The Deserter
Chapter 3
"So that bloke 'oo died," began Goniff, "'e was an Indian too, wasn't 'e?" This was directed at Chief who was sitting on the window sill staring out the window. Not getting any reaction he tried again. "Comanche is Indian, right, Chief?" Chief, at least looked in his direction for a second before returning to his window vigil. "Do ya think there's many over 'ere? Indians I mean." Still no answer but Goniff noticed that Casino was now watching, his solitaire game forgotten.
"So why was he all by himself? And don't try and say he was a civilian," demanded Casino. He had found himself a hook.
Actor replaced the book mark and closed the leather bound volume he had been reading, and moved over toward the window. "He was a Guardian." It was not a question but a statement, confirming what he already knew. From his vantage point he saw the sadness on Chief's face morph to fear then anger directed at him.
"A Guardian?" said Casino clearly surprised. "Where was his Handler?
Actor saw the glare that zeroed in on the safecracker. That had to be obvious to Casino but the con man also saw the tensing of the muscles, the slight shift of balance. Did Casino know how close he was to being attacked? Was he carrying his knife?
"I thought you guys travelled in pairs?" His face changed as a thought struck him.
"Wait a minute." Casino rose slowly from his chair. "He asked you if you wanted him to kill your Handler." He paused, putting two and two together. "He killed his Handler, didn't he?" Standing, he took a step closer. Narrowing his eyes and pointing his finger, he said, "You just remember what I said. I meant it."
All eyes turned to glare at the Indian. No one moved, even when the Sargent-Major opened the door and stepped in. "Chief, the Left tenant would like to see you in his office. On the double, lad." He stopped and looked around, noticing the tension. "Whot's goin' on 'ere? We'll 'ave nona that. No fighting. You just break it up. Chief? The Left tenant's office, now."
Chief lowered his foot that had been on the sill and stood, all without breaking eye contact with the safe cracker. He started toward the door and Casino.
The Sargent-Major saw that the Indian was going to have to walk right past Casino and with the tension as it was he could see punches being thrown. His only thought was to keep them separated so he moved up beside Casino, hoping the men respected him enough not to go through him. He wished he had his weapon.
The Guardian kept coming, detouring only slightly, but as he passed he swung his shoulder at the last second catching the Englishman's shoulder with enough force that he, in turn, bumped into Casino.
"Why, you…" started Casino. He might have stopped there but the sight of the Indian giving him the finger set him off and he tried to lunge after the retreating form but the Englishman was in the way. He had to settle with, "You'll pay for that."
Assured that Casino was not going to follow, the Sargent-Major fell into step behind the Indian and they continued on to the Officer's office.
The Sargent Major had lagged behind to deflect Casino if necessary so Chief entered the American Officer's office first. The English soldier had wanted to warn the Left tenant about the trouble but he was too late.
Lieutenant Craig Garrison watched the two men enter his office. The Guardian walked in with a look he was unused to seeing. He looked resolute, maybe even angry. Every other time he had looked apprehensive so this difference was noted especially when the Sargent Major's usual bright eyed eagerness was muted by worry. Something had happened that he needed to know about. The soldier had not been gone long enough for him to be involved so he would see if he could get it out of the Guardian.
"Sit down," he said as the Englishman closed the door. "I was just writing my report on our last mission. In the debrief last night, I mentioned the dead Guardian. They must have passed on the information because I just got a call from GCAT." Up until now the Guardians face was closed but when he said those letters he saw fear. He did not have to have Guardian vision to see the man's eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly. He shifted forward slightly I preparation for flight.
"It's all right, Chief, all they want to know is who he was and who was his Handler." Garrison had hoped to mollify the Guardian but there was no change. If anything he was closer to taking off. "Did he say anything that might help?"
"No."
"Did he mention a name maybe or a place? Can you tell me anything about the Guardian?"
"He was a man," was the surly reply after a minute's silence. Chief had started to relax, just a little bit.
Garrison was unsure. What he had heard was true but it did not answer the question. He replayed it in his head.
Chief saw the confusion but he was too worried to play the game. "He was a man, a man who happened to be Guardian."
Garrison was following. Yes he was a man … Then he realized what Chief meant. "Yes, you're right. Can you tell me anything about the man who died? You said he was Comanche," he prompted.
Chief shook head and watched the confusion on his leaders face. It was not blatant but it was there. The man was being honest. Time for some truth so he took a deep breath and said, "I said that cause Casino thought … He thought I would take off with him and I had to tell him somethin'."
"So you said you were from warring tribes." He watched as Chief acknowledged his statement. "So you don't know anything about him?"
Chief shook his head again then said quietly, with his head down "'sept he was tired of it and couldn't take it anymore." He seemed to deflate as he spoke as if he knew from experience, exactly what that meant.
"Tired of…" prompted Garrison.
Chief turned away and said in that same quiet voice, "the beatings, the starving," he looked down at his hands in his lap and in a tiny voice he said, "being handled." His voice caught. There was a lot of pain in those two words.
Garrison sat back. There was a lot to think about. "All right, Chief, I'll let them know that you didn't know him or anything about him. Hopefully that'll satisfy them." Chief had kept his head down but his eyes were looking up at least to desk level. It reminded Garrison that Guardians were taught to never look their Handler in the eye. Old habits are hard to break or should it be harsh training is hard to undo.
"Thank you, Chief." It was just the natural thing to say, a way to end the interview but the Guardian's reaction surprised him. His head snapped up and he made eye contact before his training kicked in and he dropped his head and his eyes. It was as if no one had ever thanked him before. He watched as Chief stood and turned then made his way out the door.
Garrison remained sitting. He had learned some things just now, things that he had to consider. First, the Guardian was a man, a man who just happened to be a Guardian. Yes, just like he was a man who happened to be an Officer in the United States Army. Was there a difference? Other than he was proud to be an Officer. His was an achievement. Was being a Guardian something to be proud of? They were a rare breed. Chief certainly did not seem to be proud. The beatings, the starving, he had said, who would be proud after that? He remembered back to Iamello. Most of that part of the training he had purposely forgotten or ignored. At that time he had no intention of keeping the Guardian. He did remember being disgusted at the way he was supposed to treat another human being. He had refused to accept it and had planned on getting rid of him. Out of sight and not my problem. Except it was still his problem but instead of fixing it he had gone along with the Guardian, um, Chief's suggestion that he disregard it all. And it had worked. Was that all he could do? Should do?
The other thing that was niggling his conscious was Chief had said he told Casino the lie because Casino thought he was going to take off with the other man. Had he really considered leaving with him? And what stopped him? That, of course, led to did he want him to leave? And what would he do if he tried?