James Benn - A Mortal Terror

“The British are on our left flank,” he said, drawing an arc from the coast up to Compleone, a northward bulge showing where the British had been attacking toward Rome. In the center, the front was a wavy line from Corano to Sessano, south of Cisterna where the Rangers had been cut to pieces. “This is all Third Division, with supporting elements from the 504th Parachute Regiment.”

“Who’s holding the right flank?” I asked, pointing to where the Mussolini Canal flowed south to the sea.

“The First Special Service Force,” Harding said. “It’s a joint U.S.-Canadian volunteer outfit. A commando brigade.”

“That’s a long stretch of canal for three regiments to cover,” Big Mike said.

“German activity is sparse on that flank,” Kearns said. “They’re covering the approaches to Rome on the north. Besides, these Force men are damn aggressive. The Krauts pulled back a mile or more on the other side to avoid their patrols.”

“Is there a general in command?” Kaz asked.

“Yes, Brigadier General Robert Frederick, recently promoted. I doubt anyone could get the drop on him,” Kearns said. “Even without hundreds of his men around him, he’d be tough to take. A real fighting general.”

“Boyle, what do you suggest?” Harding said.

“Let’s have the MPs check the hospitals, in case they got caught in the bombing last night. And send out a bulletin with their names and description to every checkpoint. And to the Carabinieri as well.”

“Billy, Flint may have got himself aboard one of the ships. He could be halfway to Naples by now,” Big Mike said.

“Danny would never desert,” I said. “And if he hasn’t turned up, he’s still with Flint.”

“Sure,” Big Mike said, turning his attention to the map, not saying what we all thought. Danny could be dead anywhere, his body hidden under rubble or weighed down and tossed in the harbor.

“Okay, Boyle, I’ll get the MPs looking for two men, traveling by truck. I’ll contact Naples, and have MPs waiting there. If Flint gets off one of those ships, they’ll grab him,” Harding said. “Then we’ll organize another tour for our general.”

“I’m sure it would be possible to board a ship in all the confusion at the docks,” Cosgrove said. “But staying hidden, and getting off safely in Naples? I doubt it.”

“I agree,” Kaz said. “We need to think like this madman. What would he do?”

“And why?” I said. “What does he want?”

“To win the game,” Kaz said. “To get his general, fill the royal flush, and beat you, Billy.”

“He has Danny,” I said. “I’m counting on him keeping him alive until he finds a general to take. Which means he has to have a story, something that would convince Danny to go along with him.”

“So boarding a ship to Naples is out. But how many places are there to go within the beachhead?” Kaz said.

“I don’t think he’d head for the British sector. A couple of Yanks would stand out. Back to the Third Division front? They’d be nabbed and sent back to their unit,” I said. “It doesn’t make sense, there’s nowhere to go. What does he hope to accomplish?”

“Okay, we gotta slow down and think like detectives,” Big Mike said. That wasn’t hard for Big Mike; blue flowed in his veins. He still carried his shield from the Detroit Police Department wherever he went. “When’s the last time you saw Danny and Flint?”

“Yesterday, mid-afternoon. I brought some supplies out to them; I was supposed to be leaving since we’d found the killer. We took some artillery fire, watched the Carabinieri haul off some Italians, had some chow, and then the company CO told Flint to go down to the docks to grab replacements. The ones for his platoon had been killed in the shelling. It was probably five o’clock by the time they got there.”

“How was Flint acting? Like something tipped him off, maybe?” Big Mike said.

“No, he played it cool. He’s not a guy who rattles easily.”

“So something happened between there and the docks. Something that caused him to skip town with Danny.”

“That was about the time I came ashore,” Kaz said. “Could he have seen me?”

“What if he did? It wouldn’t mean anything to him,” Big Mike said.

“Oh no,” I said, the sequence of events becoming clear in my mind. “I think I know what it was. Stump. The guy we supposedly had in custody as the killer. Doc Cassidy was going to transfer him to Naples with the wounded. Damn! I’ll check with Cassidy, but I bet Stump got on a ship yesterday afternoon.”

“And Flint saw him, and knew the jig was up,” Big Mike said. “Then he comes up with a story that Danny will buy, and takes off to parts unknown.”

“But there are no parts unknown here,” Kaz said, pointing at the map. “The beachhead is nothing more than an open-air prison, with the Germans guarding all sides.”

“Maybe he’s planning a jailbreak,” Big Mike said. I stared at the map, trying to put myself in Flint’s shoes. “From what Cassidy said, he’s pretty committed to going through with this plan. But he also said psychopaths can be impulsive, so it makes sense that he changed course so quickly.”

“If he’s like most hoodlums, he’ll have a new set of wheels in no time,” Big Mike said.

“There was a major from the Quartermaster Corps in here earlier. His jeep was stolen yesterday, down by the docks,” I said. It fit perfectly. “Big Mike, check with the officer in charge, and find out the time it was taken. If it was around 1600 hours, it was probably Flint. Tell them to approach with caution, that we want the driver and passenger taken alive. There’s a mounted. 30-caliber machine gun on that jeep, and I don’t want any itchy trigger fingers with Danny on board.”

“Sure thing, Billy.”

“What should we do next?” Kaz asked. I gazed at the map. The right flank, lightly guarded, lightly defended. A wide gap between the Germans and the First Special Service Force. That had to be it.

“We have to tempt him,” I said, looking at Cosgrove. “We have to let him think he has a chance to pull it all off. And we have to take him before he does any of it.” Once, I might not have cared if Cosgrove got himself killed, but familiarity had bred admiration, so I wanted to be reasonably certain he didn’t end up being a victim. Most of all, I wanted Danny out of Flint’s clutches. Trouble was, Flint knew that, and would use it against me.

“Billy, the time checks out,” Big Mike said, returning to the table. “The jeep was last seen at 1530 hours. That major left it there for his corporal to pick up, but when the corporal got there, he thought the major had kept it. That’s why it wasn’t reported right away.”

“Okay. They sending it out?”

“Yep, radioing it now to all units, and sending a message to the Carabinieri like you asked. And here’s the good news. The major gave them the serial number, VI-37Q-DP-4. The Q identifies it as a Quartermaster vehicle, and the DP means from the Depot Company. It ought to be pretty easy to spot a Quartermaster’s jeep with a. 30 mounted on it.”

“Good work. Now let’s catch up with Harding and get this thing rolling.” The army believed in doing things big, so each vehicle had its serial number stenciled in white paint on the front bumper. If the MPs kept their eyes open, and Flint stayed on the roads, it was only a matter of time. Big if.

Cosgrove was not going to be very popular. Harding agreed to inform First Special Service Force HQ that a senior general was coming through on an inspection tour, to determine if the unit should be disbanded. It was precisely the kind of news that would spread like wildfire throughout the brigade. If Flint came within earshot of even a single private, odds were he’d hear about it. If I’d guessed right about his plan.