by Eddy Shah
'After shooting up half of New Orleans. I think he knows more than the rest of you put together.'
'As I said before, he believed it was Trimmler's killer he was after,' cut in the Director.
'You mean, we believe. From your report, he didn't say anything.'
'Not yet. We've contacted London. They'll be giving him orders to report directly to us.’
‘Watch those Brits. They play games.’
'This whole thing's so damn mixed up, he could even be part of the conspiracy. How do we know he didn't take out Trimmler? After all, he was the first one to find the body,’ said the President.
'Unlikely.' The Director was sweating.
'All right,' said the President. 'Charley's right. We could be following too narrow a band. Open it up. Look for things that aren't there. Put more resources on it. Find out what's happening. I do not want a political bomb exploding in my trousers.' He laughed at his own joke; the rest followed.
The CIA men were ushered out into the corridor.
'Get it done,' said the Director to his Exec. 'Find out what's going on or your backside's on the line.'
'You heard him,' the Exec Director told the DDA when they were on their own in the Exec's car. 'If I go, so do you. Find out why the Englishman went berserk in that cemetery. I don't care how, just find out.'
'What about diplomatic fallout?'
'What about it? Kill the bastard for all I care, but find out.'
Ch. 49
Frankfurter Daily Newspaper offices
Frankfurt
Germany.
'That's one helluva war record.' The Editor threw the notes he had been given to read on his desk. His vast bulk spread as he leant back in his swivel chair and he fastened his most penetrating look on the news editor. 'That is, if it's true. We've been set up before.'
'That's never stopped us following something through,' replied his news editor, quite unabashed by his chief's attention.
'I knew Grob Mitzer well. I was a guest at his home here and also to his country estate. This was a great German. This filth ...' he indicated the sheaf of papers in front of him '.....isn't true.'
'Then we prove his innocence.'
'It doesn't need proving. Not to those who knew him.'
'If we don't take it, then some other paper will. We can't tell them not to print.'
'Nobody's trying to stifle anything,' barked the Editor, realising he was stepping beyond the bounds of impartiality. 'Shit, I just want to save the reputation of one of the great men of modern Germany.'
The news editor picked up the notes. 'These need to be answered. Even if they're lies, they need to be answered.'
'All right. All right. Look, I don't expect us to hide the truth. But, take it easy. I believe...these are lies. I don't want the usual newspaper trick about threats and innuendos producing the truth. This time let's presume the accused to be innocent, and let's make damn sure he's guilty before we print anything.'
'Okay. But there is a lot of information here. True or not. A Nazi membership card...the mass murder of imported workers at Nordhausen and Peenemünde...personally responsible for the transport which carried the workers to these rocket plants, transport so basic that hundreds died before they even got there. A specific accusation that he shot workers, too feeble to be of any further use, to save food rations for others. And that he used the knowledge of the Nazi rocket effort to build and further his own interests at the end of the war, information that should have been shared with other people, both in government and in industry. This is the sort of stuff the Israelis put out. If any of this is true, we're talking major war crimes.'
'They can't prosecute a dead man. But they could destroy his reputation. I mean, why didn't it come out when he was alive?'
'God knows. To hang onto this stuff for all these years. It's unreal.'
'If it's true. If it's true....' The Editor shook his head. 'Do you remember that British paper, the Sunday Times, when they published the Hitler Diaries? Shit, that was the biggest con of all.'
'We're also getting feedback on a National Socialist group.'
'Nazis?'
'This could be something bigger.’
‘What’s bigger than Nazis?’
‘It's just a guess, but it could have something to do with the synagogue murders…and the Neu Isenburg hotel bombing.'
'The National Socialists are more involved in trying to build a credible party, rather than blowing people up. I can't see it.'
'Times change. So do people. So do ideas,' the news editor persisted. ‘New attitudes, new political parties. Subjugate a people for over forty years and you've got a ready springboard for fascism.'
