Never Say Die & Whistleblower

Present Bangkok, ThailandGeneral Joe Kistner did not sweat, a fact that utterly amazed Willy Jane Maitland, since she herself seemed to be sweating through her sensible cotton underwear, through her sleeveless chambray blouse, all the way through her wrinkled twill skirt. Kistner looked like the sort of man who ought to be sweating rivers in this heat. He had a fiercely ruddy complexion, bulldog jowls, a nose marbled with spidery red veins, and a neck so thick, it strained to burst free of his crisp military collar.Every inch the blunt, straight-talking, tough old soldier,she thought.Except for the eyes. They're uneasy. Evasive. Those eyes, a pale, chilling blue, were now gazing across the veranda. In the distance the lush Thai hills seemed to steam in the afternoon heat. "You're on a fool's errand, Miss Maitland," he said. "It's been twenty years. Surely you agree your father is dead."bury, General." Kistner sighed. "Of course. The wives. It's always the wives. There were so many widows, one tends to forget--" "Shehasn't forgotten." "I'm not sure what I can tell you. What I ought to tell you." He turned to her, his pale eyes targeting her face. "And really, Miss Maitland, what purpose does this serve? Except to satisfy your curiosity?" That irritated her. It made her mission seem trivial, and there were few things Willy resented more than being made to feel insignificant. Especially by a puffed up, flat-topped warmonger. Rank didn't impress her, certainly not after all the military stuffed shirts she'd met in the past few months. They'd all expressed their sympathy, told her they couldn't help her and proceeded to brush off her questions. But Willy wasn't a woman to be stonewalled. She'd chip away at their silence until they'd either answer her or kick her out. Lately, it seemed, she'd been kicked out of quite a few offices. "This matter is for the Casualty Resolution Committee," said Kistner. "They're the proper channel to go--" "They say they can't help me." "Neither can I." "We both know you can." There was a pause. Softly, he asked, "Do we?" She leaned forward, intent on claiming the advantage. "I've done my homework, General. I've written letters, talked to dozens of people--everyone who had anything to do with that last mission. And whenever I mention Laos or Air America or Flight 5078, your name keeps popping up." He gave her a faint smile. "How nice to be remembered." "I heard you were the military attacheacute; in Vientiane. That your office commissioned my father's last flight. And that you personally ordered that final mission." "Where did you hearthatrumor?" "My contacts at Air America. Dad's old buddies. I'd call them a reliable source." Kistner didn't respond at first. He was studying her as carefully as he would a battle plan. "I may have issued such an order," he conceded. "Meaning you don't remember?" "Meaning it's something I'm not at liberty to discuss. This is classified information. What happened in Laos is an extremely sensitive topic." "We're not discussing military secrets here. The war's been over for fifteen years!" Kistner fell silent, surprised by her vehemence. Given her unassuming size, it was especially startling. Obviously Willy Maitland, who stood five-two, tops, in her bare feet, could be as scrappy as any six-foot marine, and she wasn't afraid to fight. From the minute she'd walked onto his veranda, her shoulders squared, her jaw angled stubbornly, he'd known this was not a woman to be ignored. She reminded him of that old Eisenhower chestnut, "It's not the size of the dog in the fight but the size of the fight in the dog." Three wars, fought in Japan, Korea and Nam, had taught Kistner never to underestimate the enemy. He wasn't about to underestimate Wild Bill Maitland's daughter, either. He sGerritsen, Tess is the author of 'Never Say Die & Whistleblower ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780778324379 and ISBN 0778324370.