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He suggested that further investigation into the mule list was warranted. Anything important enough for the Kurians to put this kind of effort into-and apart from feeding and protecting themselves, the Kurians had few pursuits that Valentine was aware of- might prove vital.
Valentine signed it. His last testament to the Cause?
* * * *
Letters arrived in a strung-together mass. Outrage and gratitude from Post, who was on the mend in a convalescent home and had installed Narcisse in the kitchen; wonder from Meadows; a few postcards from his former Razors who had heard about his imprisonment one way or another.
One offered to ". . . come git you Sir. Just send word."
Nothing from Ahn-Kha, which worried Valentine a little. The Golden One could read and write English as well as anyone in his former command, and better than many.
Valentine heard footsteps in the hallway pause, and then a knock at the door.
"Visitor, Major."
This time Corporal Young took him down to a regular visiting room, carrels with glass between allowed for conversation through small holes in the glass-or plastic, Valentine thought when he saw all the scratches. There were fittings for phones but it looked as though the electronics had been taken out.
He waited for a few minutes and then they brought in Moira Styachowski.
She wore good-fitting cammies with her Hunter Staff crossbar on her captain's bars. The only female Bear he'd ever met looked about as healthy as she ever did-just a little pale and exhausted.
"So they got you after all," Valentine said.
"I might say the same about you," Styachowski said in return, then her eyes shifted down. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Dumb thing to joke-"
"Forget about it, Wildcard."
She smiled at the handle issued to her the night he'd been burned in the Kurian Tower of Little Rock. "You know who's behind this, right?"
"Yes, that Sime . . ."
"No, the charges. It's Martinez."
"My counselor told me. Seems like a sharp woman."
Styachowski looked down again.
"What?" Valentine asked.
"I was told, Val, in language that was . . . umm, remarkable for its vigor, to come here and tell you to work with Sime on this. The 'vigor' of the language employed made me ask a few questions of a friend at GHQ. So, for the record, take the deal."
Valentine lowered his voice. "Off the record?"
She leaned forward. "It's a setup for the benefit of some Oklahoma Quislings. According to my source at GHQ, Sime said, 'They need to see a few hangings to convince them.' Don't look like that. You've got your deal from Sime."
"Sime says. He's powerful enough to make it happen? Even with a Jagger judge?"
"The representatives"-she said the word with the inflection a bluenose might use to describe workers in a bordello as 'hostesses'- "are here and your trials are due to start. Luckily you were the last one arrested. The others will go first. They'll get their hangings."
"Is there anything you can do?" Valentine asked. So goddamn helpless in here. He felt an urge to lash out, punch the Plexiglas between himself and Styachowski. Perhaps even hit Styachowski, for nothing more than being the bearer of bad news. But the mad flash faded as quickly as it rose.
"I don't have much experience in this. A couple of classes on military law and that farce we had near Magazine Mountain sums up my experience."
"What about the newspapers? Your average townie thinks every Quisling should wind up in a ditch."
"Military trials aren't public. I'll see if I can talk to your counsel. If it makes you feel any better, Ahn-Kha is here. I set him up quietly in the woods nearby. I sent word to that Cat you're partial to but I haven't heard back."
"Who's your source at GHQ?"
