Remembering Dresden (Jack Turner Suspense Series Book 2) (22 page)

She laid her index finger on the page, trace down a few lines. “Start reading here, at this paragraph. It’s starts getting very personal.”

Jack leaned over. “You mean, read out loud?”

“Yes, out loud.”

Jack did.

So you see, my son, this great work I have begun. It is an important work, a just work.

Jack stopped. “Whoa, my son?”

“I thought that would get your attention.”

“That has to be Senator Wagner. And what does he mean saying, the
work I have begun
? Didn’t you say this comes after the eighth and final victim?”

“Keep reading, it’ll make more sense.”

I’m beginning to realize that I cannot do this work alone. Two things have convinced me. The first is, there are still so many more who participated in this crime against humanity.

“He says that phrase quite often,” Rachel said. “I’m convinced it’s the code phrase he uses when referring to the death of his family and probably the entire town of Dresden. But he slipped up a few times here toward the end. I can show you later. He actually said
crime against my family
a few times instead of this phrase. Keep reading.”

When I consider how many months and years it has taken me to execute justice on these war criminals, and how many more of them are still alive, I’m convinced, my son, that I will need your help if I am to finish this work.

The second reason is more serious. My health is not what it once was. It is not just my age that is slowing me down. I have been experiencing certain symptoms. A doctor has informed me they are the early warning signs of a stroke. I know you have always seen me as strong and fit. On the outside, I appear to be. But the stress of this task these past five years, multiplied by so many years working for the Stasi, have taken their toll on me.

“The Stasi? Rachel, do you know who the Stasi are?”

“The East German secret police. I learned about them when I was studying German.”

“Those guys were like the KGB. I’m guessing these B-17 pilots were not the first men this guy had killed.”

“Didn’t you pick up on the other thing he just said?” Rachel pointed to it on the page. “He’s talking about the early warning signs of a stroke. Didn’t you say old man Wagner had a severe stroke and died a few years later from the complications?”

“That’s right.”

“Keep reading. You’re almost at the part I was talking about, the deal breaking glitch.”

Jack glanced back at the page and began to read again.

So you see, my beloved Ernst, why I need your help. I know this will be hard for you. You are enjoying your life as an American, your new life at the University. But you must not forget your duty. You must not forget who you really are, and why we came to this country in the first place. You are Ernst Hausen, first and foremost. You are my son. We are here to execute justice on behalf of the uncle for which you’ve been named, for your aunt, and for the grandmother you never had the chance to meet. And on behalf of all of the other innocents who were mercilessly killed by these criminals long before you were born.

“Wow,” Jack said. “Guess we don’t have to wonder about the motive anymore. This pretty much just says it, flat out. But I see what you mean about the glitch. You’re talking about the name, right?”

Rachel nodded. “He identifies the son as Ernst Hausen, not Burkhart Wagner.”

“Which must mean his last name is Hausen also.”

“You’ve got the same look on your face I did when I first read this,” Rachael said. “It would seem like instead of connecting it directly to old man Wagner and his son, he severs the connection completely. But after I had some time to think about it, I started to wonder. What if this isn’t what it seems? He just admitted he was part of the Stasi for many years, the East German KGB. The Stasi were very bad men. After the Soviet Union fell, quite a few of them were prosecuted for crimes they’d committed during the communist years. I looked it up. You said it yourself, this man had probably killed many people before these B-17 pilots. What if—”

Jack instantly saw where she was going. “What if Mr. Hausen was actually Mr. Wagner, who changed his name when he came here to close the door on his past as a former Stasi agent?”

Rachel smiled, “Which would also mean he’d have to change the name of his son.”

“Ernst Hausen becomes Burke Wagner,” Jack said.

Rachel nodded. “We’re just speculating now, but if they did change their names legally, there’d be a record of that. And if we could confirm that, it would be undeniable proof this scrapbook and journal were written by old man Wagner.”

“And,” Jack added, “that his son—now the Senator—had to have known what his father had been up to all along.”

