Mystery: The Sam Prichard Series - Books 5-8

by David Archer

  Sam grinned. “She says she's back to normal, and sends her love to you. As for the headaches, I don't think those will ever go away completely as long as we're in this business.”

  “Probably true,” Harry said. “So, what's the headache that has you calling an old man during his lunch break?”

  Sam glanced at the time on his phone and saw that it was only half past ten. “Lunch break?” he asked. “They got you on a different schedule than the rest of us, huh? I don't get lunch for another two hours or so.”

  “Yes, but you didn't get awakened at four AM by a frantic technician who thought that a message from DC that made reference to a party this coming week was a coded message for my eyes only. He's spending the next two weeks in some intensive training in non-classified message protocols, and I'm at Red Lobster. Care to come and join me?”

  “Another time, maybe,” Sam said. “Right now, I do have a question for you. I've just taken on a case involving a man who went missing back in nineteen sixty-nine in Vietnam. He was never declared dead, just kept on the MIA rosters all this time, and now he may have turned up alive here in the city, claiming that he's been working for Uncle Sam over there ever since he was released from a VC prison camp. I'm wondering if you think there could be any truth to the story.”

  “Well, Sam,” Harry said. “I've heard of such stories before, and it's possible there could be some truth to some of them. I know that a lot of men who never were accounted for simply chose to stay there, though.”

  “Yeah, I know about some of those,” Sam said, “and the cases of people claiming to be former POWs who really weren't. The thing about this one is that the guy showed up here when his mother took sick, but he refuses to see his wife and daughter, who is my client. How can I find out if he's for real, Harry?”

  “Got a name?”

  “Kenneth Long,” Sam said. “Date of birth oh one, oh four, forty-nine; went missing on patrol in Vietnam on oh three, fifteen, sixty-nine.”

  “The Ides of March,” Harry said. “Give me half an hour and I'll get you what I can.”

  As always when Sam was talking to Harry, the line went dead without another word, and he turned back to Indie. “He's gonna do some digging, too. Herman find anything?”

  “He found the news story from when Long and his buddies disappeared,” she said with a grin. “Listen to this: March seventeenth, nineteen sixty-nine. Seven American GIs are listed as missing in action after their patrol failed to report back to its designated unit on Saturday. Military sources say the patrol was a routine measure to observe and report on North Vietnamese troop activities in the region, which was only a few miles south of the demilitarized zone. Despite an intense search of the area of the patrol, there have been no signs found of any firefights, and no sign of bodies or injuries. According to Captain John Morris, their commanding officer, it was as if the men were simply taken by the darkness, leaving no sign that they were ever there. The missing men are listed as Second Lieutenant Charles Martin, twenty-six; Staff Sergeant Michael Bull, twenty-nine; Corporal Kenneth Long, twenty; PFC William Shine, twenty; PFC Gary McCall, twenty; PVT James Murdock, nineteen; and PVT Aaron Beasley, nineteen.” She looked up at him. “I've already got Herman running each of them through every military database I can get into. If there's any information on them, even just that their remains were identified, he'll find it.”

  Sam leaned over and kissed her. “You do realize that Herman is half the reason I married you, right?”

  Indie giggled. “Yeah, but he can't do some of the things you like most about me!”

  “That's true,” Sam said, and kissed her again. “I noticed that Long was a corporal in that patrol, so he was in the chain of command. I'd love to hear what actually happened that night; strikes me as pretty odd that there would be no signs of any kind of struggle, but a seven-man patrol disappears completely. That sounds almost impossible, but apparently it happened.”

  "Just got a hit,” Indie said. “James Murdock. He was a private in that patrol, and was recovered in Operation Homecoming in nineteen seventy-three. He claimed that the patrol was captured without a shot being fired, when Lieutenant Martin was suddenly overtaken by a number of VC, and he ordered everyone to surrender. According to his account, two of the men refused and ran off into the surrounding jungle; one was PFC Gary McCall, and I bet you can't guess who the other one was.”

