks and geese.'
'I can see the blinds. You hunt?'
'Not anymore,' Kelly replied.
Rosen looked at him with understanding, and Kelly decided to reevaluate him for a second time.
'How long?'
'Long enough. How'd you know?'
'Right after I finished residency, I made it to Iwo and Okinawa. Hospital ship.'
'Hmm, kamikaze time?'
Rosen nodded. 'Yeah, lots of fun. What were you on?'
'Usually my belly,' Kelly answered with a grin.
'UDT? You look like a frogman,' Rosen said. 'I had to fix a few of those.'
'Pretty much the same thing, but dumber.' Kelly dialed the combination lock and pulled the heavy steel door open.
The inside of the bunker surprised the visitors. When Kelly had taken possession of the place, it had been divided into three large, bare rooms by stout concrete walls, but now it looked almost like a house, with painted drywall and rugs. Even the ceiling was covered. The narrow viewslits were the only reminder of what it had once been. The furniture and rugs showed the influence of Patricia, but the current state of semiarray was evidence that only a man lived here now. Everything was neatly arranged, but not as a woman would do things. The Rosens also noted that it was the man of the house who led them to the 'galley' and got things out of the old-fashioned refrigerator box while Pam wandered around a little wide-eyed.
'Nice and cool,' Sarah observed. 'Damp in the winter, I bet.' -
'Not as bad as you think.' Kelly pointed to the radiators around the perimeter of the room. 'Steam heat. This place was built to government specifications. Everything works and everything cost too much.'
'How do you get a place like this?' Sam asked.
'A friend helped me get the lease. Surplus government property.'
'He must be some friend,' Sarah said, admiring the built-in refrigerator.
'Yes, he is.'
Vice Admiral Winslow Holland Maxwell, USN, had his office on the E-Ring of the Pentagon. It was an outside office, allowing him a fine view of Washington - and the demonstrators, he noted angrily to himself. Baby Killers! one placard read. There was even a North Vietnamese flag. The chanting, this Saturday morning, was distorted by the thick window glass. He could hear the cadence but not the words, and the former fighter pilot couldn't decide which was more enraging.
'That isn't good for you, Dutch.'
'Don't I know it!' Maxwell grumbled.
'The freedom to do that is one of the things we defend,' Rear Admiral Casimir Podulski pointed out, not quite making that leap of faith despite his words. It was just a little too much. His son had died over Haiphong in an A-4 strike-fighter. The event had made the papers because of the young aviator's parentage, and fully eleven anonymous telephone calls had come in the