Remo’s right hand went to his chest where the silver cross and chain draped in plain sight. “I’m Catholic. If I die I want to go to heaven.”
“Well so am I my lad.” McBain reached under his v-neck khaki shirt and brought out his tarnished yellow cross. “This cross may guarantee my identity as a soldier fighting for what is right and gain access to St. Peter at the gates but this Digger…” He touched his hat again. “…delays such an earthly departure to the above. It keeps me alive.”
“You have three of those hats?” Remo felt awestruck with this man.
“I do indeed–spares if you will my lad.”
“Would you be willing to part with one? I’ll be willing to pay.” Remo had to have a lucky Digger–a Happy Hat. He always went around feeling down because of his seemingly miserable existence and the potential for a random meaningless death out here or in the bush.
“Our heads are about the same size lad. I could indeed part with one my Happy Hats but first let me complete my mission here with you. I’m to brief you on your job with our specialty plaster. You see lad, any cast applied in a field hospital is usually not going to be changed until the casualty reaches the states or Australia or whatever country our product ends up in.”
“What about the stuff I have here? We have larger hospitals after the aid-stations and field medical units.” Remo still stared at the hat rather than make eye contact.
“The same goes for any cast applied here in this country. They are the first plaster prior to air-evacuation to a home country base. The severely injured orthopedic patients go out to the hospital ships for surgery and then to the Philippines and Japan for stability. Those poor souls will have more surgery outside of Nam and get normal unadulterated plaster.” McBain looked around again. “Tis a pity we occasionally lose some prime product but such is war. So my lad, our concern are the majority who will get a single plaster cast, become medically stable and get shipped back home where we wait for our product at that first cast change.”
These details were never imparted to Remo before. His link in the chain was to replace normal plaster cloth with the heroin-impregnated material. The contact would take away the good plaster for sale in countries that didn’t need his kind of heroin smuggling. Money was being made with the good plaster and the heroin-tainted product. “Well I thank you for the information.”
McBain proceeded to give him the details of his function in the MASH-like unit supply system closer to the combat operational sites. When he was done McBain shook Remo’s hand. “Now there laddy. Do you have any questions for me atall, atall?”
“Just one. What about getting one of your Digger hats–one of your Happy Hats?”
Chapter 21
Kaplan and Skagan
Kaplan inherently knew Boomer was not part of the cartel for heroin smuggling. I guess I just have to live with the new mobile Boomer Stiles. Boomer wouldn’t be carted away by any heroin cartel. He’s a beached whale for God’s sakes. It’s just the cast that was the bait not Boomer. He was not more than a vector and a victim of the war. The one big puzzler though was his chart’s injury documentation didn’t go along with his lack of symptoms.
“Stress fractures”, the orthopods said. The one thing about Boomer was indeed his size. His cast would be easy to track. In fact he had placed a small metal tracking device in the waist component of Boomer’s head-to-toe plaster. The real problem was the battery life of the tiny transmitter. He had to get Boomer’s cast removed in less than six months. Norman and the staff orthopedic surgeon for G-1, Dr. Caruso, said they’d get it off in two more weeks which gave the transmitter batteries over a month of shelf life elbow room.
Kaplan now had to look at his list of suspects within Queens Naval Hospital. The internal chain of cartel heroin smugglers had to include a few of the Navy staff–very few according to Stokely. They also had to be involved in hands-on daily management of the plaster clad Vietnam returnees. Was there an orthopedic surgeon–someone or some intellect–at the top of the hospital chain? Second place on his list was an administrative officer. So far he hadn’t found any Medical Service Corps person connected to orthopedic logistics. His third echelon suspect was the senior nurse officer, LCDR Philomena Skagan. How could she be involved? His one almost intimate encounter left him feeling she was just a detailed, obsessive-compulsive person whose major identity in life centered around her job.
