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“That’s why I haven’t confided these worries of mine to anyone. Because people will assume that I’m assuming he’s having an affair. But I know for a fact that this is impossible. He feels guilty. He’s torn up inside about something. But it’s something to do with work, not with me, not his family, not his religion. Something about his present assignment is making him very unhappy.”
“Maybe he’s not doing as well at it as he thinks he should.”
She waved that thought away. “Reuben would talk about that with me. We share self-doubts with each other, even if he can’t go into the specifics. No, Captain Cole, he is being asked, as part of his work, to do something he fears may be wrong.”
“What do you think it might be?”
“I refuse to speculate. I just know that my husband has no qualms about bearing arms for his country and using them. So whatever he’s being asked to do that he hates, or at least has serious doubts about, it isn’t because violence is involved. It’s because he isn’t in full agreement with the assignment. For the first time in his military career, his duty and his conscience are in serious conflict.”
“And if I find out, Mrs. Malich, I probably can’t tell you what it is.”
“My husband is a good man,” she said. “It’s important to him to be a good man. He has to not only be good, he has to believe that he’s good. In the eyes of God, in my eyes, in his parents’ eyes, in his own eyes. Good. What I want you to do for me is tell me if he’s not going to be able to get through this project, whatever it is, believing that he’s a good man.”
“I’d have to know him very well to be able to assess that, ma’am.”
“He asked for you to be assigned to him for a reason,” said Mrs. Malich. “A young Special Ops hotshot—that describes you, yes?”
“Probably,” said Captain Cole, shaking his head.
“He wouldn’t take you out of the front line, where you’re needed, if he didn’t think you’d be needed more working for him.”
That was logical, if Malich was indeed the man his wife thought he was. It gave Cole the reassurance he needed.
“Ma’am,” he said, “I’ll keep your assignment in mind. Along with whatever assignments he gives me. And what I can tell you, consistent with my oath and my orders, I certainly will tell you.”
“Meanwhile,” she said, “let me assure you that you do not have to keep secret from him any part of our meeting today. I certainly intend to tell him I met you and exactly what we talked about.”
“Please don’t tell him about the cookies I hid in my pockets,” said Cole. “I know you saw me take them.”
“I made them for you. Where you choose to transport them is entirely your affair.”
All the way back toward the Beltway on Route 7, Cole tried to make sense of Mrs. Malich’s behavior. Was she really going to tell Major Malich about the assignment she had just given Cole? In that case, would Malich regard Cole as compromised somehow? Or would Malich simply give up and tell his wife what she wanted to know?
Or was there some game going on between them that was far more complicated than Cole could suppose? Cole had never been married or even had a girlfriend long enough to really think that he knew her. Were all women like this, and Mrs. Malich was unusual only in being so candid about her conniving?
Whatever it was, Cole already didn’t like it. It was outrageous to be given an assignment by your commander’s wife, though heaven knows it happened often enough when it consisted of moving furniture or running errands. Cole could see no way things could turn out that would not be detrimental to his career.
Had she been drinking? Was that it?
No, there had been no sign of that.
His cellphone went of
f.
“Captain Coleman?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Major Malich. What does it mean when I get to the office and find you gone off somewhere?”
“Sorry, sir. I should be back within thirty minutes, sir.”
“How many hours do you think you get for lunch?”
Cole took a deep breath. “I was visiting your wife, sir.”
“Oh, were you.”
