Fatal Incident

by Jim Proebstle

  He left the house without another word, seriously questioning whether or not Martha had lost her senses.

  CHAPTER 25

  The last few days had taken all of Robert’s energy. It was late when he finally drifted off Saturday night, and it was all he could do to crawl out of bed Sunday morning. Since he had no assignment for the day, he just sat on the edge of his cot, head in hands, struggling with the reality of how to approach his new challenge. Finally, he picked up the note and stared at it as if it would magically explain itself.

  ROBERT,

  TAKE THIS NOTE TO VLADIMIR AND MENTION, FIRST LIGHTNING.

  A FRIEND

  He had made a bargain with Vladimir that he felt honor-bound to keep, but his inner voice told him to check with Captain Morgan first. A clear resolution was not apparent to Robert. He played it over in his mind as he got dressed. Not coming to a conclusion, he decided to grab a late breakfast before the kitchen closed at 0930. Red was exiting the mess hall as Robert arrived.

  “Good morning, sunshine.”

  “Good morning,” Robert mumbled. “Did you see the captain this morning?”

  “I did, but you won’t, pard. It seems the captain drew a lucky straw and is on his way to Minneapolis-St. Paul as we speak.” Red motioned to a C-47A on the runway being readied for takeoff. “If you ask me, he earned an early furlough with all the fuss and babysittin’ he did. Anything I can do?”

  “It’ll wait. Nothing important anyway,” Robert said. “I better move along if I expect to get any breakfast at all.”

  The men parted.

  Robert found a quiet corner, as usual, and dug into his scrambled eggs, pancakes, and sausage. He was starting to recover from so little sleep over the last few days. He continued thinking about the note, wondering what “First Lightning” could mean and which one of the party put it into his pack. Just then the mess hall door opened and Vladimir walked in and looked around the room. Robert decided to hold out a bit before telling Vladimir about the note until he had a sense of where this little development would take him. Vladimir approached without getting any chow, as if he had been looking for Robert.

  “Good morning.”

  Robert ignored the acknowledgement and didn’t invite his friend to take a seat.

  “Is it okay if I sit down?” Vladimir persisted.

  “I suppose, but I can’t stay long.”

  “It’s not good time to talk about your trip?”

  Robert was uncharacteristically quiet, focusing more on his plate of food than the question. The turn of his upper body away from Vladimir was enough to let Vladimir know that he didn’t want to talk.

  “We need to talk sometime today … maybe at lunch?”

  Robert realized that Vladimir wasn’t going to go away, so he said, “Now is probably as good as any time. It’s just that I was hoping to get the captain’s advice. And now, he is gone on Christmas furlough.”

  “We have come to trust each other, Robert. Am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let us use that trust to say what we know. My superiors are very anxious to learn of your experiences. Why don’t you give me, how do you say, the gist of what occurred.” Vladimir lit a cigarette, exhaled, and leaned back in his chair as if to say he had all the time in the world.

  Robert sketched out the weekend, highlighting his search of the tents and the fact that the men were off on their own virtually the entire time and that he had learned very little.

  “What is it that you’re not telling me?” Vladimir was experienced at interpreting nervous behavior in operatives, especially the new ones. “Something happened.”

  “Nothing I’m ready to talk about, yet.”

  Vladimir leaned forward, making eye contact. With a stern face he said, “This is important, Robert. I don’t have time to fuck around. Does it have something to do with you and one of the other men?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know about you and Cricket. Are you involved with another man also?”

  Robert was caught completely off guard. “That’s none of your business! And what does it have to do with us?”

  “Nothing, my friend … except that I never bring a comrade into my world without knowing everything possible about him.”

  Robert was clearly alarmed at what Vladimir knew about him.

  “Relax, comrade. I am not here to judge you, although I trust that you would like to keep your personal life a secret. No?”

  Robert nodded.

  “Share with me what you have not said, and let’s talk no more of Cricket.”

  “Do I have your promise?” Robert knew that by asking the question he was also making a bargain.

  “Yes, you do.”

  Robert reached in his coat pocket as Vladimir lit another cigarette. He produced the note without preamble and said, “It was in my daypack when I returned last night. I thought that the captain would give me good advice.”

  “You were fortunate that the captain was on his plane to Minnesota. Having this note in your possession would have gotten you some time in the stockade. The captain would have had no choice but to expose the note and you. Do you have any idea as to who put it into you pack?”

  “Not really. I am assuming it was one of the men from New Mexico, but it could have been the captain or Red Johnson or any of the crew at the camp for that matter. What does it mean?”

  “I’m not sure. All I know is that a very important communication channel has been opened.”

  “Could it be a trap?”

  “I don’t think so. My superiors told me about the code name ‘First Lightning.’ Only a very small group of people know of it. Don’t do anything right now. That includes communicating with your captain! We must be in agreement on this. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” Robert’s voice held a sense of resignation.

  “You performed well on your first assignment, Robert. Trust me and we will work well together. Now, I must report back to my superiors for instructions. I will know something by the end of the week. Let me have the note.” His extended hand elicited the involuntary return of the note by Robert.

