Chapter 28
Decker had been pacing the floor of his living room nervously for what must have been at least an hour. He had tried twice contacting Schmidt, aka Wyler, at work only to be told by his supervisor that the man was out of the building and couldn't be reached, but that he would take his message and have him call back when he returned. Normally that wouldn't have bothered Decker, as he knew Schmidt to be a very thorough man, but added to the fact that he was unable to reach Williams either, gave him a bad feeling. Something was definitely wrong. Schmidt was very dependable and could be relied on which was one of the main reasons he was wanted as part of the intimate little group; and the fact that he hadn't heard from him and could not reach him, had him wondering if perhaps Desmond had talked and Schmidt had been arrested or killed. And despite the Major not knowing his name, having been to his home only once, told him that it might be only a matter of time before someone would show up looking for him; that and the man knew what he looked like. And if Schmidt had failed to silence the Major, it would be only a matter of time. Therefore, there was only one recourse left to him.
Ceasing his pacing, Decker walked briskly into his bedroom, opened his closet, picked up two suitcases, and threw them on his bed. Flinging them both open, he began pulling open his dresser drawers and started throwing things into the suitcases. It was then that the phone in his living room rang causing him to stop and look in the direction of the living room. Walking quickly back into the other room, Decker stared at the ringing phone at first hesitant to answer it, but also curious if Schmidt had finally returned and was calling him. He picked up the receiver and after hesitating a few seconds, pressed it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"This is Major Desmond."
Decker inwardly cringed at hearing the man's voice. He decided his best course of action right now was to disassociate himself from the Major.
"I'm sorry, but you must have the wrong number," he said and quickly hung up the hadn't survived all these years when he was a spy in England for the Germans by being careless, and it was that same awareness and wariness that had kept him alive to this day. Decker believed with his entire being that if Desmond was calling him, that meant Schmidt was either under arrest or dead, and could explain why he hadn't heard from him. The phone rang again, and he picked up the receiver again.
"Hello?"
"This is Major Desmond. Don't you hang up on me or you'll regret it."
Decker exhaled deeply. "You have the wrong number. I don't know who you are. And don't call here again. Goodbye." He hung up the receiver, and quickly poured himself a snifter of whiskey; swallowing it down it in one gulp and slamming the glass onto the counter. He wasn't worried. Far from it. If anything, he was angry; angry that he made the mistake of letting down his guard when it came to Desmond more so than Williams. While Williams was a loose cannon at best, Desmond was a whole different matter. While Williams had a grudge against the Englander, he also had a grudge against Hogan and had no respect for the officer. It was easy to persuade Williams with the promise of doing away with Newkirk once they had made certain they stopped General Butler's personal investigation. Desmond, on the other hand, was focused exclusively on Captain Kinchloe more so than Hogan. The phone rang again. Decker stared at the ringing phone.
Desmond's motive for getting involved was so clear now. The money he received was a definite incentive; but his main objective was seeing a means of getting rid of the good Captain and Hogan and the others were simply collateral damage and nothing more. He had no invested interest in getting back at Hogan as the others did. He now realized he should have cut the man loose after he had gotten Schmidt his job as a janitor. But he didn't, and now he had possibly endangered all of them. The phone continued to ring.
He grabbed the receiver. "Hello?" he asked a bit harshly.
"This is Major Desmond again. Just so you know, your man Wyler has been arrested. So, if you want me to go away, you will pay me one hundred thousand dollars to keep me quiet."
"Look, I don't know who you are or what your game is. But I don't appreciate somebody calling me and demanding money. So, if you continue calling me, I will have no recourse but to contact the authorities and have you arrested for extortion whoever you are. So I suggest you don't call me again. Now, goodbye." He slammed the receiver down for emphasis. However, it didn't surprise him when a few minutes later the phone rang again.
