When the Demons Come

By Will Duncan III

Adam Shaw had everything: A pretty wife, three smart kids, a great job, a big house. There was just one problem: he liked to drink. A lot.

Piece by piece, his secure world disintegrates. By the time he has lost everything that gave meaning to his life it is too late.

In his struggle to regain his life Adam must solve the devil's own dilemma: he finds he cannot trust the only organization that can help him back to sanity.

Adam's death-struggle infects everyone around him: Gordon, the mysterious stranger who becomes his closest friend; Jackie, the compassionate woman who shows him the way back, and then leaves him; Scott, the young scientist who saves his life at sea; and Leslie, the beautiful nurse with whom he falls in love, but who refuses to accept him until he can sober up.

Follow Adam into the abyss, and then back up into the sunlight. You won't be able to set this book down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 24, 2003
• ISBN: 9781469759685

Will Duncan III

Will Duncan III was born in Toronto. He studied Electrical Engineering at the University of Toronto and at Carleton University, Ottawa, and served in the RCAF as a radar engineer. He emigrated to the United States to join the Boeing team, where he worked on several military programs to help win the Cold War. Will?s writing accomplishments cover a broad spectrum of scientific and technical papers. He has written a nonfiction book on jumbo jets, and two fictional novels. He is presently researching a new book that will attempt to bridge the gap between science and religion on evolution and genetics issues, and is writing another novel dealing with religious persecution.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

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Adam Shaw glanced up at the clock, and then shook his head in annoyance. Time was crawling. Barely three minutes since he had last checked. It seemed ages since the paramedics had crashed through the doors with Lori Powers strapped down to the gurney, IV tubes dancing snakelike over her frail body.

He rose from his seat and fumbled in his trench coat pockets for his cigarettes and lighter. He needed to get away from this ER war zone. Outside the storm was still raging. Another kind of war zone. But he could deal with nature. He snapped open his Zippo and held his hand around the flame to shield it from the gusty wind. The flame illuminated his tense features and caught the gleam of his blue eyes momentarily.

She’s going to make it, he told himself, but no sooner had the thought passed through his mind than he began to doubt it again. It’s too early. Three whole months too early. What are the chances of a baby’s survival at six months? Not too promising. But he was more concerned about Lori. He had watched his young secretary blossoming into expectant motherhood over the months since she had first had to tell him about her condition, when she could no longer hide the evidence. Damn! He thought. She really wants this baby, probably more than anything else in her young life.

Lori’s story was not a nice one. She was single. Her boyfriend had deserted her when she told him she was pregnant, leaving her all alone. She had no family. And on top of everything else, Adam knew the company’s medical insurance wouldn’t cover her, since it had happened before she had been hired.

Adam flicked his fingers and watched the red streak of his cigarette butt arc out into the wind, then turned to go back into the waiting room. He returned to his seat across from the ER desk and looked up at the clock again. Jesus Christ! he fumed inwardly. It’s been over an hour now. He pushed his silver-framed glasses back up the slope of his nose and tried to force himself to remain calm.

Lori had been feeling tense all week at work. He had learned the story from one of the other secretaries. Lori’s boyfriend had called, building up her hopes he might come back to her, only to reveal that all he wanted was to borrow some money. Lori’s spirits had plummeted again. Just hours ago Adam had learned that Lori was in serious trouble, hemorrhaging, experiencing premature delivery pains. He had rushed to the hospital to meet her when they brought her in.

His eyes jerked to the double doors across the waiting room as they swung open. He rose quickly to his feet as a blue-gowned figure strode across the room toward him.

Doctor McGuire, the gowned figure announced. You’re with Lori Powers? The doctor slipped the surgical mask from his face, revealing a luxuriant black mustache and warm brown eyes.

Yes, I am, Adam said, extending his hand. Adam Shaw. I’m Lori’s boss.

Isn’t her husband coming?

