Chapter 2
"I heard …"
That was all he heard. After that it was the air raid siren screaming into the evening air. First instinct was to get the two of them down to the air raid shelter but Chief had other ideas. Garrison was shoved back and Chief headed for the escape route as people came hurrying out into the hall.
"No," was all he had a chance to say before he was gone. Garrison wanted to go with him to make sure he got away safely but he knew his absence would be noticed. Chief was unauthorized and he had to stay.
Down in the basement, the assigned rooms were crowded. In the guise of looking for a seat Garrison checked to see who was here. General Freemont, the ranking Officer, had claimed the overstuffed chair in the Command Room. He, a junior Officer, had never been in there but he was able to see in passing. By the time he had a seat he knew that Hughes was not here. He had left. Somewhere in these rooms was the mole, the G-CAT spy. If only he had been able get the information from Chief. Unless the spy had left with Hughes, he might be right here with him. He did not like that feeling.
The three men stood waiting for their Commanding Officer and team mate to return. Like when they were on a mission or pulling a heist they knew there was always something that could go wrong. Would Garrison tell them that his men were standing out in the street waiting? Would it go worse for him if he did? What would he be charged with? Would he face another Court Marshal or just a stint in the stockade and a drop in rank? What would happen to them?
The Air Raid siren barely drew their attention away from their target. For all they knew it could be a false alarm or a diversion. They had used that ruse themselves. They would wait and watch.
Knowing there would be an internal shelter the three were surprised when they saw Mr. Hughes appear at the front entrance. As they watched he moved off with the other civilians as they headed for the closest shelter. As much as Actor wanted to be close enough to overhear what the man might say, he could not risk being recognized. Instead they exchanged looks and remained where they were. To avoid a scolding by the Air Raid Warden they withdrew into the shadows but immediately stepped back out. Chief was crossing the road, heading for their positions.
The fact he was alone was not lost on the safecracker. "Where the Hell is he?" he demanded as they all converged on his central location.
"Relax, Casino," said their Second in Command. "He could not very well take Chief with him."
"Yeah, yer right. And he had to be there." He paused and glanced around. There was no one to overhear them but it was a habit they had all learned before the Army invited them to join them.
"Do you think it's safe 'ere?" asked Goniff as he stood watching the sky anxiously.
Chief looked up for a moment then shook his head. He looked unconcerned but they still kept on eye on the sky. It was not that they did not trust him because they did. They did it out of habit. Even Chief occasionally took another look.
Hoping, if they did come, that the Germans were bad shots today they turned back to the business at hand.
"So you 'eard'em meet?" asked Goniff.
"Yeah." He watched the few stragglers heading for the shelter.
"Can you identify who it was?"
"I didn't recognize'm." His gaze turned to the building he had just left.
"But you would if you heard him again?"
"I heard his voice," he replied testily.
Casino made a move to rebuke him but the hand on his arm stopped him.
"We are all worried about him." Actor's heartfelt words brought a sharp look from the Indian and Casino relaxed. It was true. They still called him the Warden and made sure that he knew that he was on the other side, but in their own hearts they knew that they were on the same side. He looked after them and they would look after him.
For all their appreciation of this commitment they were not entirely sure of the relationship between the Guardian and the Hearth. They had agreed to the ritual but none had truly believed it was more than just an affirmation of their commitment to each other. That was until Chief had told them where Garrison was on their mission to southern Italy. He could not have known he was there unless he had heard his heartbeat; the heartbeat that had been the central theme of the ritual. Just how that worked and if there was more to it than that, they did not want to think about. All they knew was that the two shared a bond.
Right now they had a job to do. Garrison had told them that they had to find the mole and this was their chance to prove his existence. They had recognized his sense of urgency but in their business this was to be expected. They also knew how protective he was of all of them especially of the Indian and not just because he had been so close to losing him recently. The Guardian had earned his place on the team, he was one of them. It was the unwritten code of the cons, and the Army, though they might not have thought about it, that you looked after your guys. G-CAT had threatened one of theirs so they would be more than happy to eliminate that threat. Casino had a personal grudge to settle with a certain Colonel Grayson. If he turned out to be the mole, even better. No matter who it was, they would deal with him.
