Numbered Account

"Dammit, Neumann, I'm giving you the word of the United States government. We will protect you."

The word of the United States government.

Nick tried to find an answer that would put off Thorne once and for all. But he had lost his concentration. He couldn't stop Thorne's pledge from reverberating in his head.

The word of the United States government. We will protect you.

He stared at Sterling Thorne and for just a second, he swore he was looking into the slack-jowled face of Jack Keely.

***

"Neumann, it's good to see you here," says Jack Keely. He is nervous, fidgeting on the balls of his feet. "Colonel Andersen called my superiors, said something about you augmenting. You want to be a lifer, eh? Congratulations. Said you're interested in Intelligence? Maybe a liaison position between Quantico and Langley?"

First Lieutenant Nicholas Neumann sits at a table in the visitors' entry hall at the headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency in Langley, Virginia. It is a large room with a high ceiling and fluorescent lighting. On this hot June day, the air conditioners labor to keep the building cool. Nick wears his class A "alpha" dress greens. Two new ribbons adorn his breast- one for duty in the Pacific theater of operations, the other for meritorious service. The second is a surrogate for the Bronze Star awarded for valor in combat during an operation that never officially took place. He balances a black cane in his right hand. The cane is a step up from the crutches he wore out during his four-month stay at Walter Reed Hospital. The truth is that he has been declared NPQ- not physically qualified- for further duty. He cannot become a career officer, even if he wanted to. In ten days he will be discharged from the United States Marine Corps. Colonel Sigurd Andersen, of course, knows this. As he knows about all of Keely's intrigues.

"Thanks for finding the time to see me," says Nick, motioning as if to stand.

Keely waves him down. "So your wounds have healed?" he asks lightly, as if a quarter pound of shrapnel, like a bad haircut, is only a temporary nuisance.

"Getting there," says Nick. He rubs his leg gingerly to show that there is still a long way to go.

Keely relaxes, now that he has assessed Neumann and found him not to be a physical threat. "Any specific posting you have in mind?"

"I'm interested in assuming the type of role you played aboard the Guam," says Nick. "Coordinating incursions onto foreign soil. Marines are more comfortable having one of their own run an operation. I thought maybe you could talk to me about what it takes to do that kind of a job. I mean, since you did such a fine job with my team."

Keely grimaces. "Boy, that was a screwup. I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you about it more aboard ship. Regulations. Of course, you were hardly in a condition to speak with anyone when they hauled you aboard."

"Sure," says Nick, squinting his eyes, remembering.

"Radio malfunction," continues Keely. "I'm sure Colonel Andersen told you. We didn't pick up your distress signals until you were patched through the open airport communications channel. In the future, remember to guard that as a last resort. Not a secure com link."

Nick swallows his hatred of this man. His anticipation grows. He tells himself it won't be long now. "We had a man down," he says evenly. "We were being pursued by a superior enemy force. Operations command had not responded to our signals in over seven hours. Does that count as enough of a last resort?"

Keely rummages in his breast pocket for a cigarette. He slumps in his chair, assuming his usual arrogant posture. "Look, Lieutenant, no one likes to dredge up the past. The basic intel was on the money. You took out Enrile. We achieved the mission goal. We still don't have a clue as to who set up the ambush. Anyway, your boys fucked the extraction. It was a navy job to maintain the ship's communications equipment in proper working order. If one of your radios was on the fritz, what was I supposed to do about it?"

Nick smiles and says that he understands. Behind the smile, he maps out the progress of his assault. He plans every blow that he will deliver to this man's lying body. He has chosen Langley for an express purpose- so that Keely will never feel safe again, so that for the rest of his life he'll cower before turning a corner and hesitate before opening a door, so that he'll always wonder who'll be there to meet him and pray it won't be Lieutenant Nicholas Neumann.

"What's past is past," Nick says amicably. "The reason I came, Mr. Keely, is to get a tour of the navy liaison facility. I'm sure Colonel Andersen mentioned it. I thought maybe you'd give me some pointers about which channels would be most receptive to my requests for duty."

"Sure thing, Neumann. Follow me." Keely throws the butt of his cigarette into a cold cup of coffee, which had been left on the table. He stands up and tucks his creeping belly into his pants. "You okay on that leg?"

***