FIELD DECISION
Copyright©2003 by Ed Howdershelt
ISBN 1-932693-08-4
Caution: Some Erotic Content
Chapter One
The Mercedes taxi threaded its way through swept-aside mounds of late-November slush and snow to halt at the curb in front of a turn-of-the-century style building near the center of the US Armed Forces Education branch of the Kaiserslautern Universitat campus. The tall stone wall and cyclone fencing around the compound made it obvious that access to the area was restricted to US military and other authorized visitors, but just in case someone failed to notice the wall and fence, there were four-foot-wide signs by the guard shacks warning visitors that their cars were subject to searches.
'Looks more like a prison than a school,' thought Cade.
Ed Cade's decision to take a taxi had been based on his unwillingness to risk his own car unnecessarily on streets clogged by the sudden snowstorm. They'd probably have the streets mostly cleared by noon, but it was only a two-mile trip; not worth scraping the windshields and not far enough to warm the engine enough to make the car's heater useful.
The building was of large-block stone construction that had been typical in the Saar region of Germany at the turn of the century, complete with concrete overhangs above each window, a steep slate roof, and a demeanor that might have been perfect as the setting for a horror movie.
Edward Cade approached the offices of the university's consulate-liaison facility through a light sprinkling of December snow that was all that was left of the winter storm that had raged for three days as it had slowly moved south.
He'd read somewhere that Kaiserslautern, West Germany, was located at about the same latitude as Winnipeg, Canada, but that the winters in Germany didn't seem to be quite as severe as Canada's. Looking around and sensing the air, he decided that they weren't even as bad as some of the winters he'd endured in northeast Texas.
Two men of student age were emerging from the building as he climbed the steps. One of them asked him in German if he knew how to get to the gymnasium.
Cade shook his head and said, "Weiss nicht. Ganz neu hier auch."-'Don't know. Completely new here, also.'
The men nodded a 'thanks, anyway' and moved down the steps as Cade entered the building and looked for the elevator. One of the guys commented to the other on Cade's accent and speculated that he was from Mannheim. The other thought maybe Munich.
Cade thought, 'Heh. Try Dallas, guys.'
In actuality, Cade's German was the product of having had German exchange-student friends in junior high and his one year of high school, as well quick classes in Virginia and lots of local practice. He entered the elevator, remembering the directions he'd been given.
"Fourth floor, turn right from the elevator, sixth door on the left. Be there promptly at eight, please. I want to handle this before the offices open. Goodbye."
The woman's instructions had been terse, as had all her comments during their phone conversation. Not hurried; just brief. Succinct was the word.
John had said that she might have a problem with asking his offices for help in finding her seventeen-year-old daughter, who'd been AWOL from home for over three months.
Cade's tiny branch of the agency was barely known outside their own wing of the third floor, so everyone who knew about them at all usually assumed that they were the same kind of down-and-dirty spooks that populated the top two floors of the building in downtown Kaiserslautern. They weren't. At least, Cade wasn't, and he didn't think any of those he directly worked with were, either.
When Cade had first joined John's extraction crews, he'd wondered why the hell they'd located their primary offices so far from the East German border, but that had begun to make sense to him quickly.
Nearby Ramstein Air Force Base could provide state of the art air support and transportations and the blast-proof Kindsbach facility could track communications and aircraft all over Europe. Add to that the best-equipped US Army hospital in Europe only a few miles south at Landstuhl, a place that received almost as many transient covert visitors as it received actual patients.
He then began to wonder why they bothered to maintain separate offices in Berlin, Frankfurt, and Bonn, since the E-teams were all part of a much larger agency network, but experience had quickly disabused him of any notion that the branches of the agency could or would work well together without coercion.
The politics in the other offices ranged from petty backstabbing efforts and manipulation to gain promotions to phenomenally deceptive and sometimes obstructive ploys to gain control or political favor both within the agency and from outside.
John's offices weren't like that, partly because they existed only to further a single purpose; to extract people from Iron Curtain countries and to support agents who lived and worked on the other side of the line. The only way to advance within the agency from John's offices was to leave them for another office.
Ed Cade believed that it took a kind of sociopath to follow an 'anything for the cause' banner. He'd never found a way to turn off his brain and blindly follow orders, and John knew him well enough that Cade had never been assigned to work with any of the other offices in the building.
John had warned Cade that Debra McAlister seemed to have the typical resentment of the intelligence community that seemed to be fashionable lately. It was John's opinion that the grousers resented the need for the agency more than the agency itself. That need didn't fit into their preferred public image of things.
