Chapter 25
Major Desmond warily walked into the Vintage luncheonette and looked around hoping to see Kinch already waiting, but no such luck. In fact, not only was there was no sign of Kinch anywhere, but the place was unusually full of customers. He studied the faces of the people in the luncheonette, and immediately recognized perhaps three or four of the customers as people who he had seen in the building and he waved at them when they noticed him and waved at him and returned chatting with their luncheon companions.
He then spotted an empty stool at the counter between two large men eating their lunch,
and an empty table in a corner which had a good view of the door; he chose the table and
sat down to wait. Looking around, Desmond found the cashier was unfamiliar to him as was two of the three waitresses. One of the waitresses he recognized, a redhead, approached his table carrying a menu.
"Like to see a menu, Major?" she asked with a smile.
Desmond shook his head. "Just a cup of coffee right now, Susan. I'm waiting for somebody."
Susan started to turn away when Desmond's voice stopped her. She turned back.
"Where's Harvey's wife, Millicent?" he asked gesturing to the stranger working the cash register. "And I don't see Annie or Rachel either."
"Millicent's got a bad case of the flu," Susan explained. "So has Annie and Rachel. I'm the only one who isn't sick yet. Even Harvey is a bit under the weather and couldn't make it in today. We were grateful just to get Ruby and Harriet to fill in. I'll be right back with your coffee, Major." Desmond didn't respond. He simply nodded as Susan walked away and continued to watch the door.
Glancing at his watch, Desmond noticed it was going on eleven-forty-five a.m. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't even react when he heard the sound of a cup and saucer placed in front of him. Suddenly he heard the little tinkle of a tiny bell above the door indicating somebody had walked in. Expecting it was Captain Kinchloe, Desmond opened his eyes and looked up only to see Andrew Wyler walking in. He paled instantly as the man scared him and had since their very first meeting, although he had no
idea exactly why that was. He noticed Wyler glancing around before his eyes finally fell on him. He smiled faintly at the Major, but other than that, gave no indication he even knew or noticed the man. Wyler then sat down at the counter and ordered a cup of coffee.
After the waitress behind the counter had poured Wyler a cup of hot coffee, he picked up the saucer, and leaving his seat at the counter, walked casually to the table where Desmond was seated and sat down across from him, his eyes focused on the man.
"Hello, Major," he said quietly. "I understand you are waiting for somebody. A Captain Kinchloe I believe."
Desmond nervously looked at the man across from him. "Why are you here?" he asked shakily. "Did he send you?" Desmond suspected the man with the light brown hair had sent Wyler even though the Major didn't know his name.
Wyler took a sip of his coffee. "What are you going to tell the good Captain?" he asked.
"Nothing," Desmond replied knowing he was lying. "I'm not going to say anything about any conspiracy against Hogan. I swear I won't."
"What conspiracy are you talking about, Major Desmond? Everybody knows the General's plane was struck by lightning and crashed. What makes you say there was a….what did you call it….a conspiracy?"
It was then that Desmond realized something was seriously wrong and that Wyler had been following him. He recalled the last words the man with the brown hair had spoke to him in his office that day about how easy it would be to get rid of him, and guessed he had either become a liability suddenly, or somehow the man had found out about Captain Winger and looked at it as him having his own agenda instead of doing as he was told and well paid for. But Desmond was determined not to go down without a fight or alone.
"You know damn well there was! I was asked to get you into the Pentagon as a member of the maintenance crew so you could spy on the General for your friend who wanted to play a joke on him."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Wyler said calmly. Then, he leaned forward and continued in a low voice causing Desmond to lean forward as well to be able to hear what was said. He leaned back with eyes ablaze and face a deep crimson.
"Don't you threaten me. I said I won't talk and I meant it." Desmond looked at his watch again and noticed it was now twelve-fifteen. Where the hell was Captain Kinchloe? "I never thought I'd actually want to see that nigger show up. Of all the times for him to be fucking late," he told himself.
