THE HAPPY HAT

by Peter Glassman

  “Once a month. It’s always the last Thursday of the month which is the day before the tainted casts are picked up.” Kaplan leaned his chair back which made the spring groan. “What do you mean about jeopardizing my safety?”

  “These people are killers. Anyone perceived as a threat to their operation or caught diverting profits is terminated in the ugliest of ways. The Agency doesn’t want you to get sloppy. On the other hand, we do want you to identify the division of labor within Queens Naval Hospital. We want to know who’s who on the cartel staff and that includes military, civilian and patient personnel.”

  “You make it sound like an army.” Kaplan sat forward again.

  “We don’t think it takes a lot of people. What we’re getting from San Diego Naval Hospital and Walter Reed Army General Hospital is just the opposite.” Stokely got off the cast table and stood next to Kaplan’s desk. “The pattern is three or four military staff and one patient. This small group coordinates within the hospital and makes sure the casts are funneled a hundred percent to the civilian cartel cast pickup crew. They may actually never even communicate with the civilian cast removal team.”

  “On the military side what’s the officer-to-enlisted ratio?” Kaplan envisioned Skagan in a framed painting wearing a Napoleon uniform with her right hand tucked into the tunic.

  “So far it looks like one officer and several enlisted. The officer is necessary to move around the different specialties to follow the cast removals wherever they occur.”

  “You mean like the operating room and different wards.” Kaplan asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “Which reminds me, I have a problem with my total body cast patient. The GMO, Dr. Norman, is allowing this patient to roam all over the hospital. Like I told you before I get the feeling I’m losing control over this guy.”

  “C’mon. A total body cast? No one’s going to kidnap him. The only control you need is to be the sole person responsible for removing that cast. It’s probably worth a quarter of a million or more in heroin.” Stokely looked at his watch. “My main purpose is to convey to you that the consolidation of the casts to one ortho ward is our doing and not anyone else’s. It’s pivotal for when we make our final move. I didn’t want you racking your brain or wasting time trying to find out who instigated it. We did. I had to tell you in person and not on the phone for better security.”

  Kaplan stood up and walked Stokely to the door. “I suppose you’re right.” Kaplan stopped and touched Stokely’s suit coat sleeve. “You keep mentioning a patient cartel operative. Are you talking ‘orthopedic’ patient?”

  “It doesn’t have to be. We’ve identified the patient connection at Great Lakes Naval Hospital and he’s from a plastic surgery ward.”

  “Plastic Surgery? That’s a long-term ward.” Kaplan frowned. “How the hell am I going to find my patient connection here in Queens Naval?”

  “Look Ike. We found the Plastic Surgery patient because he mingled with the ortho guys. Look for a person here who doesn’t really belong, like some recurrent patient visitor. That’s how we got our guy at Great Lakes.” Stokely looked again at his watch. “I have to go. Do you have any more questions?”

  “I’m going to meet with the civilian cast pickup and disposal team this month. Any input on them so far?”

  “They all seem to be gruff manual laborer types. Our descriptions make them out to be more than what they should be. By that I mean they’re well muscled and the report from Orlando Naval Hospital makes them as armed. They’re excessively protective of their cargo which is supposed to be just biological waste. Of course we know the casts are worth more than their weight in gold.” Stokely shook his hand. “Let me go now. I’ll keep in touch. We think the patient might be the key liaison to the civilian cartel link and not the staff or any civilian hospital employee. Having said that be on the lookout for a regular civilian visitor once the patient is identified.”

  ‡

  And today Kaplan verified his expectations of the cast disposal pickup crew–ruffians and cargo protectors. He showed Zingo the layout of the cast room and the corrugated metal door which opened to a loading-and-unloading dock.

  “Yeah, Kaplan. Is it okay for me you call you Kaplan? Your ID tag only says Kaplan.” Zingo wiped his moist nose with his grimy coverall sleeve.

  “This is a military installation. You’re required to address us as Corpsman, Corpswave, Nurse, Doctor or by our rank. You can call me Corpsman and I strongly suggest you address LCDR Skagan by her rank.”

