1981 - Hand Me a Fig Leaf by James Hadley Chase Read Free Book Online Page A

liked him."
    He raised his glass and saluted me. We drank. The Scotch nearly ripped the skin off my tonsils.
    He eyed me.
    "A bit strong, huh?" he asked, seeing my eyes water. "We old soldiers like our liquor with a big kick."
    I put the glass on the table.
    "That's a fact." I managed to grin. "I never did get to 'Nam. It was over before my lot finished training."
    "Then I guess you were lucky. Nam was no picnic."
    I took out my pack of cigarettes and offered it. We both lit up.
    "Mr. Smith . . .?"
    His smile widened.
    "You call me Hank, Mr. Wallace. I guess you were an officer . . . right?"
    "That's old history. Call me Dirk."
    "Fine with me." He drank, sighed, then said, "You working for the colonel?"
    "Yes. Hank, I've come to see you because Chick said you could help."
    "Is that right?" He showed surprise. "Well, sure. Help? What's that mean?"
    "Mitch Jackson. Remember him?"
    Hank lost his smile.
    "I remember him," he said, his voice suddenly cold and flat.
    "I'm digging into his past, Hank. It's important. Whatever you say is in confidence. I just want to have your truthful opinion of him."
    "Why should you want that?"
    "His father died yesterday. There's an investigation. We think Mitch Jackson could be remotely hooked to his father's death."
    "You want my truthful opinion?"
    "Yes. I assure you if you have anything to tell me it goes no further than these four walls. You have my word."
    He moved his big feet while he thought.
    "I don't believe in speaking ill of the dead," he said finally. "Especially a Medal of Honor hero."
    I sampled the Scotch again. It was still dreadful, but I found I was getting used to its kick.
    "How did the men react to Mitch? How did you react?"
    He hesitated, then shrugged
    "He had a lot of favourites. That was the trouble. Maybe you don't know, but, when a Staff sergeant has favourites and runs the rest of the men into the ground, he ain't popular. That's what Jackson did. To some he was like a father. To others he was a real sonofabitch."
    "How was he with you?"
    "I had a real bad time with him: any dirty job, I got it, but it wasn't only me. More than half the battalion got the shitty end of the stick and the other half had it good."
    "There must have been a reason."
    "There was a reason all right. All those kids who went into that jungle before the bombers arrived were his favourites. That, and no other reason, made him drive after them. Not because he loved them. But because they were worth more than a thousand bucks a week to him, and he was so goddamn greedy he couldn't stand to ice his pay-roll being killed. If those kids had been his non-favourites, he wouldn't have moved an inch. That's how he won his medal: trying to save his weekly pay-roll."
    "I don't get it, Hank. Why should those kids pay him a thousand bucks a week?"
    Hank finished his drink while he eyes me.
    "This is strictly off the record? I don't want to get involved in any mess."
    "Strictly off the record."
    "Mitch Jackson was a drug-pusher."
    It was common knowledge that the Army, fighting in Vietnam, had a high percentage of drug-addicts, and a lot of youngsters were on reefers. All the same this was something I hadn't expected to "That's a serious accusation. Hank," I said. "If you knew, why didn't you report to Colonel Parnell?"
    He gave a sour smile.
    "Because I wanted to stay alive. I wasn't the only one who knew, but no report was made. I'll tell you something. A sergeant, working under Jackson, found out what Jackson was up to. Pie told Jackson to pack it in or he'd put in a report. The sergeant and Jackson went out together on a patrol. The sergeant didn't come back. Jackson reported he had been killed by a 'Nam sniper. A couple of kids, when Jackson propositioned them to buy his junk, refused. They also died by snipers' bullets, so the word got around to keep the mouth shut. Anyway, what good would I've done? I'd only have landed myself in trouble. A coloured man reporting a favourite Staff sergeant to a man like