His FBI colleague implicated at least one patient and probably several corpsmen might be involved based on data from other Navy and military counterpart hospitals. Having the removed plaster casts consolidated for the civilian disposal squad did, however, now place all G-Ward corpsman under his immediate scrutiny. It was indeed a God-given situation. All of the Vietnam plaster had to be channeled to him for his direct supervision. The phone at the Nurses Station brought him back to the present moment. Kaplan looked up at the paging lights. His number was flashing. 603. 603. 603.
“Chief Corpsman Kaplan, Ward G-1.”
“It’s Friday again. We should meet. I have two tickets from Special Services to the Saturday Matinee of Kiss Me Kate on Broadway. I know a good reasonable restaurant near the theatre. We can go in my POV or your POV.” Skagan’s voice was soft yet definitive.
Romantic yet formal, Kaplan smiled. POV was military talk for privately-owned-vehicle. He needed another liaison with her to confirm her guilt or innocence. What still disturbed him was his inner desire to see her regardless. He had to maintain his FBI objectivity but it would be difficult.
“What time tomorrow?”
“We leave from my place at 0930 hours. The show begins at 1300 hours. It gives us time to park and have a leisurely walk to the theatre. I’ve been there before. The weather will be crisp. It’s still March.”
“I look forward to it.” Kaplan heard the phone disconnect. In less than a minute Skagan had made a date sound like a military mission. He had the time frame, transportation, and weather report for a civilian clothing decision. Kaplan felt this was her military environment speaking. In a civilian setting she was a human with feelings and normal desires. How can I maneuver her into a discussion about plaster if the woman has romance on her mind? Do I really want to?
‡
Kaplan replaced the phone receiver and watched Boomer being escorted on the gurney with his two sidekicks. He had checked them out and they had no links to any cartel activity. They had only met Boomer here on G-1 and each one had arrived in different air-evacs from different air-evac departure sites.
Boomer waved to Kaplan who waved back. His pass to rove the hospital facilities was signed by Dr. Norman and release from G-1 on the pass was from Kaplan. Boomer looked out his oval plaster window at his ward mate at the foot of his gurney. “Hey guys what else is there to do besides the Gedunk and the movie theatre?”
Mickey Meaghan, the forward gurney steerer at Boomer’s feet, spoke first. “When the weather gets warmer we go outside. They set up softball, volleyball and badminton courts for us. I know you can’t join us but you could be our cheerleading section.”
“We all need the fresh air.” Angelo Novo added his voice from the rear of the gurney at Boomer’s head.
The Gedunk as the only military hospital coffee shop usually had more patients there than staff or hospital visitors as it did today. Novo overheard a group talking and pointing to Boomer, Meaghan, and him.
“I bet he can’t.” A uniformed marine raised his tone.
“Twenty-bucks says he can do it. That guy Boomer doesn’t have a pecker tube.” An Air Force sergeant looked back at his table of about seven fatigue-uniformed patients.
The two gamblers went over to Boomer’s table. The Gedunk had a section for wheelchair patients and the occasional gurney bearer. They discussed a deal with Boomer, Meaghan and Novo.
The Air Force sergeant discussed terms. “First I have to have proof that you can get a hard-on Boomer.”
“My erections still come and go like before I got blasted.” Boomer grinned.
>
“Not good enough,” a marine countered. “We need witnesses. Tomorrow after the 1200 hour mess we meet in the visitors head near F-1. You two bring Boomer.”
“Hey, no funny stuff in the restroom.” Angelo Novo stood up.
“Relax. We’ll bring magazines and photos that will give a blind man an erection. If Boomer gets it up we can plan our deal. I’ll tell ya the details if things go okay tomorrow.”
Boomer was all for it and motioned his two friends closer. “Meaghan, Novo–we could make a lot of money. I get a hard-on just thinking about getting laid. Any pictures or fold-outs they have should be a cinch.”
‡
LCDR Philomena Skagan put the phone receiver down. He responded immediately. Good. She knew he would. She sensed a strong mutual attraction between them–stronger now that they had passed a first bonding date based on mutual respect. Skagan had accepted the background story of his current Navy choice as hospital corpsman verses a naval officer. A projected future in the legal profession seemed to match his demeanor. He was a detail person like she was. His work ethic was meticulous like hers. Kaplan was also attractive, attentive and didn’t maneuver into her pants on their first date although she would have only offered token resistance. She winced at this thought. I actually like Ike Kaplan. It’s more than a hormonal attraction–I just know it. I’ll leave it up to God and let whatever happens happen.