Adam shook his head and sighed. She’s single. The father deserted her.

Parents?

They’re both dead. I guess I’m all she has. He searched the doctor’s eyes for a hint of what he hadn’t told him yet. How is she, Doc?

Let’s go outside for a moment, Mr. Shaw, the doctor said, moving to the exit. They don’t appreciate my smoking in here. He produced a pack of slender cigarillos and offered one to Adam.

No thanks, I’ll stay with my own. Adam held his lighter for the doctor, then lit his own. He regarded the doctor gravely. Is it bad news?

Ordinarily, no, the doctor began, appearing to choose his words carefully. Lori had her baby. A girl. We had to do a CS—a Caesarean Section. They’re both out of the woods. The mother’s in no immediate danger, and the baby’s doing fine.

Thank God for that! Adam said with feeling. His eyes blinked rapidly a few times.

Doctor McGuire smiled. She’s going to be fine, Mr. Shaw. The baby, too. We can handle premature births quite well nowadays. But with no family…

Is it the expense?

I’m afraid so, the doctor said. If she were without financial means, there would be ways to look after that. But since she’s working, she probably makes too much to qualify for Medicaid. I gather she doesn’t have medical insurance?

She does, Adam said. But it won’t cover this. It’s what the insurance weevils call a pre-existing condition. But don’t worry about that, Doc. I’m accepting responsibility for her. Lori’s just like family to me. He inhaled deeply and blew a streamer of smoke into the wind. There’s just one thing: I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her. Okay?

For several seconds the doctor said nothing as he smoked. I wish I could find the right words, but I’m not firing on all cylinders tonight. A little tired, I guess. He paused for a moment. Please accept my assurance we’ll try to keep the costs as low as we can.

Only if it doesn’t jeopardize her health—or the baby’s, Adam insisted. I mean that, Doctor. I want her to have the best. He met the doctor’s dark eyes again. Can I see Lori now?

Yes, I think so. The doctor grinned broadly.

P A R T I

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ABYSS

CHAPTER 1

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Adam Shaw surveyed the open files on his cluttered desk with uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm. The dazzling scene outside his office was destroying what little was left of his concentration. The windows on two sides of his tenth-floor corner office provided a panoramic view of the kind of scenery that filled many of his less fortunate friends with envy. To the west the snow-capped Olympics stretched like a string of pearls separating the azure sky from the purples and greens of the distant foothills, providing a majestic backdrop for the glittering sparkle of Elliott Bay below. It was hard to believe that just last night Seattle had endured the worst storm of the year. The thought brought back his panicked trip to the hospital. He’d checked this morning. Lori and her baby were doing well, but it had been a close call.

His gaze dropped back to the littered surface of his desk. The open page of the calendar pad announced that it was the twenty-first of March. The middle of spring, he thought, breaking into a smile that spread across his weathered countenance. Years ago he had developed a trick of mentally sliding the calendar forward by half a season to match the hours of daylight, which put the longest day of the year in the middle of summer, instead of at the beginning. He thought it made a lot more sense, especially in the northwest, where there were really only two seasons, wet and dry. So today was the middle of spring, according to Adam Shaw’s calendar, and soon he could start doing summer things. He was careful not to mention his system to any but close friends, however.

Two red-penciled notes on the calendar pad glowered at him. One was to remind him of his meeting tonight down at the Base. Happy hour. The good news, he thought. The bad news was in the second reminder: a lunch date with his boss. He didn’t dislike Eugene Foreman. Far from it. But a come-to-God session with the Old Man was seldom cause for jubilation. The meeting had been giving him the jitters all morning.

He swung his feet up to the corner of his desk and looked down on the busy waterfront scene below. A massive container ship, laden with several tiers of multicolored freight boxes that looked like children’s toy blocks from this height, was shaking herself free from the irksome restraint of her tugs, preparing for the dash north to the Straits of Juan de Fuca. He experienced a moment of envy for the life of the officers on the ship’s bridge, who at this very moment would be…

Daydreaming, Adam?

