Ultimate Issue (41 page)

“No.”

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“Ah, then you would know how unpleasant things can get. I disapprove of places like Moabit.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Verago, buttoning up his shirt.

“No,” said the doctor. “Roll up your sleeve.”

He was busying himself over a trolley containing jars and bottles.

“What for?” asked Verago, his uneasiness growing.

The doctor turned around. He was holding a hypodermic syringe.

“Now wait a moment,” cried Verago. “I’m not “

“Don’t be childish,” the doctor said mildly. “This is only a little injection to relax you. It will give you a good night’s sleep.”

“In the middle of the day?”

“Hager!” yelled the doctor. As if on cue, a burly man in a short white jacket entered the cubicle. He had jackboots.

“Just hold this patient’s arm for me, will you?” requested the doctor.

Hagen grabbed Verago’s right arm and held it in an iron grip.

“I want … I want Major Pech,” gasped Verago desperately.

“I am doing this on Major Pech’s instructions ” said the doctor. “He wants you fully fit so that the Americans can’t complain about your health. We are not monsters, you know.”

And he jabbed the needle into Verago’s arm.

“There,” he said, “that didn’t hurt, did it?”

He nodded to Hagen, and the vicelike grip was taken off. The relief was like the time Pech removed his handcuffs. -

Verago sat still, pale-faced.

The doctor laughed, quite sympathetically.

“Relax,” he said. “You look so worried. You won’t feel a thing.”

Involuntarily, Verago shuddered. He recollected a transcript he had read. The record of a war crimes trial. He remembered vividly a witness who recalled the words of the doctor in the death clinic. “You won’t feel a thing….”

“You people can’t get away with this kind of thing, not any more,” croaked Verago. “Not in 1961. People will look for me. The army….”

“You see, you are suffering from hypertension,” said

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the doctor. “I suppose it’s only understandable, but your nerves are in a shocking state. You have a good rest now.”

Verago staggered to his feet

“I want out,” he cried, “I want out of here, you bastards, I “

Then he folded over and crashed to the floor.

They stood watching, not even trying to prevent him from falling.

London

Ivanov was late, and Laurie watched the entrance of the lounge at the Wcstbury anxiously. She hadn’t touched the coffee she had ordered, and her fingers twisted nervously around the strap of her shoulder bag.

When he came, a smile crossed his face as soon as he spotted her.

“Forgive me,” he excused himself, sifting down, “but I find walking down Bond Street most seductive. I love the shops. They could make me change my allegiance, I think. My country for Asprey’s….”

But she didn’t smile, and he reacted to the strain in her eyes.

“Laurie, how selfish of me. You have a problem? A big problem, I think?”

‘Yony’s in trouble,” she burst out.

The bonhomie faded. “Yes,” said Ivanov soberly, “I regret to say Captain Verago is in big trouble.”

“You’ve got to do something, Gene. You must.”

He called the waiter over. “I would like something stronger than this. For me and the lady.”

And he pointed to the cold coffee with a gesture of contempt.

“Are you resident, sir?” inquired the waiter.

“No.”

“I’m afraid the bar is only open to residents at this hour.”

Ivanov looked shocked. Then he ordered some tea.

“I have changed my mind,” he confided. “No way could I give a country that does not serve a drink in the afternoon my allegiance.”

“Please,” appealed Laurie.

“Ah, yes. Your Captain Verago. He is a lucky man, for you to care. It is not just official, I take it?”

“I think he’s in great danger,” said Laurie. “He ” She broke off.

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.‘Yes?‘t

“Can you get him outs” she asked. She was very anxious.

“I personally? Laurie. I am not that important.”

“You know who to contact,” she said impatiently.

He shook his head. “Rumor has it,” he began, carefully picking his words, “that he is in East German hands. That’s unfortunate. Papa Ulbricht is a hard liner, you know. His boys are very humorless.”

The waiter brought the tea, and Ivanov poured himself a cup, ignoring the milk jug. He put six lumps of sugar in the cup and looked sheepish doing it.

“The East Germans will do what your people say,” Laurie said earnestly. “He is an American officer. I am sure nobody wants an incident.”

“What would Washington do? Break off diplomatic relations with Pankow? Oh, come on, Laurie, the U.S. doesn’t even have official diplomatic relations with Ulbricht. No, your lot have to do it.”

“What?”