Wyler smiled deviously. "I'm afraid that's not good enough, Major. You see, he is very concerned that you will sell him out to save your own neck, and he just can't allow that to happen. So, here is what is going to happen. You are going to very slowly get up and leave this place with me. And I suggest you do it quietly and look normal doing it." He noticed Desmond anxiously looking around for somebody, anybody, he could get help from. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Major," Wyler said anticipating what the older man was considering. He noticed out of the corner of his eye one of the waitresses at the table behind his talking to the couple at the table, and made sure his actions were casual as he reached into his jacket pocket. His hands gripped the butt end of the weapon inside. "Now, let's go, Major."
Slowly, Wyler started rising from his seat when he suddenly felt the cold hardness of a gun pressed against the base of his skull and the sound of a safety being released.
"I suggest you remove your hand from your pocket and do it slowly," the waitress standing behind him said coldly.
Wyler thought for a few moments about maybe trying to shoot it out with the woman, or possibly trying to overpower her, but his eyes quickly noticed several other 'customers' now having drawn weapons and they were aimed at him. He also noticed that Desmond seemed as honestly surprised as he was by all the drawn weapons. He felt the muzzle of the woman's weapon press harder against his head. He released his grip on his weapon, and after removing his hand from his pocket, calmly raised both hands where they could be seen. Additional armed 'customers' soon joined them. Wyler was jerked to his feet, his weapon confiscated from his pocket, and after he was thoroughly searched, his arms were roughly yanked behind him with handcuffs clamped tightly on his wrists.
Just then, a back door to the luncheonette which served as a back room and/or storage room opened, and out stepped Kinch and General Forbes, both men looking grimly at Wyler and at Desmond as he was helped to his feet with someone's hand holding his arm before both arms were yanked behind his back and another pair of handcuffs were put on him. After he was cuffed, both men were turned so that they faced the Captain and the General.
"You set me up, you nigger!" Desmond hissed angrily glaring at Kinch who maintained his composure despite the insult hurled at him.
"Correction, Major," Kinch said. "I merely used the listening device our friend here planted in my office knowing once it was overheard that you were suspected of complicity in the murder of General Hogan and others, and knowing you'd sell out your own mother to save your neck, whoever hired you would probably not trust you to keep your mouth shut and send Mr. Wyler here, or should I say Wilhelm Schmidt, to shut you up before you could talk." Kinch looked at Schmidt. "How am I doing for starters, Schmidt?"
"You have nothing on me," Schmidt said coldly, looking at Kinch with disdain. "And I will tell you nothing!"
"That's where you're wrong," Kinch explained pointing to a small flower pot in the corner of the table with three artificial daisies in it which were on all the tables in fact. "The General and I heard every word you both said over the listening device inside the vase. We have it all on tape." He looked at Wyler. "And even though you didn't reveal anything specific, I'm sure it's just a matter of time before we can connect you to everything."
Wyler didn't reply; instead, he reached back into the deep recesses of his mouth and spat into Kinch's face causing the Captain to step back in shock. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and retrieved a handkerchief.
Forbes quickly placed himself in front of his senior aide as he wiped the spittle from his face. "Get both these bastards out of my sight!" Forbes ordered angrily.
"What's the charge, General?" asked one man.
"Conspiracy to commit murder, four counts, and murder, four counts. And for Major Desmond here, add the assault on Captain Winger."
Schmidt struggled as he was being led away. He smirked at both Kinch and Forbes maniacally. "You can't keep me here!" he hissed. "I am a German national! I demand I be returned to my homeland!"
"Get them out of here!" Forbes insisted.
As the two men were finally led away with Schmidt mouthing a stream of German obscenities, Forbes turned to Kinch. "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.
"I'll live," Kinch replied sticking the handkerchief back in his pocket.
"Looks like your plan worked, Captain," Forbes said returning his smile with one of his own. "What now?"
Kinch sighed. "I know from Stalag 13 that Schmidt won't talk. But Desmond is the weak link in all this. I suggest we use him to lure Decker out into the open. Also, what did security find when they checked the maintenance logs for the crew who worked on General Hogan's plane that day? Anything at all?"