  “Long, no doubt,” Sam said. “Interesting; he didn't fight, but refused to surrender. Anything else?”

  Indie nodded. “Yeah, he says he saw McCall again a couple of days later, when they were taken to a holding facility on the way to a prison in Hanoi. McCall told him he'd been wounded by enemy fire as they ran off, and was captured the next morning. Long had escaped, and was planning to try a rescue, he said, but they never saw him again and assumed he was dead. Some of the others died while they were in the prison, including the lieutenant and Sergeant Bull. As far as Murdock knew, only he, McCall and Beasley survived.”

  Sam shook his head. “If Long was never captured, then I wonder where he was all that time. Of course, he might have been captured at a later date, or taken to a different prison. I wonder if Murdock might be available and willing to talk to me.”

  Indie shrugged and smiled. “Had a feeling you'd want it, so I tracked down his address and phone number. He lives in North Carolina, and he's almost sixty-six, now.” She scribbled something down on a scrap of paper and handed it to him.

  Sam looked at it for a moment, and then took out his phone, but before he could dial the number, it rang. Sam glanced at it, then mouthed, “It's Harry,” and answered it.

  “That wasn't a half hour,” he said.

  “Sue me,” Harry answered. “Here's what I've got for you, Boy. Your guy was listed MIA, even though some of the men from his patrol were later identified as POWs. He may be a spook of some kind, but if he is, it's so covered up in red tape and BS that I can't cut through it quickly. He's still listed as MIA from the Nam, and his wife is collecting his pay, never has made any effort to have him declared dead. Could be she knows something, but maybe she's just not interested in being single again. Lot of MIA wives kept getting the hubby's pay, and just shacked up with a new guy if one came along.”

  “So there's nothing you can find that indicates he's telling the truth? Indie found a reference in the news that indicates he may never have been captured at all, or at least not when the records say he was.”

  Harry laughed. “Son, I can't find anything says he was captured; just missing. For all I know, he might have been on CIA payroll when he went over there; you'd be shocked how many recruit soldiers were turned into assassins before they ever got out of training. They were sent over and into normal units with special orders that superseded any that came from their commanding officers, and their COs knew it. They were attached to a regular infantry or artillery unit, but answered to the CIA handler who would come and visit periodically. That often created some interesting problems for their commanders."

  "I can imagine that it did," Sam said. "But what would that have to do with him disappearing into the woodwork for so many years?"

  "Sam, boy," Harry said, "that's the kind of question that often got people killed back in those days. In fact, I'm not sure you should be asking any questions at all about this guy. However, since I know you, I'm sure that's not gonna slow you down. The only thing I can do in this case is offer you some advice, and you know what advice is worth, right?"

  "It's worth exactly what you pay for it," Sam said. "Go ahead, Harry, I'm listening."

  "Sam, the smartest thing you can do with this case is to run from it. As far as you can and as fast as you can. That's the best advice I can give you at this time. Now, having said that, and knowing that you're not gonna listen, I'm going to offer you the second-best advice I can. Be sure you keep a gun handy, and do not, I repeat, do not, let that man get behind you. If he's one of the assassins that we sent over there, he's not a man even I would want to face in
a dark alley.”

  "Okay, Harry," Sam said. "Can you imagine any reason one of those people would be showing up now, running around loose here in Denver?"

  "Sam, I wouldn't have the slightest idea what could bring one of them back home, if they hadn't come back on their own years ago. That's why I'm saying not to let the guy get behind you; something about this is bugging me, and I don't know enough to put a finger on it. I'm hoping you're gonna keep in close touch with me on this one, son.”

  "I've got a feeling you can count on it, Harry."

  2

  Sam hung up the phone, then sat and looked at it for a long minute. Indie stayed quiet, waiting for him to be ready to say whatever was on his mind. She knew him, and knew that he would; he always shared his thoughts with her when he was ready.