A missing seventeen-year-old daughter had driven McAlister to look beyond the usual sources for assistance. Some friend or acquaintance of hers had suggested that she speak to Cade's boss. John had left the matter of Cade's involvement up to him to determine by calling it a 'field decision'. Cade could take the job or leave it, supposedly without incurring any hard feelings if he didn't take it.
John had warned Cade that the woman was likely to be rather difficult at first. Cade had decided to play it by ear, but he'd let her know up front that her full cooperation was essential, and that without it, he'd refuse the case.
The attractive blonde woman who answered his knock on the office door was a living example of conservatism. Her hair was bound tightly and she wore a matching jacket and skirt of some indeterminate shade of brown over her tall, lanky frame.
She wore very little makeup and her earrings were simple little gold studs. Her rather mechanical greeting lacked warmth, as did her 'I'm in charge here' demeanor.
"Hi," he said, unbuttoning his coat. "I'm Ed Cade. John sent me."
She seemed to study him for a moment before saying, "Yes. Of course. I'm Debra McAlister. Please have a seat by the desk, Mr. Cade."
She offered no handshake, instead waving him to a chair by the desk as she walked toward it. He'd no sooner sat down than she handed him a manila folder inside a large envelope. Cade took a moment to riffle the folder's contents.
Inside it were pictures and copies of German police reports and reports from the U.S. authorities. The latest item in the folder was over a month old, dated October. That probably meant that nobody was looking too hard anymore.
Cade noticed that McAlister seemed to be staring at him. He looked up and met her gaze as he asked, "Yes?"
McAlister's hand fluttered briefly above her desk in a vague gesture and she said, "Oh. Nothing. Well, something, really. I expected someone a little older..."
"I'm not a trainee," said Cade. "If that's what you're worried about."
She gazed at him for another moment, then said, "You're what..? Twenty-five?"
"Twenty-three in June," said Cade. He grinned and added in a confidential tone, "Don't worry, ma'am. If I get in over my head, the grownups will take over."
The woman had the grace to blush slightly as she nodded and said, "I'm sorry. I was just expecting... Well, never mind."
To give her a moment to recover, Cade said, "I smell coffee. Mind if I get a cup?"
"I'll get it for you," McAlister said quickly. "Would you like cream or sugar?"
Her abrupt, intense response surprised him. He'd been expecting to receive directions to the pot, not an offer to bring him a cup. When he looked up, it became instantly apparent by her expression and manner that she simply didn't want him wandering around her office.
Cade said, "Black, with a little cold water to make it drinkable right away, thanks."
She turned her head slightly to regard him oddly in passing. Cade watched her head for an anteroom in a brisk march. It seemed to him that she was a good-looking woman trying to hide herself in that severe outfit.
Cade scanned the documents and pictures in the folder, asked a few questions, and sipped coffee for the next half hour. During that time Debra McAlister said nothing when she wasn't answering a question, and she answered questions sparingly at best.
After having to coax a more detailed answer out of her for what was probably the fifteenth time, Cade regarded her quietly for a moment, wondering if she was like that with everyone or just him, and whether her mannerisms were part of the reason her daughter was missing.
In a firm tone, she said, "Mr. Cade, I don't appreciate being stared at."
"Too bad," said Cade. "I'll bet you get a lot of looks, even in those clothes. Anyway, I wasn't staring; I was speculating about something. Do you have anything useful to add that isn't in this folder? Personal comments? Well-reasoned guesses?"
The blonde woman's gaze narrowed. Her words came in low tones.
"Speculating? Let's get something straight, Mr. Cade. I deeply resent having to turn to such sordid sources for assistance. I also resent the fact that they obviously thought so little of this matter that they sent one of their newest people to handle it. You'd be well advised not to irritate me further, and when you address me from now on, you'll include my title."
Cade settled back in his chair, sipped his coffee, and gazed at her.
'Irritate you further?' thought Cade. He hadn't begun to irritate her. It would be unavoidable if he was going to get around her so that he could look into things.
"McAlister," said Cade, "I was hired because of my qualifications and experiences, not my age. I was only speculating that your tight-assed nature may have driven your daughter out of your house, and you're just an embassy politician who called my boss for some unofficial help after the usual methods hit a dead end. I don't give a rat's ass whether you like me or not, and if you try to play power games with me you'll find that I don't play them at all."
With utter astonishment, the woman responded, "Is that some kind of a threat?"
Cade shook his head disgustedly.
"Hell, no, it isn't a threat, lady. I don't have to take this case. I'd just tell John to find someone else. We're short-handed, McAlister. It could be three months before anyone else is available for your personal problems, and they'd have to be willing to become involved. This matter isn't official business. It's more like a trade of favors."
