Ruins of War (8 page)

M
ason stood on the sidewalk and flicked his still-burning cigarette into the street. He watched it take flight in a high arc, the red crown glowing bright against the night sky. Thursday evening and still no progress on the slasher case. He and Wolski had spent the morning canvassing in a wider circle around the factory then hitting a brick wall trying to gain access to U.S. medical corps personnel files. The rest of the day they had to spin their wheels tracking down dead leads on the train robbery case—per Colonel Walton’s orders. A couple, laughing, arm in arm, already a few hours into the drinking part of the evening, staggered past him and entered the officers’ club. The warm light, the odor of food, and the sounds of Benny Olsen’s Big Band came out onto the street for a moment, contrasting with the scene of ruins all around. The door closed, and Mason was in the calm darkness again. He looked to his right and across the street at the dark opening of the orphans’ shelter, the hole in the wall where he had left food two nights before. Kurt sat just outside the hole. Mason waved and Kurt waved back.

Mason was about to cross over when he heard an army sedan’s horn honk as it rushed up to the club. The car skidded to a halt directly across the street. Wolski jumped out of the driver’s seat, ran
around the front of the car, and opened the passenger’s door. He then bowed like a chauffeur. A young woman emerged and took his arm. Wolski beamed as he led the woman toward the club’s entrance. That made Mason smile; Wolski was smitten.

They met Mason at the top of the stairs. Wolski introduced his girlfriend, Anna. Anna smiled sweetly. No more than nineteen, she had a soft, round face. Not beautiful but pretty, the kind of
Mädchen
face
Life
magazine would put on its cover to portray the rosy-cheeked future of Germany. After all she must have been through, all the horrors of a dictatorship and war, she’d managed to hold on to her aura of youth and innocent charm.

“Didn’t you bring a date?” Wolski asked.

“I’m fresh out,” Mason said.

“I can’t believe you came to a dance without a girl. A couple of packs of cigarettes will get you a willing fräulein.”

Anna playfully slapped Wolski on the shoulder, though Mason could tell she was embarrassed by the remark.

“I don’t believe in buying a young lady with cigarettes,” Mason said.

“Maybe the girl of your dreams is waiting inside.”

“Let’s go in and find out.”

They all entered the club. Light, warmth, and the band playing “Drum Boogie” greeted them. The officers’ club had taken over what had been a German dance club. It was of open design with several descending levels leading down to the large dance floor full of uniformed men and ladies in gowns, then a stage accommodating the thirty-piece band. Many of the high-ranking officers and military government officials had brought their families over for the holidays. And because the club was hosting a pre-Christmas bash, anyone above the rank of master sergeant had been invited. The place was packed. The couples on the dance floor looked like a school of sardines trapped in a fishing net, hopping to the beat, shoulder to shoulder, back to back.

Then, like a glint off that roiling sea, Laura McKinnon caught Mason’s eye. The reporter and her partner danced near the center of the crowd. She had exchanged her uniform for a black lace-back, floor-length evening gown and looked stunning. Then he noticed that she was struggling to keep her dance partner, a gray-haired colonel, at arm’s length, but either he or the crowd kept pushing them together.

“Go ahead and get a table,” Mason said to Wolski. He descended the three shallow steps, penetrated the wall of dancers, and excuse-me’d his way toward the center. As he got closer, he could see Laura getting more agitated by the colonel’s aggressive hands. Her face lit up when she saw him breaking through the final layer of dancers.

Mason positioned himself behind the colonel and tapped on the man’s shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”

“Beat it, mac,” the colonel said with an icy glare.

“Sir, I would appreciate if you could be a gentleman and allow me to cut in.”

“She’s with me, so go take a hike.”

“I was trying to avoid this. . . .” Mason pulled out his CID badge and held it up for the colonel. “Colonel, this lady is under investigation. I suggest you step away before I’m forced to charge you with impeding an officer of the law.”

The colonel released Laura like she’d given him an electrical shock. He glanced at them both with a skeptical eye then retreated into the crowd. Mason turned to a surprised Laura, took her hand and waist, and began to dance.

“Thanks, but I can take care of myself,” Laura said.

“I’m sure you can.”

“Then why the Tarzan routine?”

