璇玑之心刃·冷血悍将-第139章

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t　of　the　air　conditioning　and　the　security　of　the　enclosed　cabin。　Only　after　clearing　the　shipping　channel　an　hour　later　did　he　look　away　from　the　water。　A　soft　drink　chased　two　Tylenol　down　his　throat。　That　was　the　only　drug　he‘d　allowed　himself　for　the　last　three　days。　He　leaned　back　in　the　captain‘s　chair　and　opened　the　envelope　Sam　had　left　him；　while　the　autopilot　drove　the　boat　south。
Only　the　photos　had　been　left　out。　He‘d　seen　one　of　them；　and　that　one　had　been　enough。　A　handwritten　cover　note　…　every　page　in　the　envelope　was　a　photocopy；　not　an　original　…　showed　that　the　professor　of　pathology　had　gotten　the　copies　from　his　friend；　the　state　medical　examiner；　and　could　Sam　please　be　careful　how　he　handled　this。　Kelly　couldn‘t　read　the　signature。
The　‘wrongful　death‘　and　‘homicide‘　blocks　on　the　cover　sheet　were　both　checked。　The　cause　of　death；　the　report　said；　was　manual　strangulation；　with　a　deep；　narrow　set　of　ligature　marks　about　the　victim‘s　neck。　The　severity　and　depth　of　the　ligature　marks　suggested　that　brain　death　had　occurred　from　oxygen　deprivation　even　before　the　crushed　larynx　terminated　airflow　to　the　lungs。　Striations　on　the　skin　suggested　that　the　instrument　used　was　probably　a　shoestring；　and　from　bruises　that　appeared　to　e　from　the　knuckles　of　a　large…handed　man　about　the　throat；　that　the　killer　had　faced　the　supine　victim　while　performing　the　act。　Beyond　that；　the　report　went　on　for　five　single…spaced　pages；　the　victim　had　been　subjected　to　violent　and　extensive　traumatic　insult　prior　to　death；　all　of　which　was　cataloged　at　length　in　dry　medical　prose。　A　separate　form　noted　that　she　had　been　raped；　further　that　the　genital　area　showed　definite　signs　of　bruising　and　other　abuse。　An　unusually　large　quantity　of　semen　was　still　evident　in　her　vagina　upon　her　discovery　and　autopsy；　indicating　that　the　killer　had　not　been　alone　in　raping　the　victim。　（‘Blood　types　0＋；　0…　and　AB…；　per　attached　serology　report。‘）　Extensive　cuts　and　bruises　about　the　hands　and　forearms　were　termed　‘defensive…classical。‘　Pam　had　fought　for　her　life。　Her　jaw　had　been　broken；　along　with　three　other　bones；　one　of　them　a　pound　fracture　of　the　left　ulna。　Kelly　had　to　set　the　report　down；　staring　at　the　horizon　before　reading　on。　His　hands　didn‘t　shake；　and　he　didn‘t　utter　a　word；　but　he　needed　to　look　away　from　the　cold　medical　terminology。
‘As　you　can　see　from　the　photos；　Sam；‘　the　handwritten　page　at　the　back　said；　‘this　was　something　from　a　couple　of　really　sick　folks。　It　was　deliberate　torture。　It　must　have　taken　hours　to　do　all　this。　One　thing　the　report　leaves　out。　Check　Photo　#6。　Her　hair　was　bed　or　brushed　out；　probably；　almost　certainly　postmortem。　The　pathologist　who　handled　the　case　missed　it　somehow。　He‘s　a　youngster。　（Alan　was　out　of　town　when　she　came　in；　or　I‘m　sure　he　would　have　handled　it　himself。）　It　seems　a　little　odd；　but　it‘s　clear　from　the　photo。　Funny　how　you　can　miss　the　obvious　things。　It　was　probably　his　first　case　like　this；　and　probably　he　was　too　focused　on　listing　the　major　insults　to　notice　something　so　minor。　I　gather　you　knew　the　girl。　I‘m　sorry；　my　friend。　Brent；‘　the　page　was　signed；　more　legibly　than　the　cover　sheet。　Kelly　slid　the　package　back　into　the　envelope。
He　opened　a　drawer　in　the　console　and　removed　a　box　of　。45　ACP　ammunition；　loading　the　two　magazines　for　his　automatic；　which　went　back　into　the　drawer。　There　were　few　things　more　useless　than　an　unloaded　pistol。　Next　he　went　into　the　galley　and　found　the　largest　can　on　the　shelves。　Sitting　back　down　at　the　control　station；　he　held　the　can　in　his　left　hand；　and　continued　what　he‘d　been　doing　for　almost　a　week；　working　the　can　like　a　dumbbell；　up　and　down；　in　and　out；　weling　the　pain；　savoring　it　while　his　eyes　swept　the　surface　of　the　water。
‘Never　again；　Johnnie…boy；‘　he　said　aloud　in　a　conversational　tone。　‘We‘re　not　going　to　make　any　more　mistakes。　Not　ever。‘
The　C…141　landed　at　Pope　Air　Force　Base；　adjacent　to　Fort　Bragg；　North　Carolina；　soon　after　lunch；　ending　a　routine　flight　that　had　originated　over　eight　thousand　miles　away。　The　four…engine　jet　transport　touched　down　rather　hard。　The　crew　was　tired　despite　their　rest　stops　along　the　way；　and　their　passengers　required　no　particular　care。　On　flights　such　as　this；　there　was　rarely　any　live　cargo。　Troops　returning　from　the　theater　of　operations　rode　‘Freedom　Birds；‘　almost　invariably　chartered　mercial　airliners　whose　stewardesses　passed　out　smiles　and　free　booze　for　the　duration　of　the　lengthy　return　trip　to　the　real　world。　No　such　amenities　were　required　on　the　flights　into　Pope。　The　flight　crew　ate　USAF…standard　box　lunches；　and　for　the　most　part　flew　without　the　usual　banter　of　young　airmen。