Ignoring the constant ringing of the phone this time, Decker walked back into his bedroom and opening a drawer in his nightstand, removed a box. Opening it, he studied the German lugar inside. After checking it to make certain it was fully loaded, and finding it was, he then tucked it into his inside jacket pocket. He believed Desmond might have come in useful in other ways, so he had kept him on the payroll. He now realized that had been a mistake on his part. A mistake he planned on rectifying as soon as possible and permanently. But first things first; he had to disappear before they came for him. It was then he noticed the incessant ringing of the phone had ceased and did not resume.
Decker really didn't really care much about what happened to Schmidt anymore than he cared about what happened to Desmond. They both had served their purposes and he and Kurtz had gotten what they both wanted. Self-preservation was the main objective here. Of course, he could leave the United States and return to Germany where those who still believed in Hitler's way of doing things, would honor him and the others as heroes for bringing about the long-awaited death of the man known as Papa Bear who himself had brought so much death and destruction upon their country, and had escaped the punishment he so richly deserved back then.
Decker smiled. He was a firm believer in that old adage of 'good things happen to those who wait.' And they had certainly waited a long time to get their pound of flesh; but get it they did. And it took three attempts before they got it.
"It could have been done a year earlier," Decker told himself as he paused in his packing to study his reflection in the mirror of his dresser. "Too bad Schmidt couldn't hang around to make sure Hogan died after he shot out his rear tire, but he wasn't close enough to reach him from where he was positioned to take the shot." He rubbedhis forehead and could feel the pulsating veins in his forehead. "But our next best chance was when Williams forced Hogan's car off the road and down the embankment. If only he had gone done there and finished him off. Damn the man for thinking only of himself then. All he had to do was put a bullet in the bastard's head and we all could have breathed easier." He shook his head wearily. "I should have sent Schmidt instead. It was only two men who stopped to offer assistance. He would have killed both good Samaritans, and then finished off Hogan. The others would have been collateral damage is all. But no, Williams didn't want to be caught so he ran before the job was finished. It was a mistake to include him, but he hated Hogan as much as I did."
Decker could only assume that Williams had probably fled after possibly shooting either the Englander or Butler in Butler's house seeing as he'd been informed by Darwin that there was blood on the floor of the General's house; fled or was dead himself, and now Butler was being protected by Hogan's men. He exhaled deeply. Williams may have gotten away, but he'd be damned if Desmond would escape. He went back to throwing clothes in his suitcases. First he would leave his current hideout and then make his plans.
Desmond, after hanging up the phone following his latest attempt to phone his unnamed benefactor, exhaled and looked up at his captors.
"He won't answer his phone," the Major replied nervously as he watched the faces of the security guards surrounding him. He could see the looks of anger and disgust on them. "What do I do now?"
One of the guards looked at a Captain who was his superior, the name tag showing the name D. Scarborough on it. "Take Major Desmond back to the holding area," he ordered. "I'll contact General Forbes and let him know what happened. I'll see what he wants us to do now."
"Yes, sir," the young guard replied saluting his superior before he grabbed the prisoner's arm and with the three other armed guards, led the Major out of the room.
Forbes was going over the file he had taken from Desmond's office when his phone rang interrupting his thought process.
"Damn," he muttered half to himself hating the interruption. With a sigh, he picked up the receiver and pressed it to his ear. "Forbes." The General listened carefully to what he was told by the Captain in security. "I see. No, trying again would be a waste of time. Captain, has Major Desmond given you any information as to where we can find this man, Decker? Good. I want you to send two units to his place immediately and contact me the minute you have him in custody. And Captain, I want this man taken alive if at all possible. Excellent. Goodbye." After hanging up the phone, Forbes thought about the two men who had been arrested in the luncheonette and then about the man arrested in the hanger.
Of all the ones now in custody, and the two still on the run, Decker was the only one he was somewhat familiar with, and that was only because during the war, Morrison, with the aid of Hogan and his men, had recaptured Decker when it had been discovered the man was really a Nazi spy, and had infiltrated London headquarters and gathered enough information to destroy not only the underground, but Hogan's operation but fled before he could reveal anything or be arrested. But the others he didn't know at all. In fact, all he knew about Kurtz, Schmidt and Darwin was that they were all German nationals and Schmidt had already demanded he be returned to Germany. Forbes rubbed his chin; they needed some sort of leverage. He suddenly smiled as he picked up the phone.