Boyd glanced at his watch. This wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend his lunch break. But Jack Turner had said he really needed to meet. Apparently, his girlfriend Rachel had finished translating the journal yesterday. They’d met last night and had some big things to go over with him. Jack wanted Rachel there in case Boyd and Hank had any questions. She could only come during her lunch hour.

He’d better round up Hank, make sure he could join them. He glanced at his watch again. They’d be here any minute. Getting out of his chair, he headed down the hallway, stopped at Hank’s cubicle. Thankfully, he was at his desk, though Boyd had to wait for him to finish a phone call. “Say Hank, Jack Turner is on his way here with his girlfriend, Rachel.”

“He’s coming back again?”

“Looks like it. Remember he said she was translating that journal? I told him to give us a call when she finished, if it turned up anything relevant.”

“Guess it did then.”

“Guess so. Can you keep an eye out for them? Should be here any minute.”

“Sure thing, Joe. I’ll bring them back as soon as they get here.”

Boyd headed back to his office. He’d already stopped what he’d been doing. Maybe he could wolf down a few bites of that turkey and swiss sandwich Kate had packed for him before they arrived.

Jack held Rachel’s hand as they walked across the parking lot toward the police station. He glanced down to see she was holding both the journal and the manila folder containing a marked up copy of her translation.

“What do you think Sergeant Boyd will do once he hears all this?” she said.

Jack sighed. “I hope he’ll take it seriously. Hope he doesn’t think we’re wasting his time.”

“You said the last time you guys met he went out of his way to make you feel this wasn’t going to go the way things went last year, when he blew you off completely.”

“I know, he did say that. But then Hank came in and, next thing you know, I’m heading toward the front door feeling like a kid who got spanked.” They reached the glass door. He opened it for her then followed behind her.

She squeezed his hand and whispered, “I don’t think that’ll happen this time. With this—” she held up the notebook and folder “—we’re no longer dealing with speculation.”

They reached the receptionist sitting behind the counter. “Hi, I’m Jack Turner. This is Rachel. Sergeant Boyd is expecting us.”

The receptionist looked up. “I remember you. Just a minute.” She was already wearing a headset. She pushed a button on her phone. “Hey Hank, that couple you asked me about is here. Okay, I’ll tell them.” She looked back up at them. “Hank will be right here to get you.”

Jack tensed up a little. He liked Hank. He reminded himself that Hank was a nice guy and a good cop.

“There he is,” Rachel said. She waved.

Jack saw him walking down the hall toward them. He waved back to her and smiled. “Well, here goes.”

She squeezed his hand, then whispered. “You’ll do fine.”

“Hi guys,” Hank said, “good to see you. Joe’s expecting you. Follow me.” As they walked down the hall, he said, “Is that the journal you translated?”

“It is,” Rachel said.

“This should be interesting.”

“I think you’ll think so after we go over it with you.”

He led them past an area of half walls and cubicles straight to Boyd’s office. When they walked in, Boyd was finishing up a sandwich. He motioned with his hand for all of them to take a seat. Rachel set the two items on his desk.

When Boyd finished chewing, he said, “That the journal?”

Rachel said, “It is.”

“Can I see it?” She handed it to him. He opened it, looked at the first few pages. “Definitely written in German. I thought the pages would be more yellow.”

Jack spoke up. “It’s old, but it was only written in the 90s, or sometime after that.”

“That’s right, I thought it was written during World War II.” He flipped through a few more pages. Handed it back to Jack. “So Rachel, you speak fluent German? How did that happen?”

“Well, for my degree I had to pick a language. It’s kind of a long story, but the short version is…my father is a retired Air Force general.”

“I think I remembered that, somehow,” Boyd said.

“We were stationed in Germany a few years. My dad was the commander of a base there. That’s actually where I first met Jack. He was my father’s driver, off and on. Of course, he barely remembered me.”

“There’s a reason,” Jack added.

“I was only fourteen at the time. Anyway, I picked up some German while we lived there, though we mostly stayed on base. When I got to college, it seemed like the right language to pick, since I already had a head start.”