"So, whata we do now?" asked Goniff. Seeing the look he added disappointedly, "Yeah, I know, we wait."
Finally the 'All Clear' sounded and Mr. Hughes made his way to the surface. He wanted to get to his hotel but he was going to have to wait. Even cab drivers left their cabs to take to the shelter. He stood just outside the door. Even though the all clear had sounded a part of his brain still expected something to fall from the sky. He was glad it had been a false alarm. He would probably never forget the feel of the ground shaking the last time he had hid in the shelter. The sooner he could go home where it was safe the better. He smoothed his tie as he leaned out to look down the street. There were no cars in sight.
While he waited he continued trying to figure out what had happened. The events of the last few hours had shaken him. What was going on? Who had left the message? Was it a case of mixed up delivery?
Another look. There was a car coming up the road now. Was it? No, his heart slowed. It was not a cab. He stepped back in disappointment but the car stopped in front. The back door opened and a tall, very distinguished looking man stepped out. He was grinning.
"Well, well, well. Look who it is." He strode over, arms open wide. "So good to see you."
If Mr. Hughes had not been alone he would assume the man was talking to someone else but he was alone. As much as he tried, he did not know this man. He was obviously mistaken. As he approached the stranger held out his hand. To be polite Mr. Hughes accepted the grip.
"Please go along with me. I am from the Government and I need your help catching a spy," was whispered as his hand was pumped. "How have you been," the stranger asked in his jovial voice. "Where are you off to? Let me give you a lift," and he indicated the car.
Douglas was a patriot. He was physically unfit to be a soldier but he would do his bit so he went with the stranger.
Once he was seated the car pulled away. "What's this all about?" he asked with a frown.
"Thank you for your co-operation. I am afraid all I can tell you is that we suspect that someone in Security is omitting people from the log. Obviously we cannot just ask them so what we are doing is talking to visitors and guests as they leave but without anyone knowing. You must not tell anyone who I am or anything of what we are going to talk about. Do you understand? If you do, it will be considered an act of treason. You know the penalty."
The man was so serious and he was no traitor so he nodded. "I won't tell anyone. If anyone does ask, who should I say you are?"
"What line of business are you in? Did we meet at a convention?" The seriousness had eased.
"No. I am Douglas Hughes, Senior Administrator for Guardian Control and Training."
The stranger looked pensive. "Have you ever been a Trainer or a Handler? Maybe you brought one of your dogs to do some work for us," he suggested hopefully.
"Oh, no. I work in administration."
"Neighbours, perhaps?" he asked with a smile.
"I live and work in Washington DC, Arlington," he suggested hopefully.
"Yes. That will work. We are neighbours."
"What shall I say your name is? And your occupation. If we have spoken before I would know that."
With a smile the stranger introduced himself. "We might as well stick to the truth. My name is Frank Esposito and I work for the government. If pressed, I am in Transportation."
Mr. Hughes was somewhat familiar with this part of the city so when the car did not turn at Davies Street the way the cabs always did he readjusted his mental map. Mr. Esposito must have notices because he said, "So that we cannot be overheard we will go for a drive. Then," and he smiled, "We will stop for a drink before I take you back to your hotel. Is that all right with you?"
Frank was very easy to talk to. His questions were easily answered and though he spoke nothing of himself Douglas felt at ease. Before he knew it the driver pulled over to the curb.
"Will you let me know if you catch the spy?"
"I am afraid that would not be wise. It is unlikely anyone saw us meet. We should not push our luck. Just be aware of the President's thanks for your assistance but," he paused and stared into his eyes, "Remember, not a word to anyone, no one." The last two words were emphasized.
"Yes, I understand."
"Thank you. You have been most helpful and I, and the President, appreciate your co-operation. Good bye."
Mr. Hughes felt good. His previous mood of uncertainty had been replaced by the warmth that filled his chest. He had done his part. The only question now was, was there a traitor in the building or would his testimony prove an innocent man, innocent? Either way he was pleased. He smiled at the doorman as he entered his hotel.
