The Winston Affair (17 page)

Adams caught Moscow's eye and stopped the whispering. “You will answer the question, Sergeant,” Thompson said.

“I issued only two carbines,” Johnson stated slowly, “because I was afraid that men who had just seen a murder done might not hesitate to kill the murderer.”

“You had also seen the murder done, as you testified, Sergeant Johnson. Did you have no desire to kill the murderer?”

“I did not.”

“Out of solicitude for Lieutenant Winston.”

“No, sir.”

“Did you like Lieutenant Winston?”

“I did not like him.”

“Yet, knowing he was armed with a pistol and knowing he was a murderer, you took pains to protect him?”

“Yes, sir—I suppose you could look at it that way.”

“How did you look at it, Sergeant? Differently?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then please tell the court how you looked at it, Sergeant. Please explain your reasons for delay and for arming only two men.”

Major Smith rose with more confidence now. “May it please the court, I must object to this line of questioning. Sergeant Johnson is not on trial for negligence. If such an inquiry is to be made, it is a matter for the British Command.”

“The court will have to sustain this objection, Captain Adams,” Thompson said. “Unless you can show that this is vital to the matter at hand.”

“I withdraw that question.”

“Strike it from the record, Sergeant Debbs,” Mayburt said to the court reporter.

“When you began the search for Lieutenant Winston, it was your intention to take him alive—was it not, Sergeant?”

“It was.”

“Why did you desire to take him alive?”

Sergeant Johnson hesitated, then blurted out, “Because Lieutenant Winston was insane! And I did not want the blood of an insane man on my hands!”

All three men of the prosecution rose to the objection. Winston himself raised his bent head and looked dully at Johnson. Wells and Coombs sank back to their seats. General Kempton, staring coolly and deliberately, attempted to catch Adams' glance; but Barney Adams watched the court, his face placid, his blue eyes mildly questioning.

Angry and frustrated, Major Smith denied Sergeant Johnson's competence. “I move that the question and answer be stricken.”

Colonel Thompson made no reply to this. Colonel Mayburt passed him a note. Still Colonel Thompson did not react. Then he leaned across to Mayburt, and they talked in whispers for about a minute. Finally, Colonel Thompson nodded and then relaxed in his chair.

Colonel Mayburt said: “Your objection to the competence of Sergeant Johnson's opinion, Major Smith, can only be sustained if he were to offer it as a diagnosis, which he is obviously not qualified to make. However, he is giving his reason for failing to take an action. This testimony is proper to cross-examination, and I cannot sustain an objection unless he offers the same opinion as a pretense at diagnosis.”

Mayburt then turned to Adams and said, “You understand the position of the court, Captain Adams. You can elicit testimony from Sergeant Johnson on the facts of the night in question. You cannot probe into the reasons upon which Sergeant Johnson bases his answer.”

“May it please the court,” Adams said, “under these circumstances, I will reserve the right to recall this witness as a witness for the defense.”

“That is your privilege, sir. I am sure you recognize that since Sergeant Johnson is a member of the British Armed Forces, he can appear only with the consent of his superior officers.”

“Yes, sir. I do recognize that fact.”

Thompson now said, a faint, muted note of anger in his voice, “Do you have any other questions, Captain Adams?”

“No, sir, I do not.”

Wells and Coombs were whispering with Smith when Colonel Thompson turned to them. “Major Smith?”

Smith spread his hands to halt the conference, wearily nodding his submission. He rose to his feet.

“You may have the witness for redirect examination.”

“There are no further questions, sir.”

Colonel Thompson nodded and said to Johnson, “You will stand down, Sergeant. You are to hold yourself in waiting at the witness room, unless otherwise instructed.”

He pursed his lips and looked at his watch. “Court will adjourn until one o'clock.”

Monday 12.10 P.M .

Lieutenant Bender had recommended the Chin Lee Soong, a Chinese restaurant, as a quiet place where they could eat lunch and talk. Corporal Baxter dropped them off there, and then took the jeep to the hospital to pick up Lieutenant Sorenson.

Under Bender's guidance, they had ordered a casserole of chicken cooked with pineapple and water chestnuts. Moscow and Adams only played with their food; Bender ate with the appetite of a man who has not seen food for days. To Adams, it did not taste like any chicken he had ever encountered, though the food was delicious, and he asked Bender what kind of chicken it was.

“Oh, it's not chicken, sir, it's pork.”

“Then why do they call it chicken?”

“The Moslems, sir. They don't want to offend any Moslems.”

“I should think the Moslems would be more offended by being tricked.”

“No, sir, they're not tricked at all. No Moslem ever eats in a Chinese restaurant.”

“I wouldn't press it, Captain,” Moscow said. “Just let Harvey eat.”

“Yes—I suppose so.”

“Please, sir,” Moscow said, “I can't get it out of my mind. When you began your line of questioning, you knew just where you were going. But how could you have known that Johnson would come right out and call Winston insane?”

“I didn't know.”

“But you must have had some inkling—”

“There had to be some reason for the delay. I've seen the type of British soldier Johnson is. A pistol wouldn't stop him. But the implication of cowardice was more than he could bear.”

“Do you think they'll let him testify for us, sir?” Bender asked.

