"Hey!" the big man said, standing in the doorway.

"Hello," Angus said, closing the book he'd packed in his clothes bag.

"I'm Dirt Bennett. I was Strong's coach ... Albert's coach."

"I'm Angus McCoy, his honor guard. You read about him coming home?" Angus stood as he spoke and the two men shook hands.

"No! Someone from here called me. I decided to stop by on my way home. I live a few miles past here. You don't want to hear that. I just … He's the first player I've lost in this thing."

The man was big and powerful looking but he hesitated and seemed unsure of himself as he spoke. He didn't seem comfortable and then Angus looked at the casket when the coaches eyes became affixed to it after a few seconds.

"How'd he ... ah, how'd he get killed? I mean was it quick or what?"

"There was a fire fight. His position was surrounded on three sides. He held his ground but he was hit three times and was dead when our guys got to him."

"Yeah!" Bennett said as he swallowed hard.

The man had dark circles under his eyes, like he was way tired. Angus didn't know if they were natural on the man or if he'd cried for Albert on the way there. Dirk Bennett didn't look like a crier. He wasn't as tall as Angus but he was way wider, not fat wider but big framed and muscular wider, like you'd expect a football coach to be.

Angus had studied the man's athletic jacket and he'd discovered the football insignia under the word COACH. Angus's brain had already deduced football but he wasn't absolutely sure until he actually came to the insignia that verified the hunch.

"He a good player?" Angus asked.

"Strong? Yeah! He was pretty good. Defense men. He was a little small for defensive line, but he held his ground, mostly. He wasn't going to the NFL if that's what you're asking."

"I've been with him three days. I was just wondering what he was like."

"Quiet mostly," Bennett said, becoming quiet. "He didn't attract much attention. It's been over a year."

"You know his sister? The Army couldn't find her. His parents are dead. She should know about him," Angus said.

"No! I didn't know anything about him except he played for me. I'll ask around. I'll see if one of the staff knew about her. Where she might be."

"Thanks! She should know in case she wants to be at his funeral," Angus said.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to stop. Will they open that thing for tomorrow night?" Bennett asked. "I'll try to get over here."

"No! Says closed casket on my papers. I don't know what these folks have in mind but I go by what's written on my orders."

"Good!" Bennett said, suspecting he wouldn't like what he saw. "I was too young for Korea, you know. He's the first player I've lost that I know of. Track coach lost one last year. He was student council, honor roll. Strong didn't leave much of a wake. Quiet! Quiet kid."

"You going to be here?" Angus asked.

"Yeah, it's the least I can do considering how he died. He wasn't popular or anything. To be honest with you I hardly remember him. He wasn't an impressive player. My point is, I graduated most of my team last year. There's only a couple of guys left who played with him. I wouldn't expect much at the funeral. I will pass the word along but it's a school day."

"Yeah, well, perhaps you and a couple of his teachers. Maybe there are some friends left that remember him if someone can mention it during morning announcements."

"Yeah, I'll talk to the other coaches about a long lunch. He shouldn't go out alone. It is a school day. Seems like such a waste, you know. I'll see what I can do."

Bennett wasted no time leaving the basement.

*****

The later it got the more active the funeral home became. Cars came and went and one of the assistances brought Angus a Chinese dinner when he went out for the staff. He was told it was compliments of Heaven's Gate. Then the word was passed along that there had been a serious accident a few exits up from the funeral home on the Interstate, and by late in the evening as mourners began to thin out the new bodies had started to arrive.

Angus could hear them talking about a family of four with only one survivor and that one not expected to live out the night. Death had never been something he dwelled on and being so close to it in Vietnam and it was never discussed and yet back in the states where there was no war going on, you still weren't safe from death. There wasn't anywhere to hide. When your number came up, you'd better be ready, he thought to himself.