'I agree we're in a mess and that's how Hitler came to power. By putting the economy right and uniting the country. And whatever people say, a party that could do that for east and west, with the right leader, has got to be taken seriously. Hitler's downfall was his paranoia about the Jews and his greed for new territories. A new leader wouldn't concern himself with that. The Jews are no problem; I mean, we don't have any in Germany any more. If there is such a movement, then let's find out about it. But let's not condemn it out of hand, it could be what the country wants.' The Editor was beginning to sound like his proprietor. 'Right now I want to find out who sent us these files on Grob Mitzer.'
'And if they're true?'
The Editor sighed, then nodded, his triple chin bouncing down his neck. 'Go ahead. If they're true...'
Ch. 50
Hilton Hotel
New Orleans
Louisiana.
Adam stayed in the hotel because he'd nowhere else to go.
There was little point in booking an air ticket home. He'd already spoken by phone to Captain Coy, his briefing officer in London, and received little joy from him. 'Stay put until I come back to you,' was all Coy had said after listening to Adam's lengthy story and growing more appalled by the minute.
Billie had rung through on the house phone and asked him if he wanted to have lunch. They met downstairs in the lobby restaurant.
'I hear you had a run-in with Carter,' she said, when the waiter had taken their order.
'News travels fast in New Orleans.'
'Tucker told me. He's concerned.'
'Not about me?'
'No. His own position.'
'Ever the desk clerk...'
'Don't be too harsh,' she admonished him. 'It's all he's been trained for.'
'What else did he tell you?'
'That they don't trust you. That you're hiding something.'
'Sharp, aren't they?'
'Why not tell them what you told me?'
Adam shrugged and drank from the glass of iced water on the table.
'Why not?' she asked again.
'Not my nature.'
'What's that mean?'
'That I never disclose anything until I have to. I want to know why you didn't report back what I told you to them.'
'You trusted me enough to tell me. Why break it?'
'Thanks. What about you? Did you get in touch with home?'
'Sort of. I think he’s finally gone.’
‘Done a runner, eh?’
‘Is that how you English put it?’
'Sorry I asked,' he relented. I didn’t mean to make fun.’
'Don't be. I envy you.'
'Can't see why.'
'Because you just do your own thing. For your own reasons. Me, I always try and keep everyone happy. And in the end, it's always stupid old Billie who get's kicked in the teeth.'
'Stop feeling sorry for yourself.'
'I'm not.'
'Yes, you are.'
'Maybe just a little. Anyway, that's a woman's prerogative. I don't want to talk about it anymore. They're all shits, every man I've ever known. Says something about me, I guess. My definitive statement.'
'Unlucky. It happens.'
'You ever been in love, Adam?'
'No. Never had the inclination.'
Billi
e gazed at him. 'They won't let you go back to England yet.'
'I know.'
'Who else was involved?'
'No idea. I don't even know why they killed him. I know who did it, but not why.'
'Are you sure it was Fruit Juice?'
'Oh, yes. And I believe he had no other motive apart from killing for money and fulfilling his contract. It's easy, that. Getting someone killed for a price. I really believe there are no answers here. Apart from one.'
'Which is?'
'Goodenache. I think he knows...'
'But he's gone.'
'What do you mean?'
'This morning. Caught a plane out of here.'
'Damn.' Adam slapped his fist on the table. 'Where's he gone?'
'Germany. According to Tucker.'
'That fits. Damn and blast.'
'Why, Adam?'
'Because he's the key, he's got the answers. Not Fruit Juice, or any of that lot.'
'How do you know?'
'I just do. Instinct, whatever. I was sent here to protect Trimmler. I failed. Even if it was only window dressing to keep us Brits happy. And going after Fruit Juice, well, that was just anger at being made to look bad. I didn't go out to kill him, but to find out what happened. His death just happened. But now I'm getting sucked in to something I know nothing about. I need to know why Trimmler was important and what's really behind all this.'
