82. Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda, Didn't
Chapter 3
There was silence in the backseat of the Major's car, as both men contemplated the situation and what could possibly happen next. To the British Commando officer, it was a sticky wicket with Garrison's men confined to base and the Lieutenant in the stockade. How could they clear themselves? Richards knew General Fremont was prejudiced against the special forces units made up of convicts, though he seemed a little more lenient with Lt. Johnson's group. No, Lt. Garrison and his men, being the prototype group, had been foisted on Fremont despite his strenuous objections. The only person who was not incarcerated at this time was Garrison's sister. She was in Italy and had most likely been told by now to go into hiding. And being on the Continent and not England, what could she do?
Garrison was mulling over what little he knew. He didn't even know how long this espionage business had been going on. That his men did not do it, he was certain. But who was behind it? And how would they find out? He was worried about his men. Actor would have difficulty keeping a lid on Casino's temper, and Chief wasn't much better, especially when cooped up in the Mansion. Goniff was a little more malleable, but even he could lose his temper. Terry would be of no help. Italy. Somewhere. He doubted she was with Frazini after having her cover blown on that one mission. And even if she was free to move around, what could she do? Knowing her, she would probably sneak back to England. Then they could all be in prison together . . . or hung.
They had reached the outskirts of northwest London when the driver pulled to the curb in front of a café. Garrison was not impressed with the stone front, taped windows, and wooden door, but as with the Cut Bank Café at home which looked more like a storefront than a place to eat, the food was probably good here. He wondered how the somewhat stuffy Major Richards had found this little café.
Richards waited for his door to be opened and got out. "Come along, Lieutenant. I'm sure you will find this place satisfactory."
Craig got out and followed the British officer into the building. The inside was less than refined, but looked to be comfortable, with wooden tables and chairs that had seen better days. The clientele was non-military, no suits and no uniforms. A pretty, curly-headed brunette approached the two men with a smile.
"Hello, Major," she greeted the officer. "We haven't seen you in weeks."
Richards smiled. "There is a war on you know," he replied in almost a banter. "It keeps me very busy."
"Well, I see your usual table is available so come with me," said the girl.
Garrison silently followed the Major, wondering if this was the same man he thought he knew. They were taken to a seat in the back of the dining area.
"Your usual?" asked the waitress of Richards.
"That will be fine, Gracie," he answered.
The girl looked at Garrison after he was seated. "Does the Leftenant need a menu?"
Craig smiled at the young woman. "I'll have the usual also."
With a smile, Gracie walked behind the counter to the kitchen.
"I hope you like pork pie," said Richards with humor.
"That's fine, Sir," said Garrison. Now he really wondered if this was the same man. "Is this place vetted?"
The Major chuckled. "By myself and two other officers from the base." He leaned back in his chair. "Sometimes it is better to find a place that is not crawling with military eyes." He glanced to his right. "There is a pay phone down that hall between the rest rooms."
"Thank you, Sir," said the lieutenant.
Craig rose and went down the hall as if in search of the men's room and found the pay phone. Luckily, he had quite a bit of change in his pocket. Lifting the receiver, he put coins in the slot and dialed the number to the Mansion.
Actor was sitting at Garrison's desk, door closed, to think in private. He needed to come up with a plan to clear them and at present he could think of none that did not require them to leave the house. The phone on the desk, beside him, rang and he waited until the second ring to pick it up.
"Hello," Actor said, without identifying himself.
"Actor," said the Lieutenant.
The confidence man interjected before the officer could say anything farther. "The phones are bugged. We don't bother to remove them."
"I know," said Craig. "Any problems on your end?"
"Other than being locked inside the house, threatened with being hung, or shot should we attempt to leave, our conversations being monitored, no problems." Actor continued, "Problems on your end?"
"Other than being threatened along with all of you, not having a way to clear you, and spending the duration of this in the stockade, no problems," Garrison tossed back at his second.
Actor sighed. "We figured that would be the case. How are you calling from the stockade?" he frowned.
"I haven't gotten there yet." Garrison spoke wryly. "The Major seemed to think I could use a good meal before he dropped me off at the stockade."
"Good thinking by the good major," said Actor back. "I hope you have a wonderful meal."
