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have to.”
    A snort of air burst through Ernie’s nose.
    “Not on a case like this, you won’t.” Ernie put his coffee cup down and leaned forward. “This happened downtown, amongst Koreans, and George is the only CID agent who speaks the language. Besides, we’re the best investigators in-country and you know it.”
    The First Sergeant straightened his back. His hair, which already stood on end, seemed to bristle.
    “Don’t push me, Bascom. Nobody’s indispensable.”
    Ernie ignored him, leaned back in his chair, and went right on sipping his coffee.
    The First Sergeant might want to pull us off this case but I knew he wouldn’t. Not now. Not this early. It would look bad to the honchos at the head shed to be shifting personnel for no apparent reason and having to spend the time to get two new investigators up to speed. If the First Sergeant told them the truth, that he had doubts about whether or not he could control us on a sensitive case, it would reflect badly on him. They would wonder about his leadership abilities. The First Sergeant was stuck with us, unless we screwed up. He knew it and we knew it.
    “In case you guys have any ideas that you’ve got me over a barrel,” he said, “let’s get a few ground rules straight.”
    A caginess crept into the First Sergeant’s eyes. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a neatly typed sheaf of paperwork. I recognized Riley’s handiwork. The First Sergeant placed it in the center of the blotter in front of him.
    “Your request for extension, Bascom,” he said. “All signed and sealed and ready to go to personnel. Except it won’t go anywhere unless this case is handled in the way I say it should be handled.”
    Ernie’s lips tightened. It was a low blow. To overseas GI’s like us there was nothing worse than being threatened with going back to the States. Going back to living in the barracks, doing your own laundry, swabbing the latrines, shining your own shoes. Having to put with all the petty bullshit of the Stateside army that has no mission other than readiness. Which means putting up with any sort of makebelieve training a bunch of bored officers manage to come up with.
    Off post it was even worse. GI’s in the States are considered to be in the same social class as things you scrape off the soles of your shoes. Something to crinkle your nose at. American women looked at us that way too, except for the occasional bar tramp. But here in Korea we were heroes. Feted and looked up to when we went out with the locals. We were, after all, the guys who’d kept the bloodthirsty Communists at bay during the Korean War. And we were still keeping them on their side of the DMZ. Our presence was appreciated. Even treasured. Not so in the States.
    “That’s all I’ve got,” the First Sergeant said. “Any questions?”
    Neither of us said anything.
    “Good. After you finish those interviews, report back to me. Then we’ll figure out what you’re going to do next.”
    Ernie looked at his coffee, made a sour face, and carried it back to the counter as if it were contaminated. I stood up and followed him out the door.
    As we clunked down the hallway, Ernie couldn’t help mouthing off.
    “If that old tight-ass ever had to run a real investigation he’d probably have his dick tied in knots on the first day.”
    I grabbed him and shoved him past the Admin Office. Miss Kim, the fine-looking secretary, sat up behind her typewriter. She caught Ernie’s eye, and beamed. He winked at her and waved. Riley pointed his forefinger at us and pretended to pull the trigger.
    Outside, Ernie started up the jeep and gunned the engine a few times to let it warm up. A smattering of flakes drifted down from gray skies and slowly dissolved on the metal hood.
    “Shit!” Ernie said.
    He loosened his tie, swallowed, and let his face sag for the first time this morning.
    “What is it?” I said. “You’ve been hard-assed by the First Sergeant before.”
    He sat back in the