Adam dropped his feet and swung around. It was Hank Russell, a man in his early thirties, with a great shock of brown hair and the build of a football linebacker. He was one of Adam’s engineers, and also a sailing buddy from past years of racing triumphs and tragedies.

Guilty! Adam laughed. Come on in, Hank.

Hank dropped into one of Adam’s conference chairs, but sat hunched forward with his elbows on his knees. An anxious look clouded his features. I just heard about Lori, Adam. What happened? Is she all right?

Adam experienced a surge of paternal feelings at the mention of his secretary. He nodded with what he hoped was the right degree of reassurance. She’s going to be fine, Hank.

What was it, anyway?

You knew she was pregnant?

Sure. I guess everyone did. She was planning to marry the guy, but he took off and left her when he found out about the baby. Was it a miscarriage?

Almost. They rushed her into emergency last night. She’d been hemorrhaging.

Bad?

Adam nodded. We got her in just in time. They had to do a Caesarean.

You were with her?

Yes. One of our girls called me, not knowing who else to call. Lori has no family. So I went in with her. It was quite a night.

Lori’s really okay?

Yes, she’s fine. And so’s the baby.

No kidding! She can’t have very far along.

They work miracles, Hank. As he related the events that had come dangerously close to taking the life of Lori and her tiny baby he saw a look crossing Russell’s face that he had never seen before. There was intense pain there, the pain of a man who cared more than he was about to admit. I’m sure, Hank. And the baby’s going to make it. Twenty years ago it would never have had a chance. So tiny! You could hold her in the palms of your hands. But today, with all their high tech stuff, the kid’s got it made.

Hank nodded his shaggy head. Is Lori going to be all right financially? I know she’s shit out of luck with the insurance. Can I help out?

Don’t worry, Hank, Adam said, grinning at Hank’s rough language. Everything’s being looked after. No need to worry.

You’re sure, Adam? ’cause I’ve got a little put aside…

Absolutely. Don’t worry about a thing.

Okay. Can she have visitors?

Sure. She’ll be glad to see you. Oh, and when you see her, tell her hi for me. I won’t be able to get over to see her tonight. I’ve got a meeting down at the base.

The Navigators?

Adam nodded. I wish I could get out of it, but I’m already committed. Heavy day! I’m meeting with Foreman for lunch, too.

Russell rose to go. He glanced out at the scene outside. Great day for a sail, Adam. Maybe one of these days we can sneak out for a couple of hours.

Amen to that!

Have a nice lunch, Hank said on his way out. And if you’re talking to Lori, tell her I’ll see her tonight.

Adam waved. He remembered he had planned to visit her tomorrow. He made a mental note to pick up some flowers.

The ringing of the telephone jerked him back to the present. He waited for his temporary secretary to pick it up. The buzzer sounded. It was Helen. How’s life on the ranch? he asked.

Hi, Adam. Am I interrupting anything important?

Not at all, honey, he said. His eyes caught the movement of a flag fluttering in the breeze on a roof across the street. I was just talking to Hank Russell, and he mentioned it was a great day for a sail. Maybe we could take the kids out in the boat this weekend.

Are you serious?

I’m sorry, forget that, he said gently. It was an old scar that had never healed. Helen was terrified of the water, and rarely went out with him. It was his own fault, after that first mistake years ago.

I just wanted to remind you about your meeting tonight, dear, she said.

You’re coming, aren’t you?

I’m afraid I’ve got bad news. The sitter called and said she couldn’t make it.

No!

Afraid so, dear. I can’t get another sitter this late. Will you still go yourself?

I guess I’ll have to, Adam said. There’s an election. I have to be there.

What time do you think you’ll be home?

I won’t be late. Damn! I wish you were coming.

I’m really sorry, Adam. I’d been looking forward to it, she said.

