No Man's Dog Read Online Free Page B

the man, to explain himself. “It’s a horrible thing,” he said. “Madmen. But, you see, on a personal level . . . well, I suppose people in the Blitz, or in Vietnam, say, who were injured by bombs falling out of the sky . . . not meant for them, of course, but for a ball-bearing plant, or a railroad . . . they probably couldn’t help feeling personally attacked, I suppose. Who could blame them, eh? You always hear about country people, mobs, attacking downed airmen . . .”
    Mulheisen hesitated, catching a wince from Tucker. Of course, he thought, the man had been a bomber himself, in Vietnam. "Of course, it’s not the same, is it?” he said.
    “No, certainly not,” Tucker responded. “That’s a war, a declared war. There are bound to be civilian casualties, but the action was aimed at the enemy’s resources, the industrial infrastructure.”
    Mulheisen was annoyed by this shameless defense. “Oh sure,” he said, drily, “but you can’t expect folks to appreciate the difference when they’re being blown up. It doesn’t matter if it’s the Vietcong tossing a grenade into a beer hall full of American troops, or American airplanes tossing a few tons of bombs into the heart of a rail depot where there are civilians working, or a factory . . . or maybe just dumping their ‘unused ordnance,’ as theysay, as they climb out of the bombing run, only it happens to fall on a hamlet. Wouldn’t you say? Just from the vantage point of the civilians?”
    Tucker was not to be drawn. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said. He seemed to have regained control of his anger. “In this case, however, there may have been more to it.”
    “How so?”
    “Perhaps, if only obliquely, your mother was a target.”
    “Oh, come on,” Mulheisen said. “A bird-watcher? So, who was this, some bird-hater? Are there such people?”
    “An antienvironmentalist, perhaps,” Tucker said. “Your mother was more than a bird-watcher. She was what some would call an activist. There are quite a few people who get upset at environmental activists. Out where I come from, it’s common to refer to all environmentalists as extremists. Wasn’t her group, in fact, at that city hall to present a protest at the draining of a marsh area?”
    Mulheisen frowned. “I think they were objecting to the proposed building of a power plant, a not very clean plant, in an important drainage zone. There was a question of contamination of—what do they call it?—the aquifer. But I’m not all that sure about it. I was more concerned with my mother’s injuries, so I didn’t really pay that much attention. I suppose I should have.”
    “Oh, no, no, my dear fellow,” Tucker said, quickly, “you were quite right to be focused on the problem at hand. I’m just saying . . . the possibility can’t be ruled out that, in some weird, far-fetched way, these nuts were targeting your mother’s group. There was also, you may recall, an Arab restaurant next door. It’s possible that the restaurant was the target. It was a popular meeting place for some prominent Arab leaders in the community. There is a very large Arab population in these parts, as I’m sure you know. We can’t rule out any of those possibilities. But my point is, it wasn’t by any stretch a legitimate military target.”
    So, Mulheisen thought, he was back to that. The man must have been a bomber pilot. Rather than debate the issue, Mulheisen decided to let it go. “I take your point,” he said. “So who were these guys?”
    “We have a few leads,” Tucker said, evidently relieved to put the ambiguous aspect of bombing aside. “But it occurred to me . . . you’re free, aren’t you? That is, you’ve left the police force? I thought so. I was thinking you might be interested in joining us, assisting us, in this investigation.”
    Mulheisen quickly shook his head. “No. I’m retired. I have plenty to do, just taking care of my mother. No, my detective days are behind me, Colonel.