Debra McAlister was staring at him. She seemed to be having trouble forming words for a moment, then asked in a hushed tone, "Three months?"
Cade quietly said, "Yeah. Three months. We stay busy, you know. As I said, I'm not here for you, McAlister. I'm here for your daughter and because John asked me to look into things for you. I'm also here on my own time and I'll walk if you give me too much more trouble, so let's skip all the pecking-order crap and get down to business."
With a slight glower, she asked, "Your own time? What does that mean? You work for the agency, and since the agency assigned you to me, you're working for me."
Cade shook his head. "Wrong, lady. I told you, this isn't official business. It can't be, for our outfit. I'm on leave between assignments. I have to use the leave time or cash it in. When John told me about your problem, I decided to use the time this way. I can damned well change my mind about using it this way, too."
The blonde said nothing for some moments. Cade prompted her.
"So, let's try this again. Is there anything you want to tell me that isn't in this folder? Sandy seems like a bright, outgoing young woman. It may be some kind of facade, but you seem exactly the opposite. You're a divorced mother of one who is trying to maintain a career and ride herd on a teenaged daughter while stationed in Europe, and you haven't seemed like a real friendly sort to me so far. I'm sure someone's already asked you this, but is it at all possible that Sandy's just run away from home for a while? Away from Mom in particular?"
Debra McAlister drew herself stiffly upright and asked, "How-dare-you..?"
"I just do," said Cade drily. "It's a gift, I guess. That's a question you'll have to face more than once if this goes any farther, so save the indignant outrage for someone who'll give a damn, McAlister. I'll want a good look at your home and her room in particular, and then I'm going to mill this stuff down for a few days to see if there's anything left to follow. I want numbers where I can reach you day or night, without secretaries or flunkies asking me why I want to talk to you. If there's any reason at all to suspect foul play, we can make the investigation official enough that I won't have to bug you for expenses. John can handle those details on an 'if or when' basis."
When the blonde simply stared at him for another few moments, Cade said, "I can't go to work on this until you loosen up, lady. These reports all say that the cops have signed off. They seem to think that she's tanning on an island in Greece and that she'll call home when the money runs out. Maybe they're right, but you don't think so and you called us for help. For some reason John thinks this may be worth a look, so he offered it to me, and that's where we are now. I'm willing to spend some of my leave time looking for her. Take it or leave it, but make up your mind real soon."
Cade set his coffee cup firmly on her desk and shoved the folder into the large envelope. He then reached for her yellow legal pad and wrote three numbers at the top of the page, then tore the page in half and presented her both pieces of paper.
"My numbers," he said. "Now give me yours."
In fact, her numbers were on file, as were every other official of any rank. Cade wanted to see her sign herself into cooperation by giving them to him. If she did, and if the numbers checked out against her numbers on file, she'd be ready enough to proceed. If she didn't give him the numbers, Cade would drop the folder on her desk and spend his leave elsewhere.
Debra McAlister stared at the torn yellow paper on her desk, then glanced at her phone, considering whether to call John to see if Cade was telling the truth. Cade shoved her desk phone next to the legal pad.
He softly said, "Yeah. Good idea. Go ahead, McAlister. Verify what I've told you. I damned sure would. You want me to wait in the hall?"
She looked up from the phone and their eyes met. Despite the tenseness between them, she felt that he was telling the truth, but she had to be sure.
Just as softly, she replied, "Yes, please. This is important to me."
Cade nodded and hefted his empty cup.
"No problem. I'll refill this on the way out. Look, I'll have to pick your brain about Sandy, so we need to be able to get along for at least a little while, okay?"
She nodded slightly, then grimaced inwardly. Damn. Cade had led her with his words; first to agree that he should wait in the hall, and then to nod agreement with his statement 'that they need to be able get along for a little while'.
Cade watched her face change slightly with self-reproach.
"You think I'm trying to manipulate you, Debra?"
"Yes. I think you do it without realizing it."
"Could be. You realize, though, that I'm here to help you find your daughter, not to sell you insurance, right?" He grinned slightly.
McAlister found herself returning the grin and nodding again and said, "You did it again. When every sentence deliberately leads to an agreement, that's manipulation."
He said, "Well, damn. Guess you think I'm doing it on purpose, huh?"
She snorted a stifled chuckle and said, "And again. That's five in a row, I think."
Cade smiled at her and said, "Well, then, here's your chance to change the pattern, ma'am. Care to make it six times?"
"No!" said the blonde, raising both hands in grinning mock protest. She reached for her phone. "Now get out there and let me call your boss."