"Captain Simmons?" he asked when the temporary assistant answered the phone. "Connect me with German Ambassador Ziegler immediately." As he waited to be connected, he inwardly hoped what he was about to do would give them the leverage they needed to use on those in custody with the exception of Desmond, but also on Decker and Kurtz when they were finally caught. Because if it didn't, Forbes wasn't certain they would be able to hold them nor make them talk. Suddenly, he heard the voice on the other end of the phone. "Good afternoon, Ambassador Ziegler. This is General Forbes, Pentagon. We have a situation here that I need to discuss with you and is of the utmost importance to both our countries."
Schmidt sat alone in a holding cell completely relaxed as if he didn't have a problem or care in the world. He wasn't worried despite how grim his current situation appeared. He chuckled as he thought about the expression on Desmond's face as the handcuffs were fastened around his wrists. The man was a wimp; of that Schmidt had no doubt. Also, the man would sell his soul if it would save his life. While he, Schmidt, was not afraid to die for what he believed in. And he believed in getting revenge on the scum known as Papa Bear and that he had finally been done away with. It had been a long time in coming, but Germany had long last been avenged with the death of the man who had wrought so much havoc upon her during the war. And he would tell them nothing and demand they return him to Germany where those who still believed in the old regime would look upon them as heroes for their actions.
Darwin was seated on his bunk with his back leaning against the wall, thinking and worrying. Thinking about the mess he found himself in, and worrying about whether or not his step-brother, Bruno, was still free, dead, or being sought. He knew that Bruno was smarter than he himself ever was, but the fact that he truly believed he was avenging Germany by helping in the plan to kill her greatest enemy, Colonel Robert Hogan aka Papa Bear. Darwin had to sadly admit he had never even heard of Hogan or Papa Bear until his older brother sat him down after the war and explained things to him. At first he couldn't believe how much this Hogan had been responsible for: sabotage, espionage, and the disappearance of many people; but while listening to Bruno, he was amazed that one man could accomplish so much right under the nose of the Kommandant of a POW camp.
"Hogan needs to pay for what he has done to Germany," Bruno had said. "It is not too late for justice to be served, and we have a plan by which to see he does."
When he had asked his brother who 'we' exactly were, he recalled Bruno would only say they were others who Hogan had wronged as well and felt the same way as he. And that they had tried unsuccessfully twice to kill the man and failed; but for this attempt, Oskar's expertise with aircraft was desperately needed. The younger man knew by this time he would be glad to help get justice for his beloved Germany in any way he could. But he had never, while in his exuberance over what he was being asked to do, consider he would be caught and probably face the death penalty for his part in things. He started wondering seriously if hating and aiding in the death of a man who only did what any man would do serving his country, was worth what he himself was now facing; or had he just been blinded by love for his country and a leader who was leading it to destruction himself.
Desmond was seated on his bunk with his head buried in his hands as he considered his situation and the consequences he was facing. Four counts of first degree murder and conspiracy to commit murder for starters, and also his attack on Captain Winger for added measure. After all, wasn't those the charges listed by the General Forbes as the handcuffs were being fastened? It didn't take a rocket scientist for Desmond to know he was facing the death penalty for his participation in the death of General Hogan and the others. He figured by now they had probably searched his office, and wondered if they had found his journal and bankbook? Hopefully they hadn't. But if they had, everything he had done since he joined the conspiracy was there in black and white. He was secretly wishing he had never seen or met the man with the brown hair that day in the luncheonette. But there was no way out of this mess that he could see. All he could really hope for now was to save himself from the hangman's noose.
