The Intruders Read Online Free PDF Page B

airline tickets were
still there, his wallet, change, and the ring. He pocketed the ring and
counted the money in the wallet.
    “Don’t see many white guys in here carrying diamond rings,” the cop said
chattily.
    Grafton wasn’t in the mood.
    “Dopers seem to have pockets full of them,” the cop continued “And
burglars. You haven’t been crawling through any windows, have you?”
    “Not lately.” Jake snapped his wallet shut and pocketed it.
    “Bet it helps you get laid a lot.”
    “Melts their panties. Poked your daughter last week.”
    “Sign this receipt, butt hole.”
    Jake did so.
    They led him out to a desk. His commanding officer, Commander Dick
Donovan, was sitting in a straight-backed chair. two more pieces of
paper thrust at him by the desk sergeant- One was a promise to appear in
three weeks for a preliminary hearing before a magistrate. Jake
pocketed his copy.
    “You’re free to go,” the sergeant said.
    Donovan came out of his chair and headed for the door.
    Jake trailed along behind him, At the Parking lot Jake got into the
passenger seat Of Donovan’s car. Donovan still hadn’t said a word. He
was a big man, easily six foot three, with wide shoulders and huge feet
He was the first bombardier-navigator (BN) to ever command the
replacement squadron, VA-128.
    “Thanks for bailing me out, Skipper.”
    “I have a lot better things to do with my time than driving all the way
to Seattle to bail an officer out of jail. An officer involved in a bar
room brawl. I almost didn’t come. I shouldn’t have. I wish I hadn’t.”
    sorry.
    “Don’t shit me, Mister. You weren’t even drunk when you threw that guy
through that window.
    You’d had exactly half of one beer. I read the police report and the
witnesses’ statements. You aren’t sorry and you’ve got no excuse.”
    “I’m sorry you had to drive down here, sir, I’m not sorry for what I did
to that man. He had it coming.”
    “Just who do you - think YOU are, Grafton? Some comic book Superhero?
Who gave you the right to punish every jerk out there that deserves it?
That’s what cops and courts are for.”
    “Okay, I shouldn’t have done it.”
    “You’re breaking my heart.”
    “Thanks for bailing me out. You didn’t have to do it. I know that.”
    “Not that you give a good goddamn.”
    “It really doesn’t matter.”
    “What should I do with you now?”
    “Whatever YOU feel You gotta do, Skipper. Write a bad fittie, letter Of
reprimand, court-martial, whatever. It’s your call If YOU want, I’ll
give you a letter of resignation tomorrow.”
    “Just like that,” Donovan muttered.
    “Just like that.”
    “Is that what you want? Out of the Navy?”
    “I haven’t thought about it.
    “Sir!” Donovan snarled.
    Donovan fell silent. He got on 1-5 and headed north. He didn’t take
the exit for the Mukilteo ferry, but stayed on the freeway. He was in
no mood for the ferry. He was going the long way around, across the
bridge at Deception Pass to Whidbey Island.
    Jake merely sat and watched the traffic. None of it mattered anymore.
The guys who died in Vietnam, the ones who were maimed … all that
carnage and suffering … just so some asshole, could insult them in
airports? So college professors could sneer? So the lieutenants who
survived could fret about their fitness reports while they climbed the
career ladder rung by slippery rung?
    June … in the year of our Lord 1973.
    In Virginia his dad would be working from dawn to dark.
    His father knew the price that had to be paid, so he paid it, and he
reaped the reward. The calves were born and thrived, the cattle gained
weight, the crops grew and matured and were harvested.
    Perhaps he should go back to Virginia, get some sort of job. He was
tired of the uniform, tired of the paperwork, even . . . even tired
of the flying. It was all so absolutely meaningless Donovan was guiding
the car through Mount Vernon when he spoke again. “It took eighty-seven
stitches to sew that