James Benn - The First Wave

Except…" Kaz stopped and took a sip of coffee. He loved the drama of all this.

"Okay, I'm hooked," I said. " Except for what?"

"Except for the case of Sergeant Frederick Hotchkiss, of the 21st General Hospital, who supposedly deserted."

"He was the supply sergeant before Casselli," I said.

"Yes. The man who drove off in a jeep one night never to be seen again. But the jeep was, or the engine, at least. It was found in a local garage."

"Let me guess, a garage owned by Jules Bessette," I said.

"Exactly!"

"So why didn't they arrest Bessette?" Harding asked.

"He owned the garage but was seldom there. Scotland Yard had their eye on it as a link in a black market operation. Vehicles could come and go from a garage without arousing suspicion. Someone reported that Hotchkiss had been seen at the garage the day he deserted. The Provost Marshal's office and Scotland Yard searched the place and found the jeep's engine lying among other auto parts, but no sign of Hotchkiss or the rest of the jeep. The odd thing was, the manager of the garage was found floating face down in Blackpool harbor a few nights later. The investigation went nowhere."

"Which is exactly what brother Jules wanted," I said, thinking out loud.

"What do you mean?" asked Harding.

"I'd bet dollars to doughnuts that Hotchkiss was killed at the garage, and the manager was supposed to dispose of the body and the vehicle. The jeep, intact, would be too hot to try to sell or salvage. But somebody got greedy and thought they could stash the engine away until all the fuss died down."

"Ah," said Kaz, "so when Jules found out, he had the manager killed, to eliminate the link to him…"

"And to set an example. Follow orders or else, like in the army."

"If I threw you in the harbor every time you didn't obey orders, Boyle, you'd still be treading water," said Harding, setting down his coffee mug with a thump on the wooden tabletop. "Anything else?"

"Yes sir," I said, wanting to sound like an authentic officer to keep Harding from getting any ideas. "I got a look at Mathenet's wounds that he supposedly got in the air raid. It wasn't from shrapnel. They were knife wounds."

"Like we figured the assailant got when he tried to slit Casselli's throat?"

"Exactly like that. I'm certain Mathenet won't be going anywhere soon, so we can get our hands on him anytime we want. But I'd like to find out who treated him for those wounds. I don't think anyone with medical knowledge would buy the shrapnel story."

"Go ahead," Harding said, "but I wouldn't be surprised if some of the doctors and nurses here didn't know shrapnel from shinola. This is their first posting in a combat zone. Guy comes in bleeding and said something hit him during the air raid. What are they going to do, give him the third degree?"

"As long as it's okay with you, I'll ask around."

"Knock yourself out. Now, with all this new information, who. seems to be our most likely suspect?"

"Well, who would know both that North Africa was our destination and that penicillin would be sent to this hospital?" I asked.

"That would be both shipments of penicillin," Kaz added.

"Yeah. And, who had access to the morphine to give Jerome an overdose?"

"Hold on," Harding interrupted, holding up his hand. "That happened after the theft, so it could have been anybody. We don't know if the morphine that killed Jerome came from the stolen lot or the remaining supplies."

"That's right," I said, rapping my fingers on the table. "Some of that stolen stuff could have stayed right here. Which means that it could be anybody-"

"If they knew about the unit's destination and about the penicillin," said Kaz.

"Or it could mean two of our people are involved," I said. "Actually I should have said three, because it's obvious Casselli was involved to some degree. Maybe with petty stuff at first, and then he may have gotten nervous about going big-time."

"Like the former supply sergeant, Hotchkiss?" asked Harding.

"Maybe, or maybe Hotchkiss was too much of a Boy Scout for them. He may even have been going to report some funny business."

Harding pushed back his chair and got up, his mouth set in a frown of frustration.

"We could play the maybe game all day. Let's get some facts. Lieutenant Kazimierz, you work on that notebook. Boyle, you start with Walton and find out if this fish stinks from the head. I've got to get back to HQ. Ike is in town."

"What's happening, sir?"

"The deal with Darlan is about to happen, and all hell is going to break loose."

"Here? Why?"

"Not here. Even though Darlan is a double-crossing fascist, he'll do a deal that will make things easier for us. Darlan will be in charge politically and General Giraud will be in command of the French Armed Forces in North Africa. We won't have to worry about our rear areas. And the French will join us in fighting the Germans."

"But we're still making a deal with a fascist."

"Right. The politicians and the newspapers back home are going to have a field day. Once the news gets out, half the country will want Ike's head. Your uncle may make it home before any of us. In the meantime, I'll meet you two back here at 1500 hours."

Kaz's eyebrows were raised. I shrugged. I hate to admit it, but the first thing I thought about wasn't Uncle Ike losing his job. It was about what would happen to me if he did. I doubted if I'd be lucky enough to be sent home in disgrace.

"Billy, I'm so glad you're back with us, safe and sound."

I felt the hand on my shoulder before I heard Gloria Morgan's honeyed Southern voice.

I stopped in the busy hospital hallway and said, "Yes, ma'am. I am, too."

"Now Billy, remember, you don't have to be so formal here."

She hooked her arm through mine and we strolled down the hall together. I could feel the softness of her body as her arm pressed mine to her side. She smelled like real soap and perfume, not whitewash and lye.

"Sure… Gloria… It's just that Major Harding has me well- trained when it comes to addressing superior officers."

"I'll bet he does. I don't think of myself as outranking you, Billy. I'm only a nurse. You know I can't even give you an order, even though I am a captain." She stressed those last words, as if she needed to remind me, or herself.

"No, I didn't. So lady officers can only order other lady officers around?"

"That's the way the army likes it, Billy. At least among the Nurse Corps, anyway. I can't even order the dumbest, lowest private to empty a bedpan."

I stopped. I needed to go left, down the hall to Walton's office, and Gloria seemed to be propelling me along for the ride to wherever she was headed.

"Yeah, but I bet you could ask real nice and get him to do what you wanted." I said it with a smile, and she didn't miss a beat.

"I might try that out on you someday, Billy." She peered up at me through long eyelashes, and I could almost see her licking her lips. "Say hello to your lady friend for me. I checked up on her this morning, and she asked me to tell you she was feeling much better."

"You did? She seemed okay?"

"Fine, she's fine. I've got to go, Billy. We've got some new doctors arriving and I need to check on arrangements for them. See you later, sweetheart." She turned, fluttering her fingers in a wave.

"Oh, wait a second, Gloria. I wanted to ask you, do you remember after the aid raid, when you told me that Lieutenant Mathenet was being treated for a shrapnel wound?"

"Yes, I do. I ran into you when you were visiting that poor French boy who died…"

"Jerome."

"Yes, Jerome… Dupree it was. You asked me if the Lieutenant was going to be taking him into custody."

"You told me he was being treated. Who was caring for him?"