The General's Daughter

  “No way.”

  “Then I’ll send copies of these diary pages to everyone in the Midland phone book.”

  “Then I’ll kill you.”

  We were getting somewhere now, so I said, “We’ll swap evidence.”

  “Hell, no. I got enough stuff to fuck up most of the top boys on this here post. You want that to happen?”

  “You’ve only got masked photos. I have the diary.”

  “I got goddamned fingerprints all over the place down there. We’re gonna run those through the FBI and the Army.”

  “Are the contents still in the room?”

  “My business.”

  “Okay, how about a bonfire? We’ll use these pages of your sexual perversions to start it. Probably won’t even need a match.”

  He thought a minute. “Can I trust you?”

  “My word as an officer.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I trustyou?”

  “No, but I don’t want you shooting off your wiseass mouth to my wife and boy.”

  I stood and looked out the window. The reporters were still there, but a cordon of MPs had now moved them back about fifty meters to the road in front of the building so that people could come and go without being harassed. I thought about what I was about to enter into with Chief Yardley. Destroying evidence could get me a few years in Kansas. On the other hand, destroying lives is not part of my job. I turned and walked toward Yardley. “Done deal.”

  He stood and we shook. I said, “You throw everything in a dump truck, including the furniture, sheets, carpet, videotapes, photos, whips and chains, and all that stuff, and bring everything to the town incinerator.”

  “When?”

  “After I make an arrest.”

  “When’s that gonna be?”

  “Soon.”

  “Yeah? You want to tell me about that?”

  “No.”

  “You know, dealin’ with you is like jerkin’ off with sandpaper.”

  “Thank you.” I handed him the computer printouts and said, “When we burn the stuff, I’ll have this deleted from the computer. You can watch.”

  “Yeah. Now you’re blowin’ sunshine up my ass. Well, I’m gonna trust you, son, ’cause you’re an officer and a gentleman. But if you fuck me, I’ll kill you as God is my witness.”

  “I think I understand that. And I make you the same promise. Have your first good night’s sleep tonight. It’s almost finished.”

  We walked out into the corridor and back toward the office. On the way, I said to him, “Have my personal luggage delivered to the visiting officers’ quarters, okay, Burt?”

  “Sure thing, son.”

  Cynthia and Wes Yardley were sitting at the desks and stopped talking as we entered.

  Burt said, “Hey, we interruptin’ somethin’?” He laughed.

  Cynthia gave Burt a look that seemed to say, “You’re a jackass.”

  Wes stood and ambled to the door. He looked at the papers in his father’s hand and asked, “What’s that?”

  “Uh… just some Army crap I got to read.” He looked at Cynthia and touched his hat. “A pleasure as always, ma’am.” He said to me, “Keep me informed.” He and his son left.

  Cynthia asked, “Did Baker find you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hot stuff?”

  “Burt found it a little embarrassing.” I told her most of what transpired and said to her, “The incriminating photos and other evidence in Ann Campbell’s fun room will be disposed of, but the less you know about it, the better.”

  “Don’t be protective, Paul. I don’t like that.”

  “I’d do the same for any officer. You’re going to be questioned under oath someday, and you don’t have to lie.”

  “We’ll discuss this another time. Meanwhile, Wes Yardley turns out to be a little less macho than he appears.”

  “They all are.”

  “Right. He’s quite upset over Ann Campbell’s death, and has been turning Midland upside down trying to find who did it.”

  “Good. Did you get the feeling that he thought Ann Campbell was his personal property?”

  “Sort of. I asked him if she was allowed to date other men, and he said he only allowed her to have dinner, drinks, and such, on official occasions on post. He never wanted to escort her to any of those things, so he was good enough to permit her to do what she had to do with the asshole officers. Quote, unquote.”

  “There’s a man after my own heart.”

  “Right. But people can’t be watched all the time, and where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  “Correct. So he had no idea, obviously, that she was furthering her career in nontraditional ways.”

