Читать книгу Code Of Conduct - Rich Merritt - Страница 9

“You goddamned lying son of a bitch!”

Don Hawkins showered Giles’s face with spittle but the hospital corpsman made no move to wipe it away. Don’s glare was pure rage. He waited. The stench of fear overpowered the Balboa Naval Hospital’s pungent odors of antiseptic, fresh paint and linoleum wax. “Spineless motherfucker! How many jams have Eddie and I helped you out of when you had nowhere else to go?”

Retreating, Giles sideswiped a roller cart and knocked over a stack of empty urine cups. “Look, y-y-you can’t—”

“I should drag you in that utility closet and beat your ass.”

“Easy, killer.” Eddie stepped in, putting his hand on the tall Marine’s shoulder. “Our boy Giles here, he’s just following his orders.”

A bead of sweat dripped from Giles’s nose, splattering his scrubs. “That’s r-r-right. I-I-I’m just following orders.”

“My ass.” Don lowered his voice, spying a high-ranking officer entering the opposite corridor. “You followin’ orders when you light up a joint? Huh, Sailor? How ’bout when you hand in somebody else’s piss and tell the Navy it’s your own?”

“It’s the new executive officer,” Giles hissed. “She’s triple-checking everyone’s work. We’re not talking about a slap on the wrist. If I get caught, it’s a court-martial and a dishonorable discharge.”

Eddie hooked Don’s coiled bicep. “Come on. We asked nice. If Giles doesn’t value our friendship, we’ll go to Plan B.”

Don shook him off. “He doesn’t get off that easy. He promised he’d take care of this. He owes us.”

“It’s a felony offense,” Giles whispered. “Yeah, you’ve helped me out—a lot—but not enough to get thrown in the brig at Fort Leavenworth. Doin’ hard labor.”

Eddie smiled at the trembling Sailor. “I been in the Navy fifteen years. Don’s got that much time in the Marine Corps. We understand how the military works, okay? You got a new hospital XO who wants to show everyone she’s the boss. It’ll all blow over in a week or so. Besides, Clinton just became the president two days ago! Soon, none of this will matter.”

“Why don’t you just wait on Clinton? Why do I gotta stick my neck out now?”

“Because, asshole,” Don said, “this is the military and deadlines matter. Eddie’s got one more week to submit his sample. It’s pretty fucking simple—even for a squid like you. Draw my blood, ‘accidentally’ label it with Eddie’s name and social, and turn it in.”

The high-ranking officer at the opposite end of the hall looked impatiently at her watch, calling out: “Petty Officer Giles, you were supposed to be at the ER ten minutes ago. I assume you’ll conclude your business here and report there immediately!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Giles replied. He turned back to Don and Eddie. “Friday. Payday. Everyone in the military will be out in San Diego. It’s gonna be a long fucking night.”

Giles started to walk way, but Don grabbed him by the arm one last time. “Hey, ‘Doc.’ Think you’re gonna show up on the battlefield, taking care of my Marines? Think again—or you’re gonna be the one needin’ a corpsman.”