“I wanted to apologize for the other night. I went too far, and I’m sorry.”

Laura smiled. “You hit pretty close to the bone.”

“You did, too.”

“I have half a mind to walk away.”

“What’s the other half say?”

“To put up with you long enough to get your story. That, and the murder at the factory.”

“How did you know about . . . Oh, that’s right, your general boyfriend, Jenkins. Where is he? Won’t he be jealous of us dancing?”

“He had other obligations.”

“His wife is in town?”

“Don’t be nasty. What about your date? Won’t she be jealous?”

“I didn’t come with one.”

“I guess I’m not surprised. Big in muscle, low on charm.”

Mason chuckled. The music stopped and everyone applauded. The bandleader announced that they would be taking a short break. Laura pointed toward the top of the steps. “That guy is smiling at you like a proud father.”

Mason saw Wolski standing near a group of tables with his arms crossed and a big grin. “That’s my partner.”

“Are you going to introduce us?”

Mason offered his arm and Laura took it. He led Laura up to Wolski and introduced them.

“A reporter?” Wolski said. “Isn’t that like fraternizing with the enemy?”

“Not you, too,” Laura said.

“Ah, I was only kidding.”

“I think she got that,” Mason said. “Your smile’s so big we can see your tonsils.”

“Come over and join us,” Wolski said and nudged Mason to say something.

“Yeah, join us,” Mason said and thrust his thumb Wolski’s way. “This guy’s a pushover. Put on a little charm and he’ll tell you anything.”

“In that case, lead the way,” Laura said.

They had to squeeze past tables full of raucous diners, and after
helping Laura to her chair it took some acrobatics for Mason to get seated.

Once Wolski settled in, he studied Laura for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “I didn’t recognize you out of your reporter’s outfit. You were at that riot. I got a big kick out of that article about our chief.” He laughed, then stopped abruptly when he saw the expression on Mason’s face.

The waiter came by with the menus, and they ordered cocktails. Anna nearly bounced in her seat when a waiter passed with a tray full of food. She opened the menu and grinned like a kid in a candy store.

“Anna, are you getting enough to eat?” Laura asked.

“Thanks to Vincent.” Anna smiled at Wolski. “The American authorities issued my mother and me the number five ration card. Only fifteen hundred calories per day. The other Germans call the five card the ‘death card’ because one cannot live long on only that much food. And people usually can’t even get that much.”

“I hope that’s not the only reason she hangs out with me,” Wolski said.

“No!” Anna said. “I like you very much, but sometimes I don’t understand you.”

“So, Laura,” Wolski said, leaning into the table, “I’ve never met a woman war correspondent before.”

“There are more of us than you think. You name a theater of the war, and there was a woman correspondent covering it.”

“How did you get in that line of work?”

“I thought
I
was supposed to ask the questions,” Laura said. She looked from face to attentive face. “Okay, fine . . . I was doing fashion photography in Paris when Germany invaded France. I had a French boyfriend at the time. Actually, we were engaged to be married. He was killed at Dunkirk. I guess instead of falling apart, I decided to cover the German advance and their march into Paris. I managed to get out in the nick of time and make my way to London. Then I got assignments covering the London Blitz, and it took off from there.” She caught Mason staring at her. “What?”

Laura so beguiled Mason that he hadn’t realized he was staring at her. “Nothing,” he said as nonchalantly as he could.

“All right, boys, that’s enough about me. I want to find out how the murder investigation is going.”

“You know we can’t divulge anything about that,” Mason said.

“Off the record, then,” Laura said and held up her right hand. “I promise.”

“Go ahead, Chief, tell her,” Wolski said. “Maybe she can see an angle we haven’t thought about.”

Mason still hesitated.

Laura continued to hold her hand up as if swearing a solemn oath. “Off the record is off the record. Honestly. I wouldn’t be able to do my job very well if I betrayed that.”

Mason signaled Wolski with his eyes that Anna shouldn’t hear what he was about to say. Laura picked it up right away. “Anna,” she said, “why don’t you wait a few minutes in the ladies’ lounge. I’ll come and get you when we’re finished.”

Anna glanced at Wolski, who nodded. She looked disappointed, but she left the table and headed for the ladies’ lounge.