The four men were back together loitering on Grosvenor Street. They had information but no way to deliver it to the man who needed it. All they could do was wait for an opportunity. Well, not everybody was willing to wait.
"Hey Actor. Why don't you go on in there and con your way in." Casino was tired and grouchy.
"That is a brilliant idea," said Actor sarcastically. "What do you suggest I tell him?"
"How the hell should I know? You're the great con man. Come up with something."
"Gentlemen," interrupted the English peacemaker, "And I use that term loosely," as he looked at Casino. "I learned that one from the gentleman 'imself," added Goniff with a tip of his head toward the master gentleman of the group. He was ignored.
"Shut up Limey."
"Casino." It was the flat toneless quality that stood out from the tension in the group
In response to his name the man turned on the Indian and was about to yell, 'what'.
A quiet, "Button up," and he dipped his head.
"Why don't you button up, your lip, Indian."
"Casino," This time it was Actor demanding attention. "Your fly is unbuttoned."
"What?" A quick check and he turned away from the street and rectified the situation. Silently the men turned back to watch the street.
"He's in trouble, isn't he?" asked Chief quietly.
Actor believed he was but he did not want to alarm the others so he delayed the inevitable in hopes he could come up with something positive to help. "I do not think we can say that, yet. As long as he is in there then he is still safe."
"Unless they have an underground exit," offered Casino. There's places in New York where they have underground parking that comes out on the other side of the block. Maybe they took him out the other way."
Actor frowned and silent cursed Casino. Only he could find a way to add to their worry. Now the other two would be picturing themselves standing here for days while Garrison was gone off to Africa.
When the 'All Clear' had sounded, Garrison had followed the others up out of the basement. He wanted out to see if his men were all right and to hear what Chief had heard. Even if all he heard was the voice. Somehow they would find out …
As he passed the first office it hit him. Each office was assigned to an Officer. All he had to do was see who used that room. That was the man Hughes had come to see. Chief identifying the voice was the ultimate proof especially if he heard them say something incriminating but if he could not get to his Guardian he could still identify him from the office. If he asked someone he would arouse suspicions. Instead all he had to do was go in and look.
His plan was thwarted when he was escorted with several others to the lobby and through a newly excavated door to the next building. A cafeteria had been set up and was now serving supper. Their billets were on the next floor up. He would have to wait until everyone was asleep to see if he would be able to slip out and back next door.
"That looks like a place down there," suggested Casino. "Maybe we can get something to warm us up too." When they had left their base it had been cool and knowing the weather they had brought jackets but with the drizzle adding to the dropping temperatures they were getting chilled. The men headed down the street where they would either take turns watching the street or, hopefully, get a seat where they could watch from inside. This would only last until closing time and then they would be on their own again. Being London, there were no abandoned buildings or empty shed to hole up in. Tonight they were going to spend a cold miserable waiting, hoping they were not wasting their time. When they began to doubt they had simply to turn to Chief and see how he was completely fixed on the building. No, he could not hear his heart but he knew he was there.
Back inside the building the Lieutenant waited and listened. Finally silence, if you did not count the snores. Garrison headed for the Lobby, back the way he had come but two guards were sitting there. He would have to find another way.
Finally he was able to slip out. His route in and out of the headquarters building was risky involving scaling a wall using defects in the stone for hand and toe holds. Practicing rock climbing during his training was paying off. It was dangerous; a missed step would result in a deadly fall. Doing this in the dark was even worse. He had been worried about Chief climbing it up and down in his weakened state. Now he was concerned about climbing it in the dark. Leaving it until tomorrow might be too late. If he was not escorted back to the building or if he was sent directly to the airfield in preparation to his shipping out then he would lose his chance of clearing his team. He had to do it tonight.
Briefly he considered trying to locate his men but in the dark it would be almost impossible. He would have to rely on them seeing him from where ever they were hidden. Even then if Chief did not hear anyone or if he did but no names were said then he would still be in the dark. This way he had a chance.
