If you know him, you must know that. So, if you'll excuse me..." Mrs. Riley, if I may, I'm not here to cause you any embarrassment or difficulty. But, well, Sean saved me in the joint, and I promised I'd at least try to get him word about you and his children if I could. Could I—would it be all right if..." She sighed, stepped back, and opened the door wider so I could enter.Ten minutes later, coffee on the kitchen table in front us, the two of us, I got the story. Sean had told it straight. She had been screwed and screwed over by a druggie. And, the final bit of news: his elder daughter, Claire Riley, then twelve years old, had OD'd and died not a month after Sean had gone inside."So you see Mr. Reardon, going to see Sean or even writing him is a non-happening. I couldn't bring myself to face him after our Claire died, and I still can't," she said."Mrs. Riley, I can't speak for Sean; but he is a God fearing man who knows how to forgive. Yes, it will hurt him real bad to hear about. "Three ranks. You!" The AI supplied the defaulter's name to Daniel's ear-piece. "Sekulovich! Where do you think you're standing? Making your own row? Back half a step. Rest of the rear line shuffle left." Halfway down the line, two recruits obediently shuffled to the right. Daniel pointed to his right with his swagger stick. "Your MARINE left. Are you dyslexic?" With imprecations both muttered and shouted, he soon had three ragged lines where minutes before there had been four. The three lines still gracefully arced forward, but at least now they were in the correct number of lines. "AI, put a grid of dots on the parade square where these turkeys are supposed to be standing. Everyone, look down and see the dot you're supposed to have your boot heels on."The three ranks shuffled back into something closer to a straight line. Through his headpiece, he asked Kowalski, "Have these men taken the basic foot drill sleep training?" Supposedly," was Kowalski's laconic and amused reply."You.
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