The general had paused just short of the cupboard. He turned slowly. "In that case, I'll make an exception, this once." He poured. "Just what did you mean by that, sir? Let's get to the point."
"General Shorter, we're going to have to ask you to come back with us."
The general bent slightly forward. His lips were partly open, as though he were listening to hear a second time.
"Why," he said, "I've too much work to do, sir. I'm afraid that's out of the question. It's just not possible at all."
Mr. Tucker waited.
General Shorter poured himself another brandy. His back was to the civilian.
"There's nothing more important, right now, than my job here," he said. He drank the brandy in a single gulp.
"I don't see how it can wait, General," Mr. Tucker said.
The general's lips were dry. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment against the alcohol and the cold. He licked his lips. "What's the formal charge?"
Mr. Tucker bent forward. His voice was soft and curious, as though the question were his final effort to understand something that puzzled him for a long time. "What do you think it is, General?"