"You were right there also. There was an Oskar Darwin on the crew that checked out Hogan's plane. I believe the MPs should pick him up immediately."
"I agree," Kinch replied. "We're not going to be able to keep Williams' death and the arrest of Schmidt and Desmond a secret for very long. And if word leaks out somehow, the others are going to run and we may not catch them at all. We'd best take each one down when the opportunity presents itself. And there's something else to be considered."
"What's that?"
Kinch sighed wearily. "Schmidt works in employee maintenance under the name Andrew Wyler. Decker may just try to reach him regarding Desmond. If he finds out Schmidt's been arrested he's gonna run and we may never find him ever. His boss needs to be contacted and told that if anybody calls and asks for Wyler, that person is to be told he is out of the office and cannot come to the phone. It may buy us at least twenty-four more hours."
Forbes nodded in agreement. He started towards the phone in the luncheonette. "I'll make the calls now. Hopefully they can arrest Darwin without incident. After that, I'll contact maintenance and instruct them what to do just in case." He picked up the receiver and dialed while Kinch talked with several members of security who took part in the take-down of Major Desmond and Wilhelm Schmidt.
LeBeau and Carter, having returned to their hotel, each poured themselves a snifter of whiskey first before sitting down on the sofa with the manila envelope on the table in front of them. Taking a sip of the amber liquid and letting it burn as it slid down his throat, LeBeau then picked up the envelope, and with a look at his friend, nervously opened it and removed the folder.
"There may be things in this file that upset us, mon ami," the Frenchman reminded the American. "We must be prepared for whatever we see inside."
"I know," Carter replied apprehensively. "But what could we possibly see in this file that can be worse than knowing exactly how Colonel Hogan died?" He saw LeBeau purse his lips and slowly nod in agreement. The Frenchman then slowly opened the folder.
The first few items they noticed were merely copies of the reports they had received in the coffee shop which got their investigation started. There were also newspaper clippings of the crash and some articles about the late General Hogan and the other passengers on the ill-fated flight; all of which they had already seen when they did their research at the library. Finally, they came across an article on the death of a Sergeant Michael Bremer, 27, in a jeep accident. According to the article, the cause of the accident was due to drunk driving. The Sergeant, according to one of his close friends with whom he had been drinking that night, said to the best of his recollection, Bremer had only had maybe two beers but wasn't really paying attention, and that Bremer had told him he had an appointment and had to leave, but seemed okay enough to drive when he left. Several hours later the Sergeant was dead, his jeep having collided head-on into a barricade. It was never discovered with who the Sergeant had a meeting with.
"Holy Cow," Carter said after reading the clipping. "I wonder why General Butler had an article on this Sergeant Bremer?"
"Here's why," the Frenchman replied holding up the first of several handwritten pages by General Butler. "It seems this Sergeant Bremer had contacted the General and wanted to speak with him about the Colonel. All he had told the General over the phone was that he
had overheard a conversation between two men, one of whom he recognized as being with the maintenance crew who worked in the hanger on the planes, and they were talking about Colonel Hogan and the crash. But he didn't want to say what he overheard over the phone, and wanted to meet instead. But he died in the jeep accident the same night they were suppose to meet before he could." He looked at Carter. "I'm willing to bet this Sergeant Bremer overheard something about the plot against the Colonel."
"You think so?"
"Oui. It's the only thing that makes sense." LeBeau's eyes widened when he looked at the next page. "Look at this, Andre."
"What is it?"
"The General wrote down that the Colonel came to him a few hours before the plane crash and told him he had been receiving phone calls at work threatening him for at least a month, and then more recently the calls started coming to him at home. He says the Colonel told him the caller would tell him to remember Stalag 13 and then hang up," LeBeau explained.
"Y'know, something bugs me about that," Carter said, looking puzzled. "What I mean is, I can't see Colonel Hogan ignoring being threatened for a whole month and not doing anything about it. Not telling anybody sure because he didn't want people to worry about him. But he wouldn't just ignore it altogether."