The blackout ensured he was not seen but having to do everything by feel and memory caused him to take twice as long to get where he wanted to be. Once inside he found the door he wanted, picked the lock and entered, relocking it behind him. It was an office identical to the Major's. There was no name on the desk but when he opened the top drawer he saw the engraved plate that said Major Peter Kenworth. He had never heard of Major Kenworth but then he did not know everybody. A quick look through his files revealed little.
A sound in the hall and he froze. Not having access to a flashlight he had had to turn on the ceiling light. The door was locked but the light would be seen around the door and it was too late to turn it off now. If that was one of the guards, would he come in to turn it off? Behind the door was a bank of filing cabinets but there was a man sized gap between the last cabinet and the door. As quietly as he could he moved to a position wedging himself in the corner between the cabinet and the wall. A quick look at the desk, all looked as it had when he came in. He waited.
Seconds felt like minutes until he heard the door knob turn, the mechanism catching on the lock. He took slow deep breaths in hopes of slowing his heart. As long as the guard did not open the door all the way or look behind it he might be all right.
The guard was conscientious. He unlocked the door, opened it part way and called out in the hope of signaling the occupant. Receiving no answer he hit the switch, turning off the lights. Still he waited while Garrison remained immobile. As the door slowly began to close Garrison's eyes were glued to the edge, fully expecting the guard's face to appear. He did not breathe out until the door closed all the way and it was relocked. Still he waited. There was no sound from the hall. Not for the first time he wished he could hear like Chief. Was he still outside or had he left. He waited. Deciding to take the risk he slowly raised his arm to check his watch. At times like this it was hard to judge elapsed time. Still he waited. Finally he was rewarded by a sound. The guard was finally leaving.
Another full minute and Garrison moved. He had seen nothing incriminating. There were no files under Haydon or Villa San Giovanni. Nothing else he had tried brought up anything that might help. A quick look around showed no other doors. This was it, the room where Chief had indicated that Hughes had gone in to meet with someone. Was he mistaken? Was this the right room? It was outside this door that he was standing when he stopped. Was it one of the rooms on either side? Maybe he should check. Did he have time?
That brought a sharp mental rebuke. He was about to be shipped off to North Africa and his team, men he had come to respect, were to be returned to prison and he was worried if he had time?
He had to do it now; there would be no 'later' to do anything except regret. As slowly as he could he unlocked the door and slipped out. As he left the room he pictured the hall. Where exactly had Chief stood? Which way was he facing? It was human nature to face the sound you were trying to hear.
Returning to the end of the hall he retraced his steps counting off the doors. Yes this was where he had stood and he was facing the room he had just exited. He had to be sure. Moving to the next door he squatted down and picked that lock. Using a match this time he checked the room. How likely was the guard to return this soon? He had to take the chance. He flipped on the light. The name plate on the desk identified the owner of the files he was rifling. Nothing of help there. Shutting off the light, he locked up and tried the office on the other side. Again there was nothing helpful.
He had just shut off the light when he heard the sound again. The guard had returned. Even with nothing to alert him Garrison took up his position against the wall and waited. He would remain until he heard the guard leave.
The night was almost gone by the time Garrison made his way back to the room he had been assigned to. His roommate mumbled something about hoping he had enjoyed himself but did not get up.
Garrison now had a name but no proof. He knew Major Johns would not investigate. He wanted Garrison's men out and if he had to take Garrison too, any excuse was good enough. He had to have proof. This was going to be particularly tricky. He needed to get to Chief, get him close enough to hear Kenworth's voice and then… If he told the Major what they had done, the con, and what Hughes had done, would that be enough? That might depend on what was said. What had been said? He wished he knew.
After a few hours of sleep he was awakened and escorted to breakfast. There were a total of six men who had stayed over and they were escorted to the cafeteria except the serving trays were empty. They sat in the chairs and waited.
"You got a girl in town?" asked the dark haired Officer who sat beside him.
"Pardon?" asked Garrison.
"I heard you come in last… early this morning," he said with a leer.