“I wouldn't call him,” Adams said. “There's nothing he could add to his testimony that we need.”

“This morning,” Moscow said thoughtfully, “I wouldn't have given a dollar to win twenty that there was any chance for an acquittal.”

“And now, Lieutenant?”

“I'll be honest with you, Captain Adams. Now I'm afraid. It's like stopping a tank with your bare hands. Even if you stop it, it's got to roll over you. Up until now—well, I won't speak for Harvey, but for me it was like a game. They held all the cards. God, I said to myself, what a thing to pull this off—what a ramrod to shove up the ass of that snot-nose Morty Coombs. But I didn't believe it.”

Adams looked at Bender, who went on eating silently and deliberately. Then Baxter came into the restaurant, with Kate Sorenson.

The three men rose, and Adams introduced the two lieutenants. Then he said to Baxter, “Sit down at a table over there, Corporal, and have some lunch. We'll leave here at exactly ten minutes to one. You're my guest this time.”

“Look, Captain, you don't have to buy me lunch.”

“Only when I choose the restaurant, Baxter. Go on, now—we have little enough time.”

Baxter sat down at a table across the room and ordered lunch. Lieutenant Bender heaped a plateful of food for Kate Sorenson, who was watching Adams strangely and newly, as if she had not seen him before. He himself was thinking that he had not seen her face by daylight. He could not really remember the woman in Major Kaufman's office; this was another person.

“I'm very glad to see you, Barney. How did it go this morning?”

“As well as I could have expected.”

Lieutenant Bender opened his mouth, began to say something, and then swallowed his words. Moscow was watching Sorenson with undisguised approval.

“You got my note, of course?” Sorenson said.

“Yes. But you don't have to do this, Kate. As a matter of fact, I don't want you to.”

“You didn't feel that way about Max Kaufman.”

Groping for his words, Adams said to her, “Until now, Kate, it was different. Lieutenant Moscow here said that it was like a game for him. Maybe it was like a game for me, too. Today, I'm too old to play games any more. I'm going to win this case because it must be won. I can't spell that out yet, because I'm still grappling with it in my own mind, but I know it. And if it is won, people will be hurt.”

“I've been hurt before,” she said.

“Will it do any good to argue with you?”

“No, it won't.”

“Very well. Show me the letter.”

Sorenson took a folded piece of paper out of her purse and handed it to Adams. He read it slowly and thoughtfully, while his two assistants watched him with unconcealed curiosity. Then he refolded the letter and handed it back to the nurse.

“I won't begin my own case until tomorrow,” he said. “You will have to be at the Judge Advocate General's all day—unless I begin early. Corporal Baxter will pick you up along with Major Kaufman at about nine in the morning. Is that all right?”

She nodded. Adams turned to his assistants. “Which one of you knows something about the local university?”

“It's not much of a university, sir,” Moscow replied. “Not in our terms. Their plant is falling in, and the teachers are even poorer than the pupils. I guess Harvey knows the place better than I do.”

“I gave a lecture there on Anglo-Saxon common law last month,” Bender admitted. “It wasn't much of a lecture, sir, but I was dating a girl from the faculty and I couldn't very well refuse when she asked me.”

“Bender, I want a handwriting expert,” Adams said. “I can't think of any other place where I might get one. What are the chances of finding one there?”

“Heaven only knows, sir. I can't think of any reason why they should have one.”

“Suppose you find out. If you can't find one at the university, put out feelers wherever you can, the local police, the enlisted men—wherever you can. Come to think of it, the local police must know of a handwriting expert. When you find him, try to persuade him to be a witness tomorrow. His expenses will be paid, and I'll stand for any extra loss he may feel he must take.”

“Suppose he won't respond to persuasion?”

“Don't threaten any subpoena unless you have to.”

“Shall I tell him what case it is?”

“You'll have to—of course. But the fewer details you offer, the better.”

Sorenson said, “If other things fail, try the offices of the
Daily Announcer
. Ask for a reporter called Sundar Jatee. He thinks well of the captain, and he's not too afraid.”

“Good idea,” Adams agreed. “Now, I want you to remain here with Lieutenant Sorenson until Baxter returns. You can have the jeep and Baxter until court adjourns.”

Baxter was at the table now, glancing at his watch. Adams looked at Sorenson searchingly. “Thank you, Kate,” he said.

Monday 1.00 P.M .

When the court convened for its afternoon session, Major Smith put Corporal Robert Goldman on the stand. Corporal Goldman was a stolid young man with sandy hair, pale blue eyes, and a painstakingly deliberate manner of answering questions. Adams was not surprised to hear that Goldman had not lost his head or become' unduly disturbed on the night in question; the corporal gave the impression that nothing on earth could disturb him and that midnight murders were not uncommon in his life.

His story was essentially the same as Sergeant Johnson's, except that he had awakened a few moments later, and reached the door to the separate room where Johnson and Quinn slept just as Winston opened fire.

When Goldman had finished testifying, Colonel Thompson nodded at Adams and said, “You may cross-examine, Captain Adams.”

“I have no questions,” Adams replied. Both Smith and Thompson were startled; and Adams wondered whether he had just seen a trace of a smile on Colonel Mayburt's face. He couldn't be sure.