"We'll see," said Garrison. "I'd better go."
"Warden," Actor stopped him from hanging up. "Hans Wilder."
Craig paused. The industrial diamonds. The man who had shot him. The man whose team they had killed, but not him. Motive and probably a lot of hate.
"I'll think about that."
"As will we," agreed Actor. He could not resist. "Keep your nose clean and no sightseeing."
It got the chuckle he was after. "And the same to you, Actor."
The phone clicked in Garrison's ear as the con man hung up. Garrison's hand slowly placed the receiver back on the hook. The grin turned to a frown. He walked back to the table where Major Richards was and took his seat.
The Major eyed Garrison's countenance. "Is there a problem, Lieutenant? No, they are your men. What is the problem and how bad is it?
Craig looked at the older man. "It's not a problem, Sir. It's something Actor said. A name." His voice lowered. "He and I knew this man as Hans Wilder. You are probably more familiar with the names Frank Miller and Franz Mueller."
It took Richards a couple seconds to come up with those names. His eyebrows lifted. "Basel. The industrial diamonds."
"Yes, Sir." Garrison's head tilted and he eyed the Major. "He watched us casing the bank and getting into the vault and safe deposit box. My men killed all of his men, including his right-hand man. They were in a hurry to get me and the diamonds out of there. They had wounded Miller, but not fatally. He has the brains to pull off breaking in and taking the information from safes if he has put together another team. He could teach them how my men operate. And he has motive for getting rid of my men."
"And you," added Richards.
That conversation ended as the waitress brought out their pork pies. She returned quickly with two glasses of ale. After she had moved out of hearing range of the two men, Richards raised his glass and the two toasted before taking a sip.
"To a short incarceration, Garrison. I need you back in the field."
"I would much rather be over there, than where I'm headed," Craig agreed.
He cut into the pie and the first bite told him the Major had found an excellent little restaurant. He ate with enjoyment, knowing he would be on rations after this.
When they had finished and were back in the car, Craig looked at Major Richards. "Thank you, Sir."
"Yes, well, let's hope it doesn't turn into your last meal." Richards sucked in his cheek. "I will try to find out where this Miller/Mueller/Wilder is and what he is up to."
"I would appreciate that, Sir," said Craig sincerely.
GGG
Terry woke up to birds chirping in the tree branches. She tried to stretch, but she ached all over and could feel the stones and twigs that were under her bedroll. Reaching an arm out, she used a finger to carefully pull aside some large green laden twigs to peek out at the open area before her. It seemed empty and the birds were still chirping. She rolled onto her back and grimaced as she laid on something that stuck her in the ribs. There was something to be said for the silk sheets and comfy mattress back home at the mansion.
Rolling up into a sitting position, the young women pushed the part of the bedroll back that was covering her. Her head brushed against another branch and she ducked. The tall pine tree had many branches that cascaded down to the ground with green needles. It made a nice hidden nest but wasn't what she considered comfortable. Still cautious, she moved the branches aside and crawled out. Walking back into the woods to relieve herself, Terry started the silent move in a circle around the perimeter of the open area looking for signs that someone had been there. Reaching her starting point, she was satisfied she was still alone.
She made her way around to where she knew a cache of non-perishable food was hidden. Digging through the bag she unearthed, Terry made a face. Oh, we'll take it to Emilio. He can always use Spam. She wouldn't mind if she never saw the greasy stuff ever again. Carefully burying the stash and covering it with needles, she went back to her living cave and pulled a can opener from her kit. She cut the lid off the can of Spam and dug at the meat with the sharp point of the opener. After her greasy breakfast, Terry rolled up her bedroll with her kit inside and the empty can.
Now she ventured out again and sat on the cold, rough ground beside the rugged wooden cross at the head of Marco Mancini's grave. With affection, she patted the mounded dirt that was slowly compacting down. Bowing her head, she hugged her knees and pondered.
With the many horrors she had witnessed in the past couple years, she wasn't sure what she believed anymore. Like many, she questioned why her God allowed the atrocities to go on. She had been taught things happened for a reason, but this war made no sense to her. What good could come of this, besides new friends, half of which she would lose before it was over?