  Frannie Zingo laughed. His beer belly moved up-and-down within his coveralls. “Hey you don’t have to tell us about that nut-crusher nurse. We already met.”

  “Laughter? I see nothing amusing about our business.” The door to the cast room opened and Skagan entered with a closed leather portfolio under her arm. “Mr. Zingo I have a duplicate invoice for each of the plastic bags containing the biological waste plaster casts. Each bag is from a different orthopedic ward, G-1 through G-6.”

  “Pardon us LCDR Skagan ma’am.” Zingo ogled the attractive woman. “I’ll have Sergio bring the van around. This new system is much friendlier than having to lug all these bags to the ER for loading…ma’am.”

  “Ike, here’s the main invoice. Check and make sure each bag goes into their truck and the truck door is secured and locked.” Skagan looked back at Zingo. “Mr. Zingo you are not to leave the hospital until you check out with the main entrance CPO. Your truck will pick you up there and an MP vehicle will escort your vehicle to the rear hospital gate and off the compound.”

  Zingo took out a once white handkerchief and blew his nose on it. “Of course LCDR Skagan ma’am–just like always ma’am.” He thrust the handkerchief into a side coverall pocket and wiped any residue from his hand onto his coverall.

  Kaplan suppressed a grin at the look of revulsion on Skagan’s face and walked her to the Nurses Station. “I’ll watch them like a hawk ma’am.”

  She looked around the ward and looked at the watch schedule on the cubical wall. No one else was in the Nurses Station. “I know you will Ike.” She looked away from the watch list and faced Kaplan. “I see you have the weekend off. So do I.”

  ‡

  Amstel Perkins packed a G-3 laundry cart with several plastic bags containing removed Vietnam applied plaster. He laid his own laundry bag on top and headed off G-3 to deliver the casts to the G-1 depository. He stopped at the G-3 locker room and placed his laundry bag in his locker. It contained a sectionally-removed shoulder spica cast with an estimated $60,000 worth of heroin. Perkins headed to the elevator and to the G-1 cast room with the remaining drug-impregnated plaster.

  LT Sparrow and Kaplan logged in the G-3 items and Perkins was done for the day. He went back to his locker, put on his jacket and grabbed his laundry bag. He could hardly wait to call Abe Linsky. He had weighed the cast and at least six-thousand dollars would be his payment.

  Perkins liked Dr. Norman who commented on how efficient he was in sorting out the Vietnam applied cast patients from those whose casts were applied on the hospital ships and Naval hospitals in the Philippines and Japan. Perkins always checked on when Norman was the GMO who had JMOOD duty. Norman now expected him to give him the air-evac list with his pre-emptive triage of the orthopedic patients and their documented cast origins.

  “Perkins you keep me one step ahead of LCDR Skagan and I appreciate that. The first thing she asks is how many ortho patients have Vietnam plaster.”

  “Sir it just makes the air-evac process go that much faster. I mean sir, the air-evacs take us from our ward work and anything to get us back that much quicker helps all of us.”

  Norman was as overworked as everyone else. “Let me know when you’re up for promotion Perkins. I’ll put in a good word.”

  “Yes sir. Thank you sir.” And thank you for helping me increase my bank account.

  Chapter 17

  LCDR Skagan

  Consolidating the contaminated Vietnam plaster casts had
greatly simplified the administrative aspects of Skagan’s life. In addition she now had Ike Kaplan who was as compulsive about his work as she was. She pulled his Navy file and couldn’t believe he was a college grad. I have to know more about this man. He’s close to my age, intelligent, and has my work ethic. I sense he wants to get to know me better.

  It was Friday and she had thrown out her web to Kaplan. She sensed some magnetism between them. She threw one more cupid’s arrow after the scumbag plaster disposal team left with their truck full of the bacteria laden plaster shells. Kaplan had just closed and locked the vertical metal accordion gate to the cast room. There was a slight chill from the developing cool night blown in during the loading dock activity. The cast room doors were closed. They were alone.

  “We both live off the hospital compound Ike. There are things we need to talk about–together.” She locked her steel blues onto his agate jewel-brown eyes.

  Kaplan didn’t smile or project any negative vibrations. He wrote on a piece of notepad paper three words. “Address. Time. Phone.”