The waiter arrived with their brunch and they waited while he served them.
'So. What's going on?' he asked when they were alone again.
'It mustn't get back. I mean....'
'Come on, Billie. These things don't have to be said. Not between friends.'
She sighed, then picked up a french fry with her fingers, blew on it to cool it and chewed it slowly. Then she told him everything. Told him about the computer and its virus, about the death of the agents and the attempt on Trimmler's life in Cannes, about the contact with the Russians, although she had no idea why.
'Confused?' she asked when she had finished.
'Totally.'
'Where now?'
'We'll see.'
'I'd rather you didn't tell your people.'
'Nothing to do with them. I was just told to stay here and protect Trimmler. That's all I report on.'
Coy's call that afternoon ordered Adam to prepare a full report for the Americans. 'And stay there until they tell you to come home,' Coy added. 'By the way, our side is disappointed with the course of action you took. You were there to support, not to instigate.'
Adam knew he was on his own; as usual, the faceless desk people were leaving him to sort out his own mess and absolving themselves of any responsibility.
In frustration he headed up to the clothes shops on Canal Street. He left a message for Billie at reception telling her where he had gone.
The shops were not as impressive as he had hoped. He wandered aimlessly, thinking, not aware of the merchandise he inspected at every stop.
Frankie and Billie, cruising Canal Street for Adam, saw him come out of QuarterMan, one of the many boutiques near the strip.
'They want you back,' said Billie, shouting out of the Cadillac.
'Who's they?'
'Carter. He's pretty mad. Says London told you to report to him. He's really blown a fuse.'
'Never, not Carter. You know, this is a terrible place to shop. No choice. I expected better.'
'Doesn't anything get to you?'
'Not if it doesn't matter.'
Adam slid in beside her.
'I didn't get a chance to tell ya,' said Frankie, pulling away from the kerb, 'but they buttonholed me about Fruit Juice and Old Number One.'
'So I found out.'
'I just said you went in there...'
'Fully armed.'
'I didn't say I saw you do anything.'
'You didn't, anyway.'
'They'da found out anyhow. Even in them circles, the police've got their informers.'
'Wasn't he at the voodoo ceremony?' interrupted Billie, leaning forward and pointing at three men who were walking northwards up Canal Street.
In the middle of the three, laughing as he led the conversation, was Goat Face.
'Stop. Pull in!' shouted Adam.
Frankie pulled the Cadillac over to the kerb, cutting across the inner line of traffic and causing a vociferous outburst of indignation from the other vehicles. Adam was out of his door, on the street side of the car, before it had stopped. As she saw the Browning in his hand, Billie knew he was heading into trouble again.
'Shit!' She heard Frankie curse, then saw him swing the driver's door open and clamber, with his crutch, to get out of the Cadillac. Out of the back window she watched Adam cross the pavement, gliding more than running, and catching up with the three men. Frantically, she opened her own door, her heart pounding. She could hardly breathe as she pulled herself onto the pavement and heard Frankie straighten up behind her, the crutch now supporting him under his right shoulder. She caught a glimpse of the Reising M50 in his right hand.
'Hey. Goat Face!' Adam called from behind the three of them.
Billie saw them spin round in surprise. The outer two stepped back in alarm, but Goat Face stayed his ground. He threw his head back and laughed.
'Fuck you, jerk,' he shouted.
She felt Frankie brush past her as he manoeuvred to support Adam, not wanting to be blocked off from the three men.
'You've certainly got a way with words,' said Adam. 'So much so, that I'd like you to come and meet some people with me. Some people who'd like to hear what you've got to say.'
'I ain't going anywhere. You hear me, jerk?'
Billie saw Goat Face laugh again, then signal the other two to move away, to spread outwards and split the space that Adam had to contend with. Around them, passers-by had seen what was taking place and were now scattering along the pavement, clearing out of the way as they saw the guns being brandished.
