Shadows

by Peter J Manos

Calderone explained in detail as much as he knew about it, including Forster’s role in organizing the scheme and collecting a hundred dollars per exam. A specially encrypted website had the answers so there was no incriminating email to be found on people’s computers. Other than Forster, Calderone knew of no one else who cheated, though he understood that many did.

  “What about your duty partner, Washington?”

  “She doesn’t cheat.”

  “How do you know? Have you discussed this with her?”

  “She learned about the cheating and was going to report it, but I beat her to it.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Rasmussen’s call to O’Hare had been brief. He apologized for not being able to go on the march. Somberly he said he’d be unable to participate in further demonstrations nor could he express support for the anti-GBSD program. Phrasing it differently three times, she asked what the matter was. And three times he awkwardly evaded any semblance of a satisfactory answer.

  So Edna was surprised when he accepted an invitation to a Sunday afternoon cup of coffee at her place.

  “I didn’t think you would come,” said Edna.

  “I didn’t think so either,” said Rasmussen putting a couple of lemon cookies on his plate and pouring himself another cup of black coffee strong enough to keep him awake for a few days. “But I thought I owed it to you.”

  “Something has happened, but you’re unwilling to talk about it. Is that it?”

  “Correct. And I assume you’ve put truth serum in my coffee.”

  “Never crossed my mind. Didn’t think you’d need it,” said Edna.

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence. You know, Edna, I really would like to confide in you. Confession is good for the soul, but I don’t want to burden you with this. Honestly, though, I’m not as concerned about my soul or about burdening you as I am about my marriage…”

  “Oh,” said O’Hare.

  “It would have helped legitimize your argument if a well-known, well-respected physician backed it publicly. Well, that physician was about to do so when something came up. Edna, I feel a bit foolish asking you, but can you keep a secret.”

  “Sounds like it’s a marital issue, so yes I can.”

  “It’s not really a marital issue. Okay, here goes.”

  He told her about Cummings’ first office visit, how she essentially offered the sight and feel of her breasts for his admiration. He admitted that three or four times in his career he’d been strongly attracted to one of his patients, but he’d never acted inappropriately, nor had he done so on that visit. He felt foolish to have believed her story of anxiety, but she was utterly convincing.

  Then came the panicky call from the hotel. Might he not have gently held his ground with another patient, insisting on an office visit. After all, half the patients seeing a general practitioner were there because of psychological problems, or so the research indicated, and he was as comfortable prescribing antidepressants as he was prescribing antihypertensives.

  But he went to the hotel and she’d played her cards so well that it was he who suggested they go to her hotel room. Had she invited him to her room, now that he thought about it, he might have demurred. He might have realized what she was up to.

  Sitting here with his confessor, he spoke of his long-standing interest in pharmacology. What had Cummings put in that tea he’d asked himself repeatedly? A potent tranquilizer to weaken resistance to suggestions coupled with a stimulant and some other psychotropic? He considered barbiturates, amphetamines, THC, and almost certainly sildenafil or a similar drug. He’d rapidly become euphoric, suggestible, and aroused.

  “It was the perfect aphrodisiac. So you know where this is going.”

  “And there’s a risk your wife will learn of your indiscretion?” said Edna levelly.

  “Yes. If I make a peep about the GBSD.”

  “Oh, my God. Grumman put her up to this?” O’Hare shook her head, puzzled.

  “It does seem odd, doesn’t it? A fifty billion dollar aerospace giant, which has already won the contract, worried about me. If I weren’t scared, I’d be flattered.”

  “Do you suppose she wanted to seduce you and then thought of an additional benefit?”

  “No. Edna. I appreciate it, but I’m not that desirable.”

  “Too bad you can’t find out what was in her head?”

  “I’d ask but I’m too frightened to go anywhere near her.”

  “You know, Andrew, when we marched, we passed a specialty shop you might be interested in.”

  And then she outlined a way he might learn more about her machinations. And maybe even throw a clunky monkey wrench into the machinery. But could he be that bold?

  Rasmussen called Claudia Cummings on a Tuesday afternoon, stepping out onto the street to use his cell phone. Would she meet him in the lobby of her hotel at 7:00 p.m.? She readily agreed.

  She awaited him in the same spot as last time. Her hair was pulled back in a short French braid. She wore tight maroon slacks and a snug but frilly white blouse.

  She arose to greet him. “Good evening, Dr. Rasmussen.” She extended her hand. He took it briefly. They sat.

  He wore khaki slacks and a blue short-sleeved shirt, a pocket protector holding a pen and a mechanical pencil.

  “I haven’t talked about it,” began Rasmussen. “I haven’t gone to any meetings. I even cancelled going on a parade. I just wanted you to know.”

  “I’ve never had any doubts, but you could have just said this on the phone. I would have thought that after our little get together, you wouldn’t want to see me again. Hmm. Maybe I was wrong? Would you like to come up to my room?”

  She smiled and shifted her shoulders so her breasts moved lasciviously. Rasmussen clasped his hands on his lap, staring at them in the endearing attitude of a small boy who wants something from the candy counter but is ashamed to ask.

