3rd World Products, Book 16 (26 page)

Tanya sipped from a juice pack and seemed thoughtful. I wondered why Marie had reacted so angrily to my visit after such a long time. We’d had no relationship outside of work, not even a friendship. Could that have been one of the problems? Unlikely. Not enough motivation for emotion.
 

She hadn’t been shy about much; I’d seen her tell Mike to take her to a movie once. She’d
simply stated what was showing and that she’d like to see it, then said it looked odd when women went to movies alone. He’d recognized the hint and been so surprised he almost looked around to see if she’d been talking to someone else. When he asked if she really meant him, Marie had rather tartly asked if he had something better to do that evening.
 

Mike Sayer. I realized I didn’t know if he was still alive and checked. Nope. Died in an accident near Hannover, 1973. Hm. Wonder why nobody bothered to tell me? I’d gone to Israel that year, but I’d had contacts with Linda and John before I left, and when I’d returned, I stayed with Linda for a while.
 

Linking to my core to buzz official records hooked me into an automated microfiche machine. I didn’t turn up anything between Marie and Mike. Not surprising. Unless there’d been notable problems or an investigation, there’d probably be no mentions of unofficial involvements.
 

Then something caught my eye; Mike had been driving a green Volkswagen 411-E, the car he’d bought from me when I was about to leave for Israel. The cause of the accident was listed as brake failure.
 

Huh? What? Well, it’s possible, but the car had almost-new front brake pads and would have had to pass a base inspection before he could put POV green tags on it. Then I noticed the car’s registered owner. Me. Mike hadn’t immediately re-registered the car. He’d been driving it on my old plates for some reason.
 

‘For some reason’ indeed. It was likely about money, as always. Despite being single and making good money, Mike never had a dime to spare when I knew him. He’d probably put off re-registering the car. I’d used the car right up to my last day before takeoff, then given him the signed registration and keys. He’d said he’d take care of the registration through our office. But he’d have needed insurance, and you couldn’t insure someone else’s car over there. At least, not back then under Army rules.
 

Another check turned up a six-month insurance policy in my name, dated the day I’d left for Israel. Damn. He’d probably just called in as me and renewed the policy. When the registration didn’t change, who’d know? But after the accident, why didn’t anyone contact me?
 

Easy answer; in a spook shop in the seventies, any and all details and changes in the lives of operatives — including their deaths — would have been routinely classified info. Some more fishing turned up an accident report. The driver’s name had been blacked out and an attached page quoted security interests for the censorship. The car had been towed directly to an MP lot that night and scrapped the following day.
 

Tanya asked, “Ed, what’s wrong?”
 

I sat up and put up a screen with the data I’d been studying, then said, “Read this. Mike died in my car after I sold it to him. I’d gone to Israel. He didn’t re-tag the car right away, probably because he was short of money, as usual. He also extended my insurance six months, so he probably didn’t plan to get new plates until he absolutely had to.”
 

As she studied the screen, I rooted up more data through my core and said, “Brake failure. But the front pads were new and the rear shoes had lots left on them. I suppose it could happen anyway, but how? No cause given.”
 

Pointing at a chunk of the screen, I said, “And look… towed directly to an MP yard that night and scrapped the next day. Why such speedy service? Some MP yards had stuff that had been rusting away since the end of World War Two.”
 

Tanya read the info, then looked at me and asked, “Where are you getting all this?”
 

For some reason, I’d expected just about anything but that from her. With a trace of irritation, I snapped, “Here and there. Everywhere. Doesn’t matter. I think we’re looking at a cover-up.”
 

Chapter Seventeen
 

I sent a ping to Linda. She answered with a screen and, “Hi, Ed. Thanks for calling, I needed a break from gardening.”
 

“Glad to help out, Fearless Leader. Tanya Connor and I are out for a drive. While she’s been sightseeing, I’ve been rooting through old records. I turned up something I think you should see. Ready for a data feed with some notes?”
 

“Sure. Send it.”
 

I did so and said, “Note the disposal of my old car.”
 

She read for a few moments, then whistled softly. “Wow. That was
quick
, wasn’t it?”
 

“Phenomenally so. Can you add anything? Why Mike transferred out, when, and to which other outfit?”
 

“You’re going to pursue this?”
 

“You bet, milady. I think it has something to do with why Marie seemed to hate me today more than she did back then. The more I think about it, the less trouble I remember Marie and Mike having with each other. There was some contention and a clash or two, but nothing like between Marie and me.”
 

Linda looked from me to Tanya and back, then said, “Mike and Marie had an affair. It began just before you left and lasted until he died in Hannover. If I’d known, I’d have split the team, but I didn’t find out about it until Marie went to Hannover when the local MPs contacted her about Mike. The Hannover MPs found her phone number in Mike’s wallet.”
 

Huh? What?
Her
contact info in his wallet? Or, for that matter, anywhere on or near him?
 

Linda saw my expression and said, “That was my reaction, too.” Looking at Tanya, she said flatly, “We didn’t do things like that. Never. If Mike had lived, I’d have traded him to another outfit immediately.”
 

Tanya looked confused. She asked, “Just because he had Mom’s number in his wallet?”
 

“Yes. Marie wasn’t a local civilian or military woman. She was one of his own team members. That, in itself, was a big security and regulations breach.”
 

“Why?”
 

“Emotions ran high enough among team members without personal entanglements. Ed, with your plates on the car, it’s entirely possible someone thought you were at the wheel that night.”
 

“That occurred to me, too, ma’am. I’ve only checked the immediately available US records so far.”
 

“I’ll see what else I can find out, too. Keep me posted.”
 

“Will do, Fearless Leader.”
 