  “Harry thinks Kenneth Long may be more of a problem than we anticipated. It could very well be that he was some sort of government assassin back in the Vietnam era. I guess there were such guys who were sent over there with special orders, men who were used as special assassins, probably to eliminate enemy officers and such. Harry seems to think that Mr. Long might have been one of those."

  Indie's eyebrows went up. "So, he thinks you should be careful?"

  "Yeah," Sam said. "He basically said he wants me to keep in close touch with him, and let him know what's going on with this case. I think he's afraid something might happen to his favorite private eye."

  "Well, in that case," Indie said, "I definitely want you to do exactly what he asked of you. You're pretty important to me, too, you know."

  "Don't worry, baby," Sam said with a smile. "He's got me thinking I definitely want him on my team, on this one." He glanced down at the slip of paper in his hand. "But right now, I think I'll see what Mr. Murdoch has to say about our friend Kenneth Long."

  Sam dialed the phone number Indie had written on the piece of paper, and listened while the phone rang. A moment later it was answered by a woman's voice.

  "Hi," Sam said. "Would Mr. Murdoch happen to be around?"

  "Why, yes, he is," the woman said. "Hold on just a moment, please."

  Sam waited a moment, and then a gruff man's voice came on the line. "This is Jim Murdoch," he said. "How can I help you?"

  "Mr. Murdoch, my name is Sam Prichard, and I'm a private investigator in Denver, Colorado. I'm calling because I have a question you might be able to help me out with."

  "Well, Mr. Prichard," Murdoch said, "how can I be of service, sir?"

  "Mr. Murdoch, back in 1969, you served in Vietnam with a man named Kenneth Long. I know that you were captured and held prisoner for a while, and that Long disappeared during that same patrol. I was wondering if you ever heard anything about him again, after you were captured."

  There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the line. Sam thought he heard the door closing, and then Murdoch spoke again. "Mr. Prichard, I haven't thought about Ken Long in many years. Can I ask you what in the world has you looking into him?"

  "Well, sir, I was hired this morning by his daughter, who had always believed that he died during that patrol. However, according to his brother, Mr. Long has shown up here in Denver in the last few days. He seems to be alive and well, but he claims that he was held prisoner for some time, and was then recruited by the CIA after his release. Is there any possibility that you would have any knowledge of whether there could be any truth to the story?"

  Again, there was a hesitation. "Mr. Prichard, I have no idea what might've happened to him after he ran out on us that night. Several of us thought he would be arranging a rescue, but of course that never happened. I spent more than two years locked up in some of the worst conditions that you can ever imagine one man inflicting upon another. I watched several of my buddies die in there. The only one of us who escaped that night was Long. When I was finally released, I found out that he had never been captured, but what really bothered me was that he never even went back and told anyone what happened to us."

  "To be honest, Mr. Murdoch, that's part of what's bothering me about this case. There's no evidence Long was ever actually captured; he claims he was held prisoner for a few years and was then released and recruited by the CIA, but he never contacted his family back here in the states. That strikes me as kind of odd, but it also struck me as odd that if he wasn’t captured during the patrol, then why didn't he report back to your commanding officer and let Uncle Sam know what happened to you guys?"

  "That's exactly my point, Mr. Prichard. Why would he not have done so? Just one moment, sir," Murdoch said, and Sam could hear noises like a door opening and closing. "Forgive me, I just wanted to be sure my wife is not listening. See, she knew Ken back then, and never could understand why he would've abandoned us. I'd just as soon not have her thinking about it again. However, to answer your question, there were things about him that were strange even before that patrol. He would go out occasionally on his own, into the bush. We always thought it was strange that he might be gone two or three days, and no one said anything. If we asked questions, we were told that he was out on a special assignment and to stop asking, and he would never tell us anything. When he got back, sometimes, he would be up at the captain's hut for hours. Debriefing, we figured, from whatever special assignment he'd been out on. The only thing we ever knew for sure was that, after one of his special assignments, some top officer from the other side would no longer be a problem for us."

  "So you think he was taking out enemy officers?" Sam asked.