He could tell she meant it. Helen loved the glitter and excitement of an evening at the Officers’ Club. It reminded her of their years in the service before he’d left. I’m sorry, too, he said. I love showing you off.

That’s another thing. I wouldn’t have a thing to wear tonight.

Adam chuckled inwardly at the vision of her closet full of dresses, but didn’t challenge her. She had been dropping hints lately about a new party dress. He wondered if there was enough in their account to cover it, with Lori’s medical expenses. He listened patiently as Helen told him about the noise the furnace fan was making, and promised to look after it this weekend. Then they talked about Lori’s near tragedy. He had already told her all about it. There was precious little that happened in their family that they didn’t discuss openly. Her immediate support for his plan to help Lori with the expenses had filled him with admiration. It was one of the many reasons he had fallen in love with her ten years ago.

Have fun, dear. And please be careful driving home.

I will. ‘Bye, honey. He hung up and glanced at his watch: it was nearly time for his luncheon appointment. His stomach was doing nervous flips again. He pressed the intercom button on his phone and waited for the new girl to answer.

Marlene, I think I’ll meet Mr. Foreman in the lounge downstairs. Would you give him a call and tell him, please? He waited to be sure she had it right, then rose from his desk, scooped up the classified files he had been working on, and put them back into the safe and locked it. He smiled at Marlene on the way out. I should be back about two, he told her. Then I’ll be leaving for the Navigators’ meeting down at the base.

The girl smiled back. Have a nice lunch, Adam, she said. Adam waved back at her, suppressing a look of disapproval at the informality. He thought of the way Lori always called him Mister Shaw. He liked that. At first he had thought it a little stuffy, but after some time he had begun to appreciate that it avoided all the problems associated with getting overly personal. Running an engineering department wasn’t like running a church social.

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Eugene Foreman was the President of Guidance Systems, Inc. His office was in the penthouse two floors above Adam’s, so the two seldom saw each other unless there was a special need to do so. This was one of those occasions. On the way down in the elevator Adam experienced a return of the queasiness he had been feeling earlier. It always seemed to come whenever he was going to meet socially with anyone outside his own sphere of friends and family. From as far back as he could remember he had been shy, somewhat introverted. This had so annoyed his rugged, he-man father that he often made fun of him in front of Sam, Adam’s older brother. The end result, after years of this kind of treatment, had been a permanent feeling of self-consciousness that at times bordered on an inferiority complex. It was especially bothersome when he had to go to meetings like this one, where he usually felt like an insect under a microscope. But he knew how to banish the butterflies.

He exited and made his way to the first floor lounge. At this hour there were only a few regulars in the dark interior. He exchanged a brief greeting with the bartender and ordered a double Walker’s Red Label. When it came he took a deep swallow. It went down smoothly. In seconds he felt the liquor hit his blood stream, releasing its surge of energy. Everything was all right again.

SHIT day, he thought with a grin: So Happy It’s Thursday.

As he motioned to the bartender for a refill he wondered why the tension always seemed to get worse as the week progressed. It was as though he had some sort of perverse clock ticking inside him, constantly reminding him that there was still part of the week left until he could gain his freedom, to escape from the routine of work. But that’s crazy! he thought. I love my work. Yet the same feeling always came, like clockwork, as Friday approached. Something like the feeling he used to get as a child when the months seemed to drag on endlessly. Then came that magic moment when the schoolhouse doors were flung wide and he could escape for a precious two months of freedom. The lines of the old schoolyard rhyme came back to him:

No more pencils, no more books,

No more teachers’ dirty looks!

He grinned at his reflection in the bar mirror and straightened his tie. He thought it might be a good idea to meet the Old Man outside. He finished his drink, dropped some bills on the bar, and headed for the front doors.

The sun streaming in through the plate glass entry doors temporarily blinded him. Shading his eyes, he looked up between the tall buildings to the deep blue sky above. It really was unbelievable weather for March. As he lowered his eyes he saw Eugene Foreman striding toward him.