"Je consens, mon ami," LeBeau replied grimly. "But from these notes, it seems the Colonel at first thought it was some sort of gag being played on him, so probably they were just hang-up calls at first." He saw Carter nod his understanding then.
LeBeau sighed as they went through more handwritten notes. "It seems General Butler
didn't start his own covert investigation until after the Air Force had closed their own inquiry stating that the official cause of the crash was the plane being struck by lightning. It was during his own inquiry that the General began receiving phone calls threatening him as well. Looks like that was when he retired and apparently confiscated the Colonel's file before he left."
"What's this?" asked Carter picking up what appeared to be a handwritten note. LeBeau looked at it with him.
"It is addressed to the four of us," LeBeau said as his eyes landed on the greeting. "Mon Dieu! Listen to this, Andre…." He then read the message aloud to Carter:
"To Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk….You four are my last chance to get justice for Hogan. Learning of the crash which took Hogan's life broke me in the realization my dear friend was gone along with three other fine men. I refused to believe it was only a simple crash as the Air Force claimed, only because Rob had told me of the threats he had been receiving.
It is this reason that I could not let things go, but to continue with my own investigation, I had to retire and get out. I took the liberty of confiscating Rob's file from the Pentagon and make a copy which I have hidden behind the false back of my wall mirror; the original is in my wall safe. I know I am being watched and have been since I retired. I will feed the information in this file to you a bit at a time, so that you four can continue the investigation for me as I doubt I will be alive to reveal the truth which is that Hogan was murdered. Murdered by people who crossed his path while he was in Stalag 13. For I am dying from a recurrence of cancer, and have only six months to live.
I also believe whoever these people are they had help from somebody in the Pentagon but I don't know who. Ifthis copy has fallen into your hands it means the original has been stolen or destroyed and that I am probably dead. But if this copy has been found as well, then the guilty will get away with murder. But should you four have this file, guard it and it's contents, and find out who killed Hogan and the others. Best wishes, General Butler.'"
LeBeau felt the stinging of unshed tears as he put down the letter and looked at Carter; the younger man was wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Poor General Butler," the younger man said sadly. "I can't even imagine how he must've felt trying to prove the Colonel was killed all alone while being threatened the entire time."
"Neither can I," the little Frenchman said. "He was a brave man, and I am just as proud to call him my friend as I am you, Kinch and Newkirk."
"What's this?" asked Carter picking up another set of handwritten pages from the folder. The two men studied them together.
"Look at this!" LeBeau exclaimed with widened eyes. "This says the Colonel was involved in an accident driving to the Pentagon a year before the plane crash." The Frenchman went on to explain how Hogan had been driving to work when he slowed down to make a turn when his passenger-side rear tire suddenly blew out. Hogan fought to maintain control of his vehicle and nearly crashed into a tree, but managed to stop the vehicle before he had an accident as there were other vehicles on the road at the time."
Carter was confused. "I don't get it. What's so unusual about a blown tire?"
LeBeau continued studying the documents. "He explains that when the Colonel got out of the car to change the tire, he noticed it was practically blown apart. A good Samaritan who had been driving a few feet behind the Colonel saw the tire blow and stopped to help him change the tire." He turned the page. "Mon Dieu!" he repeated.
"What?"
"Listen to this. According to what he wrote here, the Colonel, after changing the tire, then drove to a garage, and had a new tire put on his car in place of the spare. He then drove to the Pentagon. Apparently Kinch noticed the Colonel had arrived late and seemed a bit rattled, but when he asked what was wrong, the Colonel told him he had blown a tire while driving."
"I understand. I've blown a tire while driving before. It's scary."
"Oui, so have I. But the Colonel told General Butler that just prior to the tire blowing, he had heard a sound similar to a rifle shot, and then the tire blew, but he didn't want Kinch to know about it because he would worry, especially after the letter the Colonel received at home later that same day which had been slipped under his door while he was gone."
"What letter?" asked Carter.