Heaven's Gate never did close down Wednesday night. Angus rested his eyes as he leaned back in his chair until his shoulders were against the wall. He could hear machines humming and there was buzzing and sawing from time to time. He had no idea what the sounds were connected to and he didn't care.

By Thursday morning it had grown deathly quiet and he walked up and down the hallway to keep himself awake. There was someone moving around in the building but he never saw anyone. He'd heard stories about funeral homes but he preferred not to associate them to the noises but he was glad when he could see it starting to become daylight.

"Good morning!" Andrew said, looking a bit haggard. "There is some coffee and donuts in the first room on the right. You may help yourself. If I send someone out for food we'll check with you."

"Thank you. I could use a cup."

"We want to give Private Strong a casket. I've discussed it with the owner and if no one offers to help out, Heaven's Gate will eat the cost. We'll make the change as soon as my staff can get home and freshen up. There's no hurry. The time for people to come by is listed for 6p.m. until 9p.m. I hope it's okay with you."

"Certainly," Angus said. "It's quite kind of you to want to do that for him. He is a war hero after all."

Angus followed Andrew to get himself some coffee. Andrew had called Strong a war hero and yet Angus had mentioned anything about his death to him. He was killed in Vietnam but the details hadn't been discussed. It seemed curious that things had changed so much in such a short period of time. There was still hope someone would show up that evening and then for the funeral. It would be a shame if Heaven's Gate went through all the trouble of giving him a nice coffin and no one showed up to appreciate it.

Imagine Angus's surprise when Major James Winfield showed up with another box of KFC.

"Seaman, you're still on the job."

"Yes, sir," Angus said, standing as the major came into the room.

"How's our boy Strong doing?"

"Just fine, sir. I didn't expect to see you here. You checking up on me, sir?"

"No! No! I know I don't need to check up on you, McCoy. You're about the most dedicated sailor I know. Too damn dedicated if you want to know the truth."

"Sir? I don't understand. I'm just following orders."

"Most men take a break every few days, McCoy. You can't be expected to be on the job 24/7."

"I was asked to do this by my admiral, sir. He told me to stay with Strong until he was in the ground. I intend to stay with Strong until he is in the ground, sir."

"No, no you aren't, McCoy."

"I don't understand," Angus said, sounding confused. "What have my orders got to do with you? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Yeah, there is something we need to talk about. I can't wait for these guys to change out coffins to see if they can do their job. How does a thousand dollars sound to you, McCoy. No one knows the difference. We'll book you a room at the Ramada down at the next exit. You'll go, catch a shower, have a hot meal and even a nap and for that you get ten one hundred dollar bills."

"What?" Angus said in astonishment. "I don't understand."

"You aren't supposed to. That's what the thousand dollars is for."

"No, I don't know what's going on here but I don't want your money. I've got a job and orders and I'm following them. What's this all about?"

"Two thousand and you leave now. My driver will take you to the motel and pick you up after you've gotten some rest," Major Winfield said.

"What's going on?" Angus asked still sounding confused.

"Okay, let's cut to the chase. I can recommend you for this kind of duty. I can have you assigned to my detail. It might be worth my while to have an inside man. Five thousand dollars and you stop asking questions right now."

"Five thousand bucks to hit the showers? That's a lot of dough."

"Could you use five thousand dollars, McCoy? Think before you answer. You'll be getting out sooner or later and that would make a nice nest egg to start your new life."

"Talks cheap," Angus said. "When do I see the money?"

"I figured we could do business," Winfield said.

"What's the business? Wait a minute. I'm not sure I want to know," Angus said thoughtfully. "When do I see the money?"

"I have a thousand now. That's what we were prepared to pay."

"By the time you've taken a nap, I'll have the rest. There's ten one hundred dollar bills here," Winfield said, handing Angus the envelope. "My driver's waiting."

Angus stood, placing his hand on the coffin as he followed Winfield out of the room.

