Ultimate Issue (5 page)

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Authors: George Markstein

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General

Ivanov was also grateful to him for providing a contact who was now happily supplying useful information from Holy Loch about the newly arrived American nuclear submarines.

“You look happy, my friend,” remarked Ivanov.

Petrov smiled. “Life could be worse,” he said.

“Have a good day,” said Ivanov, giving an excellent imitation of the Americans, and they both laughed.

Deriabin, who had the rank of a full colonel but was listed as an economic attache, listened to Petrov’s morning report without comment. A couple of times he made a cursory note on his pad, but that was his only reaction.

“Good,” he commented finally. “Proceed as usual.”

“I have one other thing,” Petrov added. He knew this one would please his boss. “About the base at Laconbury.”

“Yes?”

Laconbury was high on the list of American installations they had special interest in. After all, it was the major aerial spy base in the UK, and they monitored it as best they could.

“A little piece of gossip, but interesting,” said Petrov. “Indicative perhaps of the state of morale at the base.”

“Get on with it, Feliks.”

“Apparently there’s going to be some sort of courtmartial because you’ll never believe an officer has been sleeping with his girl friend.”

To his surprise Deriabin suddenly became tense.

“What else do you know?” he demanded sharply.

“That is really all, Comrade Colonel, but amusing, don’t you think? Apparently it is a crime in the American

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Air Porce to make love to somebody other than your wife. “

Deriabin sat stony faced. “What is the source of your information?”

“A contact in Cambridge. He was in a pub, and an American airman was drinking too much. My contact encouraged it, and the airman let it slip. He is a clerk and heard about the courtmartial being set up.”

“Did you find out the officer’s name? Anything about him?” asked Deriabin sharply.

Petrov was puzzled. Instead of enjoying the little delicacy, Deriabin was almost reacting as if he disapproved.

‘No,” said Petrov, “but I can try and pursue the mat

“Don’t, Captain,” said Deriabin.

Petrov stared at him.

“I do not wish this followed up or any attempt made to get involved. Is that clear?”

“Yes, but ” Petrov stared at his chief, astonished.

“I am now giving you a formal order,” said Deriabin. “Do not concern yourself in this matter. Leave it alone, do you understand?”

“Naturally, if that is your instruction,” said Petrov. Greatly daring, he asked, “But may I inquire why … ?”

“There is no need for you to know,” said Deriabin roughly, and Petrov had never known him to be so severe. “It is a matter of official policy. You are to forget about this officer, about the courtmartial. You are not to record the information or file it; you will keep it to yourself. Is that clear?”

Petrov nodded.

“And do not probe any further,” added Deriabin. “If your contact or any other source wishes to dig deeper, discourage them. Order them to drop it.”

“Very good,” said Petrov. “But I must confess I am a little mystified why “

“Yours is not to question, Captain. I will tell you only one thing, and that is most secret, you understand?”

“Of course.”

“We are well aware of what is going on,” said Deriabin. “As a matter of fact, we know everything about it.”

Petrov stared at him.

The colonel hesitated a moment. Then he added, “It is very important that this courtmartial takes place. More I cannot say. But it must take place.”

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After Petrov had gone, the colonel dictated a secret memo ordering that Petrov was to be immediately transferred back to Moscow for reassignment.

As he explained to the ambassador later in the day, unfortunately the man knew too much for his health.

South Ruislip

Verago pushed open the door marked “Colonel Raymond Kincaid, Staff Judge Advocate” and dropped his carryall on the floor with a thump.

A girl was typing in the outer office. She looked up, startled at his unexpected entry. Army uniforms were a rare sight in the headquarters of the Third Air Force.

“Anything I can do for you, Captain?” asked the girl. She had short dark hair, and Verago found her almondshaped eyes disconcerting. They’re violet eyes, he thought. He couldn’t be sure, but he knew one thing; he hadn’t seen eyes like that before.

“I want to see Colonel Kincaid,” said Verago.

“He’s tied up right now,” said the girl.

“Now. I want to see him now,” insisted Verago.

“You are …?” She left the question in the air, but her eyebrows were slightly raised.

“Captain Verago.”

She nodded, as if a missing piece in the jigsaw had turned up.

“Please sit down, Captain,” she said, going to the door Opposite her desk. She knocked. Verago heard a voice, and then she went inside. She shut the door.