  Robert was surprised with the relief he felt in releasing it, but not without the private acknowledgement that his life had just changed.

  That afternoon, Vladimir drafted his cipher to Agent Sirak and placed it into the locked ammo container. There would be no more flights for another week after tomorrow and it was his rationale that the faster this note left the country, the better.

  Now it was time to wait.

  CHAPTER 26

  The only good that came from Martha’s unsightly bruises from the broken nose was that her supervisor immediately recognized that her injuries didn’t make her appearance very customer-friendly. He gave her the holidays off as paid sick leave. She was just as happy, as the added discomfort of the regularly occurring morning sickness was taking its toll.

  Later Wednesday afternoon Nick brought up the letter. He tried to bury it, but he couldn’t let Martha continue believing in its contents without more information.

  “Oh, Nick. I knew you wanted to be home on Thanksgiving, but I wished you would have said something. I just hate those postcards. They never say what I hope you really feel.”

  “Sometimes I just have to bury all of those thoughts about us. The poker games are nothing but a diversion to keep me from going nuts. Regardless, your letter helped me see it from your side as well. I’m glad you didn’t send it, and I will try to do better,” Nick said, putting both arms around Martha. He held her there for a long while, exhausted and feeling that the family Christmas was just not meant to be.

  Martha snuggled in response to Nick’s embrace, feeling that the events over the last few days were now past them. She stood up, took Nick’s hand, and led him to the bedroom.

  Once in bed Nick felt the tension dissolve, all the while rubbing Martha’s back. He knew she loved to have her back scratched and it helped her concede to his affections. Nick’s d
esire for lovemaking was understandable, as they had not been together in months. Nonetheless, he sensed her discomfort in feeling like a “Goodyear blimp,” as she had said earlier in the day. It’s hard for Martha not to feel inadequate, Nick thought, so he took extra care not to rush into things. They talked and touched and kissed for some time before actually making love. Afterwards they shared their excitement with Bud and Helen arriving at the end of the week—the holiday could begin.

  On Thursday, Martha suggested to Nick that he go over to the Northwest Airlines flight operations center to catch up with a few of his buddies that might still be there. Why didn’t he stay home to fly commercial, like these men? she asked herself as he walked out the door. After all, the country always needs pilots at home, too. Looking back, she wasn’t quite sure how he got caught up in the emotion of flying for the army. On top of everything, getting pregnant happened a lot faster than either had expected. “Can’t cry over spilt milk now,” she said to herself while doing the lunch dishes and ruminating over the lack of control she had over her life.

  Nick returned home about three o’clock. He walked up the front stoop and across the porch to the front door only to find Martha crying and holding a crumpled letter from Bud and Helen in her hand when he walked in. “What’s the matter?” Nick said, surprised with her emotional setback.

  “They’re not coming. Nothing’s right.” Tears and sobs choked her words.

  “Who’s not coming?”

  “Helen and Bud.” She thrust the tear-stained letter at Nick as if it were his fault. “He’s your brother, can’t you do something?”

  She saw the genuine dissatisfaction on Nick’s face as he scanned the letter. “This is too bad. Says here that he’s up to his eyeballs in work, and the War Department is putting pressure on his group to meet their deadlines. He wouldn’t do this, Martha, if it wasn’t important.”

  “But I was really looking forward to them coming. First Thanksgiving and now Christmas.” She threw her arms around Nick and broke down. This wasn’t like Martha, but she couldn’t hold everything in any longer.

  “Ah, Hotshot, it’ll be alright. We can still have fun with our friends, and we’ll still see Mom and Dad.”

  “It won’t be the same without them.”

  That evening Nick and Martha had a quiet supper together, which allowed Martha to share the many disappointments of being by herself so much and not having any real outlet for life other than work.

  “But what about the baby?” Nick said.

  “It’s not the same. It’s there, and I know that I will love it when it’s born, but there are times when I wish I wasn’t pregnant.”

  Nick was shocked with her comment, but remained quiet. Maybe he didn’t understand what was really going on with Martha. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I’m so excited that I can’t wait, and sometimes I wish it had never happened. I feel trapped, Nick.” She sobered at her own words and realized the selfishness they contained. Everyone had told her how wonderful it would be to be a mother and what a miracle it was to have a child, but it all went so fast. It was just yesterday that she and Nick were flying around without a care in the world. Everything was in front of them—no commitments and no real worries about the future. “I feel helpless,” she confessed.

  “You’ll get over it,” he replied without actually registering the depth of her feelings.

  “But when you’re gone, my only connection is through postcards. The baby is on its own course with no help of mine, the holidays are ruined, and we can’t change that, I feel like a fat cow even though I eat sensibly, and my face is a mess. And now, at least until after the holidays, I don’t even have a job to go to!”

  Nick was starting to get it. Even though he couldn’t totally understand, he knew she was right from her perspective. She felt helpless and clung on hard to the only things she had. But that wasn’t working. He knew right then and there that he would have to put his interests aside for the holidays if he was ever going to help her get back on track before his return to Alaska. He also suspected that the pregnancy probably launched a quiver full of unknown emotions that added fuel to her despondency. In reality, he was just as out of sorts as she was. Ultimately, he recognized that she didn’t want his pity; she wanted his understanding.

