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writing are too numerous to explain now; suffice to say that we will go into a lot more detail once the trial starts. But I suspect that you, Major Hunter, will play a very large role in this story. I’d like to think of it as the first chapter of the Second American Epic. Years from now the American people will greatly appreciate what we are doing here. You do want to be a part of that, Major, don’t you?”
    Hunter shifted uneasily in the chair again.
    “I guess … I mean, sure I do …” he said finally.
    She smiled again. “OK, now that’s the spirit,” she said, her voice positively oozing sensuality.
    She touched him again, this time on the back of his neck.
    “Now,” she said, in a voice barely above a whisper. “Just close your eyes and relax …”
    The next thing Hunter knew, the pretty woman doctor was massaging his shoulders.
    “… that’s when I met Dominique,” he heard himself saying. “It was a little farmhouse in northern France, near the shore and I had …”
    “That’s all right, Major,” the doctor told him, gently squeezing his shoulders. “We’ve got enough information now.”
    He shook his head, blinked his eyes open and was instantly aware of a dull throb in his jaw. It was as if he had been chewing gum non-stop for hours. The first thing he noticed was the doctor’s ashtray was overflowing with crushed out cigar butts.
    “But we just started,” he said, slightly unsure of himself. “Didn’t we?”
    The doctor laughed and lit a tiny cigar. “We’ve been at it for twelve hours, Major,” she said, reaching over to switch off the tape recorders. “You broke the record by more than five hours.”
    Hunter reached up to massage his sore jaw. He felt groggy, woozy, as if he had just come out of a sodium pentothal daze with some of his teeth missing.
    “I … I was talking about Dominique,” he said, more to himself than to the doctor.
    She nodded slowly, her eyes tightening in a slightly suspicious squint.
    “You gave me everything I needed to know about the war,” the doctor told him. “Your memory is incredibly complete and detailed. I find it fascinating, to be perfectly honest. In fact, I am sure now that the computer will build its text around your testimony, using the recollections of the others simply to fill in the blanks.
    “In other words, Major, you’re going to be a modern-day Ulysses. You’ll be the hero of our story. And when it’s over, you’ll be even more famous than you are now.”
    Hunter shook his head and rubbed his jaw again. Somehow that prospect didn’t appeal to him.

Chapter 4
    T HE BARTENDER POURED OUT another bourbon and Hunter drained it immediately.
    “Why does it seem like a million years since I’ve had a drink?” he asked Toomey, who along with their friend Ben Wa, had been holding down the far end of the Washington DC bar with him for the past three hours.
    “It’s the hypnotic session,” JT answered, lighting a cigar. “I was under for three hours, but it felt more like three weeks. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you to go under for twelve hours. It’s got to do a job on your Ids-ville.”
    “Twelve frigging hours,” Hunter said, shaking his head and motioning the bartender for another shot. “Goddamn, I know a lot of stuff came up that I was sure would stay hidden inside me forever.”
    It was the day after Hunter’s marathon session with the pretty woman psychologist. He had spent most of the daylight hours sleeping, yet still he felt mentally exhausted.
    “That was the whole idea, Hawk,” Ben said. He had struggled through a four-hour session of his own. “It’s just kind of strange how they’re planning to program the computer to mix it all together like that. Like it was a novel or something.”
    At that point, three ladies of somewhat-questionable repute walked into the smoky, dimly lit bar. To no one’s surprise, JT knew all three.
    Thankful for the diversion, Hunter was about to order a