He looked around the office. So far he wasn’t impressed by Third Air Force.

He had finally gotten a cab at Northolt and arrived quarter of an hour later at the headquarters complex in South Ruislip. It wasn’t very imposing, more like a used car lot than a military nerve center.

He had shown the white-capped APs his army ID and asked for the SJA’s office.

“Building three,” said the AP. He was chewing gum and didn’t even call him “sir.” In the back of the guard shack, two of his buddies were playing cards.

It was a great start.

The door of the colonel’s office opened, and she came out.

“Go in, Captain,” she said. He caught a whiff of her as he came past. It was a nice scent.

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He entered the office. Colonel Kincaid was in his shirt sleeves, tiny silver eagles pinned to his collar. He’s surprisingly young for a full bird, thought Verago.

“How are you, Captain?” welcomed Kincaid, holding out his hand. He was smiling, a frank, boyish smile. “Make yourself at home.”

“I didn’t intend coming here, sir,” said Verago. “But my arrangements seem snaffled. I guess the lines got crossed?”

The colonel looked concerned. “What’s wrong, Captain?” he asked.

“I’m on Temporary Duty Assignment, sir. Just arrived. I’m Captain Tower’s counsel.”

“Oh, of course,” said the colonel, as if a great mystery had suddenly been explained.

“My transportation doesn’t appear to have materialized,” said Verago, choosing his words carefully.

“I don’t understand, Captain.”

“A staff car was due to meet me and take me straight to Laconbury. There was no car. Nobody’s heard of me. Every call I make is a dead end. So here I am. I want to know what’s going on.”

The colonel seemed amazed. “Did your office tell us you were coming?” he asked.

“They sent a TWX,” said Verago. “Twentyfour hours ago. It was acknowledged.”

“But nobody showed up?” The colonel frowned. “Have you got your orders, Captain?”

Verago handed him the envelope. He took out the papers, read them.

“Well, they’re okay,” he agreed. “I don’t get it. Excuse me.”

He got up and opened the door.

“Laurie, can you get us some coffee,” he sang out. He sat down behind his desk again.

“I’m sorry about this,” he apologised. “You must think we got a hate on the army.”

“Not at all, Colonel.” Verago was being diplomatic.

“Of course, the whole thing may be a wasted journey for you anyway.” Kincaid was almost casual.

“Sir?”

“What I’m trying to say, Captain, is that, speaking off the record, bringing you over here is sort of superfluous. Captain Tower is already represented by a perfectly com

32

potent counsel. I appointed him personally. He is a very able man.”

Verago took a deep breath. “Colonel, Captain Tower is entitled to individual counsel and to request the services of any legal officer he wants.”

The colonel’s eyes glazed over.

“You don’t have to tell me the regulations, Captain,” he said, the boyish charm evaporating a little. “I’m sure the army has a lot of work for you, and I simply thought I’d caution you that it would be an … an unnecessary trip for you.”

The girl came in, with two mugs of coffee. She put one in front of Verago, and as she bent down, she looked him straight in the eyes. It disturbed him.

“Thank you, Laurie,” said the colonel. He took a sip of his coffee, staring at Verago across the rim of his mug.

“Anyway,” he said, “what is it you want?”

“I’d appreciate you cutting some red tape, authorizing transport for me and quarters.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” said Verago. “By the way, when is the Article Thirtytwo set for?”

“The Article Thirtytwo?” repeated Colonel Kincaid.

“The pretrial hearing,” said Verago patiently. “I’d like to know if there’s a date yet.”

“It’s already taken place,” said the colonel.

Verago was staggered. “You’ve had the Article Thirtytwo investigation without a defense counsel?”

“Certainly not,” the colonel replied indignantly. “I told you, Captain Tower already has a counsel. His rights were well protected.”

Verago controlled himself. “I want the record of the proceedings.”

“Sure,” said the colonel. “Trouble is, I haven’t got a copy of the transcript here. I imagine you’ll get it at the base. “

“And I’d like to talk to the officer who carried out the Article Thirtytwo hearing.”

Colonel Kincaid sighed. “I knew you’d say that, but the problem is he’s been transferred out of England. I think he’s in Turkey. Or is it Libya? He’s out of this command.”