Cade rose from his chair and headed for the coffee. He refilled his cup and took a seat on the bench in the hallway next to a discarded or forgotten German newspaper and picked it up.
It was one of the two Kaiserslautern dailies. Like local papers everywhere, there was little within it to interest anyone from beyond the area, but an article about the U.S. Army hospital in nearby Landstuhl caught his attention.
It turned out to be a diatribe about misbehaving soldiers. That, too, was hardly remarkable, since such problems were commonplace for every town near every military base in the world, U.S. or other.
Cade remembered the incident mentioned in the article, but what the article had failed to mention was that the bar in which the squabble had occurred had tried to charge a group of off-duty GI's forty bucks each for the four bottles of cheap champagne they'd consumed in celebration of someone's promotion.
That had been a mistake, given that one of the guys worked in the Provost Marshall's office. He told the bar manager that there would be no payment without a proper receipt that he could show his boss.
The manager had said that nobody had ever asked for a receipt before and that he had none to give and continued to demand payment. The GI had stood his ground on the matter until one of the bar girls had taken a swing at him.
Also unmentioned in the article was the fact that a bar girl who sold a bottle of champagne received a hefty commission on the sale. When the girl tried to hit him a second time, one of the other GI's restrained her, the manager had hit that guy, and that's when the real fight started that wound up in the street outside the bar.
The bar manager later told the German cops and the American MP's that the whole altercation had been a misunderstanding that had gotten out of hand. The GI's didn't have to pay for the overpriced champagne, but were "asked" never to return.
Without a receipt, the Army couldn't - or wouldn't - put the bar off-limits, but word had spread around the base quickly. The new bar in town had closed due to lack of business after only a month.
Cade heard the office door open and the blonde's voice say, "Mr. Cade?"
He rose to his feet. She left the door open and retreated into the office. Cade picked up his coffee cup and followed her, shutting the door and taking his previous chair.
As he sat down, she asked, "Cade isn't your real name, is it?"
"It's real enough when I'm working. And when I'm not working."
She nodded slightly and handed him the yellow paper with her numbers.
"John confirmed that you're on personal leave and that this investigation will be unofficial unless evidence of wrongdoing is found. I guess that means you'll need some expense money, doesn't it?"
"Not much. Enough to cover travel expenses for a week or so and maybe some tips for information. Call it a hundred bucks. This won't get expensive until or unless I actually find her trail. Something else, McAlister... Sandy's going to be eighteen soon and that will make her a legal adult in most of Western Europe, just like the States. I can't bring her back to you against her will after her next birthday."
The blonde sat very still for a few moments, gazing at Cade.
"Mr. Cade, I can't tell you how I know this, but I do. Sandy's in some kind of trouble. I don't have any proof. I haven't heard anything or seen anything that the police would call a reason for thinking so, but I'm her mother. Can you understand that? Are you sure a hundred will be enough?"
She pulled her checkbook out of her purse.
Cade nodded. "For now. No checks, please. I'll stop by for it tomorrow."
She rooted in her wallet and came up with some bills.
"I have about forty on me. Will that be all right for now?"
Cade took the money. "Fine. If I can't turn up anything, it may be all I'll need."
"You don't sound too hopeful, Mr. Cade."
"I'm not trying to sound hopeful. I'm trying to sound pragmatic. A lot of things can happen to a young woman in Europe, just as they can happen to one in the States. Some of those things are good. Some of them are bad. Some are very bad. I hope you've considered that possibility."
Debra McAlister's face set in a determined mask as she said, "No, Mr. Cade. I haven't allowed myself to envision what may be happening to her, and I won't. I understand what you're saying, but I refuse to dwell on it."
Cade stood up and took the folder from the desk.
"Well, then, if it's good news, I'll deliver it myself. If not, I'll let the authorities handle contacting you when they take over the case."
McAlister stood up, too. After a moment of hesitation, she stuck her hand out awkwardly and he took it.
"Well, Mr. Cade, goodbye for now, I guess."
He nodded and said, "For now. Stay put. I can find the door."
Outside, the wind had picked up slightly. Cade buttoned his coat and thought about checking in with John, but decided it wasn't immediately necessary. His apartment was as good a place as any to go over the reports again. If anything unusual needed further examination, he could visit the offices the next day.
The walk to the front gate of the university allowed him to get a look at some of the other buildings on campus. They were remnants of a past era that clashed with the modern, glass and steel structures on the other side of the campus wall. He waited in the guard shack's anteroom for a taxi rather than walk the two miles home.
More? On to Chapter 2!
or
Get the rest of the book!
Purchase page:
LIT - Rocket/REB
PDB/Palm - PDF - KML
(Must be 18)
|
|
|
|