  “I very much doubt it.”

  “And if he found out that his father was sharing the honey, he’d be annoyed.”

  “To say the very least.”

  “Good. I’ve never had my hands around so many balls.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “Not me. I’m just doing my job.”

  “Do you want a sandwich?”

  “You buying?”

  “Sure.” She stood. “I need some air. I’ll run over to the O Club.”

  “Cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke.”

  “Tidy up this place while I’m gone.” She left.

  I called Baker on the intercom, and she reported. I gave her my handwritten note regarding Dalbert Elkins and asked her to type it.

  She said to me, “Would you recommend me for CID School?”

  “It’s not as much fun as it looks, Baker.”

  “I really want to be a criminal investigator.”

  “Why?”

  ‘It’s exciting.”

  “Why don’t you talk to Ms. Sunhill about it?”

  “I did, when she was here yesterday. She said it was fun and exciting, lots of travel, and you meet interesting people.”

  “Right, and you arrest them.”

  “She said she met you in Brussels. That sounds romantic.” I didn’t reply.

  “She said she’s got orders for a permanent duty station in Panama when she’s finished here.”

  “Would you get me some fresh coffee?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That will be all.”

  She left.

  Panama.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Colonel Fowler called at 1645 hours and I took the call, telling Cynthia to pick up the other line and listen.

  Colonel Fowler said, “My wife is available at 1730 hours, at home, Mrs. Campbell at 1800 hours, at Beaumont House, and the general will see you at his office at Post Headquarters at 1830 hours, sharp.”

  I commented, “That’s cutting the interviews close.”

  “Actually,” he replied, “it’s cutting them short.”

  “That’s what I meant.”

  “The three parties you wish to speak to are under a great deal of stress, Mr. Brenner.”

  “So am I, but I thank you.”

  “Mr. Brenner, has it occurred to you that you may be upsetting people?”

  “It has occurred to me.”

  “The funeral, as I said, is tomorrow morning. Why don’t you and Ms. Sunhill brief the FBI people, attend the funeral if you wish, then leave. The investigation will proceed nicely without you, and the murderer will be brought to justice in good time. This is not a timed exercise.”

  “Well, it wasn’t, but the idiots in Washington made it one.”

  “Mr. Brenner, from the very beginning, you chose to charge through here like Grant took Richmond, with no regard to protocol or other people’s sensibilities.”

  “That’s how Grant took Richmond, Colonel.”

  “And they are still pissed-off at Grant in Richmond.”

  “Right. Colonel, I knew from the beginning that this case would be pulled away from me, from the CID. The Pentagon and the White House did the politically correct thing, and God bless civilian control of the milit
ary. But if I have about twenty hours left, I’ll use it my way.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Trust me to conclude this case in a way that will not bring discredit on the Army. Don’t trust the FBI or the Attorney General’s Office to do that.”

  “I won’t comment on that.”

  “Best that you don’t.”

  “On another topic, Mr. Brenner, your request to seize the contents of Colonel Moore’s office has gone all the way to the Pentagon, and they turned it down for national security reasons.”

  “That’s the very best of reasons, sir. But it’s odd that the people in Washington want me to arrest Colonel Moore for murder, but I can’t get permission to examine his files.”

  “That’s what happens when you ask. You know that.”

  “Indeed I do. That’s the last time I go through channels.”

  “That’s your call. But the Pentagon did say that if you arrest Colonel Moore at this time, they will fly someone down here with the necessary clearance and authority to assist you in going through the files on a selective basis. But it can’t be a fishing expedition. You must know what you’re looking for.”

  “Right. I’ve been that route before. If I knew what the hell I was looking for, I probably wouldn’t need it.”

  “Well, that’s the best I could do. What clearance do you have?”

  “Oh, about five foot eleven.” He didn’t laugh, so I said, “Secret clearance.”