Vittorio had said more than once, it pays to try every angle. So here she was.
"Marco? I need your help, caro." She sighed. "I don't know what is going on, but I am in trouble and I have to assume your brother is too. If you can, could you keep an eye on our brothers and the other men? Maybe intercede with the One above to keep them safe?"
As expected, there was no voice speaking to her. No ghostly presence. No nothing. She sighed and her hand went back to rest atop the grave.
GGGGG
Madge made her way down the stairs and to the radio. Malinda looked up at her arrival and removed the headphones from over her ears. The cockney radio operator took her seat in front of the radio.
"Anything interesting last night?" asked Madge.
Malinda shook her blond head. "Too quiet for my taste," she replied. "Nothing more from Terry."
"I don't ruddy like this," groused the curly-haired Madge.
"Well, I'm going to bed," said Malinda. "I will see you later."
"Sleep well," said Madge, putting the headphones on.
Malinda made her way up two flights of stairs to the small apartment the two women shared on the second floor of the Blue Fox.
Madge fiddled with the dials on the radio and listened to the early morning chatter from France, Germany, Spain and Belgium. Nothing was out of the ordinary, for a war. She waited until nine o'clock to remove the headphones and pull the telephone closer. With a pad of paper and a pencil handy, she dialed the number.
GGG
Goniff answered the ringing phone.
"'Ello, Goniff," came Madge's cheery voice.
"'Ello, Madge, Love," greeted the pickpocket. "Terry isn't 'ere you know."
"I know. "Aven't seen her in weeks," Madge's Cockney accent became stronger talking with another Cockney. "Can I talk to Actor?"
'Sure," smiled Goniff. He set the phone on the table. "Actor, she wants to talk to you."
Actor set aside the copy of Stars and Stripes he was reading, rose and went to pick up the phone.
"Hello, Madge, how are you this morning?" he asked graciously.
"Fine," replied the woman. "'Ow are you?"
"We are all fine," said Actor. "What may I do for you?"
"Do you know when Terry's coming back?" asked the woman.
Actor was aware Madge knew more about Teresa's whereabouts than they did.
"Not for a long time," he replied.
"Know where she is?" asked Madge.
"No," replied Actor. "I believe she is creating mayhem with the Jerries. She knows to move around to keep from getting picked up." He took a chance with the bugged phone and two guards at the front door. "I am not even aware what part of Europe she is in. Is there a problem?"
Madge began to weave the tale. "Well an' business 'asn't been too good lately. But our supplies are getting low. We don't 'ave enough money to get to London and buy more. If Terry isn't coming back for a time, could you spot us enough until she gets back?"
"I would be delighted to," replied Actor, "but I have no way of getting it to you. You can't set foot on the property and we cannot set foot outside the Mansion."
"Oh, bloody 'ell, Actor," said the woman. "Wot did you blokes do this time to get in trouble?"
"We simply exist," said Actor dryly. "Perhaps Kit can ask her brother, Col. Gallagher, for a loan?"
"No," denied Madge. "The Colonel don't approve o' her runnin' a pub."
"Perhaps he would consider doing it for his neighbor from home, Teresa. She owns half the bar."
"Sorry, Actor. We tried that already."
"Kit knows Will," said Actor. "Maybe he could wire her some money," he suggested.
"I doubt it," replied Madge. "He don't like Terry runnin' a pub any more than Joe likes Kit doin' it."
"I'm sorry, Madge," said Actor with seeming sincerity. "I hope you can get help with your dilemma."
"Yeah, well you take good care o' yourselves."
"Thank you."
"Okay, bye," said Madge.
"Good bye, Madge."
Actor hung up the phone. If it wasn't for the accent, with a little training, the radio operator could be turned into a decent con woman.
GGG
Madge's eyebrows rose as she hung up the phone. She got up and walked to bottom of the basement stairs and screamed "Kit!"
Booted feet could be heard running overhead. The door at the top of the stairs flung open and the red-head looked. "What? What happened?"
"There's trouble out at the Mansion," said the radio operator.
Kit bounded down the stairs. "What kind of trouble."