  They talked until eleven o’clock that night.

  Over the next week the bruises healed remarkably well and those that weren’t gone could be camouflaged with makeup. Nick had made a special effort to treat her like a woman instead of some fragile object. Dinners with old friends were often interrupted, however, with stories of those that weren’t going to come back from the war—people they all knew, people whose very loss forced each of them to become older and more closed with their emotions. But all in all the week before Christmas was far better than Martha expected. She felt her confidence return, along with some of the sassy edge she had always had. He had even bestowed her with a remarkable bequest—spending an entire evening at her mom’s boarding house. Martha actually thought it was funny watching her mom and Nick prepare dinner together. It was her kitchen and she was definitely in charge. In fact, Nick “yes ma’amed” her all through the setting of the table, and as well as the rest of the evening for that matter. Still, with Christmas on Saturday, the holiday weekend wasn’t going to be the same without Helen and Bud. I’ll just have to get over that, she thought while finishing up some last minute shopping on Thursday.

  “Don’t forget that Major Marshall Smith will be coming over tonight,” Nick said. Martha knew that Marshall was Nick’s favorite mentor and thought it would be fun to have him stay at their house overnight until his flight the next day back to Seattle. She was also looking forward to hearing about the Women Air Force Service Pilots program Nick told her about and especially about Jackie Cochran.

  “It’s a shame he doesn’t have any more time off for Christmas,” Martha said. The major had to return to duty on Christmas Eve. She was grateful that Nick got an extra week of furlough.

  “As long as Boeing keeps churning out the planes, he’ll be doing double duty,” Nick replied.

  Before they left for the airport to meet the major’s plane, Martha made sure their small home was perfect. The tree was a perfect eight-foot Frazier decorated with bubble lights, homemade Christmas ornaments, popcorn strings, and tinsel. A messenger angel topped the tree, announcing Christ’s arrival. A modest number of wrapped packages lay under the tree waiting for Christmas Day. Martha always liked candles, so she had carefully placed several in the windows and on the mantel to light after they came home. The frost in the corners of the windowpanes perfectly framed the view of the snowy outdoors from the cozy living room. Nick had strung several strings of multi-colored lights across the eaves of the house and on the bushes in front of the porch.

  “Do you think the major will like our house?” she asked, knowing he would.

  “He’ll love it, Hotshot. But right now we need to leave for the airport. The flight gets in at 2100, and I don’t want him to be waiting for us,” Nick said, looking at his watch.

  “I’m coming.”

  The airport was crowded, and Nick was glad he allowed extra time for parking. They arrived at the gate with fifteen minutes to spare, just a few minutes before the announcement that the flight from Cleveland had landed and was taxiing up to the gate. Everyone coming off the plane was met by relatives or friends. There were screams of delight and hugs and smiles all around. It filled Martha with joy to watch all the expressions of happiness. But there was no major.

  “What could be the problem? I hope he made it,” she said with a hint of disappointment.

  “He’s probably talking to the captain about something. I’ll go on board to see. Wait here while I check.”

  The gate area was clearing out and still no major. It had been several minutes.

  Finally, she heard one of the stewardesses say, “Are you Martha?”

  “Yes, I am.”<
br />
  “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to come with me. Captain Morgan thought you might like a picture with the major and himself while the plane is empty. We have a few minutes. It’s just a short walk outside to your left.”

  Martha actually hadn’t been on a passenger plane before and was very excited as she climb the stairs to enter the main cabin.

  “To your right,” the pilot pointed.

  “Surprise, surprise! Merry Christmas!” came the sounds of what seemed like ten people. Martha nearly dropped to her knees with joy, exhilaration, and pure shock when she saw Helen and Bud wrapped in Christmas paper and bows tied around their head—Bud’s was green and Helen’s was red.

  “Oh, my God! I can’t believe it!” Tears of happiness poured from Martha eyes. Helen joined the crying fest instantly. Hugs and frivolity continued until the captain, one of Nick’s flying buddies, indicated they needed to ready the plane for the next flight.

  Before they exited, Martha threw her arms around Nick and just beamed. “I love you for doing this. You’ve made everything perfect.”

  “Merry Christmas, Hotshot.”

  The four of them spent the entire Saturday talking and catching up. Martha couldn’t believe it. It was perfect. How Nick had pulled off the weekend flight was amazing. The rouse of an overnight guest to ensure the house was ready for company was genius. Martha and Helen baked and made preparations for dinner while Nick and Bud exchanged stories.

  Nick was fascinated with Bud’s knowledge of designing and building tracking devices with measurements so fine-tuned that rocket flights would be accurate through winds, clouds, and various weather conditions over long distances. Nick was sharing his story with Bud and Helen about the strange events in his Yukon Flats experience when Martha said, “Oh, Nick, that reminds me, I wanted to show you one of your last postcards. I was so upset about everything else, I just forgot.” She went to the bedroom and retrieved a shoebox full of postcards. She sorted through them, found the right one, and showed it to everyone. “Can you believe this? Might as well not even send it.”