He looked out of the window.

“You’re certainly lucky with the weather. I hope it keeps fine for you.”

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“Colonel,” said Verago. “I’d like to get to Laconbury as quickly as possible.”

The colonel nodded. “We’ll check the motor pool. But we’re kind of short of staff cars these days.” He saw Verago’sface. “Don’t worry, Captain, we’ll get you there.”

He called out, “I aurie.”

She came in. She’s put on some fresh lipstick, Verago decided.

“Ah, Laurie,” said the colonel, “see if you can fix up Captain Verago with some transportation. He can’t wait to get to Laconbury.”

“Right away,” she said, and closed the door.

“You like the “heater, Captain?” inquired Kincaid. “London’s a great town for plays. You ought to take in a couple of shows while you’re here.”

“If I have time,” said Verago.

The colonel smiled dryly. Then a thought seemed to strike him. “You’ve got a full security clearance, of course?”

“To go to the “heater!”

Kincaid did not seem amused. “How far are you cleared? Top secret? Cosmic?”

“They trust me,” said Verago. The whole thing didn’t add up.

“I have to ask,” said the colonel. “We haven’t got your two oh one file over here, but I have to insist that you are cleared for classified information all the way.”

Verago’s unease grew. “Colonel, this is an adultery case. The guy’s charged with sleeping with the wrong woman, not trying to sell the H-bomb.”

“Laconbury is a tight base,” said the colonel. “They’re pretty security conscious.” He switched on his boyish, man-to-man smile. “I know it’s a pain, but they’re mighty careful about the people they let in there. Even the cooks are cleared right up to “

“Cosmic?” interrupted Verago sarcastically.

“Well, maybe not that far, but certainly top secret.”

“I look forward to eating their classified corned beef hash,” retorted Verago. His anger was growing.

“Better take it seriously, Captain. They do.”

“Well, you can tell them I’ve got a total clearance. Cosmic and all.”

“Excellent,” said the colonel. But he had difficulty hiding his disappointment. “I’d have hated it to be a problem.”

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Verago stood up. “Thank you for your help, Colonel,” he said, straight faced.

Colonel Kincaid also rose. “Tony,” he said, and Verago tried not to smile at the sudden cordiality. “Feel free to contact me at any time. We’re all lawyers, and we have to help each other. You run into any problem areas just come to this office. That’s what I’m here for. We’ll do all we can to make things easy.”

I bet you will, thought Verago.

“Thank you, sir,” he said again, and saluted.

Kincaid acknowledged it. The last thing he did was flash Verago an encouraging smile.

In the outer office girl was just putting down the phone.

“Oh, Captain Verago,” she said, “I’m sorry. There’s no transportation to Laconbury today.”

He wasn’t even surprised. “Why not?” he asked curtly.

“They’re clean out of staff cars. Everything’s booked.”

“I’ll hire a car,” said Verago.

“Your per diem won’t cover that,” she pointed out. “But we can get you there tomorrow. Another day won’t matter, will it?”

The violet eyes were studying him.

“You’re a good secretary, Laurie,” drawled Verago. “Colonel Kincaid is a lucky man.”

There wasn’t a flicker of resentment. “Thank you, Captain,” she said innocently.

“Just one thing.” He wondered why she intrigued him. “Where the hell do I stay tonight?”

“That’s all settled, Captain,” she said. “I’ve made a reservation for you at the Columbia Club. Downtown. You can get a bus from the base here.”

“Well, you’ve certainly taken care of things,” said Verago.

“My pleasure.”

“I hope you like it,” she said. “London can be a lot of fun at night.”

Momentarily, the almondshaped eyes regarded him challengingly. They were alert, questioning eyes.

He nodded to her, and left the offlce.

As he walked along the corridor of Building 3, he was wondering who she slept with.

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London

“There’s a Miss Howard to see you,” announced Pettifer, making no attempt to hide his disapproval.

Pettifer didn’t appreciate unexpected callers. He ruled Daventry’s professional life: organized the briefs, negotiated the fees, arranged the timetables, booked the hotels, filled in the diary, set up the appointments.

He was a precise man, pedantic to a point. He always caught the same train from Orpington in the morning and daily had the same lunch, a glass of white wine and a sausage roll, in the saloon bar of the George, across from the Law Courts.

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