'You gonna have to take us all out,' Goat Face spat at Adam. 'Otherwise one of us gonna take you, shitface.'
Adam moved sideways, the gun aiming at Goat Face as he did, cutting off the angle as the outer two separated.
'Keep back,' Frankie said to Billie, his gun now also pointed at Goat Face.
'This what you call support?' Goat Face laughed. 'Fucking cripples?' He reached into his side pocket and pulled out a handgun, a .45 Sin City Saturday Night Special.
'You're going to be a dead man,' stated Adam.
As he spoke, he heard the shout from up the hill and turned to see a policeman running towards them, fumbling with his holster gun, trying to draw. The man farthest from him turned and plunged through the doorway of a shop, hell bent on escaping out the back.
Momentarily distracted by the sudden movement, Frankie swung his gun off Goat Face, and it was at that instant that Goat Face brought his gun up and shot Frankie in the leg.
Adam pushed aside the man nearest him and crossed to Goat Face, swinging his Browning down across his head. 'Don't shoot!' he screamed. 'I've got him.' Before Goat Face, now confused by being attacked on both sides, could fire at Adam, the Englishman had smacked him across the forehead and dropped him to the pavement.
As he lay there, his gun sent sprawling by the force of the impact, as Adam turned to stop the other man escaping, as the policeman ran on down Canal Street waving his gun, as the shoppers screamed and took cover, Billie saw Frankie, still standing there as though nothing had happened, calmly raise his gun and shoot Goat Face in the head.
The blood spattered the pavement and Billie turned away in horror.
The policeman started shooting at them, panicking as he ran. Adam turned and pushed her down.
Frankie stood there, still on his crutch, then threw down the gun as the policeman approached.
'Hold it!' shouted Frankie, waving his arm at the policeman. 'We're government men. Hold your fire.'
The policeman stopped firing and approached cautiously.
' CIA,' re-affir
med Frankie as he got closer. 'Get some help. For fuck's sake, get some help.'
The policeman, his gun still held in front of him, used his other hand to summon help on his radio.
Adam helped Billie to her feet, his gun still in his hand.
'Fucking shit shot me in my bad leg,' she heard Frankie say, heard his unbelieving laughter as he stood there on his crutch. 'He shot me in my dud leg. How about that. Can't feel a fucking thing. In my bad fucking leg. No respect for a cripple.'
Adam let go of her arm and turned on Frankie. 'I told you not to shoot,' he said. 'We wanted him alive.'
'Didn't hear you. Thought the bastard was going to...'
'Half the street heard me.'
'Put that gun down. Now!' the policeman ordered Adam, pointing the barrel straight at him. Adam nodded, and lowered the Browning to the pavement. 'Now stand back and clasp your hands round the back of your neck.'
As Adam complied he heard the sirens approaching.
Things had got out of hand. He sighed.
Shit, Marcus. It's getting tougher by the minute.
Carter had ordered Adam straight to his room as soon as he returned from Canal Street. 'I'll talk to you when I've got this fucking mess sorted out!' he snapped, red faced and furious. 'You must've been crazy, getting out of that car in broad daylight and starting a shoot up. A fucking meathead.'
Adam didn't react. He wasn't going to get into a shouting match with junior management and explain that he hadn't started anything, had only meant to bring in Goat Face for questioning.
As soon as Adam was on his own he started to pack. He'd already decided on his plan of action. Trouble was brewing and he needed to distance himself from this place. He remembered Coy's words. 'You're on your own,' he'd said.
'Where're you going?' asked Billie, when he let her in.
'Not for you to know.'
'Why?'
'What you don't know, you can't tell.'
'I'm not a kid.'
'No.'
'I know what Carter's got planned for you.'
'That's blackmail.'
'That's trust.'
'So tell me.'
'And what if you don't keep your end of the bargain?'
'That's trust.'