****A/N: Chapters 2-13 were deleted and then re-posted because the original chapters were messed up. The correct chapters are now posted.****
Chapter 13
The following morning Schmidt had just finished his breakfast when his doorbell rang. Putting down his newspaper, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and after getting up, walked to the door and opened it. He smiled when he saw who was standing there with a lazy grin on his face.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" asked the visitor.
"Of course. Come in, Herr Decker. Have some coffee," Schmidt replied closing the door behind his friend after he came in.
"Not Herr Decker. We've known each other too long for such formalities. To you I am Bruno," Bruno said calmly as he sat down on the sofa and crossing his legs, clasped his hands around his legs. "I wanted to ask you how things went yesterday?"(1)
Schmidt sat down in a nearby chair and crossed his legs at his ankles. "It went fine. You should be able to hear whoever he speaks with on the phone and whoever comes into the office with no problem."
"Excellent," Bruno replied, quite pleased. Then, a concerned look appeared on his face. "Captain Kinchloe is possibly becoming a problem. We may have to do something about him."
Schmidt pyramided his fingertips and pursed his lips. "Why not just kill him now and have done with it, Bruno?" He paused.
"In answer to your question about the Captain, it is because he works in the Pentagon. To kill him now would only arouse suspicions. If it's decided he should die it doesn't necessarily have to be done in a way that will look like an accident. You are as impatient to kill the good Captain as Herr Williams is the Englander."
"But Sergeant Bremer's death was made to look like an accident. The good Captain's accident could be the same way."
Bruno shook his head. "Bremer's death was easy. He was known to drink a lot, so having him killed in a car crash when drunk was not difficult. But Captain Kinchloe does not drink much so it would have to be done differently. However, for now he will be left alone unless it becomes necessary. And if it does, we can do away with the Captain, and our good friend, Major Desmond, will get the blame considering how he feels about him."
"The Captain could always disappear like Morrison," Schmidt added. "Nobody's ever found where he's buried and they never will. It was easy for me to kill him before I arrived here."
Decker smirked. "Morrison had it coming. He was a traitor to the Fatherland when he posed as Major Teppel in the Abwehr. The bastard stumbled across our plot against Hogan and was about to reveal everything. If that had happened, it would have ruined all our plans. He had to be silenced." He saw Schmidt nod in agreement. "I always wondered something. Did he ever reveal anything to you before he died? You never said very much about his interrogation."
Schmidt shook his head. "I tortured him for days including hearing him scream over and over as I broke his kneecap, both arms and both legs; he refused to divulge anything despite the agony he was in. Seeing as he would not talk, I put him out of his misery by putting a bullet in his brain." He chuckled. "If need be, I would not hesitate to put a bullet in Captain Kinchloe's head as well. Just say the word, Bruno, and it shall be done."
Decker smiled. "Just be patient, my friend. Everything will soon be over and then we can all leave the United States and return to the Fatherland without detection and without any of Hogan's men having been able to prove anything. All they will have are suspicions and no proof. But, any killing of one of Hogan's men must be authorized by him, not me. Afterall, he is the one who organized this conspiracy in the first place and gives the orders. To disobey them in anyway, or to strike out on one's own, means instant death to that person. Remember that."
Schmidt could only shrug his shoulders. "You don't have to worry about me with that."
Doctor Brian Carlyle was enjoying being retired and was now what could be called a 'man of leisure' spending much of his time in his spacious home in Arlington, Virginia. The time he had spent at Walter Reed had been one of the most enjoyable of his long career, and when he retired early in early 1954, after a long and illustrious career working with some of the most brilliant men to cross his path; one of them being the man who took over his job and made it possible for him to retire, Doctor Bruce Wolper. Carlyle smiled as he recalled the day Wolper had officially taken over for him at his urging. He had thoroughly enjoyed training Wolper and felt confident leaving the ME's Department in his capable hands. Now that he was retired, he was now doing consulting and occasionally writing and submitting articles for publication such as he was doing at the moment; to be able to pass on his years of knowledge to others. With an exhausted sigh, he put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, looking at the half dozen or so handwritten pages on the desk in front of him.