“Okay,” Mason said, “off the record is one thing, but before I go on, I have to ask you not to share this with anyone else. No one. Something like this could create a panic.”

When Laura agreed, Mason described what they’d found in the factory, how the body was mutilated and displayed on the column, the precision cuts, the severed limbs displayed in the bizarre fashion, the hours of torture the victim had likely endured. He told her about the body in the sewer, and that in all probability it was a victim of the same killer. “I’ve seen and heard about butchering murderers before, but nothing like what this killer does. I think this is just the beginning.”

“Like Jack the Ripper?” Laura asked.

“I don’t get how anyone could kill like that,” Wolski said. “And this one being a doctor, for chrissake. Doctors are supposed to save lives.”

“You think he’s a doctor?” Laura asked.

Mason said, “According to the medical examiner, every cut the killer made was surgically precise. The guy didn’t just cut off the arms and legs, he surgically removed them.”

“Some people think Jack the Ripper was a doctor,” Laura said. “Then there’s the doctor everyone’s talking about in France; they’re saying he could have killed up to seventy men, women, and children. It’s all over the French press.”

“His surgical skills and the fact that he can move around at night after curfew points to someone in an army uniform. In all probability, someone in the U.S. Army Medical Corps. We’ve checked MP and CID arrest records and looked for any open murder cases suggesting a killer with surgical skill, but nothing turned up. This killer has been able to elude detection and probably has no previous record. We need to get into medical personnel files and search for criminal background checks, psychological profiles, reprimands, disciplinary actions, anything that might hint at someone liable to commit this kind of murder. . . .”

“Only we can’t get clearance to access medical personnel files,” Wolski said. “Our commander has put that strictly off-limits. They’re okay with us searching for a suspect as long as he’s not American.”

“Hm,” Laura said, tapping her fingernails on the tabletop, a faraway look in her eyes.

“What is it?” Mason asked.

“I have an idea . . . if you’re open to it.”

“Shoot,” Wolski said eagerly.

Laura looked to Mason, who nodded for her to go on.

“Let’s make a deal,” she said. “I get you access to the medical personnel files, and you give me exclusive access to your investigation. I get to know what you know, but I don’t publish anything until you’ve caught your man. What do you say?”

“And how are you going to get us that kind of access?” Mason asked.

Laura gave them a sly smile. “I know the chief medical officer for the Third Army’s medical battalion, Brigadier General Morehouse.”
She furrowed her brow at Mason. “And don’t get the wrong idea. He’s a good friend, and that’s it. I caught him in a rather compromising position—to say the least—and I promised to keep it quiet. He promised me a favor. Maybe it’s time to cash it in.”

Mason looked at Wolski as he considered Laura’s proposal. Wolski raised his eyebrows, clearly prompting Mason to accept the deal.

“Exclusive access to our investigation doesn’t mean tagging along. We’ll share information and lines of investigation, but you don’t publish anything that the other newspapers don’t already have until we’re done.”

“It’s a deal.”

As they all shook hands, Mason wondered if he’d just grabbed a bobcat by the tail. If so, he was enjoying every minute of it.

M
ason exited the officers’ club after the party carrying a box of leftover food collected from the club’s kitchen. The master sergeant overseeing the kitchen had agreed to prepare two dozen bags containing full dinners. Wolski, Laura, and Anna were waiting for him on the sidewalk.

“Didn’t get enough to eat?” Wolski asked.

“I’ve got a delivery to make.”

Instead of accompanying them to the car, Mason crossed the street and placed the carton of food a little bit away from the hole of the orphans’ shelter. Kurt came out to investigate.

“I brought you all . . .” Mason didn’t have to finish. The scent of hot food had reached their noses. All the children climbed out, and this time Mason didn’t have to back away. He smiled and said,
“Guten Abend,”
to all of them.

They returned the greeting, but then stopped and looked with suspicion at something behind Mason. Mason turned to see Laura come up to his side. She took his arm and stood very close. Her broad smile made the children relax.

A girl of eleven or twelve poked her head out and tried to pull
herself onto the sidewalk. Two younger boys had to help her the rest of the way. Mason felt his heart constrict. Laura squeezed his arm.