“Get him out,” Ivanov said quietly. “Forgive an athe~ ist for quoting the old saying ‘God helps those who help themselves.’ “

“You know that’s impossible,” Laurie whispered.

“Is it?” He raised his eyebrows.

Momentarily her lip quivered. “Oh, God,” she whispered.

But Laurie was not a woman to cry in public. She tossed her head and said rather defiantly, “So there’s nothing you can do?”

“I didn’t say that, but it is difficult,” murmured Ivanov. “He got himself into this mess, you know. Nobody asked him to. We were all very unhappy about it, weren’t we?”

He sipped his tea and pulled a face. “Too sweet. I should only have put four in.”

“All right,” said Laurie. She sounded like a woman who had made up her mind suddenly. “Thanks anyway.”

“Of course.” Ivanov said silkily, “I will do my best. Only that I can’t make a promise.”

She put a half crown on her bill.

“Gene, I’m not sure that’s good enough.” She smiled coldly.

He rose as she got to her feet.

“By the way,” he asked softly, “what about the courtmartial?”

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Laurie looked away, avoiding his eyes. “Oh, the courtmartial,” she said. “That’s all being taken care of.”

“Well,” he said after a pause, “in that case perhaps I might be able to do something after all.”

“Like what?”

“Have a word in the right ear,” he said and smiled.

Tuesday, August 1, 1961 TRANSCRIPT OF RESUMED GENERAL COURTMARTIAL PROCEEDINGS U.S. v TOWER RAF STATION LACONBURY

PRESIDENT: The court will come to order.

TRIAL COUNSEL: All parties to the trial who were present when the court adjourned are again present in court except Captain Anthony Verago, the individual defense counsel.

PRESIDENT: Why is Captain Verago not here?

TRIAL COUNSEL: It is my understanding that Captain Verago is not at present in the United Kingdom.

PRESIDENT: Why not? Has he been excused?

TRIAL COUNSEL: I think it’s fair to say that Captain Verago is unavoidably detained outside the jurisdiction of the United States and is not in a position to be able to attend these proceedings.

PRESIDENT: This is outrageous. I intend to cite Captain Verago for contempt of court.

LAW OFFICER: Sir. it has not been established that Captain Verago is voluntarily absent.

PRESIDENT: What does that mean?

TRIAL COUNSEL: I understand that Captain Verago is missing and may have fallen into East German hands. He was last seen in West Berlin and has not been heard of since crossing into the East sector.

PRESIDENT: And what was he doing there?

LAW OFFICER: That, sir, is not a matter for this court.

PRESIDENT: Now wait a moment. Is he AWOLI

TRIAL COUNSEL: That is not for me to answer….

PRESIDENT: Well, damn it, I intend to have an an-swer.

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LAW OFFICER: Colonel, please. Has the prosecution a statement for the court?

TRIAL COUNSEL: Yes, sir. If you please, in view of the absence of individual defense counsel, I consulted with the appointed defense counsel, Lieutenant Jensen. He indicated that in the circumstances, to avoid this case remaining unresolved, he is willing to take over the defense and for the trial to continue. Since it is possible that Captain Verago may not be available for an indefinite time, the prosecution is agreeable.

LAW OFFICER: Does the accused consent? THE ACCUSED HESITATED, THEN NODDED.

LAW OFFICER: Let the record reflect that the accused indicated his agreement. Lieutenant Jensen?

DEFENSE COUNSEL: Sir, I much regret Captain Verago’s failure to show, and so does the accused. I have persuaded the accused that, since Captain Verago may be in Comm~mist hands, it is likely we may not even see him again.

LAW OFFICER: I don’t want conjectures, Lieutenant. You say you have made the position clear to the accused?

DEFENSE COUNSEL: Yes, sir. Forcibly. And he wants to get this thing over with. He now sees there’s no point delaying matters.

LAW OFFICER: So the defense is willing to continue?

DEFENSE COUNSEL: Yes, sir.

PRESIDENT: What I want to know is, is somebody taking disciplinary action against this Captain Verago?

LAW OFFICER: With respect, sir, that does not concern you or this court.

PRESIDENT: Damn army lawyers….

LAW OFFICER: Sir!

PRESIDENT: Oh, ail right.

LAW (:)FFICER: Lieutenant Jensen, I want to remind you that the accused has the right to ask for a new individual counsel and to request that this case be continued until such time as a fresh defense lawyer is ready.