Foreman was a man in his early fifties, of medium height, partly bald, with a prominent, hawk-like nose and deep-set eyes of steel gray that had the look of one who misses nothing. Adam had come to like him at first meeting. He had an infectious smile and a way of paying meticulous attention to little details like a man’s name or how many kids he had. He knew little about the technical details of engineering, leaving that to Adam. His specialty was people. Adam knew he made it his business to know them thoroughly.

Entering the restaurant, Adam asked for a corner booth, where they could talk with some degree of privacy. When the waiter came, Foreman ordered a Bourbon with water on the side, and Adam ordered his usual scotch—a single this time. When the drinks came, Foreman poured a generous amount of water into his. I can’t handle strong liquor, he remarked, noticing Adam’s surprise. Doctor’s orders. I shouldn’t even be having a weak one. But don’t let me dampen your spirits. No pun intended, he said with a chuckle.

They ordered lunch, and before the waiter left Adam ordered another drink. The queasiness had dissipated long ago. This one was to bring on the tiger spirit.

During lunch Foreman revealed that it was the new Air Force proposal that he was interested in, as Adam had anticipated. He listened attentively as Adam outlined his strategy, inserting a brief question or comment from time to time. Adam felt a surge of pride when Foreman congratulated him on an excellent effort. The pride came from knowing that the praise was deserved. He wondered why he had been so apprehensive earlier.

Foreman continued to talk to Adam about the importance of the new contract, emphasizing that Corporate was determined to win, no matter what the cost. Adam had heard rumors about a corporate buy-in, but this was the first open admission he had been exposed to. At the end Foreman glanced at Adam’s empty glass. Had enough? he asked.

Adam met Foreman’s steely eyes and wondered if the Old Man was trying to tell him something. Time to get back to work, Adam said, rising. He felt himself sway slightly, and glanced uneasily at Foreman, but his boss was busy with the check and appeared not to have noticed. You’d better watch it, Adam old boy, he thought. You don’t want to blow a good thing.

As they left the lounge Adam experienced the surge of vitality he always felt after a few drinks. Most of the people he knew went to pieces after a couple. He’d always wondered about that. Just lucky, I guess, he thought, following his boss out the door.

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Adam’s thoughts were on the evening’s meeting as he exited the building an hour or so later. Officially the organization was called the Association of Retired Navigators. But its members knew it by the nickname Ancient Navigators, because many of the senior members were veterans of some antiquity, and spent more time drinking and swapping war stories than they did on the technical exchanges that were the organization’s official purpose.

Adam was tall enough to have to crouch over to get into his Buick. His erect stature, the product of his former military life, was now softened by easy living and Helen’s good cooking. But he wore his prematurely silvered hair trimmed neatly, and still retained some semblance of military smartness about his appearance, despite the extra pounds. His long limbs, which had been a little awkward in the confined crew compartment of a B-52, fitted easily into the roomy sedan.

He sat behind the wheel for a moment, squinting up into the blue sky. Twin white threads of vapor streamed behind an invisible airliner miles above, hurtling its human cargo in a long arc toward its destination with effortless grace. He experienced the twinge of envy he often felt on seeing a jet. His weak eyes had kept him from realizing his boyhood dream of becoming a pilot, but he had been pacified when the Air Force had told him he might still be able to fly as a navigator. Adam’s current passion for sailing had displaced most of those regrets. But sometimes, like now, he would feel the old surge of excitement at the sight of a soaring jet.