The　roll…out　slowed　the　aircraft；　which　turned　at　the　end　of　the　runway　onto　a　taxiway；　while　the　crew　stretched　at　their　seats。　The　pilot；　a　captain；　knew　the　routine　by　heart；　but　there　was　a　brightly　painted　jeep　in　case　he　forgot；　and　he　followed　it　to　the　receiving　center。　He　and　his　crew　had　long　since　stopped　dwelling　on　the　nature　of　their　mission。　It　was　a　job；　a　necessary　one；　and　that　was　that；　they　all　thought　as　they　left　the　aircraft　for　their　mandated　crew…rest　period；　which　meant；　after　a　short　debrief　and　notification　of　whatever　shortings　the　aircraft　had　exhibited　in　the　past　thirty　hours；　heading　off　to　the　O…Club　for　drinks；　followed　by　showers　and　sleep　in　the　Q。　None　of　them　looked　back　at　the　aircraft。　They‘d　see　it　again　soon　enough。
The　routine　nature　of　the　mission　was　a　contradiction。　In　most　previous　wars；　Americans　had　lain　close　to　where　they　fell；　as　testified　to　by　American　cemeteries　in　France　and　elsewhere。　Not　so　for　Vietnam。　It　was　as　though　people　understood　that　no　American　wanted　to　remain　there；　living　or　dead；　and　every　recovered　body　came　home；　and　having　passed　through　one　processing　facility　outside　Saigon；　each　body　would　now　be　processed　again　prior　to　transshipment　to　whatever　hometown　had　sent　the　mainly　young　men　off　to　die　in　a　distant　place。　The　families　would　have　had　time　by　now　to　decide　where　burial　would　take　place；　and　instructions　for　those　arrangements　waited　for　each　body　identified　by　name　on　the　aircraft‘s　manifest。
Awaiting　the　bodies　in　the　receiving　center　were　civilian　morticians。　That　was　one　occupational　specialty　that　the　military　did　not　carry　in　its　multiplicity　of　training　regimens。　A　uniformed　officer　was　always　present　to　verify　identification；　for　that　was　a　responsibility　of　the　service；　to　make　sure　that　the　right　body　went　off　to　the　right　family；　even　though　the　caskets　that　left　this　place　were　in　almost　all　cases　sealed。　The　physical　insult　of　bat　death；　plus　the　ravages　of　often　late　recovery　in　a　tropical　climate；　were　not　things　families　wanted　or　needed　to　see　on　the　bodies　of　their　loved　ones。　As　a　result；　positive　identification　of　remains　wasn‘t　really　something　that　anyone　could　check；　and　for　that　very　reason；　it　was　something　the　military　took　as　seriously　as　it　could。
It　was　a　large　room　where　many　bodies　could　be　processed　at　once；　though　the　room　was　not　as　busy　as　it　had　been　in　the　past。　The　men　who　worked　here　were　not　above　grim　jokes；　and　some　even　watched　weather　reports　from　that　part　of　the　world　to　predict　what　the　next　week‘s　work　load　would　be　like。　The　smell　alone　was　enough　to　keep　the　casual　observer　away；　and　one　rarely　saw　a　senior　officer　here；　much　less　a　civilian　Defense　Department　official；　for　whose　equilibrium　the　sights　here　might　be　a　little　too　much　to　bear。　But　one　bees　accustomed　to　smells；　and　that　of　the　preserving　agents　was　much　preferred　over　the　other　odors　associated　with　death。　One　such　body；　that　of　Specialist　Fourth　Class　Duane　Kendall；　bore　numerous　wounds　to　the　torso。　He‘d　made　it　as　far　as　a　field　hospital；　the　mortician　saw。　Some　of　the　scarring　was　clearly　the　desperate　work　of　a　bat　surgeon　…　incisions　that　would　have　earned　the　wrath　of　a　chief　of　service　in　a　civilian　hospital　were　far　less　graphic　than　the　marks　made　by　fragments　from　an　explosive　booby…trap　device。　The　surgeon　had　spent　maybe　twenty　minutes　trying　to　save　this　one；　the　mortician　thought；　wondering　why　he　had　failed　…　probably　the　liver；　he　decided　from　the　location　and　size　of　the　incisions。　You　can‘t　live　without　one　of　those；　no　matter　how　good　the　doctor　was。　Of　more　interest　to　the　man　was　a　white　tag　located　between　the　right　arm　and　the　chest　which　confirmed　an　apparently　random　mark　on　the　card　on　the　outside　of　the　container　in　which　the　body　had　arrived。
‘Good　ID；‘　the　mortician　said　to　the　Captain　who　was　making　his　rounds　with　a　clipboard　and　a　sergeant。　The　officer　checked　the　required　data　against　his　own　records　and　moved　on　with　a　nod；　leaving　the　mortician　to　his　work。
There　was　the　usual　number　of　tasks　to　be　performed；　and　the　mortician　went　about　them　with　neither　haste　nor　indolence；　lifting　his　head　to　make　sure　the　Captain　was　at　the　other　end　of　the　room。　Then　he　pulled　a　thread　from　the　stitches　made　by　another　mortician　at　the　other　end　of　the　pipeline。　The　stitches　came　pletely　undone　almost　instantly；　allowing　him　to　reach　into　the　body　cavity　and　remove　four　clear…plastic　envelopes　of　white　powder；　which　he　quickly　put