Special Services had several options for plays and musicals with good seats available for military active duty personnel. She chose the revival of Kiss Me Kate because it had elements of comedy, well-known delightful tunes and was a story-within-a-story. It had a gangster element infiltrating a musical cast and was in the final analysis about romance in a real way. Romance was complicated. It was not straight forward or simple. Skagan reflected on her own situation. Kaplan was an enlisted man and she was an officer and traditionally they should not fraternize.
“Oops, excuse me ma’am.” G-3 Corpsman Amstel Perkins bumped into her as they each turned a corridor corner.
“Out of your assigned G-3 element aren’t you Perkins?” Skagan brushed herself off as if Perkins had left a residue from their physical accident.
“I’m on my way to the ER to get today’s air-evac list for Dr. Norman ma’am.”
“For Dr. Norman? Doesn’t he get it firsthand himself?” Skagan raised her eyebrows.
“It’s just a routine we’ve developed ma’am. I mean Dr. Norman is so busy I get the list and have it sorted out as to medical specialty–kind of a pre-triage. Dr. Norman actually worked it out and it’s a real time saver.”
“Well that’s interesting. So if I can’t find Dr. Norman or Ike Kaplan I can page you and get the orthopedic air-evac mix early?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Perkins shifted around her and began moving away to continue to the ER.
“I might be calling you Perkins.” Skagan wrote a memo in her tiny scut note pad.
‡
Perkins looked back at her petite curvy profile. He felt uneasy. The less I have to with LCDR “Tight Ass” Skagan the better.
Perkins was unaware that his encounter with Skagan had an observer and a listener.
So Perkins is the first to see the air-evac list and he triages the patients before anyone else sees it. Yes this is indeed very interesting. I think I’ll continue to follow Amstel Perkins and find some way to bring mail into the ER during one his pre-triage actions. Sebastian Remo needed a way to get authorization to be in the ER and he knew a way to do it.
Chapter 22
Abraham Linsky
Linsky loved his bank account. His New York City bank deposits reflected his cash flow from Bizetes and work with the plaster scientist Boris Mindel. Only half of what he really received was processed legitimately–with a pay stub, itemized deductions including social security and withholding taxes. The other half from the Bizetes “chemistry” cartel was cash with no federal reporting. His extra-curriculum heroin-recovery windfall money from his Perkins venture went into a Puerto Rican bank under a coded account. Linsky often thought it might be like the way high rollers or money launderers used Swiss bank accounts. The thought made him feel a little superior. The only thing that bothered him was Amstel Perkins. Perkins was his only source to the Vietnam plaster heroin skimming and he sensed an aura of greed in his Navy co-conspirator. Maybe he should up Perkin’s share. They’d both die horrible deaths if Perkins did something stupid and tried a little action on his own.
Water was boiling and the hood ventilation fan was running full blast. He had the blenders ready to emulsify the sawed up cast Perkins was bringing. Linsky looked at his watch. Perkins was usually on time and he should be here in a few minutes. The doorbell rang and Perkins appeared at his door with the bulky laundry bag.
“Friday night and here’s our work for tonight.” Perkins opened the bag in the kitchen-work area.
“A bivalved long arm plaster plus a long leg cast.” Linsky took out the power saw to carve the units up into blender-size bits. “Must have been big guys?”
“They are.”
“Don’t take too much out of Queens Naval at one time Perk. You told me that nurse in charge of casts is a snoop and a detail person. One-a-week’s enough.” Linsky handed Perkins a 3-M mask. He began sawing after both had their plastic aprons and rubber gloves on.
After the chunking of the casts was done Perkins guzzled some water and turned to Linsky. “You may be right about the extra risk but I really need more money. My percentage goes up if I bring you more casts.”
“I was going to tell you tonight. I’m upping your share but I don’t want any more than the one cast per week. It’s just too fucking dangerous.”