  “I’d like to, yes, but not tonight.”

  “Why not tonight? “said Cummings.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d… I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t think I’d want to?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Let’s go upstairs,” said Cummings.

  Rasmussen looked up at her. Then looked around the lobby.

  “You go first,” he said. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

  “You’ll definitely be up in a minute. I’ll see to it.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Yes, but not that stuff you doped me up with last time. I’ve never been so intoxicated. I couldn’t think. You could have gotten me to do anything. What was in that stuff?”

  “You sure you don’t want some more. It may have knocked out your will power, but it sure didn’t knock out your performance.”

  “Well, I might try it again sometime. You can’t blackmail me twice for the same drug-induced seduction. No offense.”

  “Well, if it’s blackmail, it’s blackmail in your own interest. You can’t go around saying bad things about those missiles without riling up some people. I just have your best interests at heart. I really wouldn’t want to have to tell your wife.”

  “Will Grumman give you a bonus?”

  She laughed.

  As she was preparing him a high-ball, minus unusual pharmaceutical additions, Rasmussen’s phone rang.

  “What? He won’t go to the emergency room. Oh. Okay. I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Ms. Cummings,” said Rasmussen. “I’ve got to go.” He stood abruptly. “A difficult patient. I’ve got to make a house call.”

  “You don’t mean it. A house call. I thought those weren’t done anymore.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Well, then goodnight, Dr. Rasmussen.” She approached to give him a kiss, but he stepped back.

  “Good night, Ms. Cummings.”

  “Good night.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Before Will could arrange to show Roy Haugen the tinkly bag o
f twisted shrapnel ribbons and tags, Haugen called O’Hare to make an appointment.

  Will met him at the front door, letting him in, and called for Edna who was in the back of the house somewhere.

  “Good morning, Mrs. O’Hare,” said Haugen as she entered the room. They shook hands.

  “I’d like to speak with the two of you about that explosion.”

  “Yes, please take a seat. I’ll get us some coffee.”

  “That’s not necessary,” said Haugen.

  “Well, I need a cup in hand to settle my nerves although most people would choose a drink. May I get you a drink?”

  Perhaps it was an indication of how disturbed he was by this whole matter, but he’d been tempted to ask for a shot of whiskey.

  “On second thought, a cup of coffee would be good,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “You too, Will?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Wishing to fully include Edna in the exchange, Will waited until she returned with the coffee before handing the bag of tell-tale metal fragments to Haugen.

  “I pried these out of the wood on the front porch. Karen told me grenades had gone missing on the base.”

  “When was that?” said Haugen.

  “When was what?” said Will.

  “When did she tell you?”

  “The morning after the explosion.”

  “Where did she tell you. I mean where were the two of you when she told you?”

  “Here.”

  An uncomfortable silence followed, but finally Roy Haugen turned away from Will.

  “Mrs. O’Hare, may I put the cup on the table so I can use the saucer for something?”

  “How thoughtful of you to ask, Sergeant Haugen. Yes, you may.”

  He shook out the shrapnel fragments onto the saucer. A few retained some olive green paint.

  “I think they’re from a grenade, but I’ll get an ordnance expert on the base to be sure. Does anyone else know your suspicions?”

  “I wanted to speak with you first,” said Will. “I haven’t told Sheriff Andresen yet.”

  “I’ll be talking with him, but I’d rather the grenade idea didn’t become public while we’re investigating. It would put the creeps who did this on alert.”

  The three sipped coffee simultaneously.

  Unnecessarily, Haugen told them to be careful, hesitating before mentioning that he’d rather his daughter not take part in any protests.

  Will and Edna glanced at each other.

  “She’s your daughter,” said Edna, “and I understand your concern. At the moment I’m too demoralized to do any more protesting but if Karen wants to protest, I hope you don’t expect me to say no. I can’t do that.”

  Haugen could say nothing to that.

  Andresen motioned Haugen to an heirloom sea captain’s chair with a worn black leather cushion, a sign of how happy Andresen was to see him.

  “Between you and me,” he said, “I haven’t gotten anywhere with this thing so I’d appreciate any help you can give me.”

  “Actually I’m here to ask for your help,” said Haugen.

  He gave the bag of shrapnel to Andresen, explaining that an ordnance expert had identified the pieces of a grenade that had gone missing on the base.

  “I’m trying to find the person who took them, but would like to keep my investigation secret for now otherwise—”

  “Otherwise,” interrupted Andresen, “you’ll tip off the mad bomber.”

  “That’s about it.”

  “You will tell me the minute you find the bastard, won’t you?” said Andresen.

  “This loss of grenades is a bit embarrassing. Colonel Nichols would like to keep it quiet, but I don’t see how that’s possible, so yes, I’ll let you know.”

  “Good.”

  “There’s something I’d like from you,” said Haugen. “Another embarrassment. Someone is dealing drugs on the base. I have the telephone number of the dealer but not the name. Can you find out who owns the phone?”

  Andresen pulled a pad of paper toward him from across his desk..