"Something I ate," he said tiredly. "Even if I had a girl, I certainly wouldn't have taken her with me there." The exhaustion was not faked. With his nocturnal activities and the post wondering how he was going to accomplish this, he had not slept well.
The rest of the men laughed, partly at his misfortune and partly at the man who had asked. It certainly wasn't the answer any had expected.
"You feeling all right now?" asked the man across the table.
"Yeah, thanks."
They heard footsteps but instead of trays of food being brought it was a Captain who explained that the breakfast had been cancelled. The chef had taken ill. He was interrupted by a loud groan but continued. "You will be escorted to a restaurant down the street."
"You and the chef eat together?" asked one of the men, grinning at Garrison. Someone laughed.
Outside the building Garrison surreptitiously checked the street. Where were his men? Had they found somewhere to stay? He knew it was cold last night. There was no sign of anyone. Were they that hidden? Had they … Was there a museum or gallery near here? No, they wouldn't take off… They had learned their lesson…?
Inside the restaurant the men filed to a table near the back that would accommodate them all. It was obvious that the shop had been opened on short notice, probably at the request of the Army. The cook, himself, came to take their orders and apologize for the lack of staff. It was as they suspected. They did not normally serve breakfast. As he turned to go back to the kitchen Craig saw the four men enter the restaurant.
"Sorry, gents, we're not open yet."
"All we want is a cup of coffee. Surely you would not turn out four members of the Home Guard."
"But you are American. The Home Gua…"
"Is willing to accept our lack of breeding." The tall dark haired man sounded tired. "We volunteered to help and we were accepted. Now it has been a long cold night and what we would really like is a stiff drink to warm us up but we are willing to settle for a cup of coffee…"
"Or tea," put in a slender blond fellow with an English accent.
"Or tea, if it is not too much of a bother. We have money."
The poor cook took a moment to consider and then relented before heading back to the kitchen.
"Kind sir," started the smooth talker when the cook returned with their tea. "Seeing as you are preparing a meal for the good soldiers, might I trouble you to provide for us as well?" He sounded weary and hopeful. "We too are fighting for the same cause. Even a few slices of toast would help to tide us over."
His magic worked. Garrison who faced the kitchen saw the tray laden with more than a few slices of toast. The man was good.
The six men had little to say. As members of OSS they knew about loose lips. There were the civilians to consider as well. The four were not so constrained. The topic of their conversation was women, including the one they had helped last night to the air raid shelter. Her two little boys were as cute as buttons.
Garrison had ended up with his back to the room so was unable to see the civilians but he listened intently. Were they trying to tell him something other than how cold it had been last night and the rain they had had to endure? He couldn't be sure.
The soldiers finished up, thanked their host and headed for the door. As he passed the civilians Garrison eyed his men. They looked tired but pleased with themselves. Hot food helped to ease the chills they had endured. He was glad to see that Chief did not look as tired. They had probably convinced him to rest though knowing Chief they might have had to con him. Either way the others were looking out for him. That was good to know but it did not solve the problem.
Back at headquarter the soldiers were taken to a lounge on the third floor. There were some magazines, a card table and a shelf of books. Two of the men headed for the table and Captain Maruso picked up the cards and suggested a hand of poker. Garrison liked to play but right now he had too much on his mind.
He knew Major Johns. In any of his dealings with the Officer he was always against him. It had to be his men, the fact they were not soldiers but convicted criminals. This was his opportunity to get rid of them. He would not listen. He had to go up the chain of command.
Go for the top. He had seen General Freemont during the air raid. Was he still here? He had to take the chance. He would have to find a way to get in to see him and convince him to listen. As preoccupied as he was, he didn't notice he had taken up Chief's position looking out the window.
He was accomplishing nothing here and being a man of action he headed for the General's Office. He opened the door and stepped in to the outer office. A Corporal sat there typing a letter. He eyes scanned the page while his finger flew over the keys. There was no acknowledgement of his presence. Not wanting to antagonize him he closed the door with a minimum of noise and approached the desk. The Corporal continued to type for a moment before the eyes shifted even though the fingers remained poised over the keys.
