He could feel the chill in the ante room of the morgue, and he fought hard to control himself. The trolley was pushed towards him and the three men from the US Embassy by the coroner and an assistant. The sheet was pulled down. Cardinal grimaced. The face had been blasted away. The more he looked, the more his fears surfaced. The height, the colour of his hair, and the shape of the body confirmed the Embassy people’s claim, based on fingerprints, blood type, and dental records, that it was Harold Ian Cardinal. He examined a scar on his son’s right shoulder caused by an operation after a football injury and searched for another mark from a fall on his right elbow when he was only twelve. It was there, thin, long and almost indiscernible. He noticed a gold ring on the small finger of the left hand and examined it. It was engraved HIC. Cardinal stood back and nodded. ‘You’re sure?’ the coroner said. ‘Yes,’ Cardinal said, making an effort to keep his voice steady. ‘The police will want you to be certain,’ Bob Paton, the Embassy man from Canberra said to Cardinal.
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