On Thursday morning, when Judge Elder asks Quentin to call his first witness, a retired army colonel named Karl Eklund walks into the courtroom from the back door and strides to the witness box with a soldierly bearing that would put Major Matthew Powers to shame. Eklund stands about an inch under six feet, but he has the chiseled features of a martial bust whose sculptor left no spare material on his work, and the colonel’s eyes have plainly seen more than most men ever will. It’s only after looking at Eklund for half a minute that I realize that something isn’t quite right about his face. It’s been worked on extensively by plastic surgeons, not to enhance his beauty, which is limited, but to reconstruct whatever existed before whatever happened to it happened. When Colonel Eklund takes the oath with his hand on the Bible, he gives the impression of a man who would cut off his right arm before breaking a vow.

I half expect Shad to try to disqualify Eklund at the start, but the DA seems to sense that he would lose more points with the jury by trying to silence this man than by letting him speak. As Quentin rolls toward the podium, Shadrach looks worried.

Looking from Shad back toward the witness box, I happen to catch sight of my father. For most of the trial I’ve seen only the back of his head, but now he has turned to face Quentin by the podium, and his face is almost bloodless. Dad knew that Colonel Eklund would be testifying this morning, yet he looks like he never expected to see the man walking and talking again.

“Colonel Eklund,” Quentin begins, “do you know the defendant, Dr. Thomas Cage?”

“Yes, sir. I do.”

“How do you know him?”

“He served under me in Korea.”

“Was he a physician then?”

The colonel gives a soft chuckle. “No, he was a private. An eighteen-year-old medic, fresh out of high school. I was twenty-three.”

“During this trial, we’ve heard a lot of testimony about Private Cage’s actions on the night of November thirtieth, 1950. Were you with him on that night?”

“No, sir. I’d been wounded and flown to a hospital in Japan.”

“I see. So when was the last time you saw Private Cage?”

“The night the Bugout began.”

“I’m sorry? The Bugout?”

“The American retreat from the Yalu River area in Korea. It started the night of November twenty-fifth, when the Chinese revealed their true strength and went through our lines like Hitler’s panzers through the Polish cavalry.”

“I see. What was your rank and assignment on that night?”