  “All right, I’ll pass that on. Meantime, the Psy-Ops School is sending people down to Jordan Field to collect the contents of Captain Campbell’s office and return everything to the school. You and Colonel Kent will not be charged with a crime for removing the contents, but letters of reprimand have been put in your files.” He added, “You must obey the law like the rest of us.”

  “Well, I usually do when I know what it is.”

  “You don’t confiscate classified material without proper authorization.”

  “Someone’s trying to sandbag me, Colonel.”

  “Not only that, someone’s trying to screw you. Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve made inquiries about Captain Campbell’s time at West Point. Correct?”

  “That’s correct. Did I ask the wrong question?”

  “Apparently.”

  I glanced at Cynthia and inquired of Colonel Fowler, “Can you tell me anything about that, Colonel?”

  “I know nothing about it, except that they’re asking me why you’re asking.”

  “Who are they?”

  “I can’t say. But you hit a nerve, Mr. Brenner.”

  “It sounds like you’re trying to help me, Colonel.”

  “Upon consideration, you and Ms. Sunhill may be the best people for this job. But you won’t conclude this case in time, so I’m advising you to protect yourselves.” He added, “Lay low.”

  “Ms. Sunhill and I are not criminals. We are criminal investigators.”

  “The letter of reprimand was a warning shot. The next shot is aimed for the heart.”

  “Right, but I’m firing it.”

  “You’re a damned fool. We need more people like you.” He added, “Be sure your partner understands what she’s getting into.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Neither do I, but you definitely asked the wrong question about West Point. Good day.” He hung up.

  I looked at Cynthia. “My goodness.”

  She said, “We definitely asked the right question about West Point.”

  “Apparently.” I called Jordan Field and got Grace Dixon on the line. “Grace, I just got a tip that there are people en route to your location from the Psy-Ops School to reclaim Captain Campbell’s files, and I’m sure that includes her computer.”

  “I know. They’re already here.”

  “Damn it!”

  “No problem. After I spoke to you, I copied everything onto a floppy disk.” She added, “They’re taking the computer now, but I don’t think anyone could come up with the passwords to access those files.”

  “Nice going, Grace.” I asked, “What are the passwords?”

  “There are three: one for the personal letters, one for the list of boyfriends’ names, addresses, and telephone numbers, and one for the diary.” She continued, “The password for the letters is ‘Naughty Notes,’ for the boyfriends’ names, addresses, and telephone numbers, she used the words ‘Daddy’s Friends,’ and the password for the diary is ‘Trojan Horse.’ ”

  “Okay… hold on to that disk.”

  “It’s close to my heart.”

  “Good. Sleep with it tonight. Talk to you later.” I hung up, called Falls Church, and got through to Karl. I said to him, “I’m hearing that my inquiry about West Point got some people angry, upset, or scared.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “The question is, What did you find?”

  “Nothing.”

  I said to him, “This is important.”

  “I’m doing my best.”

  “Tell me what you’ve done.”

  “Mister Brenner, I don’t report to you.”

  “Right. But I’ve asked you to use your resources to get me a piece of information.”

  “I’ll call you when I have something.”

  Cynthia pushed a note toward me that read: Tapped? I nodded. Karl definitely sounded weird. I asked him, “Did they get to you, Karl?”

  After a few seconds, he said, “All the doors slammed in my face. Proceed with the case without this information. I’ve been assured you don’t need it.”

  “All right. Thanks very much for trying.”

  “I’ll see you here tomorrow or the next day.”

  “Fine. Since you’re not busy with my request, perhaps you can arrange a thirty-day administrative leave for me and Ms. Sunhill, and a confirmed MAC flight to a place of my choice.”

  “The Pentagon would like nothing better.”

  “And get that fucking letter of reprimand out of my file.” I hung up.

  Cynthia said, “What the hell is going on here?”

  “I think we opened a Pandora’s box, took out a can of worms, and threw it at a hornet’s nest.”

  “You can say that again.”

