Then she saw him and smiled, and
he came over, fanning himself with his sun helmet, and dropped into a
chair beside her.
"Did you call our center for a jeep?" he asked. When she nodded, he
continued: "I thought you would, so I didn't bother."
For a while, they sat silent, looking with bored distaste at the swarm
of steel-helmeted Army riflemen and tommy-gunners guarding the transfer
platforms and the vehicles gate. A string of trucks had been passed
under heavy guard into the clearance compound: they were now unloading
supplies onto a platform, at the other side of which other trucks were
backed waiting to receive the shipment. A hundred feet of bare concrete
and fifty armed soldiers separated these from the men and trucks from
the outside, preventing contact.
"And still they can't stop leaks," Karen said softly. "And we get blamed
for it."
MacLeod nodded and started to say something, when his attention was
drawn by a commotion on the driveway. A big Tucker limousine with an
O.D. paint job and the single-starred flag of a brigadier general was
approaching, horning impatiently.
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