Drone Command

FORTY-ONE

They sat in a booth at the back of the empty diner. Troy was wolfing down his second Denver omelet while the man smoked a cigarette. He’d introduced himself on the steep, winding drive through the Teton Pass. Said his name was Will. Knew his dad a long time ago.

They’d eaten in silence since arriving an hour before, a few miles out of town, just in case JoJo changed his mind and came looking for trouble in one of Troy’s familiar haunts.

Troy scraped up the last bits of egg and hash browns with his fork and shoveled them into his mouth, then pushed the plate away. A middle-aged waitress with puffy eyes and an easy smile cleared away the mess, then refilled Will’s coffee cup and Troy’s Coke. Will gave her a wink and she nodded, her cue to stay away for a while.

“Thanks for back there,” Troy finally said. The first words he’d spoken since they’d left JoJo’s shop.

Will nodded, sipping his coffee. “Sorry about your dad.”

“How’d you know him?”

“The war.”

“You were in the army, too?”

“Not exactly. But we served together.”

“CIA?”

Will smiled. Bright boy.

“Your dad was a good man. It was a bad war.”

Troy shrugged.

“He ever talk about the war?” Will asked.

“When I was a kid, he talked about it more. Not so much lately.”

“But he was living it, wasn’t he?”

“He was having a hard time. PTSD, I think.”

“He try the VA?”

“He preferred self-medicating. Jack Daniels mostly.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for him. He saved my ass more than once. He ever tell you about the tunnels?”

Troy nodded. “When I was little. Gave me nightmares. Didn’t give me all the details.”

Will did. How a local Viet Cong commander got wind of Will’s marriage to the daughter of a prominent South Vietnamese politician in a Catholic ceremony — a particular affront to the godless Communists. Six weeks later, they killed Mai and her family when Will was away on assignment.

“I recruited your dad’s unit to help me hunt the bastard down. Found out he went underground, along with his VC platoon. Barracks, hospital, you name it, it was all down there. We finally found the tunnel entrance and your dad was the first one in.”

Will described the hand-to-hand fighting in the dark. And their capture.

“Dad was a POW?”

“Not exactly. After they roughed us up, they stripped us of anything of value, looking for intel. Lost the only photo I had of my wife. Even stole my crucifix. Then they shipped us off to a regular NVA camp to get us to Hanoi, but a Green Beret unit intercepted us before we got there.”

“Wow. I had no idea.”

“I have other stories about your dad if you ever want to hear them. You know, he was about your age when he was over there. He had a big brass pair on him, and then some.”

Troy was lost in thought, imagining his dad’s ordeal under the cramped earth. He shuddered. “Yeah, maybe someday.”

“I only just heard through the grapevine he’d passed. What happened?”

“He got in a fight one night. That fat fuck in the tat shop, JoJo, hit him in the head with a bottle, knocked him out cold. I took Dad to the county hospital to get him checked out. They did X-rays, found a tumor. Doc asked me about his overall health. I described some of the symptoms. The doc thought maybe the tumor had something to do with Agent Orange. Referred dad to the VA.”

“And the VA didn’t do its job.”

“Told him the tumor was inoperable. Gave him six weeks to live. Handed him a bunch of pain pills and wished him luck. He died like a fucking dog.”

“The VA is a crapshoot. Sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you don’t.”

“He used to say he was the luckiest guy in the world. The only problem was that it was all bad luck.”

Will grinned. “He was a funny guy.”

“So how’d you handle it? I mean, the war and all.”

“One day at a time.” Will lit another cigarette. “Don’t be too hard on him. He lost a lot back in the jungle. We all did.”

“Seems to me he brought it all home with him. Drove my mom away, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. I met her once. A beautiful gal. Your dad was crazy about her.”

“He was just fucking crazy. She couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Wars don’t just hurt the men who fight them. I’m sorry you and your mom were collateral damage. You had a sister, too, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I did.” Troy’s face darkened.

Will clapped a hand across Troy’s broad back. Nothing to say.

Troy came back to the present, took another swig of soda.

“So what are your plans now?” Will asked.

Troy drained his glass. The ice crashed against his mouth. He wiped his face with his sleeve. “Work, I guess.”

“What about college?”

“Me? Nah. I dropped out of high school my senior year. Never graduated.”

“I know. I saw your school records.”

Troy frowned. “How?”

Will smiled. “I used to be a spook, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s right.”

“You’re a smart kid. You should be in school.”

“I’m not going back to high school. Forget that.”

“No. I’m talking about university. A real one. Ever thought about Stanford?”

“Are you kidding me? I couldn’t get into there. I don’t have the grades, and I don’t have the cash.”

“What if I could get you in?”

“How? Unless the CIA runs the admissions office.”

“Not exactly.”

Will pulled out his wallet. Handed Troy a business card. “I’m a research fellow at Hoover. I’ve got a little pull with the dean of admissions. Your SAT scores are strong enough to get you in with the right academic reference.”

“What reference?”

“Me.”

“Even if I could get in, I couldn’t pay for it.”

“I can get that covered, too.”

“I’m not a charity case.”

“I didn’t say you were. But Stanford’s loaded. They put scholarship money aside for students like you. And I’ve got a friend who lives in Palo Alto. Paraplegic. Needs someone to cut the grass, wash the car, that sort of thing. Has a garage apartment and three squares a day he’d swap out for the labor.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No drugs, no booze. Keep your nose clean and your grades up, or at least passing.”

“Why me?”

“Why do you think?”

Troy looked at the card again. DR. WILLIAM ELLIOTT, NATIONAL SECURITY RESEARCH FELLOW, THE HOOVER INSTITUTION, STANFORD UNIVERSITY.

“What if I fuck it up?”

“The only way you can fuck it up is if you don’t try.”

“I dunno. It’s been a long time since I was in a classroom, and I wasn’t very good at it.”

“It’s not like high school. You’ll be around the brightest students in the country, learning from some of the best faculty in the world. I’ll get you set up with any tutors you might need, but I doubt you’ll need them.”

Troy shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Will slid out of the booth and stood up, opening his wallet.

“Think about it. You’ve got my card. Even if you decide against it, you can call me any time for any reason. I owe your dad at least that.” He dropped forty dollars onto the thirteen-dollar check.

“Thanks for dinner, Dr. Elliott.” Troy stood and stretched. “And for everything else.”

“Just Will.” He held out his hand.

Troy took it. A good grip.

“Take care of yourself, sport. And think about what I said.”

“Yes, sir. I will.”

He did.