My responsibility

"How's the military investigation into Lieutenant Oakley going?" I asked, giving in and opening my desk drawer to pull out my lighter and a pack of Djarums.

"He's been doing very bad things to the people of Iraq and getting away with it, but not sure for how long that'll stay buried. I think the senator can only be relieved his son is off getting into trouble in Iraq as opposed to anywhere close to his election campaign."

I grunted in agreement and sucked back my first, sweet inhale. The cloves gave quite a kick, but I was used to it. Now I just let the nicotine do its work and felt guilty for what I was putting into my body. "So he's career military, you think?" I exhaled away from Neil.

Neil shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

Neil had the keenest instincts of anyone I knew. He wasn't just an employee, not by a long shot. Neil was much, much more. We'd been boys together, gone off to war, survived that hell to return to England, managing to grow up in the process and star