The girl’s left leg was missing from the knee down. She reached back into the hole and brought out a pair of battered crutches, then raised herself up and stood back from the rest. She wore a discarded Wehrmacht overcoat cut off to her ankle, but the bulky coat couldn’t hide her skeletal frame. Her pale skin seemed to be stretched across bone. She had all the features of a beautiful girl hidden under a layer of dirt.

Mason couldn’t help staring at her.

Laura asked the girl, “And what is your name?”

“Her name is Angela,” Kurt said. “She doesn’t talk much.”

Kurt’s younger companion, Dieter, added, “She doesn’t have her leg.”

“Yes, we see that,” Mason said. “But you should be kind to her about that.”

Dieter nodded earnestly, and the youngest children began grabbing for the bags of food. Kurt barked at them to thank the nice man. Then as each one took a bag he or she bowed slightly and said,
“Danke.”
Kurt took his and Angela’s bags last.

Laura asked the children if any of them were sick and Mason added, “We could bring a doctor.”

Kurt shook his head. “Just food. And, if you please, cigarettes. We can buy stuff with cigarettes.”

Mason pulled out his almost full pack and handed it to Kurt. Kurt’s eyes brightened as if he’d been given a brand-new bicycle.

Mason looked at Wolski and whistled. “Got any cigarettes?”

Wolski came over, Anna following him, and tossed a couple of packs to Mason.

“There’s another two packs,” Mason said to Kurt. “But I don’t want to see you smoking them.”

“No, sir.”

And Angela added in a soft voice, “Thank you, sir.”

Mason bowed. “You’re welcome, my lady. Now go inside before
you get too cold.” He waited until Kurt helped Angela return to their shelter, then turned for the car.

Anna left Wolski’s side, rushed up to Mason, and kissed him on the cheek.

Wolski smiled slyly at Mason, as if an impostor’s true identity had suddenly been revealed.

“What?” Mason asked.

“Nothing at all.” That smile again. “Hey, I know a great club we could go to. It’s got a nice mix of regular army and locals. How about you guys come with us? I stole a bottle of the colonel’s scotch just for this occasion.”

Laura glanced at Mason, then said, “Thanks, but I’ve got to get back to my hotel and finish an article that’s due tomorrow. I also need to put in that call to General Morehouse.”

“I’ll pass, too,” Mason said. “I’ll walk Laura back to her hotel, and then I’m going to hit the sack. If Morehouse gives us access to those files, we’re going to have a long day tomorrow.”

“Suit yourselves,” Wolski said. He climbed into the car with Anna and drove away.

Mason and Laura turned a corner, leaving the lights of the club behind. The light of the moon took over, washing the ruins in a ghostly glow. They walked in silence and entered the big plaza, Marienplatz. On their right was the neo-Gothic Neues Rathaus, intact but gutted by fire. The intricate facade, the arches, turrets, statues, and gargoyles, all reminiscent of a Gothic cathedral, stood out in stark relief from the hard light of the moon.

“So, you don’t have a current girlfriend?”

“I’ve been here barely two weeks, plus I’ve been a little busy. I had a girlfriend when I worked as an assistant for the general staff in Frankfurt. A nurse. But that didn’t work out.”

“No girl back home?”

“An ex-wife.”

“That didn’t work out, either?”

“‘Ex’ would be the giveaway. Six weeks of bliss, then a year of pain. She sent me a Dear John letter right after I landed in France.”

“Poor boy.”

“It was mutual, though it was pretty rotten of her to do it just when I was about to go into combat.”

“What about family?”

“Just a grandmother. She and my grandfather raised me when my mother died. I was twelve. My stepdad took off long before then. I have no idea where he is, and I don’t want to know.”

A group of inebriated soldiers passed them on the other side of the street. They walked in and out of the light from a couple of bars and restaurants that served late for the soldiers.

“You were right about my parents,” Laura said. “They’re both overachievers. My father is a biochemist and a U.S. congressman, and my mother is a writer and a leading feminist and she teaches medieval and Renaissance literature at Brown University. They both pushed me so hard to follow in their footsteps that they suffocated me.”

“How did they react to you becoming a fashion photographer and a war correspondent?”