*****

Angus went to his room in the Ramada. He took a shower and put on a T-shirt and jeans, going down the hall he took a staircase at the back of the motel and went out, crossing a small culvert he went into a restaurant that sat off to one side of the motel. He was quite careful to make sure he wasn't followed and he took a casual approach as he wanted to make sure it looked like he was simply going to dinner.

"I need to speak to the manager," Angus said.

"Is there a problem?" A pretty young blond girl asked him.

"No, not at all, I need to speak to the manager. If he's in his office that would be fine."

"Mr. Hamilton, this gentlemen asked to see you."

A well dressed young man stood up behind his desk and looked Angus in the eye with conviction.

"Can I close the door?" Angus asked.

"Certainly," Hamilton said.

"I need to make a private phone call. I'll be on the phone for less than five minutes. You sir will get twenty-dollars for doing me this favor. It's very important and pay phones are so unreliable."

The man looked at the twenty dollar bill over carefully before placing it in his pocket.

"I'll need you to stand in the hall," Angus said, sitting behind the desk and dialing a number he'd memorized somewhere over the Pacific.

"Admiral Kelly please. Tell him its Convoy."

"McCoy, how's it going?"

"Admiral, I've been approached. I didn't agree too quickly. They're paying me five thousand dollars to leave Strong to them."

"Okay, McCoy, What number are you at? You'll get a call from a Detective Curtis of the Indianapolis Police Department. I don't need to tell you to co-operate fully with him. He's a good man and he'll look after our interests. You've done a good job, McCoy."

Angus read off the number written on the rotary dial.

"Sir, Admiral Kelly, what's going on? I've got an Army Major giving me money to disobey my orders. Why do these guys want Strong's body so bad? What are they planning on doing to him? I think you owe me an explanation."

"McCoy, you just keep following orders. You'll be told what it is all about when the time comes. Hang up and wait for the call. It'll only take me a minute to contact Curtis."

Angus hung up the phone and stood. The man acted like he wasn't listening, but he'd heard enough to be curious.

"You gave out the number," he said.

"A call will be coming in for me. It's very important."

"I can't be tying up this line. This is a business," Hamilton reminded him.

"So it is," Angus said, taking another twenty out of his pocket and placing it in Hamilton's suit coat pocket.

"You military?" Hamilton asked, checking out Angus's haircut and his clean cut appearance.

"Navy," Angus said.

"Good you aren't in uniform," he said.

"Why's that?"

"Just that people are a little down on that war over there. Lots of disagreements on it. Not from me understand, just some people are hot heads these days."

"I just brought in a kid younger than you," Angus said, leaning forward on the desk with both hands. "He's in a box because he went over there and died for his country."

"I'm sorry," Hamilton said. "I don't have any opinion on it but a lot of people do."

The phone rang and the manager was glad to pick it up. "Copley's Fine Dining!"

"Detective Jim Curtis of the Indianapolis Police Department for Seaman Angus McCoy."

"You McCoy," Hamilton asked, handing Angus the phone.

"McCoy!"

"Detective Curtis. What room are you in?"

"Two zero seven."

"You notice anyone watching you?"

"No sir."

"You need to eat?"

"Yeah," Angus said. "I could use some real food."

"Okay, be back in your room in an hour. I'll call."

"Roger," Angus said, handing the phone back to Hamilton.

"Admirals? Police Detectives? What in the world's going on?"

"I really don't know. Somebody's up to no good. That I'm certain of but I'm just the messenger. Food any good here?"

"Excellent! Would you like me to seat you. I'll see your served right away."

"That would be a big help. I've got to be back in my motel room in an hour."

"We'll have you out in half an hour if you don't want any fancy sauces. They make them to order. Sauces never sit at Copley's."

"My idea of a good sauce is ketchup on fries. I'd like a good steak and a baked potato. I don't suppose that's one of your specialties?"

"Best Porterhouse in Indiana. Tell me how you like it and I'll get them to work on it. Let me show you an out of the way table."

*****