Free Thin Air by George Simpson, Neal Burger Page A

front of the McKay brothers.  
    Yablonski persisted. "I'm just an old sailor, Commander. You know, catch-a da fish?" He glanced at Paul McKay and saw him smiling. "I take my boat out, I mind my own business, and I appreciate other people who feel the same way."
    "Cas..." Mrs. Yablonski was looking at him oddly.
    "It's okay, ma'am," said Hammond. "Mr. Yablonski, would you have any reason to fear an investigation?"
    Yablonski expelled his breath. "No...of course not."
    "Then let's be friends. I'm here to help you."
    "How?"
    "On the seventeenth of September you went to BUPERS in Washington to examine your 601 file. Did you find what you were looking for?"
    Yablonski stared at him a moment, then smiled for Paul McKay's benefit. Casually, he sauntered along the dock, nodding for; Hammond to follow. As soon as they were out of earshot, he asked, "What's it to you?"
    "I think you found some discrepancy that you can't account for."
    Yablonski stiffened slightly but continued walking. He drained his beer and crushed the can. "You tell me," he said.       
    "You thought you were discharged from service in 1955. You found out you're still carried on the Inactive Reserve list."
    "Very good. Why?"
    "I don't know."
    Yablonski stopped and turned, his face flushed with anger. "Does anybody know? Does the Navy know?" he asked with an edge of sarcasm.
    Hammond retorted, "Does McCarthy know?"
    Yablonski eyed him darkly. "He says it's a mistake."
    "When did you ask him?"
    "When I came back from Washington."       
    "You saw him after that?"
    "Of course I saw him! He's my doctor!"
    "Well, I think he's wrong. It's not a mistake. There's a reason why those records are different." Hammond paused. "And yours are not the only ones."
    Yablonski glanced at him sharply, then looked away.
    "Why did you go to Washington, Mr. Yablonski? What prompted you?"
    "The same reason you're here. Curiosity."
    "Was it the dream? The disappearing ship?"
    Hammond was watching his back and caught a slight twitch of the jaw. "How did you know that?" Yablonski asked.
    "Your wife." Yablonski flashed his wife an angry look. "But eventually I could have guessed. I told you, sir, you're not the only one."
    Yablonski turned back, his face flooded with terror. He stared at Hammond, searching his eyes, then looked off into space and seemed to be deciding something for himself. "McCarthy said I should forget my preoccupation with the dream...I was being self-destructive..." He looked at Hammond for understanding. Clearly, he didn't understand it himself.
    Hammond grunted. "Then he's the first psychiatrist I've ever heard of who's not interested in dreams."
    Yablonski got defensive. "Look, he does his job. I get these horrible nightmares, Igo chasing off to him, and he makes me forget about them. He's helping me!"
    "Then after twenty-odd years, why aren't you cured?"
    "There's no cure..."
    "McCarthy said so?"
    Yablonski moved sullenly to the edge of the dock and stared down into the water.
    "Tell me about the dream," Hammond said softly.
    Yablonski laughed. "Tell you? Where's your couch, Hammond? Did you leave it in the car?"
    Hammond regarded him seriously until he stopped laughing.
    "I don't need this," Yablonski said through his teeth. "I don't belong to the Navy anymore—I don't care what it says on my records!"
    "Wouldn't you like to get it straightened out?"
    Yablonski sighed. "You guys. You're like crocodiles with lockjaw! You grab pieces and pull until they come off! I've known people from NIS, Hamfnond. When you decide to pin something on a guy, you find a way to do it! I don't like what you do!"
    Hammond smiled. "I keep telling you I only want to help."
    "You want to help yourself." Yablonski smiled back at him knowingly.
    They stared at each other, measuring determination. They didn't even hear Mrs. Yablonski pad softly up the dock. She crept to Cas's side and touched his arm. Then she smiled nervously at Hammond.
    "Come back to the house, Commander. You can