"Gentlemen, I have no doubt that anyone you recommend for special consideration would, in some way, deserve that consideration," he said. "I am further aware that one hand washes another and that if I expect some favors from you, I should expect to do some for you."
He held down his temper while the politicians exchanged glances of mutual congratulation.
"But," he said, "if I establish a trusty system, it will be an honorable one. I would be seen in hell first before I would allow any man to use the setup as a place to hide in comfort during a short rap when he should be sweating out a long one.
"Your friend Rooney will get exactly what he deserves. And not a thing more."
Giles had slowly turned a turkey purple, but his voice remained calm and even. "I think you stated the proposition fairly, general. You will get from us the same amount of consideration that you give us."
The party had been over for an hour, but Ferguson was still at work on the debris. And his old sergeant had, Bennington estimated out of long experience with cleaning up after stag parties, at least another hour's work ahead of him.
The general returned to staring out the big picture window overlooking the prison compound.
Something was wrong....
It wasn't Giles and Culpepper. A call to a friend in the Bureau of Internal Revenue, a few words to each of the six governors who had concurred in his appointment, either or both of these would take care of those gentlemen, very thoroughly.
Something else was wrong....