The trip down to the base was a special treat. Adam had to fight the temptation to forget the meeting altogether and take a detour up into the hills. He really did need to be at the meeting tonight. As he neared the main gate of the base a stab of conscience furrowed his brow. He missed having Helen with him. He remembered her entreaty and made a mental note to leave early. Then he thought of Lori, still in the hospital. He wondered if he could find a florist on the way home. Some for Helen, too. He couldn’t remember when he had last bought flowers for his wife. What was worse, he couldn’t even remember thinking of it for a long time. Are we drawing apart? he wondered aloud. He didn’t want to consider that. Despite his earlier feelings, he knew that the love he had once felt for Helen had not survived the long years of raising their three sons without some signs of wear. But he did still care for her. And despite her occasional nagging, which he had to admit was probably justified, they still stirred each other to passion when the timing was right.

He maneuvered the car into a parking place in front of the officers’ club and turned off the engine. When the timing is right, he mused, listening to the ticking noises of the hot engine cooling. But it hadn’t been right very often in the past few years. Their increasingly truculent arguments had proven too upsetting to rekindle the warm tenderness that had been their joy in the beginning.

Home early tonight, old man, he said, getting out of the car. The noise of the engine could still be heard cooling in the evening stillness. Thoughts of Helen lingered as he walked up to the large glass doors. But as he pushed them open he felt the same surge of excitement he had been experiencing earlier. Happy hour!

CHAPTER 2

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Helen Shaw was distraught about two things over which she had no control: a nagging pain in her shoulder, and Adam’s going to his meeting alone. She bent to remove the last of the dinner dishes from the dishwasher and stacked them in the cupboard above, suppressing a groan as another stab of pain knifed through her slender shoulder. Damned arthritis! She closed the cupboard door with too much force. Then, recovering her spirits quickly, she finished cleaning the sink and putting away the leftovers.

She went into her spotless living room and sat down on the long sofa. This room was generally regarded by the rest of the family as her room. It was seldom entered except on the rare occasions when they were entertaining. The boys knew the room was off limits. They weren’t allowed in until they had first removed their shoes and suffered the indignity of a meticulous inspection for mud and debris. They had long since decided that there was nothing in the room that was of the slightest interest to them.

She mentally checked the whereabouts of her three charges. The sounds of gunfire and shouting from the television set in the family room downstairs would be Craig, eight and a half years old, and little Steven, who was nearly seven. The muffled sounds of a ragged scale being played on a clarinet came from Ronald’s room at the far end of the house. He would be ten in a month.

Helen Shaw was a contradiction to the theory that opposites attract, at least physically. Like Adam, she was tall—five feet nine inches in her bare feet, which made Adam’s stature essential to her when they went dancing. Her once slender, shapely body was still attractive. She wore her light blond hair short in a crown of soft, loose curls that heightened the beauty of her high cheekbones and wide-set blue eyes. But in most other attributes Helen really was Adam’s opposite. She was the practical half of the Shaw family. She regarded Adam as an incurable idealist and a romantic dreamer, traits he had no doubt inherited from his Irish mother. Helen willingly accepted the role of planner for a lot of their family activities.

She laid her head back against the cushions, letting her mind slip into a relaxed state. Tonight was one of the rare evenings when she didn’t have to be the family chauffeur. She intended to thoroughly enjoy the luxury. She dreaded the time to come when the boys would start having dates that required a parent to drive them.

She wondered how her parents had ever gotten through this. The answer was simple enough: they didn’t have to. Kids walked or rode bikes in those days. There was only one car in her family, and it couldn’t be used for ferrying kids all over the place. But she had to admit that life was pretty dull in those days. It really wasn’t so bad, driving them around, and much better than having them hang out on street corners. She closed her eyes and smiled. It really wasn’t so bad.

She rose, went into the kitchen, and poured herself a glass of chilled Chablis. She looked at the level of the wine in the bottle with sudden suspicion. It was lower than she had remembered, and she wondered if one of the boys had been into it. Ronald, especially, was just at the age when boys begin to get notions about being manly. Drinking and smoking were the first experiments they felt compelled to try. Better than trying sex, but not much.