  "I think that it's a very distinct possibility," Murdoch said. "I also think that I'd rather not be thinking about this at all. You see, there were other strange things going on around that time. If you know about the patrol, then you know about me and the others who were captured that night. But I'll bet you never heard of Jimmy Simpson."

  "Jimmy Simpson? No, I don't know that name. Who is Jimmy Simpson?"

  "Private Jimmy Simpson was a new kid. He came in with replacements for some guys we'd lost in an earlier skirmish, and he was about as green as you could get. He was fresh out of AIT, barely even knew which end of his M-16 to hold onto, and which end to point at the enemy. He wasn't even 19 years old yet, and he thought Ken was some sort of super soldier. Jimmy wanted to be just like him. He followed him everywhere, all around our compound, and one night when no one was paying enough attention and we weren't expecting to go out on any missions of our own, he followed him right out on one of those special assignments."

  "And? There has to be more to the story than that."

  "Oh, there certainly is. As I said, Jimmy followed Ken out into the jungle that night, and when Ken came back without Jimmy, several of us got in his face about it. Jimmy was just a kid, and we weren't going to stand for him being abandoned out there in the jungle. Well, Ken was about as shocked as he could be; he had no idea the kid had followed him. When he found out, he turned around and went straight back out into that jungle without even bothering to go to his debriefing. He was gone for several hours, but sure as the dickens, he came back with Jimmy. The kid was alive, but he was terrified. So scared that for quite a while, we couldn't even get him to talk." Murdoch paused, and Sam heard a cigarette being lit. "Mr. Prichard, you do realize that this is completely off the record, right? That if I'm ever asked under oath about these things, I'll deny that I ever told you anything at all? You do understand that, right?"

  "If that's what it takes," Sam said. "I'm only out to find out why Mr. Long disappeared on his family, not to make trouble for you or any of the other survivors. That I promise."

  "Good enough, then," Murdoch said. "Well, it took us a couple of days, but we finally got Jimmy to open up to us. He said he followed Ken a few times, just to see just what the special assignments were all about, because he hoped someday to earn the right to some of those assignments himself. Apparently, he was a lot better at following silently than most of us, because he managed to follow Ken for several clicks without being spotted. When he saw Ken hunker down and watch some VC tro
ops ahead of him, Jimmy dug in to watch Ken. As he was telling us about this, he suddenly started crying, and I mean alligator tears just flowing down his face. This kid was terrified, because of what he saw just moments later. He said Ken suddenly leapt forward right into the middle of about two-dozen VC, and began swinging a machete in his right hand while firing an M-16 from his left, until not one of those gooks was left alive. Now, that would've confirmed his opinion of Ken being some kind of special super soldier, but for what happened next. He said Ken took that machete and began slicing an ear off of each body, and stuffing those ears into a bag that he pulled out of a pocket. Well, that was weird enough, but then Jimmy swore he saw Ken drag a VC captain's body into the middle of the clearing, cut that captain's heart out and eat it." Sam heard Murdoch take a deep drag on his cigarette. "And we asked Jimmy why he was crying, and he said it was because when Ken came and found him, he had warned him not to say anything about what he'd seen, if he didn't want to die. Of course, we told Jimmy that Ken was just jungle crazy, that it got to some guys that way and they became pretty strange. We told him nothing would happen to him, and not to worry because none of us would say he told us anything."

  Murdoch took another long drag, but didn't say anything more. Sam asked, "Mr. Murdoch? What happened to Jimmy Simpson?"

  "Mr. Prichard, I have no idea. You see, sir, when we got up the next morning, Jimmy's hut was empty. There was blood all over the place, but Jimmy was never seen again. The captain told us that a VC Sapper had apparently gotten through the compound fences that night and taken him. Let me tell you, there wasn't a single one of us who was gonna argue the point." Another long drag. "Mr. Prichard, I do believe, sir, that I have said all I care to say on the subject. And I truly would appreciate it if you would make sure my name never comes out of your mouth. At least, not if you speak to Ken Long."