  Skagan received the note pressed into her hand without removing eye contact. She knew her pulse was racing but didn’t know why. She broke the vaporous connection. “I’ll page you before you leave tonight.”

  ‡

  “Dr. Norman you have to sign off for the plaster pick-up van.” Kaplan caught Norman before he headed out to meet with Zettler. “LCDR Skagan already endorsed the invoice.”

  “Good work. If it looks like I try to avoid Skagan it’s because I am trying to avoid her. She drives me nuts with her preoccupation with those festering casts. We have more important things to do like taking care of these patients.” Norman looked at his watch. “Okay, here you go. I’m off duty now.” Norman started to leave and then turned around. “Oh, by the way at the change of the watch Dr. Brisbane wants to add a page to the cast-off casts departure invoice.”

  “Dr. Buzby Brisbane from infectious diseases?” Kaplan remembered the name.

  “Yes. Brisbane is as obsessive compulsive about bacteria as Skagan is about Vietnam plaster but in a friendlier way. A senior corpsman from F-1 will be taking cultures from each cast at the time of removal. The ward corpsman from each G ward will actually do the swabs but t F-1 guy gets the reports, compiles the results and brings them here by the end of the month at cast pick-up time.” Norman turned to leave again.

  “Who is this F-1 corpsman? Have I met him?”

  “I doubt it. It’s Achilles Spinelli. F-1 is the major dirty surgical ward with mostly colostomy patients. He goes by the name of Acky. Kinda built like you and can move these Nam marine patients almost unassisted.” Norman left.

  This Acky was the senior corpsman who sometimes gave him chow relief. Kaplan wrote the name down. He’d give the name to Adam Stokely at his next contact or his next phone call–whichever came first. He looked at the paging light and saw his number flashing.

  603. 603. 603. Kaplan had gotten a feel for the page number. His intuition could tell if it was urgent, angry or friendly. This time it looked friendly and he was going off duty soon. It might possibly be LCDR Skagan.

  “Chief Petty Officer Senior Corpsman Kaplan.”

  “This is the hospital operator Chief Kaplan. Just a minute and I’ll connect you, it’s an outside line.”

  Outside line. The only outside calls have been Stokely. I wonder what’s up. Kaplan could feel his heart rate speed up.

  “Write this down. St. John’s Arms. 888 Symphony Blvd. 212-425-6671. Tomorrow at 1600 hours. Apartment 205. I’m cooking.” Skagan’s voice disappeared and was replaced with a dial tone.

  ‡

  Kaplan slept late after a fitful night’s sleep dreaming about plaster clad soldiers selling hollow pencils at street corners. The pencils were filled with heroin. A sleek Cadillac would appear at hourly intervals to collect the cash, supply new pencils and write numbers on a clipboard in the Caddie. The accounting was done by a woman in a black pant suit who would give him only one instruction. “Okay, Ike. Drive to the next one.”

  Kaplan’s pulse would race as he saw himself as the driver and respond, “Right away Phil. I can hardly wait until 4-o’clock when we can be alone and take time with each other.”

  Skagan smiled a dimpled smile and put her left hand on his right thigh, “You know I’m worth the wait Ike dear.”

  Kaplan awakened with a start and found he had slept on top of the bed clothes. He went straight to the shower and toweled off in front of a full length mirror. The reflection from his bedside digital clock read 10:15. He had slept late. The only time he remembered his dreams was if there was some relationship to his current situation. The few times he was near a combat line his dreams would be life-threatening scenes with him dodging bullets to rescue a combatant under fire in the Vietnam bush. It didn’t surprise him that his plaster patients and his ambivalent feelings toward LCDR Philomena Skagan became intertwined in sleep reverie.

  What are my feelings? She may be the enemy…and then again she may not. Why does she want to meet me off duty? Get me alone? Make dinner and jump my bones? He laughed aloud at the last consideration. What’s the matter with me? Is that wishful thinking? The woman is attractive, intelligent, but is totally aloof with everyone except for work. Is it a trap? Has she found out I’m FBI? Am I being set up for the kill?