Returning to her place on the sofa, her thoughts drifted again, and in her mind it was that wondrous summer when she and Adam had met. It was springtime. Helen was in her senior year at the university in Minneapolis. Jenny Cartwright had coaxed her to take a night off from her studies to go to a dance at the Masonic.

You find us a table, Jenny said, taking Helen’s coat. I’ll check our coats and get us some Cokes. Not too close to the stage, she cautioned. Those guys can blast your eardrums out!

Helen found that the only tables available were toward the rear, where she feared no one would ever notice them. The auditorium was rapidly filling with young people, mostly students. The members of the band were setting up when Jenny returned with two Cokes and a bucket of ice.

What are you staring at? Jenny asked, looking at her friend curiously.

Him! Isn’t he gorgeous?

Which one? There must be dozens of guys over there.

The guy in the Air Force uniform! Helen said, her eyes glittering.

Uh-oh! I don’t like that look in your eyes. Jenny sat down and cast an appraising glance at the tall, blond-headed flyer.

Helen finally turned to her friend. Isn’t he gorgeous?

You already said that.

I know. I can’t help it! Do you think he’ll come over? Oh, God! I don’t think I could even move if he asked me to dance!

Don’t be silly! Of course you will, you goose! He’s just another guy. They’re all alike, Jenny said wryly.

Not him, Helen declared with conviction. He’s one in a million. Oh, well. He probably has a girl friend already.

And he’s probably two-timing her, Jenny sneered.

Helen barely heard Jenny’s remarks. Her eyes were on the tall flyer across the room, but her mind was off somewhere else. The dream gradually possessed her completely, and it was with a startling jolt that she awakened to the realization that the object of her dreams was standing over her, and he was asking her to dance.

She feared that she would be unable to make her legs move as she rose. At close range he was even more handsome than she had expected, with a firm jaw line and a warmth to his smile. But she found that her legs would move after all, and when he held her in his arms something began to happen to the rest of her world: it seemed to be shrinking smaller and smaller, until there were just the two of them, all alone on a vast, empty floor, very close, barely moving, their bodies saying things to each other that their voices had not yet dared to utter.

From that night on they began to see each other exclusively. Helen took Adam to her parents’ farm in the middle of the summer and watched him fall in love with their enchanting prairie, with her mother and father, and, she fervently hoped, with her. And as if in answer to her secret prayer, one magic evening, under the indescribable loveliness of the star-studded heavens, Adam asked her to be his wife. She hesitated only about the space of two heartbeats, unsure that he had really asked her, and then said yes.

They were married in the tiny Catholic Church amid the golden splendor of harvest time, in the presence of all her relatives and close friends, which, she explained to Adam, included God.

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When was it you got out, Sir? Master Sergeant Ray Kutz, the part-time bartender tonight in the officers’ club, was polishing a glass as he regarded Adam Shaw with a grin.

Ten years ago. Adam took a sip from his Scotch. And drop the Sir, for God’s sake!

Old habits die slow, Kutz said, placing the glass on the shelf with care. He took a long swallow of beer and wiped his mouth on the back of a hairy hand. Ordinarily he would not drink on duty, but tonight he didn’t have to handle any cash. The drinks were all free, courtesy of the Navigators. Kutz was wearing a crisp white bartender’s jacket. He was a solidly built man, not especially tall, with massive shoulders that gave him the appearance of having once been a wrestler, which was accurate. He was almost bald, and wore his remaining iron gray hair closely cropped, which added to his menacing appearance.

Ten years. That’s a long time.

I hear that, Adam said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. I wish sometimes I was back in the Service.

Another Scotch? Adam nodded, and Kutz poured a generous refill. Despite his intense dislike for officers, he had taken a liking to Shaw, mainly because Adam had told him he had spent some time in the enlisted ranks before he was commissioned. Anyone that had worked on planes couldn’t be that bad.

Do you miss it much? You know—the military life? The comradeship, the—what’d we used to call it?

Esprit de Corps, Adam said, his voice mellowing. "Yeah, I miss