Buried Caesars Read Free Page B

General would like you to read the material and then ask me any questions you might have. I’ll have sandwiches and beer brought in for you while you read.”
    “I’d like to take this back to L.A.,” I said, holding up the hefty package, “and read it tonight, without you looking over my shoulder.”
    “That won’t be possible,” said Castle. “Two days have already passed since the money and papers were taken. Another day could …”
    I got up and handed the packet back to Castle.
    “Forget it,” I said. “I’d like to save the universe, or at least lower California. I really would, but it’ll have to be my way. I’ve had the feeling since I got into that spiffy Packard with you and Tonto that I was being treated like a little boy who’s supposed to be quiet in front of the adults and do what he’s told. Well, Major, it doesn’t work that way. Not for me. I’m not in your army and I couldn’t take the orders when I was a cop or when I was working security for Warner Brothers. I didn’t warm to the uniforms and I didn’t enjoy feeling like if I went down there’d be another like me to pick up the flag.”
    If I’d expected to get Castle angry I’d failed, but I hadn’t really expected it. I had read those eyes right. I needed room and respect. I couldn’t buy it with my clothes or my bank account. It was time to take a stand.
    “At the battle of Missionary Ridge, in the War Between the States, General MacArthur’s father did just that,” Castle said. Our faces were inches apart. “He picked up the flag of the 24th Wisconsin and led a charge that broke the enemy and turned the battle. He was eighteen. They gave him the Medal of Honor.”
    “It sounds dumb to me,” I said.
    “You have something better to do with your life?” Castle asked.
    “Maybe not,” I said. “It depends on how you look at things.”
    “Honor,” said Castle. “Loyalty. They’re the only things worth living for.”
    “How about a taco, a good night’s sleep, and a dark woman?” I said, our noses almost touching.
    Castle broke first. My guess was that he didn’t want to go back to MacArthur and let him know I was causing trouble.
    “You win, Peters,” he said. “We do it your way. Corporal Chester will drive you back to Los Angeles. I’ll be in touch with you at ten hundred hours tomorrow.”
    I considered a few more questions, but Castle turned and left the room.
    I went out of the house and got into the Packard. This time I got in the front seat. The sun was down and Corporal Chester was relaxed. He was a different man away from Major Castle.
    “A tough man,” I said.
    “The General or the Major?” Chester said, his eyes on the road.
    “Both.”
    “Been through a lot, said Chester. “Major was on Bataan. Escaped. Made his way to Manila. Hid in a wine barrel for a week while the Japs looked for him. He was nuts, the way I hear it. Filipinos helped get him to some island. Way I hear it, the Major—he was a Captain then—didn’t talk, didn’t sleep. They got him to Australia and MacArthur took him in, took care of him, gave him a field promotion. That was only a few months back.”
    “So Major Castle may not be back from Bataan yet,” I said.
    “He may not be back from the dead yet,” said Chester. “But he’s a good soldier and he’d die for the old man.”
    “And you?”
    Chester shrugged.
    “I’ll do what I have to do. My brother died somewhere in the Solomons last month. General had you in the hot room?”
    He glanced at my limp hair and soaked shirt.
    “Man’s immune to heat,” I said.
    “Man changes his clothes six times a day,” said Corporal Chester. “Probably changed just before you got there and stepped into the room from outside. Eisenhower was the General’s adjutant for years. One of my buddies heard Ike say he’d studied acting under MacArthur for three years.”
    We didn’t say much more the rest of the trip back. I suggested that we stop for a beer but Chester