LeBeau turned the page again to reveal a full-page copy of a car ad with the rear passenger-side tire crossed out with an X with the words 'Remember Stalag 13' printed in block letters across the ad. "According to the General, after Colonel Hogan died in the plane crash, he suspected the blown tire had been the first attempt to murder the Colonel."
"Wow!" was all Carter could say as LeBeau picked up another set of stapled handwritten papers.
"Sacre Chat. It seems a second attempt was made on the Colonel four months later. According to this, the Colonel had stopped at a diner to have dinner alone, and was en-route home driving along a familiar short-cut as it was very late, and despite the time, there were at least three or four other vehicles present. The Colonel then notice a dark blue vehicle suddenly speed up and pull up beside his ramming him on the driver's side causing the Colonel to struggle to maintain control but he couldn't and his vehicle ran off the road and down an embankment where it finally came to rest against some rocks. The Colonel was knocked unconscious. When he came to, there were two men trying to help him before the police arrived minutes later as did a tow truck. The Colonel escaped with cuts and bruises and a sprained right wrist."
"What happened then?"
"Let's see. The Colonel gave the police what information he could about the car that side-swiped him. But the two men who helped him couldn't add anything as they only saw the Colonel's car go down the embankment and stopped to help. They saw nobody when they reached the spot of the accident. The Colonel rode to the repair shop with the tow tuck driver."
"Jeez," Carter muttered. "Did they ever find the car or the driver?"
"According to Butler, neither the vehicle nor the driver were ever found. But once the Colonel arrived at the repair shop, he phoned Kinch and had him come and pick him up. When Kinch arrived, he saw the condition of both the Colonel and his car, and immediately drove Colonel Hogan to the local hospital to have his injuries treated despite the Colonel claiming he was fine. Discovering he had a mild concussion from striking his head on the steering wheel, he was kept in the hospital overnight and released the next day. Kinch picked him up and drove him home after he was released."
"Wait a minute," Carter said. "I'm confused. Why would that be important to General Butler?"
LeBeau scanned further down the page. "Here's why. According to this, the Colonel told General Butler that just before his car was rammed, and he couldn't be positive, he swore the driver purposely swerved into him."
"Did the Colonel tell this to the police?"
"Non," said the Frenchman. "As he couldn't be certain, he only told General Butler. Combined with the first accident, both the General and Colonel Hogan believed someone was out to kill the Colonel."
Carter's jaw dropped. "Did Kinch have any opinion on the second accident? I mean, he never said anything to us about it."
LeBeau continued scanning the handwritten page at the bottom. "General Butler said that Kinch was worried about the Colonel when he saw the condition of the Colonel's car, but that Hogan blew it off claiming some kid was speeding and sideswiped him before taking off down the road and not stopping."
Carter's eyes widened. "And Kinch believed it was only a hit-and-run? Boy, the Colonel was lucky both times he wasn't killed."
"Oui," said LeBeau. "But we must ask Kinch about this second accident when we see him later. Maybe he can tell us more than what General Butler has."
"Boy," Carter said with a weary sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "General Butler sure found out a lot of stuff on his own." He paused for a moment. "But at least Colonel Hogan confided in the General about his suspicions."
"Oui. I guess all this was too much for the Colonel to keep to himself. And as he didn't want Kinch to know somebody was out to kill him, he needed a confidant. He probably figured if Kinch knew, he would want to find the person who was after him and become a target as well, and the Colonel would want to protect Kinch by keeping him out of it."
"But, didn't telling General Butler make him a target?" asked Carter.
"Non. General Butler did not get involved in any investigation until after the Air Force closed their own investigation. In other words, whoever wanted to harm the Colonel had no idea General Butler was looking into anything until then, so, he was safe until much later when he conducted his own investigation."
"Boy," Carter mumbled with a shake of his head. "Say what you want about these people, but you have to admit they're good."
LeBeau shook his head disapprovingly. "Perhaps. But we will find them no matter how long it takes or where we have to search." He exhaled deeply. "They must be made to answer for the Colonel."