Angel of the Night Read Free Page B

McKillop was laid to rest four days later. His funeral, officiated by Chaplain Boyd Dalrymple, and assisted by Chaplain’s Assistant Gerald Giacomo, was attended by every man and woman stationed at Kabul Air Base. The gathering, 6,000 strong, was held in Ghazi Stadium in Kabul, as it was the only open space that would hold a throng that large. Gen. McKillop’s body was to be flown home to his native Ithaca, New York for eventual cremation per his wishes.
    Over the next several weeks, the camp buzzed about the incident and why it may have taken place. Wild speculation ensued (lover’s quarrel, drunken fight bursting out of control), but no one came up with a theory that carried any particular credence. The general was married, and had no girlfriends on the side, at least as far as anyone could tell. He was a light social drinker, but no one had ever seen him the least bit out of control. The investigation into the general’s death was being carried out deliberately, and news about its progress was non-existent.
    Speculation was no more rampant anywhere on base than it was in the medical unit’s lunchroom. The topic was hashed and rehashed by the doctors, nurses, and medical support personnel.
    “How long do you suppose it will be before we find out anything about who killed Gen. M? I mean, it’s been almost a month. Shouldn’t there be some answers?” Corporal Lisa Glenn said one day over a hummus wrap during her lunch time.
    Capt. McGuire finished chewing his ham and cheese on rye before offering his thoughts. “You know, there’s a good chance that no official announcement will ever be made. They may just arrest someone and take him away, especially if they determine that it was random. If it becomes some sort of international incident then, of course, we will hear about it. But I don’t think it will be like that.”
    Captain McGuire was sitting with an orthopedic surgeon and three nurses. All of his dining companions put their lunches down and turned their attention to the Captain when he spoke.
    Dr. Richard O’Reilly was the bone doctor, and he was the first to ask the question that was on everyone’s mind. “I’m sure we would like to know your theory Capt. McGuire.”
    “It isn’t so much of a theory as a hunch, Rich. Gen. McKillop was a great guy. Everyone here loved him,” Capt. McGuire paused to see if his statement elicited anything but agreement. No one had anything negative to say.
    “That said,” he continued. “His career was pretty much in stall mode. It wasn’t as if he were going to be made a five star before he retired. He seemed to be pretty much in cruise control as far as his time remaining. I doubt that he was privy to any special secrets. And I don’t think that he was on the leading edge of the kind of decision-making process that would attract any negative attention. In short, I think he was satisfied to be liked, respected and well-paid until it was time for him to hang up his star and move back to New York State.”
    There was general agreement with Capt. McGuire’s assessment of the situation, but it didn’t do anything to quell the curiosity shared by everyone who was seated at the table. Lisa Glenn stabbed her salad a little harder than was necessary to impale it on her fork. She had shared a military transport plane to Afghanistan with General McKillop, who eschewed most of the trappings of power that could have come his way, and liked to fly on the transport flights. She had been a lonely, scared nurse on her way overseas for the very first time. The General had encouraged her and told her how great he was sure that she was going to do.
    Richard O’Reilly chewed his food pensively, having played squash with Gen. McKillop on more than one occasion. The doctor had been impressed with the general’s genuine curiosity about setting a leg fracture in a desert setting.
    Wendy Shafer was late to the gathering, but didn’t have anything to offer. She had met Gen. McKillop