Jungle Rules by Charles W. Henderson Read Free Book Online

O’Connor said, still reading the sign.
    “The initial B in your name comes from Boyd, your mother’s maiden name,” Dickinson said.
    “Correct again, sir,” O’Connor said, now looking at the major.
    “Let’s see, Columbia University Law School, also class of 1964,” Dickinson said. “Editor of the Columbia Law Review . Very impressive. You passed the New York Bar, and did it on the first try. Not bad at all. Father, a Marine sergeant, World War II, awarded the Navy Cross for valor on Iwo Jima. Don’t be so modest, Captain O’Connor. I have read all about both of you, including the special note from the Federal Bureau of Investigation regarding a minor hiccup with your secret clearance background check, relating to the fact that your fiancée is a Communist.”
    “Girlfriend, sir,” O’Connor said, now looking squarely at the major’s narrowed eyes. “Vibeke Ahlquist is my girlfriend. She’s a very strong-minded liberal, a Social Democrat from Sweden, and a journalism graduate student at Columbia University. She freelances articles and commentaries from time to time for the Daily Worker , a newspaper established by the American Communist Party in 1924, which they publish and distribute in the neighborhood just outside Columbia University. Not on campus. She’s just a stupid student with no real-world experience. Does that make me a Communist?”
    “Apparently not,” Dickinson said, sitting behind his desk and opening O’Connor’s Officer Qualification Record. “They still gave you a secret clearance, in spite of this relationship.”
    “My relationship with Miss Ahlquist is my business in the first place,” O’Connor said, now realizing that he had just allowed Major Dicky Doo to push his one easy button.
    “It’s my business when you are fraternizing with an agent from a socialist country that is sympathetic to the enemy,” Dickinson retorted.
    Jon Kirkwood stepped away from O’Connor and began reading the sign on the wall, knowing that any comment he might add would only muddy the situation.
    “Sir, with all due respect, Sweden is a friendly power to the United States,” O’Connor fumed. “Applying your logic would make Canada our enemy, too.”
    “I didn’t say ‘enemy,’ Captain,” Dickinson said, tossing O’Connor’s OQR on his desk. “Sympathetic. Just like Canada.”
    “Canada is one of America’s closest allies, sir!” O’Connor said. “I cannot believe you would regard them as anything less than a friendly nation.”
    “They allow draft dodgers to run there; they give them refuge and refuse to honor our requests for extradition. That is not the conduct of an ally,” Dickinson huffed.
    “Sweden is a social democracy, much like Canada. They are our friends. Just like us, they fear the Russians. They simply have a long-held tradition of neutrality,” O’Connor said. “My girlfriend, a Swede, writes for a Communist newspaper from time to time, big deal. She’s no Bolshevik!”
    “Captain, I just pointed out that I was aware of the issue,” Dickinson said, now trying to defuse the young lawyer’s tirade.
    “Major, sir, I happen to be a Republican. I cast the first presidential vote of my lifetime for Senator Barry M. Goldwater, for Pete sake!” O’Connor said. “If you look closer at my background check, you will also see notes regarding my stormy and often verbally combative relationship with Miss Ahlquist. All of our conflicts specifically centered on our divergent political perspectives. Although my father is a Marine veteran of World War II and recipient of the Navy Cross, he is today a history professor at the University of Pennsylvania, and a very liberal-thinking Democrat. He nearly always agrees with Vibeke in our political arguments. Does that make him a Communist, too?”
    “Relax, Captain O’Connor,” Dickinson said. “Nobody has called you a Communist.”
    “Agreed, sir,” O’Connor said, taking hold of his temper and now trying to