DEFENSE COUNSET.: Captain Tower doesn’t want to know. He says he’ll leave it to me. He seems to feel that, er, it doesn’t matter any more.

LAW OFFICER: Is that correct, Captain Tower? (PAUSE). Let the record reflect that the accused nodded.

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DEFENSE COUNSEL: So we’re all set, sir.

LAW OFFICER: Proceed.

PRESIDENT: Let’s get on with it.

TRIAL COUSEL: With the consent of the defence, I’ll omit the reading of the charges.

DEFENSE COUNSEL: We agree.

PRESIDENT: Good.

TRIAL COUNSEL: Captain Tower, how do you plead?

DEFENSE COUNSEL: all right, Captain Tower, I’ll do it for you. To all specifications and charges, the accused pleads guilty.

PRESIDENT: Captain Tower, by pleading guilty you have admitted every single element of the offence.. As a result, you may he sentenced by the court to the maximum punishment authorized. Do you understand?

CAPTAIN TOWER: Yes, sir. You got what you wanted.

PRESIDENT: Address the court properly. Since you understand what it means, do you persist in your plea of guilty?

CAPTAIN TOWER: Yes. It’ll just save you time, germ tlemen, won’t it?

PRESIDENT: Sit down.

LAW OFFICER: Colonel Apollo,in view of the plea, how long do you think this case will now take?

TRIAL COUNSEL: Not long. Not long at ale

Wednesday, August 2,1961

Hohenschoenhausen

“I am sorry about your hands,” said Fokin.

Kingston’s head was bowed, and he sat on the bunk, his hands bandaged lumps. His wounds had turned septic.

“We will try to feed you and … do all the other things … help you as best we can,” continued Fokin, a little awkwardly.

Kingston looked up and his skeletal, almost cadaverous face was a mask of hatred.

“Barbed wire,” he hissed, and it came out like a curse.

Then he spat at Fokin.

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Pokin first flushed, then turned ashen. He raised his hand, a clenched fist, and slowly lowered it again.

“I’m sorry. You should have cooperated. Told us what we wanted to know. Answered a few technical questions. Surely that is too heavy a price?” he asked, indicating the bandaged hands.

Fokin was unhappy. This flyer had not provided the information they had expected. It was a black mark on Fokin’s record as a crack interrogator.

“This is probably the last time we will meet, Captain I regret they have other plans for you now.”

The inflamed eyes bored into him.

“You are a credit to your service, Captain,” continued Pokin, “and I respect you as one officer respects another. But I am afraid all that will be no consolation to you now when … when others take over.”

For once he felt distinctly uncomfortable.

“Fokin,” said the emaciated man.

“Yes?”

“What has happened to him?”

“Who?” asked Fokin. It was disconcerting to suddenly hear Kingston, after all this time, ask questions.

“The man … who was in here … with me . . the army captain.”

“Captain Verago?” Fokin hesitated. ‘He ” He paused. Then he came straight out with it. “You will not be seeing him again, Captain Kingston.”

Hours afterward, when he was sitting in the dark, alone, his hands stumps of agony, the fever beginning, Kingston was still wondering which of them would die first.

He or Verago.

Friday, August 4,1961

East Germany

HE couldn’t move his arms or his legs. His limbs seemed paralyzed. And everything was shaking, the roof and the walls.

Those were the first moments of conscious awareness. But he wasn’t really awake. He tried to focus his eyes,

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but his vision was blurred. And he felt tired, terribly tired.

He wondered how long he had been unconscious. A long, long time, his instinct told him. Not hours. Days. Nights? Or was he dreaming?

He strained, hard, to move his arms, but something cut into him. He tried to move his head from side to side. That was possible. And it gave him encouragement.

He couldn’t understand the shaking, the bumping, and then suddenly he realised he was traveling. It wasn’t a ceiling he was looking at, but the roof of a vehicle. These weren’t walls, but the sides of a … a truck? A van?

And then he understood why he couldn’t move arms or legs. He was strapped down. He was strapped to a stretcher, and he was on the move, being driven somewhere.

He was utterly helpless, and whatever they had pumped into him was still in his system. He tried to make his brain work, to control his thoughts, to begin to reason things out….

But it was too much for him. He groaned, and then everything became giddy, and suddenly he was plunged into darkness once more.

Wednesday,August 9,1961