He also knew he had very little to bargain. All he had really done was get Andrew Wyler, who he now knew was Wilhelm Schmidt, a job in the Pentagon for the express purpose of spying on Hogan, and had accepted several cash payments for his actions; and, he did remember where the man with the brown hair lived and readily gave security the address. Perhaps his cooperation would spare his life. Then again, maybe not. And if not, Desmond had to see what else he could offer so that he could live.
Forbes was smiling as he hung up the phone after his conversation with Ambassador Ziegler. He hadn't expected there to be a problem, but he was hoping to head off any possibility. And he found the Ambassador was more than eager to agree with his request after hearing the General's explanation of Hogan's murder and those of the others with him on that ill-fated flight. He found the Ambassador was deeply sorrowful over Hogan's needless death as well as those of the others, and especially regretful and outraged that German nationals were involved in such a heinous act. But he assured Forbes that he had his full cooperation in the matter should he have to call again. Forbes then thanked the man and hung up. Feeling somewhat calmer now, he then went back to the folder open in front of him while he waited to hear from security when they entered Decker's home.
The two security teams surrounded the house at the address supplied by Major Desmond. On the count of three, they broke into the house with weapons drawn and prepared to return gunfire if fired upon as they suspected their man would not go down easily although their orders were to take him alive if at all possible. But so far, they had been met with no resistance of any kind, nor had they seen anybody.
The teams split up and searched the entire house from top to bottom making sure to check for secret places where a person could hide that were not obvious to the naked eye. After nearly an hour, they reported to Captain Scarborough that there was no sign of anybody currently in the house, but that it looked like somebody had been living there and seems to have left rather quickly from the looks of the bedroom. Clothes were gone and dresser drawers were hanging open and things missing; but most of all, there was a box lying on the bed inside of which was the outline of a gun in the velvet lining.
Captain Scarborough exhaled deeply, not wanting to be the one to contact General Forbes and tell him one of the men somehow involved had gotten away and they had no idea where he had disappeared to. But he knew the task would fall on him.
"What do we do now, sir?" asked another guard, looking at the Captain.
Scarborough shook his head in dismay. "You and the others secure the premises, Sergeant, while I contact General Forbes." He took a deep breath and then let it out. "He's not going to be happy when he hears."
"Yes, sir," the guard replied with a frown. He had heard and known of officers dying before, but had never heard or seen the fuss that had been made over one man as with the death of General Robert Hogan. True he hadn't known General Hogan, had never even met the man, but apparently he was somebody of great importance to everyone. All he really knew for sure was that Captain Kinchloe always spoke so fondly of the man even to this current day. And although he didn't know everything that was going on, or the circumstances involved as they were seemingly a secret at the moment, he found himself just as disappointed as his Captain at the outcome of the search of this house. He turned and walked away to carry out his orders.
Forbes quickly picked up the receiver of his phone before the end of the first ring hoping for good news.
"Forbes," he said a bit harsher than he planned. He listened to Captain Scarborough's report and cursed under his breath. "Have you searched everywhere, Captain? I see. Very well. After you and your men secure the premises, come back here. I'll have to discuss the matter with Captain Kinchloe and see what he wants to do next. This is his investigation. And Captain, I'm sure I don't have to remind you and your men to keep quiet about this? Very good. Goodbye." He hung up the phone and exhaled deeply. They must have just missed Decker by mere minutes. But he felt confident they would find the man.
"Where are you, Decker?" Forbes asked himself in a low voice. "Where have you gone?" He figured worse case scenario was that they maybe had forty-eight more hours in which to catch Decker before he got away from them possibly for good. But he knew even if the man somehow made it back to Germany, he would not get away, would be brought back to the United States to stand trial for his crimes. Personally, he would not rest until one of the masterminds behind the planning and execution of Hogan's death was brought to justice, and would offer any assistance he could to the four men should they need it. "We'll get Decker and Kurtz, Rob," Forbes said in a low voice. "Don't worry. We'll get all of them for you. The men and I won't give up until everyone of those involved in your murder are behind bars or swinging at the end of a rope. That I promise you."