He had been working on an article on the effects and treatment of cancer up to the present time, and needed his reference book which he had so carefully packed away when he left Walter Reed and had since stuck in his bookcase with his other medical journals and books. Sighing wearily, Carlyle pushed himself up from his seat and trudged into the kitchen first and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and took a sip. Then, he walked back into the study he had just been in and approached the bookcase where he kept only his medical books, journals and medical reference books. Opening the door of the first bookcase, he ran his fingers over the top row of books as he sought what he was looking for; not finding it, he ran his fingers over the second row as well and then the third and final row before stopping midway of the books. He smiled as he grabbed the thick medical reference book he had been searching for and pulled it out. Walking back to his desk, he then sat his coffee cup down and began thumbing through the book when something immediately caught his attention.
Kinch was putting on his uniform jacket when LeBeau walked into the living room with two cups of coffee and handed one to Kinch who took it gratefully. The Frenchman sat down on the sofa and watched his friend check his appearance in the wall mirror before taking a sip of coffee and sitting down on the opposite end of the sofa. Both men looked up at the sound of a door opening and noticed Carter and Newkirk slowly walking in from their adjoining room. LeBeau gestured with his head towards the cart with covered plates, a coffee pot and a tea pot.
"There is some food, tea and coffee," LeBeau said. He watched Carter head straight for the cart.
"Boy, am I glad. I'm starved," Carter replied eying the eggs, crispy bacon, and sausage on a plate; he also grabbed two slices of toast from a saucer, sat down in a nearby chair, and began to dig into his food; Newkirk just poured himself a cup of tea and a cup of coffee for Carter. After sitting the coffee down on the floor at his friend's feet, Newkirk sat on the arm of the chair where Carter was seated, and took a drink of his tea. He watched Kinch shuffling through papers in his briefcase.
"What have you got planned today, mate?" he asked his friend.
"Not sure exactly," Kinch replied as he closed and locked his briefcase. "But I think one thing I'll do is after I get to the office is phone General Forbes and update him. After that, I have no idea where we could look for proof. How about you, Newkirk?"
The Englander shrugged noncommittally. "Don't rightly know, mate. Might go see General Butler again. Something's been bugging me since me last visit with him. I can't tell you what, but I'll know it when I find it out." He saw Kinch nod at him .
"How about you two?" Kinch asked LeBeau and Carter.
"I think I will hang around here, mon ami," LeBeau told Kinch. "You never know. My angel may call today."
"Blimey," Newkirk muttered. "You and your angel are makin' me bloody nauseous."
"Ha. Ha," LeBeau replied sarcastically. He looked at Carter. "What about you, Andre? Do you want to wait with me or go out?"
Carter, his mouth full of food, could only look up, puzzled; he really hadn't been paying attention to what was being said. He swallowed his mouthful and looked around at the trio. "What? I didn't hear what you were saying."
LeBeau muttered something in French under his breath while Newkirk merely rolled his eyes. All Kinch could do is chuckle.
"What? What did I do?" asked Carter looking around. "What did I miss?"
"Blimey, Andrew," Newkirk said sarcastically. "If whether the Allies winning the war depended on whether you heard something being said, we'd all be speaking bloody German."
"Huh?"
"Ignore, Newkirk," said Kinch. "You going out or staying here with LeBeau while Newkirk and I are gone?"
Carter's face brightened. "Oh. I guess I'll stay here with LeBeau so he won't get lonely waiting for his phone call.
Getting to his feet, Kinch grabbed his coat which he had brought with him after getting dressed and put it on. "I'm ready to leave, Newkirk. You coming?"
"Right with you, Kinch," Newkirk finished his tea and getting to him feet, hurriedly grabbed his coat which was draped over the arm of the sofa and put it on as Kinch grabbed his briefcase; then, the two men bid their friends goodbye and were out the door.