“Okay Abe. What’s my new take?”
Linsky crammed the large blender full, added a jigger of water and put the cover on. He flicked on the hooded fan to full and after the loud blender roar was done and the cast powdered to a low humming emulsion he answered Perkins. “You get 20% and that’s a ceiling. You’re going to be rich.”
Perkin’s smiled beneath his mask. “Thanks Abe. Yeah, okay I’ll cool it with just the one cast a week. Let’s get cookin’.”
Just before Saturday’s dawn Linsky counted the sealed plastic heroin kilos. “Your share of what I get in Puerto Rico is goin’ to be about $35,000.”
‡
Perkins mopped his sweaty brow with a hand towel. “I know you have an overhead. What do you get after you unload the shit? And I thought you deal with Asians?”
“I do deal with Asians. My connection is in Puerto Rica same as my bank. I don’t use any Hispanics for trafficin’.”
“So you have plane fare, hotels and what else?”
“I pay off some PR airport entry guys. I make sure they’re waitin’ for me before I get on the plane.” Linsky tried to stifle a yawn. “My final tally is about 60%.”
“Wow. And I only get twenty?”
“You’re part is getting’ me the weekly cast. I take all the risks from that point on.” Linsky gave Perkins an icy stare.
“Yeah I guess you’re right. I appreciate the raise in pay.” Perkins packed up his laundry bag. As he got into his car he had only one thought. If I do this myself I can get 100% of what I sell here in New York City.
‡
Remo saved mail delivery for the G-wards last. He waited until Amstel Perkins emerged from the sawing noises of the plaster room during a cast removal from the new air-evacs. He knew the Nam casts would go sealed in plastic into a laundry bin which Perkins would wheel down to G-1 to that hard-ass Navy Corpsman–the one called Kaplan.
Perkins, however, walked first to the personnel locker room with a laundry bag. Remo heard a steel locker door slam shut and he moved quickly into the locker room.
“G-3 Mail Perkins.” Remo raised his voice startling Perkins before he could secure the locker door.
“What? You scared the shit out of me.” Perkins was white. “I’ll meet you at the Nurses Station.”
“I can
’t just leave the mail on an empty desk. You have to sign for it, remember?”
“Hold your water. I’ll be right there.” Perkins massaged the irregular laundry bag to fit in the locker. He closed and locked it with a metal laminated Master lock.
Remo watched Perkins push the wheeled laundry cart out of G-3 after a second corpsman arrived from the mess hall. Perkins’ personal laundry bag was kind of lumpy like with solids rather than clothes. I have to get into that locker. Remo was determined and he had to find out soon because surgery for his colostomy closure could be as early as two weeks.
‡
Norman saw Boomer being wheeled from the F-1 rest room. He quickened his pace to meet up with his three G-1 patients.
“What are you guys doing down here? F-1 is a Dirty Surgery ward. It’s full of bacteria and I don’t want my ward contaminated.” Norman stared at Meaghan and Novo and bent over Boomer’s facial window.
“We didn’t go into F-1 sir. We just used the hallway head on the way back from the Gedunk.” Novo smiled. “We’re goin’ back now sir.”
Norman looked at his watch. He was supposed to meet with Minnie Zettler for evening mess in an hour. “Okay guys but if I ever find out you were in those F wards there won’t be any more general passes out of G-1.”
Meaghan paused and aimed the gurney toward the G-Wing. “We never went in there. You can check sir.”
“I’m going to call the F-1 medical officer when I get back to G-1. You don’t realize what a disaster infections will be if your wounds get infected from those Asian bacterial strains.” He followed the trio to G-1.
Norman hadn’t noticed the sheet over Boomer as he trailed behind. There was a vertical protrusion over Boomer’s groin.
Boomer looked at the perforated ceiling tiles as he was wheeled along. He remembered the F-1 head meeting. There were five guys from the Gedunk in addition to his two friends.
The Air Force sergeant had the others show Boomer photos of naked women and copulating couples.
THE HAPPY HAT Page 14