Solemn Duty (1997) (18 page)

Ashley kept her eyes on the pictures. "Maybe you should start a fan club, Ms. Washington."

Regina got up and walked back to her desk. Girl, see if I get you coffee again.

The front door swung open and in stepped Eli, carrying a box and a smile. "Got it!" He strode straight to his desk, put down the box, and removed a framed picture from the top.

"Take a look. It's a team photo. I got it from the sergeant major's study. There, in the middle standing by the captain, is Rhodes, and here on the end is Hoffman."

Ashley had moved beside him and was studying the picture.

"I count eleven Americans. Are those South Vietnamese soldiers kneeling in front of them?"

"Nope, Cambodian Special Forces troops. Probably an A-team the team trained. I've got more." He reached in the box and took out a thin green plastic-covered book.

Eli opened it, and Ashley could see it was in fact a folder of some kind. "This is an award folder," he said. "We all got them along with the medals we received. See here, it's a citation. `By Direction of the Secretary of the Army, the Army Commendation Medal is presented to Staff Sergeant Jerald D. Rhodes 110-65-2689, Infantry, United States Army. For exceptionally meritorious achievement in support of the United States objectives in the counterinsurgency effort in the Republic of Vietnam during the period four January 1972 to nine June 1972'."

Eli paused and removed the top paper from the folder. "This citation was standard verbiage, but at least we know the dates they served together. This paper here behind the citation is the orders published by their unit headquarters. It was published by Headquarters and Headquarters Company of the Second Battalion Fifth Special Forces Group. This is what we needed.

See the names? There are eleven of them, starting with a Captain Robert E. Anderson. . . . Rhodes is the second name, Hoffman is the fifth, and our victim from Fort Smith, Edward D. McIntyre, is the tenth. We've got it. This gives us the names of the others. Agent Sutton, call the names into DOD. They should be able to run them through their computer and give us current home addresses on-"

Eli stopped in mid-sentence, seeing Detective Faraday walk in the front office door. The look the detective held told Eli he was bringing bad news.

Faraday motioned at the computer. "You read your e-mail from NCIC lately?"

Eli looked at Ashley, and she shook her head. "No, I've been going through victims' pictures."

Eli held out the paper in his hand. "Ed, here they are. We found the names of the other team members in a copy of orders."

"That's good work, Agent Tanner. By any chance is the name Edwin Turner on that list?"

Eli looked at the list of names and raised his head. "Third name on this list. Is he . . ."

"It's on your e-mail. Edwin Turner was found dead five days ago in San Antonio, Texas. His death was ruled suicide.

Like the victim in Fort Smith, the cops didn't log it on the NCIC. They read our bulletin then sent us a report over the computer. Their victim had a gold chain and cross in his mouth. It matches the M. O. of your killer. And get this. They found a .22, Italian, semiautomatic. And the last digit of its serial number is only one number off from the one found at the scene this morning. It gets worse. The Junction City, Kansas, P. D. read our bulletin and sent us a report about an apparent suicide they had on the first of June. Victim's name was Duane H. Gosset. Same M. O. and the serial number of the .22 he used is one off from the one in San Antonio."

Eli looked down the column of names. "Gosset was the eleventh name on the list."

The detective frowned. "Looks like your killer is way ahead of us. How many does that make?'

"Six," Eli said. "That leaves only four to go. One of the team members has to be the killer-it's the only explanation unless it could be a team member's son or some other family member. . . . Regina, please get those e-mails printed in hard copies for me. But first get the SAC on the line,"

Before Regina could pick up the phone, it rang. She picked it up.

"Columbus resident office. . . . Yes, sir, he just asked me to call the SAC." She held the phone out to Eli and whispered, "Boss, it's the ASAC, Agent Polous."

Eli took the phone. "This is Agent Tanner, sir, I'm putting you on the speaker so Agent Sutton and GBI Detective Faraday can listen to our conversation."

"Sure, go ahead, Agent Tanner. Have you seen the messages about the other victims?'

"Sir, we were just appraised of the others by the GBI, but I think I may have some good news for you. The killings aren't random. We now know that all the victims served together in the Special Forces on the same team in Vietnam in 1972. We also have the names of the other team members. With DOD's help we should be able to find the remaining five team members. It's our assumption one of the team members is the killer and will continue to go after the others. Our priority is to find the team members fast."

"I'll be damned, how did you make the connection?"

"Got lucky, sir. We got the names from an old set of orders from one of the victims. But we need to move fast and find the other team members. The killer is moving very quickly. Agent Sutton is faxing the names as we speak, and a picture of the team members."