“That makes sense,” Boyd said. “Well, there are a lot of pages in that journal. Can you just summarize the parts that matter? The parts you want to show us?” Joe looked at Hank. “Hank, you close that door?”

Hank got up.

Rachel picked up the journal. She pinched the first three-fourths of it between her fingers. “This whole section here is pretty much the killer taking notes as he is stalking, I guess you could say, the B-17 pilots.”

“Is that what he calls them?” Hank said. “Does he name them?”

“No. I should say up front, this man is very clever. He uses codenames and code phrases for all the names and places. But he uses the same codenames for the same people, and the same phrases for the places. You don’t need to be an expert code breaker to put it together. Really, just having the scrapbook with the obituaries, I could easily make the connections myself.”

“I suppose if this came down to a situation that wound up in court,” Boyd said, “the DA could come up with an expert who could officially make the connections. Go on.”

“He really could,” Jack said. “I spent a little time going over what Rachel did, with the scrapbook right beside it. I spent just enough time to connect up the things he’d written with the first two obituaries. It was very easy. To me, it’s so clear, he could just as well have skipped all this codename mumbo-jumbo and talked plainly.”

Boyd looked at Rachel. “Go on.”

“Things really get interesting in this last section,” she said. She read and explained all about the things old man Wagner had said to his son, about how he couldn’t kill everyone who needed to be punished by himself, how he needed his son’s help and why. She explained his health issues and how they directly correlate with what happened to old man Wagner before he died. For now, she left out the part about the name change. She and Jack had talked about this before they’d arrived, thinking they should go over that separately at the end.

Hank interjected at that point. “But is there any evidence his son knew what his father was doing? Couldn’t he just say, my father was a nutcase? I had no idea he was doing these things?”

“I don’t think so,” Jack said. He looked at Rachel, “Do you mind?” She shook her head no. He picked up a few of the sheets she had translated and found the part he wanted to read. “Look at what he says here:
I know this will be hard for you. You are enjoying your life as an American, your new life at the University. But you must not forget your duty. You must not forget who you really are, and why we came to this country in the first place.”

Jack skipped over the line where he calls out his son’s real name
. “You are my son. We are here to execute justice on behalf of the uncle for which you’ve been named, for your aunt, and for the grandmother you never had the chance to meet. And on behalf of all of the other innocents who were mercilessly killed by these criminals long before you were born.”
He looked at Joe, then at Hank. “It’s crystal clear by what he says here, his son knew what his father’s purpose was for even coming to the US in the first place. The father isn’t informing him. He’s
reminding
him…of his duty.”

“And remember the timeline?” Rachel added. “Old man Wagner killed these pilots between 1993 and 1998. Senator Wagner was in college during that time. Right here, at Culpepper. I looked it up. Everything connects. I didn’t find anything that suggests the Senator actually helped his father kill anyone. But I think it defies logic and common sense to think he had no idea what his father was up to.”

“Do you know if any more B-17 pilots were killed after the eighth one?” Hank asked. He was looking at Rachel. “Seems pretty obvious he was planning to kill several more.”

Jack jumped in. “I don’t think so. I was able to come up with a list of pilots in that same bomb group who had flown on the Dresden mission. I googled about fifteen of them, so far. None of them had died in any kind of accidental fire-related death.” Jack restrained a smile. It just dawned on him, what Hank had just said. He was starting to buy into this.

“We’re thinking,” Rachel said, “since this part of the journal was written near the end, he must have had his big stroke before killing anyone else. And, for some reason, his son decided not to fulfill his father’s legacy. But like I said, he had to have known what was going on.”

For a few moments, no one said anything. Then Boyd said, “I think there’s really something here. I think you guys have stumbled onto something pretty significant. What do you think, Hank?”

“Yeah, I have to agree. This doesn’t look very good for Senator Wagner.”

Jack looked at Rachel, and nodded. It was time to tell them about the name change.

“There’s something else Jack and I need to make you aware of,” Rachel said. “Something pretty important.”