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t one lesson in Vietnam。
My own experiences with the press began in Vietnam when a reporter stuck a microphone under my nose while we were both pinned down by machine…gun fire。 The news camera rolled； and the reporter asked me； 〃What's happening？〃 I thought the situation spoke for itself； but young idiot that I was； I replied； 〃An enemy machine gun's got our range。〃 The guy asked； 〃What are you going to do now？〃 I said to him； 〃Leave you and the camera guy here。〃 And I made a hasty withdrawal； hoping the enemy gunner would concentrate his fire on the gentlemen of the press。 Somewhere； that news footage was in an archive； preserved for posterity。 I never saw the two guys again。
The hangar was nearly deserted； most of the forensic people having gone back to Fort Gillem； or on to other assignments； with their equipment。 But about half a dozen people had stayed behind to type reports and plete a few more tests。
Ann Campbell's home was still there； as well as the humvee and her BMW； but her office was gone。 Nevertheless； Grace Dixon sat at a camp desk； yawning； in front of an IBM personal puter。
She looked up at us as we approached and said； 〃I requisitioned another PC。 I'm sorting files； reading letters and diaries； but not printing out； as you said。 You got that stuff on Yardley that I sent you？〃
〃Yes；〃 I replied。 〃Thanks。〃
Grace said； 〃This is very hot stuff here。 I love it。〃
〃Take a cold shower tonight； Grace。〃
She laughed and wiggled her ample rear end in the seat。 〃I'm sticking to the chair。〃
Cynthia asked； 〃Where are you staying tonight？〃
〃Guest house on post。 I'll sleep with the disk。 No men。 Promise。〃 She added； 〃The post chaplain is in this diary。 Is nothing sacred？〃
I wanted to point out that sleeping with a goddess was itself a sacrament； but I didn't think either of the two ladies would appreciate it。 I asked Grace； 〃Can you print out all entries that mention the name of Colonel William Kent？〃
〃Sure。 I've seen him in here。 I can scan for that。 What's his job or title in case it's under that？〃
〃He's the provost marshal。 Known to friends as Bill。〃
〃Right。 I saw him in here。 You want printouts every time his name appears； right？〃
〃Correct。 Also； the FBI may be around tonight or early tomorrow。 The MPs outside will not stop them from ing through that door。 But if you see the type walking across the hangar； you take the disk out and make believe you're typing a report。 Okay？〃
〃Sure。 But what if they have a court order or a search warrant or something？〃
It's easier to deal with military types because they follow orders。 Civilians want explanations and ask too many questions。 I replied to her； 〃Grace； you're just typing reports。 Put the disk on your person； and if they want to look under your dress； slap them。〃
She laughed。 〃What if they're cute？〃
Obviously； something had fired up this woman's libido。
Cynthia said to her； 〃It's really important； Grace； that no one but us three sees that stuff。〃
〃Okay。〃
I asked her； 〃Is Cal Seiver still here？〃
〃Yes。 He's grabbing some cot time over there。〃 Grace was playing with the keys again。 I don't know much about puters； and I want to know less。 But people like Grace； who are into them； are a little weird。 They can't seem to break away from the screen； and they sit there； talk； type； mumble； curse； squeal with delight； and probably go without sex； sleep； and food for extended periods。 Actually； I guess that goes for me； too。 Cynthia and I left Grace without bothering her with a farewell。
I rolled a chalkboard in front of her so that anyone ing in the door wouldn't see her； then we found Cal Seiver in a deep sleep on a cot； and I woke him。 He stood unsteadily and seemed confused by his surroundings。
I gave him a few seconds； then asked him； 〃Did you find anything new and interesting？〃
〃No； we're just putting it all in order now。〃
〃You have disqualifying footprints and fingerprints from Colonel Kent？〃
〃Sure。〃
〃Did you find any of his prints out at the scene？ On the humvee； on her handbag； the latrines？〃
He thought a moment； then said； 〃No。 But his bootprints are all over。 I took boot impressions from him to disqualify those。〃
〃Did you get Colonel Moore's shoes？〃
〃Sure did。 I pared them to unidentified plaster casts。 They lead right to the body； then back to the road。〃
〃Do you have a diagram yet？〃
〃Sure。〃 He walked over to a rolling bulletin board and snapped on a portable light。 Tacked to the board was a four…foot…by…eight…foot diagram of the murder scene。 The scene took in a stretch of road； the victim's parked humvee； the beginning of the bleachers； and； on the other side of the road； a small section of the firing range that included a few pop…up targets and a sketch of a spread…eagled figure that the artist had rendered sexless。
Footprints were marked by colored pins； and there was a legend at the bottom of the board identifying the known owners of the boot…and shoeprints； with black pins indicating unknown owners or unclear footprints。 Little arrows showed directions； and notes indicated whether the prints were fresh； old； rained on； and so forth。 In cases where a print was superimposed on another print； the most recent print had a longer pin。 There were other notes and explanations to try to add some clarity to the chaos。 Eventually； this whole board would be fed into a puter； and you would see a more graphic display； including； if you wished； the prints appearing one after another； as if a ghost were walking。 Also； you could eliminate or call up any set of prints you wanted。 But for now； I had to make do with my own experience； and that of Cynthia and Cal Seiver。
Seiver said； 〃We really haven't analyzed this。 That's sort of your job。〃
〃Right。 I remember that from the manual。〃
He added； 〃We've got to spiffy this up a little for the FBI。 There's too many variables and unknowns here； including the fact we don't have the footwear that you wore。〃
〃That might be in the VOQ now。〃
〃When people hold off on providing footprints； I get suspicious。〃
〃Fuck off； Cal。〃
〃Right。〃 He looked at the legend and said； 〃Colonel Moore is yellow。〃
I replied； 〃Colonel Kent is who we want。〃
Pause。 〃Kent？〃
〃Kent。〃 I looked at the legend。 Kent was blue。
We all studied the diagram； and； in the quiet hangar； you could hear the puter printer spewing out paper。
I said to Cal Seiver； 〃Talk to me。〃
〃Right。〃 Seiver began； and； from what he was saying； it appeared that Colonel William Kent had visited the body no fewer than three times。 Cal explained； 〃See； here he walks from the road to the body。 Stops very near the body； probably kneels or squats because； when he turns； his prints rotate； then he probably stands and goes back to the road。 This was probably the first time； when he went out there with his MP who found the body 。。。 See； here's her print 。。。 Casey。 She's green。 Then the next time may have been here where he acpanied you and Cynthia with her running shoes。 Cynthia is white。〃 He managed to remind me again； 〃You're black。 Lots of black。 I'll give you pink pins when I get your boots。 But for now； I can't tell you from…〃
〃Okay。 I get it。 How about the third time he walke