"What the hell!" Carlyle muttered as he stared at the contents hidden inside the book. Removing them, he put the book on his desk and unfolded the papers. Four of them were originals of toxicology reports for General Robert E. Hogan, Major Jack Bergman, Captain Roger Carver, and Lieutenant Roger Martin. Inside the folded papers was a slightly thick envelope addressed to the Pentagon from Walter Reed. "How the hell did these get in here?" he asked the open air around him. His article now forgotten, Carlyle sat down at his desk and began to read over the toxicology reports paying attention to what they had to say.
"My God," he murmured after he completed reading the report on the General. He then skimmed over the other reports expecting to find the same thing. After he had completed his reading, he reached over to the telephone on the corner of the desk, grabbed the receiver and quickly dialed the phone number he knew by heart and waited.
"Walter Reed Medical Center," a voice announced.
"Medical Examiner's Department, please."
"One moment, sir." There was a few seconds silence before a different voice came over the phone.
"Medical Examiner's office. This is Lieutenant Driscoll. How may I help you?"
"This is Dr. Carlyle, Lieutenant. I need to speak with Captain Wolper immediately. It's of the utmost importance."
"I'm sorry, doctor, but Captain Wolper isn't in at the moment, but he's expected shortly. Can I take a message?"
Not wanting to disclose any important information over the phone, nor wanting to possibly get anybody in trouble, Carlyle chose his words carefully. "Yes. Please tell him to contact me as soon as he comes in; he knows the phone number. Tell him I have something that belongs to him."
After hanging up the phone, Carlyle went back to trying to figure out how could these reports have ended up inside his reference book? Who could have put them there and why? He soon found his mind considering things it didn't want to consider. He had retired a few weeks after the crash, and had only heard rumblings about it maybe not being an accident; but, as he was leaving Walter Reed, didn't want to get involved in anything heavy now. Also, he had never even heard the name Robert Hogan or knew anything about him. But after leaving Walter Reed for the last time, he made it a point to follow the investigation closely. He trusted Wolper would do his usual thorough job; but unless something strange showed up in the toxicology reports which he didn't expect, he suspected the crash was nothing more than just a tragic accident, and the rumblings based on nothing more than speculation. But now that he had read the toxicology reports for the first time; their contents proved just the opposite. Suddenly he was aroused from his thoughts by the ringing of his telephone. He quickly grabbed the receiver.
"Dr. Carlyle."
"Brian? It's Bruce. I understand you called earlier? Sorry, but I was running a bit late. What can I do for you? You told Lt. Driscoll you had something that belonged to me?"
Carlyle took in and let out a deep breath. "I do. I was working on an article for publication and needed to use my reference book and found something inside that I believe doesn't belong inside." He went on to explain what he had found. Then, he waited for the information to sink in with Wolper.
"How the hell did they end up inside your book? The originals were in our file and the copies were in an envelope addressed to the Pentagon. I remember preparing the copies to be mailed myself. In fact, Captain Kinchloe from the Pentagon called me the other day about them. Said he was checking the files for completeness and the toxicological reports were missing."
"Look, Brian, I read these reports; all four of them. Is there something going on that you're not telling me? These reports indicate these men were incapacitated prior to the crash."
"Incapacitated? In what way?" Wolper listened and closed his eyes as the information was told to him. "My God," was all he could muster opening his eyes. "I have to phone Captain Kinchloe and make him aware the reports have been located and see what he wants to do. But to answer your earlier question, I have no idea what, if anything, is going on. Just don't let those reports out of your sight, and thank you for calling me. Goodbye."
After hanging up the phone, Wolper quickly contacted Kinch's office only to hear the voice of Sergeant Kinnelon.
"I'm sorry, Captain Wolper, but Captain Kinchloe hasn't reported in yet. But he did contact me ten minutes ago saying he was on his way. I can have him call you when he arrives if you prefer."
"Please do, Sergeant. Tell him it concerns the reports he's been asking about. He'll know what I'm talking about." Having hung up, Wolper pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He suddenly felt very weary as he wondered exactly what was going on and why the renewed interest in the fatal crash which killed a General.
(1)Decker was a character from BAD DAY in BERLIN, Season 4. He had no first name, so I gave him the name Bruno for purposes of this story.