  Kaplan considered calling Stokely for advice or backup–maybe both. Somehow Stokely didn’t place Skagan in the cartel mix. To Adam Stokely she was just an obsessive compulsive neurotic with a fixation on her job. Will I be walking into a cartel snare? Kaplan decided to write his thoughts down and make note of his meeting today with Skagan. He addressed the envelope to Adam Stokely and left it on his dresser. If he returned alive to his apartment later tonight or tomorrow he could always destroy it.

  He dressed in neat black casual slacks and shirt. Kaplan picked out a gray corduroy sport coat with darker gray suede elbow patches. He decided against having any lunch and made two hard-boiled eggs, rye toast and two oranges for his late breakfast. His errands for Saturday included some staple shopping items, gassing up his Mustang convertible and buying a bottle of wine as a token for his “date” with Phil Skagen. Phil–sounds like a guy. In fact Skagan acts like a man with her assertive-aggressive work ethic. However, she is a beautiful woman…until her spoken rhetoric flies through the air like sharpened darts.

  Kaplan made out his chore list with visiting the gas station last. He opened his road atlas and used a yellow highlighter to detail her street. A gas station close to his destination would fill up his tank and he’d get confirmatory directions from the attendant. He unlocked a metal footlocker he kept under his bed and removed a loaded .45 automatic. A bottle of wine and a loaded gun–Kaplan was ready for Philomena Skagan.

  ‡

  Perkins arrived at Abe Linsky’s apartment with his laundry bag at exactly 1800 hours. Linsky was a nut about punctuality and it had to do with his plan to cook the plaster and extract the heroin. It was an all night operation.

  “Right on time Perk. You know I count on that. Bring the bag into the kitchen. I have the saw and the blender all ready.” Linsky had a plastic apron on and moved a 3-M OR mask from the top of his head to his face. “Make sure you use the OR hat to cover your head. If we ever have to get a urine drug screen from Mindel we don’t even want a trace of heroin to show up.”

  A sudden flash of the bloody evisceration scene came-and-went as Perkins removed his jacket, donned an apron, and put on his surgical hat and mask. He helped Linsky reduce the shoulder spica cast to powdered substance. “Hey Abe how much heroin in terms of dollars do you think we have here?”

  “Let me test a sample.” Linsky quickly dissolved a measured amount of the plaster powder, 5cc of water and added a drop of a clear solution into the test tube. A deep red color immediately appeared. “Okay I take a drop of this, add more water and put it into the colorimeter.” The meter needle swung to the 55% marker. “My God the owner of this cast must have been pain f
ree from the tiny amount of heroin constantly dissolved and absorbed by his sweat. We should harvest enough heroin to get over a hundred thousand dollars of pure product for our foreign dealers. They can cut it five times and get over a million street dollars.”

  Perkins swallowed behind his mask. “Maybe we should sell it on the street ourselves. We’d be rich in no time.”

  Linsky stared at Perkins. “We’d be dead in no time if we tried that. You know the kind of people we’re in business with. Don’t let me ever hear you talk like this again.”

  Chapter 18

  Feelings

  Like Philomena Skagan, Ike Kaplan liked punctuality. The attendant at the gas station confirmed his destination and actually knew where both Symphony Blvd and St. John’s Arms condominiums and apartments were located. Kaplan looked at his Omega watch and had twenty-five minutes to get there. The attendant told him he was five minutes away.

  I’ll get a parking space with good visuals and see if any cars have live parkers like me. Kaplan was trained to imagine worst case scenarios by the FBI. Such training kept agents alive. Skagan could still be the enemy. What bothered him the most was that he hoped her invitation today was indeed social in nature although her suggestion of a “date” seemed more like an order. Sexually LT Dina Sparrow got his gonads twitching but he didn’t need such a distraction from his job. His feelings about Skagan were mixed. Skagan seemed capable of running the whole heroin operation at Queens Naval Hospital. On the other hand, his last minutes with her penetrated his FBI armor and sent impulses to his heart. But how? They hadn’t said or done anything on a personal level. Agent Stokely advised checking out Skagan and, hell, this invite was made to order. She was either a sharp foe checking him out or she was just human and reaching out for companionship. Kaplan still brought his .45.