"I don't know," said the Cockney, shaking her head. "I called Actor like we talked about. They don't know where Terry is, but she isn't comin' back for a long time. Sounds like she's goin't be on the run. The guys can't leave the Mansion, and nobody can set foot on the property." She looked at her boss. "Actor said to call Will."
"Oh brother, that's got to be bad. Where's Craig?"
Madge shook her head. "He didn't say. I weren't goin' to ask him. Phone's probably bugged."
Madge took her seat back at the radio and Kit sat on the chair beside her. The red head turned her head to look at the woman.
"You know how to get through to the War Department in the States?" Kit asked dubiously.
Madge nodded. "Terry told me how."
"Well, then let's call Will." This was said with dread. Kit did not get along with Will Garrison any better than his kids did.
It took an hour for the call to go through. Madge handed the phone to Kit and sat back to watch.
Kit took a deep breath. "Will, there's some kind of trouble going on over here . . . I don't know what kind of trouble."
"Oh, bloody 'ell, Kit! Give me the blinkin' phone." Madge snatched it way from the red-head. "'Ello, General Garrison? My name's Madge. Do you know what your daughter does when she isn't with her brother and his men or Lt. Johnson and his men?"
"Do you mean do I know about Jaguar? Yes. And I know who you are. What's going on over there?" asked Garrison sternly.
"Terry has disappeared over on the Continent. Don't know where the Lieutenant is. The men are locked up in the house. Nobody can come in, and they can't come out of the ruddy building."
"How do you know this," asked Will.
"I called and talked to Actor. We have a kind of strange code we speak when there's trouble," replied Madge.
"And you don't know what exactly is going on?"
"No, Sir. Actor suggested we call you. It was part of a con. He were askin' for 'elp, I think."
If Actor was asking for help then it was something bad, realized Garrison. "Okay, I will see what I can find out." Will paused. "Where are you calling from?"
"The Blue Fox. Would you be wantin' the number?" offered Madge.
"No, I have it already. Thank you for calling. If you hear any more, call me."
"Yes, Sir."
GGG
Features carefully unconcerned, Actor walked back to his chair.
"What was that all about?" asked Casino.
Actor gave him a steady look with a frown. "It would seem the Fox is low on funds and in need supplies. As you heard, I told her I have no idea where Teresa is or how long she will be gone. I made some suggestions where she might ask for a loan."
"Col. Gallagher ain't gonna put any money into that bar," pointed out Chief from his window seat.
Goniff grinned. "No, but askin' General Garrison might. He spoils Terry bloody rotten."
The men all smiled. They knew the General did not spoil Terry in the least.
Actor sat back down in his chair and snapped the Stars and Stripes back open. Surreptitiously. He scanned the room. Casino and Goniff were playing solitaire with bored expressions. Chief was just starting to make tiny antsy movements. He would bear watching soon. There were two guards at the front door. The Italian knew there was one at the top of the stairs and one in the common room. One was in the kitchen and one in the garden. It had looked like there were two down at the road, and one along each side of the house. It was amazing treason warranted so many guards for so few men. Granted he did not consider the four of them just normal, average men. Not with all of their abilities. At least they had their bedrooms and their soft beds and these excellent chairs. It gave Actor pause to wonder what the Warden was doing now.
GGGGG
The Warden was sitting on his cot, forearms resting on his knees, and staring at a tan stucco wall. If he stretched, he might be able to stand in the middle of the floor and touch his fingertips to the walls on both sides. There was just room enough for the cot and the toilet at the foot of cot. At least they had gifted him with a toilet seat. The only good thing about solitary confinement was he didn't have to share the toilet with anyone else. He hoped his men were enjoying the accommodations at the Mansion.
Frank Miller. Was it even possible it was him with another team? How would they find out? If the men did manage a house arrest breakout, they would be hunted down and shot on sight. Terry was somewhere in Italy. What could she do anyway? She hadn't been with them on that mission and did not know Miller or probably even where to look.
That left everything in the hands of Major Richards. He had the background on Miller, with pictures, that had been obtained after that mission. Garrison was afraid, as much as he liked Lt. Johnson, that Randy and his men just did not have the ability to go up against the German operative. He would hate to pit Randy and his men against someone like Miller. Where did that leave them. Nowhere.