"Can I help you Sir?"
"I need to see the General."
"I am sorry Sir, but you will need an appointment. The General is too busy today. I can put you down for Thursday…"
"I'm shipping out today and I have important information that the General needs now. It'll only take a minute."
He tried to look skeptical but Garrison saw the tinge of doubt. "The General is tied up," and he reached for a piece of paper. "If it's that important, write what you want to tell him and I'll see he gets it." The young man was trying to sound like he was being helping without giving too much hope. If it worked that was fine,
Garrison took the paper and said, "I'll need an envelope too." Maybe that was going too far, the Corporal probably opened the General's mail but he wanted to be sure the General received the information.
The envelope was handed over and Garrison took the paper, a pen from the desk and went and sat. Not taking chances he laid out what he had seen and done. Once completed he signed and folded it, put it in the envelope, sealed it and put the General's name on the outside. He handed it to the man at the desk. A curt thank you and he walked out into the hall.
As he waited he heard the typewriter clacking resume. A quick look at his watch and then there was nothing to do but wait. Finally there was silence for a moment and then the clacking resumed. A phone call that was put through to the inner office interrupted the clatter but again, it resumed. A young man and woman, both in uniform came out of another office so the Lieutenant knelt and retied his shoe. They ignored him and walked to the elevator. The typing continued as they entered the cube and descended.
Finally he heard the chair move so he silently turned the knob and opened the door a crack. He was on his way. As the Corporal picked up the envelope and the letter he had typed and headed for the inner office, Garrison slipped into the room and hurried after him. Fortunately the Corporal left the door open and he slipped into the inner office behind him.
The Corporal silently approached the desk as the General nodded into the phone. Concluding the call he looked up and saw the expected and the unexpected. What would he do when he saw him? This was the tricky part, the part Garrison had not thought through. His plan had hinged entirely on his getting in to see the man. The Corporal was intent on getting the papers signed so he missed the look on the General's face; Garrison did not. Here it comes, the true test of how he worked under pressure, how fast and convincingly he could talk. Actor would have no problem with this but Actor wasn't here. He was here and this was it.
"Unless the building is on fire, you are about to be in a whole lot of trouble, soldier." The tone was cold and hard. "You have ten seconds to explain." The Corporal whirled around, a look of surprise on his face.
Garrison had hoped to ease into his explanation but with this limit he knew he had to do what the newspapers did. Big headline. "There's a traitor in the building and I know who it is." That got the desired reaction.
"You now have fifteen seconds."
"My men and I were sent on separate missions but we ended up in the same place."
"Thirteen."
"The man I was sent in with was real pleased when my men showed up. He said he knew he would find me; that he would know I was there. He was testing to see if my Guardian could find me."
"Ten."
"When we returned a Mr. Hughes from G-CAT arrived at our base demanding to know the same and when I told him that he didn't find me, he wanted the Guardian to undergo more testing. I denied him access and he left."
"Five."
"I was called to London and minutes later he showed up at the base with orders to take the Guardian." Garrison was talking as fast as he could but still the General rose to his feet. Last ditch effort. "Sir, it was as if he knew exactly when I left. Someone told him I was off base. That information had to have come from someone here, inside the building." What else could he add? The General had picked up the phone and he was now dialing.
"The man I was sent with, a Mr. Haydon, was a civilian. Mr. Hughes was asking about him. Haydon had to have been with G-CAT. The two missions were not military, but civilian. Captain Shaffer was killed to test a G-CAT theory."
He knew he was not telling this the way he wanted to but he was desperate. He had to save his team. In doing so, he would also save his career but that was not his focus. He had to keep his men out of prison.
"Peter, it's Freemont. Something's come up. I'll call you later."
The General hung up and Garrison felt a bit of the crushing weight lift. The MP's were not on their way.
"All right, start over and this time…"
"Yes Sir." Gathering himself, he began. "My name is Lieutenant Craig Garrison." He was stopped by the General's hand as he lifted the phone once again. This time it was to ask for his file to be brought in. Seeing the nod he continued.