“What do you think? My mother cried and my father yelled. Then my father cried and my mother yelled. It got a little better when they saw my articles being published. My father and I barely have two words to rub together, but my mom told me he keeps a scrapbook of every article of mine he can find in print. But it wasn’t just me who had them pulling their hair out. My older brother became a cop for the Boston PD. You see? I know a little about cops.”

Mason stopped and looked at Laura. “Then you know they can be a lot of trouble.”

“So can reporters.”

A quiet moment was broken between them when two army jeeps drove by on patrol. A couple of GIs whistled at Laura.

“I’d better get back,” Laura said.

Mason held out his arm and they walked in silence for a while.

“So, what happened in Chicago?” Laura asked.

Mason stopped. “There you go again.”

“Come on, we all have ghosts in our closets.”

“I thought it was skeletons.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Mason tried to look angry, but her eyes, her smile, melted away his aggravation. He extended his arm again, and Laura took it and they resumed their stroll.

“I was partnered with one of the best men I’ve ever known. He’d been a detective going on eighteen years. I really looked up to him. Detective Sergeant Dave Lupin. About three years after I became a detective, Dave and I were investigating a series of drug-related murders. But every time we tried to make a bust, someone tipped them off. Each time we found an eyewitness, the witness disappeared. Dave started suspecting an inside job. I refused to believe it. Back then I never imagined sworn police officers would murder, torture, and steal to take over the drug trade.”

“But that’s just what some of them did.”

Mason nodded.

“Did your partner—”

“Dave.”

“Dave. Did he take it to your commander?”

“You have to understand one thing. In every police department there’s what’s called ‘the blue code of silence.’ No one rats on a fellow officer. It’s not written anywhere, it’s not taught at the academy, but it might as well be chiseled in stone and mounted on every precinct entrance, like Moses had delivered an eleventh commandment.”

“But did Dave go to someone?”

“Not before he had enough concrete evidence. He worked on it for six months. The commander started sniffing around and gave us a stern warning.
I
kept warning him—”

“Didn’t you want to stop these crooked cops?”

“I knew something was going on, but I still couldn’t believe it was fellow detectives. If there’s one thing to this day that still hurts, it’s how stupid and naive I was.”

“Dave didn’t share the evidence with you?”

“No. He said it was to protect me. Then, Dave met me one night and handed over everything he’d found out. I didn’t understand why he was giving it to me. He said it was my turn to step up to the plate. He walked away and two hours later he was shot in the back. They collared a junkie for it, but I knew better.”

“What did you do with the evidence?”

“I was scared. So I went to a motel outside of town and read everything. It was incredible. It was horrible what these guys had done and were doing. The next morning I stashed the evidence in a bus station locker. And you want to know how stupid and naive I was? I went to the commander.”

“Oh, no. What did he say?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I waited for two days, expecting to get a bullet in the back. Then out of the blue I got transferred to a precinct on the other side of town and reduced down to patrolling a beat. That really steamed me, so I went to the assistant DA and told him about the evidence. The guy patted me on the back and shook my hand and said he would take care of it.”

“And nothing was done about it.”

“That’s right.”

“You should have gone to the press.”

“I did. I made an appointment with a reporter, but that same day I was busted for kickbacks and extortion. They’d planted evidence and bribed some lowlifes to testify against me. They claimed Dave had falsified all the evidence because of a vendetta Dave and I had against these guys. They fired me but didn’t prosecute me. Everyone went along, from the mayor on down. Sharing the wealth and crushing the story.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

“It sticks me in the ribs once in a while, but I don’t let it get me down.”

“You’re a better man for it.”

“There you go.”

“Well, this is me,” Laura said, and they stopped in front of the Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten, a high-class hotel reserved mostly for army brass and military government officials.

Mason smiled. “You know, the only other person I’ve told the whole story to is my grandmother.”

Laura went up on her toes and kissed him. Mason kissed back. They slowly broke the embrace.

“I’d better go in,” Laura said.

They said good night. Laura entered the arched entrance, then turned and waved before going inside. On the twenty-minute walk back to his billet, Mason couldn’t help his silly grin. His reverie came to an abrupt end, however, when he saw the figure waiting outside his house.

“You’re needed, sir,” Corporal Manganella said, standing next to a parked jeep. “There’s been another one of those murders.”