Uniform dating codeSee a little lamb on its mother’s back The few passers-by paid no heed to Sponer and his car. A cat ran across the street, jumped over the steps of a doorway, and disappeared. McGee summoned another map onto the screen and slid his glasses down his nose to peer at us over them, nodding gravely as if yes, it was true: he was divulging the blueprint of a top-secret military base.‘This, gentlemen, is the real target. We’re onto the hard stuff now.’ Webb put a reassuring hand on Duncan’s shoulder. “He says we will make Mount Vernon by noon.” The major put a leg over the rail before turning again to Duncan. “Praise God, McCallum. All would have been lost but-” Webb said, swallowing down his emotion. The street was completely silent except for the flapping of a loose strip of lead under a roof guttering in the damp wind. After some time two people appeared from a side street, crossed the road, and disappeared at the far end. “We haven’t figured that out yet.” He was gathering boughs of white cedar at the edge of the swamp when he heard a rustling in the reeds. He began his own low chant, the Gaelic words used by his father to comfort nervous animals on the croft, then slowly turned and lowered himself to the ground as the big dog with the curly russet hair emerged. ‘The castle is mine now. Come with me across the moors. It’s a soft night. You won’t need a coat. Make that same journey you made at the beginning of summer in your white sundress. You always wanted to see inside the castle. Now you may. You are its princess. You shall have your own wing.’ * * * As he walked along the men, each took a stamp from his palm with a solemn nod. He felt like a priest giving communion. “We are not the only ones who disagree with those lairds,” Murdo added. “We embrace the king, but he knows naught what his ministers do. It’s not just the hills of Pennsylvania where men think this way.” She turned, I remember, and hugged me fiercely. She was shaking but not actually crying, groaning a low note of remorse. “One man only,” he called. “A friend.” “They do what soldiers do. They make war.” The gray cop hesitated. He didn’t like being ordered around by a civilian. He was the one in charge. Maybe he considered arresting us both, but he knew that the witness across the street, the one who called about me, was probably still watching and that a patrol cop was subject to the same justice that he carried around on hisshoulders like Superman’s cape. “I never knew anybody to call you Judy, for instance.” In the coffee shop Jude ordered us lattes and chocolate croissants. We brought these to a little round table set in the window, removed from any other seats and on display to the world. He walked slowly, his hands in his pockets, through the suburbs. In his eyes there was a strange expression, as if he didn’t quite see where he was going. He’s Faroese. His full name is Liggjas-under-the-Waterfall, but don’t bother teasing him about it. He’d just retort with a comment about Icelandic children being given names like Lj?tur and Ormur. Why would anyone name their children Ugly and Worm? ‘Why is that funny?’. |