  But I didn’t. I said, “We’ve been cut loose.” I thought a moment, then added, “But I think we can go it alone.”

  “I guess we have no choice. But I still want to know about West Point.”

  “Karl has assured us it’s not important to the case.”

  Cynthia stayed silent a moment, then said, “Karl disappoints me. I never thought he’d back off from a criminal investigation like that.”

  “Me neither.”

  We spoke for a few minutes trying to figure out where to go regarding the West Point inquiry. I looked at my watch. “Well, let’s get to Bethany Hill.” We got up to leave, but there was a knock on the door, and Specialist Baker came in with a sheet of paper in her hand. She sat at my desk and glanced at the paper.

  I said to her, sarcastically, “Have a seat, Baker.”

  She looked up at us and said in an assured tone of voice, “Actually, I’m Warrant Officer Kiefer from the CID. I’ve been here about two months on undercover assignment for Colonel Hellmann. I’ve been investigating charges of improper conduct in the traffic enforcement section—petty stuff, nothing to do with Colonel Kent or any of that. Colonel Hellmann told me to get myself assigned as your clerk-typist.” She looked at us. “So I did.”

  Cynthia said, “Are you serious? You’ve been spying on us for Colonel Hellmann?”

  “Not spying, just helping. It’s done all the time.”

  I replied, “It is, but I’m still pissed-off.”

  Specialist Baker, a.k.a. Warrant Officer Kiefer, said, “I don’t blame you, but this case is explosive, and Colonel Hellmann was concerned.”

  I said, “Colonel Hellmann just took a dive on us.”

  She didn’t respond to that, but said, “In the two month
s I’ve been here, I’ve heard those rumors about Colonel Kent and Captain Campbell that I told you about. That’s all true, but I never wrote him up because I don’t like doing that to people. I couldn’t see one incident where he compromised his duties, and all I had was office gossip anyway. But now I suppose that’s all relevant.”

  Cynthia replied, “Relevant, but maybe not evidence of anything except stupidity.”

  Ms. Kiefer shrugged. She handed me a sheet of paper and said, “I got a call from Falls Church a few minutes ago telling me to identify myself to you, and instructing me to stand by the fax machine. That’s what came across.”

  I looked at the fax sheet, which was addressed to me and Sunhill, via Kiefer, eyes only. I read aloud, “ ‘Regarding the West Point inquiry, as indicated on the phone, all files sealed or nonexistent, all verbal inquiries met with silence. However, I phoned a retired CID person who was stationed at the Point during the period in question. That person spoke on condition of anonymity, and briefed me as follows: During the summer between Cadet Campbell’s first and second year at West Point, she was hospitalized in a private clinic for a few weeks. Officially, she’d had a training accident at Camp Buckner Military Reservation during night exercises. My source says that General Campbell flew in from Germany the day after the ‘accident.’ Here is the story as my source pieced it together from rumors: In August, during recondo training, the cadets were engaged in night patrols in the woods, and by accident or design, Cadet Campbell was separated from a larger group and found herself with five or six males—either cadets or men from the Eighty-second Airborne Division who were assisting with the training. They wore camouflage paint, and it was dark and so forth. These male personnel grabbed Cadet Campbell, stripped her, and staked her out with pegs from their pup tents, then took turns raping her. What happened next is unclear, but presumably the men threatened her if she reported the rape, then untied her and ran off. She was reported missing until dawn, when she appeared at the bivouac area, disheveled and hysterical. She was taken first to Keller Army Hospital and treated for minor cuts and bruises, exhaustion, and so forth. Medical records do not indicate sexual assault. General Campbell arrived, and she was removed to a private clinic. No one was charged, no action taken, incident hushed for the good of the academy, and Cadet Campbell reported for classes in September. Rumor was that the general put pressure on his daughter not to pursue the matter—the general was probably pressured himself from higher-ups. So that’s it. Shred this message and destroy fax activity report. Good luck. (Signed) Hellmann.’ ”