"I spoke to Major Johns explaining that I think we have a spy in this building." The General's expression allowed him to continue so he told him what he had told the Major about why he suspected a spy. The General sat waiting, his gaze never wavering. When the file arrived he opened it and began reading.
"How's the Guardian working out?" The tone was neutral.
"Very well, Sir." There was a moment of silence. Did he want more detail? The man continued to read so he remained quiet.
"I wasn't sold on the idea," he said as he looked up judging his reaction, "but I had my orders."
"He's saved our lives more than once."
There was a long silence as he continued to read. Finally he said, "And you suspect Mr. Hughes was tipped off by someone in OSS?"
"The timing was too good to be a coincidence. I do know he wants to take the Guardian. Major Johns said he had been signed over to the Army."
I am unaware of any attempt by G-CAT to repossess the Guardian but I will have someone look into your allegations."
"I am to be reassigned today."
"Yes."
"Sir, I know the name of the G-CAT spy?
"You do, do you?" his tone was skeptical.
"The man who was giving information to Mr. Hughes of G-CAT, his name is Major Kenworth."
"And how did you come to this erroneous conclusion?" he asked with a touch of scorn.
The truth was always the best but in this case it would only add to his discredit.
"Sir, I called Mr. Hughes' hotel and left an urgent message to contact me. I didn't leave a name. He came here and went immediately to see Major Kenworth in his office. That can't have been a coincidence."
"This could have been just a social call. This Mr. Hughes might not have even got the message. If you are going to make accusations, you better have more proof than that. Did you happen to hear their conversation?"
"No, sir but…"
"If you had then you would have known that Major Kenworth is not the leak."
That took the wind out of his sails. Was he defending him? If only he had had time to talk to Chief, to find out what he heard.
"Could I at least talk to him?" He was desperate. Somehow he had to get Chief in here again.
"No." It was a flat out refusal.
Garrison's mind was swirling with possibilities. He had to get Chief and the Major together and see if his was the voice Chief heard. How was he going to set this up?
The General must have seen the wheels turning because he added, "And before you do anything foolish," he paused for effect, "Major Kenworth is dead. He was killed in action last Thursday. That office is vacant."
The floor had just dissolved under the Lieutenant's feet. He was back to square one with no idea of where to go next. The way things were going Chief probably hadn't heard anything either. When were they going to get a break? If something didn't happen in the next few hours they were all going their separate ways.
"Sir, the mission to Italy, when this all started, who approved those missions? They were not military. They were set up to test a theory, a G-CAT theory. If you could find out who set them up." The General was back to reading his file. Did he still have a chance? Did the General believe him? If his face was any indication, the man was a hell of a poker player; even Casino couldn't have read anything there.
Garrison had an Ace up his sleeve but he knew that was a dangerous card to play. To admit he snuck a civilian into the building could be the last straw. That could put him on the same footing as the traitor. He gritted his teeth and said nothing.
The General picked up the phone and dialed. "Wait outside," was all he said.
What now, he wondered. Damn. Once in the outer office he sat down and tried to look unconcerned. Had he made any progress? The General looked to be digging into the matter. Would he find enough? Who had set them up? Why hadn't he thought of that before? Not that it mattered; he had no way of finding that out. A part of his unlawful brain pictured his men conning the records clerk or even kidnapping him. Actor would work his magic persuasion and Casino would threaten him but in the end they would find out what they needed. Because it distracted his worried legal brain he continued with the image but when he pictured the four of them following Chief as he scaled down the outer wall of the building he had to shut it down. That was just wrong. His legal side even questioned whether he should not inform security that they had a weakness in their perimeter. No, he might need it again. But if he found it then so could the enemy. Round and round he went.
The inner office door opened and the General stepped out. "Where in Italy did this alleged mission take place?"
"I met up with Mr. Haydon in Villa san Giovani."
"I can find no record of you being sent there. There is also no mention of a Mr. Haydon."
All Garrison could do was gape. Someone had tampered with the records.