  “Shoot.”

  Haugen gave him the number.

  “I shouldn’t have any trouble getting a warrant to find a drug dealer, but sometimes the phone company takes its time,” said Andresen.

  “This probably won’t be much help, but the dealer goes by Batman.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  As soon as Rasmussen got to his car, he called Edna.

  “You’re timing was perfect. If you’d called a little later, I wouldn’t have had a good excuse to walk out on her, except for cold feet, I guess.”

  “Have you listened to it yet?”

  “Not yet. I’d like to make a copy before anything happens to it.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d let me hear it.”

  “Why, Edna, your interest’s not salacious, is it?”

  He patted his new pen in its plastic pocket protector.

  “Hm,” mused Edna. “Let me think about that, but for the moment I’m just curious how damning it is, and whether Grumman will give a damn.”

  Ellen Conklin was resting in her hotel room at around three in the afternoon, when her phone rang.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Conklin. This is Andrew Rasmussen.”

  “Hello. Yes. What can I do for you?”

  “I wonder if you’d be so kind as to meet me at the Lucky Strike Restaurant for a cup of coffee this afternoon. It’s less than a quarter mile north of your hotel.”

  “May I ask what this concerns?”

  “A matter that will interest Grumman, I’m pretty sure.”

  “Why don’t you just come over here?”

  “I’d like to be discrete.”

  She didn’t like the sound of it. Rasmussen was no friend of Grumman. It hadn’t been long since she’d actually spoken to Claudia about him.

  The sound of the bowling balls rolling down the alleys and the muted thunder of the falling pins easily penetrated the restaurant, though their booth offered some buffering.

  “It is rather a noisy place for a meeting,” said Conklin after some preliminary talk about the difference between North Dakota and Virginia summers.

  “Yes, well, it was close by your hotel and the background noise just makes our chat all the more discrete.”

  By unspoken agreement neither of them raised the subject of that chat until coffee arrived.

  “Now that Boeing has dropped out of the competition,” said Rasmussen, “the contract is in the bag, isn’t it? You are going to build the GBDS.”

  “Well, yes. There’s no one else competing and Northrup Grumman has built rockets for the air force since 1954: Atlas. Thor. Titan I and II. Minuteman I, II, and III. Peacekeeper and Small ICBM.” She’d slipped into saleswoman mode.

  “It sounds to me,” said Rasmussen, “that the company should feel about as secure as can be.”

  “It does, of course.”

  “Then why did the company feel it necessary to black mail me?”

  “I assure you, Dr. Rasmussen, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He placed upon the table the digital audio player to which he’d transferred the recording from his spy pen.

  “I’d like you to hear this.”

  Conklin sat transfixed, as the recorder began to play:

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Yes, but not that stuff you doped me up with last time. I’ve never been so intoxicated. I couldn’t think. You could have gotten me to do anything. What was in that stuff?”

  “You sure you don’t want some more. It may have knocked out your willpower, but it sure didn’t knock out your performance.”

  “Well, I might try it again sometime. You can’t black mail me twice for the same drug-induced seduction. No offense.”

  “Well, if it’s blackmail, it’s blackmail in your own interests. You can’t go around saying bad things about those missiles without riling up some people. I just have your best interests
at heart. I really wouldn’t want to have to tell your wife.”

  “Will Grumman give you a bonus?”

  Laughter.

  By the time the recording ended, Conklin looked as if she’d just been scratched by a cat.

  “Your public relations person,” said Rasmussen, putting the small device back into his pocket, has threatened to tell my wife about the episode if I talk about the new missile or the old ones for that matter.”

  “Grumman had absolutely nothing to do with this.”

  “Ms. Conklin, rather than argue with you, I’d like to ask you to dissuade your employee from ever speaking to my wife about what happened. If she does my marriage will be severely damaged as will Grumman’s reputation when the news reports appear. ‘Grumman employee blackmails local physician into silence after drugging him into indiscretion.’ Oh, it won’t stop you from getting the contract, but it might slow down the approval process in congress. The people of Minot are good people. They will speak to the national press about this.”

  The sound of tumbling bowling pins comforted Rasmussen.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Ellen Conklin met with Claudia Cummings in a small hotel conference room shortly after Rasmussen revealed Cummings’ blackmail plan.

  “Is it true?” asked Conklin. “Did you drug him?”

  “I wouldn’t put it that way exactly. He was completely awake.” Had Conklin not appeared to be so irritated, Cummings might have smiled at just how fully awake he’d actually been.

  “He knew what he was doing.”

  “I don’t think you understand,” said Conklin. “How do you think the public would react to Northrup Grumman blackmailing people? Blackmailing people about anything. Threatening his marriage. Slipping drugs into his drink. Leading him into adultery. Holy mother of God, Claudia!”

  “Weren’t you worried about him making a fuss and turning some of the town against the missiles? I thought you’d be pleased that he’d decided not to talk and anyway his story sounds so far-fetched that no one would believe him anyway. He didn’t want to screw me. Oh, no. He had to be drugged.”