“Later, then.”
 

“Later.”
 

She dropped the link and I rooted up German police and insurance references to the accident. Very few routine records that old had been digitized or made into microfiche; I had to place requests for scanned copies of whatever still existed. That meant I’d likely have them no sooner than Monday and more likely Tuesday or later. Oh, well. Things had already waited quite a while.
 

Tanya said, “So that was the legendary Linda.”
 

I chuckled, “Congrats, ma’am. That wasn’t a self-answering question. I think you might be making progress.”
 

She gave me a dim look and, “Oh, up yours. Doesn’t it matter to you that she thinks someone may have tried to kill you?”
 

“Not particularly. If so, they missed. What bothers me is that they killed someone else in the effort and they apparently had the juice to get rid of the evidence through official channels.”
 

Tanya stated, “The car. Okay, I can see all that, but what if you can’t find any actual proof there was a murder?”
 

Shrugging, I said, “Then someone gets away with it. Hell, they might already have. Could be any perps died of heart attacks or something. They’d be my age or older.”
 

“Perps? More than one?”
 

“Possibly not. Just covering all bases. Finding out who ordered the immediate disposal of my car would probably tell us a lot. The XO or CO of the MP unit would have had to sign off on a car disposal. Since lots of other cars hadn’t been crushed immediately, there should be something on record as a reason for rushing this one through. If there isn’t, I’ll call it a cover-up and push things a bit.”
 

“Push things how?”
 

“Show what I’ve found to an FBI friend and let her take it from there. The FBI doesn’t handle murders, but they know who does. Do you think what happened to Mike might be why your mom hates me?”
 

She shook her head and sighed, “I don’t know. I guess it’s at least possible.”
 

“Good for you, but think a minute. If she thought it really was just an accident, her only likely reason for hating me would be the fact I sold him the car. The cops would definitely want to know where she was the night Mike died. You know how your mom’s mind works. Does that possibility make any sense to you?”
 

Staring at the screen, Tanya shook her head again slightly. After a brief pause, she turned a stern face to me and said, “No. Mom’s always been the first to write off things that couldn’t be helped and I don’t think I like where you might be going with that line of thought.”
 

“I’m not going any farther with it without a lot more than we have now. Cops probably would, though. Tanya, I
will
say that I don’t really think Marie had anything to do with it. Feel better?”
 

“If that’s the truth, yes.”
 

“It’s the current truth as things seem to me. If that changes for any reason, I’ll let you know. Either way, I’m not afraid to be proven wrong.”
 

A few moments passed, then Tanya asked, “
Why
don’t you think she had anything to do with it?”
 

“My gut says so. One of the things I didn’t like about her back then; she was too confrontational, like she was always trying to prove herself. Not ‘blow up in your face’ confrontation, but definitely right there in your face, ready to argue or fight, whichever was required. Some things aren’t worth the trouble. In any group, toes
will
be stepped on occasionally. Can’t be helped. Most people realize that and just get on with things when they know whatever wasn’t intentional.”
 

Sipping my drink, I sighed, “Not Marie. For example: Bump into her and an ‘excuse me’ wouldn’t cover it. She had to bark something like ‘
watch where you’re going!
‘ One day Will was adding a roof rack to one of the cars. The clamp strap broke and snapped Marie in the back. Just the strap, no buckle. She whipped around, slapped his shoulder hard, and yelled, ‘
watch what the hell you’re doing!
‘ We all thought she was a bit high strung before, but things like that pretty much confirmed it for us. Even Connie avoided her most of the time. She said she didn’t hang out with hostile loners.”
 

Sipping again, I said, “So anyway, that’s why I don’t think your mom had anything to do with the accident. If she’d hated me enough to do anything extreme, she’d have just challenged me to duke it out in the parking lot.”
 

Reaching in my pocket, I pulled out four coins and lined them up on the back of my hand and middle finger. I didn’t toss them up at all. Dropping my hand, I pulled it straight back and reached forward to snatch the coins in free fall about two inches below their release point.
 

I showed them to Tanya as I said, “Back then I could do six or seven on a good day. Your mom was faster and she could do eight or nine. Once she did ten. It was like watching a damned snake strike.”
 

Tanya’s eyes were wide. She stated softly, “Holy. Shit.”
 

“Yup.”
 

“No, I mean I’m amazed that
you
can do
that
.”
 

“Ah. Well, don’t be. It’s about the acceptable minimum as speed exercises go. I don’t keep up like I used to.”
 

“Can I try it?”
 

Flipping a penny high at Tea’s field and waiting for the plasma bang, I said, “With
your
coins, sure.”
 

Tanya blinked and yelped, “What the
hell
just happened?!”
 

“The penny hit Tea’s hull field. That’s what would happen if you miss the coins. It’s also why there’s no trash bag.”
 

Blinking again, Tanya nodded slightly. “Oh.
Damn!
”
 

We talked a bit more before the Guyana clinic appeared below and ahead. As we settled to the roof in stealth mode, I sent a ping to the front desk monitor. The woman who’d answered my previous calls said not to check in; Milla would be with us shortly. I hopped down to the roof and walked around a bit to stretch my legs.
 

Milla appeared in front of me as Tanya was extending a leg to the ground. She froze in that position momentarily, then continued and came to join us. I guided the probe containing Marie’s sample to hover between us.
 

“Milla,” I said, “You’re as lovely as ever, ma’am. This is Tanya. The sample is from her mother.”
 

We shook hands around as Milla said, “Thank you,” to me and, “It’s nice to meet you,” to Tanya. She focused on the sample and asked, “You have her medical records?”
 

“My core has copies of everything, ma’am. Feel free.”