Chapter 10

He froze and watched as the guard stepped out of the sentry box and approached him.

"Lieutenant Allen has asked for you," the guard informed him. "Follow me, please, sir."

At least he'd said "sir." The guard was, after all, a corporal and he a Serjeant, a Colour Serjeant at that. One who'd earned the title for staying in the service and doing his duty.

Lucky for him Lieutenant Allen wasn't a bad sort. He'd served with Crawley after Bates had been injured and sent home, and had sought him out when he'd returned from the war. He knew about how he'd been injured by protecting their commanding officer.

Allen was now with the Judge Advocate's office. Bates assumed he was going to be written up for drinking. Thank god he kept the peppermints with him at all times. He'd only had one drink; he couldn't possibly smell like whiskey. And since Allen knew him, perhaps he was only being called in for a warning.

The guard led him to a row of buildings that housed the Judge Advocate's offices. He followed him inside, down a corridor to Allen's office. The guard knocked and the door opened. A serjeant looked over Bates. "Bates?" he asked. Bates nodded. "Dismissed," the serjeant told the guard and waved Bates inside.

The guard watched as Bates limped into the office. "Wait here," he said. "I'll let the Lieutenant know you're here." He paused. "And please, sit down," he added, motioning him to a wooden armchair. He turned toward the back of the office and knocked on a door before entering.

Bates seated himself and tried to keep calm. He'd probably been reported by one of the enlisted men who saw him passed out in the barracks. This had happened one time to many, he had to admit to himself. But his work hadn't suffered; at least, he didn't think it had. No one had complained the he was slow, or inaccurate, but there had been a couple of comments about people who drink too much. Another reprimand, though, would be a problem. He'd already had a couple for fighting.

The serjeant reappeared. "Lieutenant Allen will see you now."

Bates rose, steadied himself, and hobbled over to Allen's office. His leg had started to throb, probably from nerves as much as anything else. Usually he felt only a dull ache. He tried his best to walk more steadily as he entered Allen's office, straightened up as best he could, and saluted the officer sitting at a large desk.

Allen waved his hand. "As ease, Serjeant. Please, sit down." Bates lowered himself into a chair in front of Allen's desk.

Allen reached for a file and opened it. Bates noticed that there were not many papers in it. That was a good sign; there weren't heaps of complaints about him. Perhaps he could explain away whatever the problem turned out to be.

Allen looked up from the file and gazed at Bates. People had talked about him a lot in Africa. He'd arrived after Bates had been shipped home, but he knew all about how Bates had saved Captain Crawley, their commanding officer, from a bullet and took one himself as he directed the platoon to return fire. He'd shot two snipers in trees before he himself was taken down. The enlisted men had been in awe of him, and Crawley openly admired him, so much so that Allen made a point to visit the man when he returned from the war.

He remembered a wife who didn't seem particularly sympathetic to her wounded husband, and a soldier who seemed to have had the life sucked out of him. It was depressing. He tried to cheer Bates up, telling him about how the old platoon talked of his heroism, mentioned his medals. But he hadn't kept up with him, or all that much with Crawley for that matter.

He could see that the passing years hadn't been good for Bates. He stayed in the Army, probably because a man with a permanent injury would have a time trying to find work. He was assigned a desk position, but with no command or anyone to supervise. Allen had heard that Bates drank, but no one had formally reported him for misbehaviour. Since obtaining his file, he now knew about Bates getting into fights; in at least one of them, Allen thought, the other chap deserved a busted nose. Bates had been sentenced to a short time in the brig, according to the records, and banned from the mess for a few months. Nothing all that unusual, really. Any man worth his salt would take down someone messing with his woman.

This latest event, however, was serious, and Allen hoped to hell it wasn't true.

Bates was looking straight back at him. Allen cleared his throat and began to speak. "Serjeant Bates, I have the unpleasant duty to inform you that your wife and another man have been taken into custody for conspiracy to steal and stealing regimental property."

Bates' eyes widened and he trembled slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn't come out, couldn't come out. "They are currently being questioned by police, with our Judge Advocate staff present," Allen added.

"When?" Bates finally gasped.

"About two hours ago," Allen said. "You understand, Serjeant, that this puts you in a very…unusual situation."

Bates nodded. "I understand, sir." He took a few shaky breaths.

"I would like you to remain here until our staff return," Allen said. "They will want to question you. You do not have to remain here, however, if you do you will be spared the…the spectacle…of having them come for you in your office." He leaned forward. "I don't want to make this uncomfortable, for you, Serjeant. I am aware of your recent misfortunes as reflected on your record. But I also know your history and your service. I think we can work together to get you the help you need…if you cooperate with the investigation."

Bates looked over Allen's head to think. This must be the "business" that Vera had mentioned when they'd met up with that odious Henry Reed. Or whoever he was. At least this time Vera had been right—he wouldn't be interested in their business. He might be a lot of undesirable things, but he was not a thief.

"I must assume I am also a suspect," Bates said, looking back at Allen.

"I can't say for sure," Allen replied, leaning back into his chair. "Nothing in your record indicates suspicious behaviour on this matter. Others, yes, but not this. I think you know what I'm speaking of, Serjeant."

Bates looked down. "Once our people return here," Allen continued, "I will have a better idea as to your status, if you might be arrested or remain a person of interest in this case. I must ask you, though, is there any reason your wife or this man, this….Henry Reed…would tie you to the crimes they are alleged to have committed?"

Bates' head shot back up. Oh my god, he thought. Of course she will name me.

"Yes, sir, I believe she would," he answered. He didn't deny his involvement—for one thing, he hadn't been asked; and for another, denying it at this stage would only make him seem more, not less, guilty. He had to think very carefully about how to proceed.

"Well, at least that gives us an idea of where you stand in this case," Allen said slowly. "But a thief's word is never one that carries much weight," he said, thinking out loud and speaking more quickly. "As long as we can substantiate where you were when these crimes took place, you should be all right. As an active duty member, you fall under our jurisdiction. I can assure you that the Judge Advocate's office is not interested in pressing charges against the wrong person just to solve a case."

"Your wife, however, and the other civilian fall under the civil authorities and I can't say that they operate with the same…the same objectives that we do here. They answer to a larger and more divers group than ours. In other words, they will find someone to charge with these crimes."