Johnson gave a curt nod, the driver disappeared, and the two men were left alone. The clerk, Percy Owen, normally present at his desk in the corner, was having a hot meal in the general mess tent.

‘Don’t let me interrupt your lunch, Captain,’ Johnson said affably, taking a seat – he’d already decided to conduct their meeting informally. He was skipping lunch himself, as he often did when his focus was directed elsewhere. For a man with a normally voracious appetite, he could go a long time without food.

Chuck sat and readdressed his hamburger, waiting for the inevitable questions he’d already answered. But they didn’t come. The Texan wanted to talk about Anthony Hill instead. Why? Chuck didn’t feel particularly threatened. He and Strut Stowers had their story down pat and the death had been well and truly established as accidental, but he was a little mystified nonetheless. What did Anthony Hill have to do with the riot?

‘I’m told the men were somewhat troubled by the way you singled out Private Hill, Captain,’ Johnson said, his manner still affable.

‘Singled him out, sir,’ Chuck queried through a mouthful of hamburger, ‘how exactly do you mean?’

‘As a target for bullying,’ Johnson replied patiently, ‘that’s what I mean.’

Chuck returned a wary look, the hamburger losing a little of its interest.

‘I believe you ripped up a book that was very precious to the boy, at least that’s what they tell me.’

Chuck Maxwell resisted the urge to laugh out loud. Hell, for one minute there he’d thought the congressman was going to accuse him of inflicting serious physical damage.

‘That’s just exactly what I did do, Commander, and I don’t mind admitting it.’ His grin was comradely. The congressman was a Texan, for God’s sake. They were bound to speak the same language, have the same point of view. ‘C’mon now, you and I both know niggers need bullying. It’s what they want. They’re happier knowing their place in life. You give them too much freedom, they get confused. It’s called command where I come from. There’s rules that have to be obeyed, sir,’ he said as if making a truly profound statement, which in actual fact Chuck believed he was. ‘There’s black and there’s white in every meaning of the term, you and I both know that, don’t we.’

The Texan stood, a towering figure looking down at the man with the remnants of a hamburger in his hands. He studied Maxwell thoughtfully for a moment. This was why he’d come out to Kelso, to see what kind of a guy this Maxwell really was. Now he knew.

Lyndon Johnson had understood every implication made at the meeting in the stockade, every space between the lines, every single little thing that had been carefully left unsaid. Yes, Maxwell, you piece of dog shit, he now thought, I do believe you could well be responsible for the death of that boy. What a damn shame there’s no proof. I’d so like to put you away.