"Right, good work. Look, Agent Tanner, the SAC feels you're in over your head on this. This office is taking the lead, effective immediately. We've got the manpower, experts, and assets to handle the case in a more expeditious manner. The SAC wants you and Sutton to come up tomorrow and bring our people up to speed. Bring everything you've got . . . Yeah, okay . . . Sorry, my secretary just brought in the fax of the names you sent. This is good work. Now if we just knew where to find these men. DOD is notorious for moving slow. We need to know where they live now."

"Sir, we'll work on it on this end. We just found the list of the names and will go back and talk to the victims' widows.

Seeing the names may jog their memories. Maybe the men exchanged Christmas cards or something." Eli paused a moment and beads of perspiration suddenly broke out on his forehead. "Sir, I just thought of something, it's a long shot, but have one of your agents call the phone company in Fayetteville, North Carolina, and see if any of the five remaining team members lives there."

"Why 'Fayetteville?"

"It's the home of the Special Forces. Their headquarters is in Fort Bragg, just outside the city. Like I said, it's a long shot, but maybe one of them retired nearby to be close to his old buddies."

"Got it. I'll have someone check now. I'll see you and Agent Sutton in the office tomorrow at nine sharp. In the meantime start faxing us what you have."

Eli hung up the phone and shrugged. "Well, you heard him. . . . Looks like we're out of it."

Her eyes burning, Ashley snapped, "In over our heads?

What was that supposed to mean?"

The GBI detective cocked an eyebrow. "Ma'am, I'm not sure how you feds operate, but at state level it means this case has gotten too high profile to let the players play the game. The coaches and owners want in. I know it don't mean a hill of beans now, but I thought you two had a pretty good handle on things."

Eli gave the detective a small smile. "Thanks, Ed, but the SAC is right, we don't have the manpower or the experts. He made the right call."

"Well, I'm not doin' anything for a while. If you make me a copy of those names, I'll visit Hoffman's widow while you talk to Mrs. Rhodes. Cut your time in half."

Eli handed the page to Regina. "Would you please make Ed a copy of this." Facing the detective, he slapped him on the shoulder. "You know, Ed, you state boys ain't half as bad as I heard. In fact, how about this evening let's you and I go have some ribs and beer. I'll buy."

Ed shrugged his broad shoulders. "The boys will give me a ration of shit if they find out I ate with a fed . . . but hell, you ain't half bad yourself. It's a deal."

Taking the copy Regina handed him, Ed waved and walked out of the office.

Ashley cleared her throat to get her fellow agent's attention.

"What do you want me to do with these things I got from Mrs.

Hoffman?"

"I'd appreciate it if you'd read the letters he wrote to his wife from Nam. And Rhodes's letter, too, if you have time. We need to know what the team was doing, what was their mission. The Special Forces was involved in a lot of black operations over there, secret operations that the public and Congress didn't know about. Write down any names that come up of other units or people who were involved with the team. Our killer may be going after more than the team. And look for anything that indicates if any team member had problems with the others."

Ashley gave him a searching stare. "I thought we were off the case."

"We are, but we've got to bring the Atlanta office up to speed tomorrow. The more we know, the more we can help them."

"I don't like it, Tanner. Reading love letters of dead men is not my cup of tea."

"Okay, no problem. I'll do it when I get back."

"No, I'll do it, Tanner. You'll have to prepare to brief tomorrow. I'll back-brief you on what the letters say. . . . We could do it over dinner, but I see you already have a date with Mr. Good 01' Boy. I'm sure he'll just love Bubba's ribs."

"I bet he likes the music, too. I'd invite you to go along but we both know what your answer would be. I'm headin' out to ask Mrs. Rhodes about these names, then going to see Murph to see if the sergeant major mentioned any of the names to him.

I won't be back in. I'll see ya in the morning when you pick me up at six-thirty. We can discuss what the letters contained while we're drivin' to Atlanta. See ya then."

Ashley's eyes narrowed as she watched him walk toward the door and disappear from sight. Self-conscious of standing and staring, she glanced at Regina to see if she was caught.

Regina was looking at her with a smile. "I told ya he had a way."

Red-faced, Ashley turned in silence and walked to her desk.

Garth Brooks was singing the sad refrain of "The Last Dance" as Eli hummed along. On the last note, Eli finished his beer off and set the can on the table. He broke his distant gaze and shifted his eyes to his tablemate. "That's his best song."

Ed Faraday set down his beer can beside his empty plate. "I don't know, Tan, 'I Got Friends in Low Places' was pretty dam good. Me and the wife do a mean two-step to it."

"You're right, Ed, that was a good one. I don't like his new stuff that much, but Clint Black seems to be gettin' better with every new--"

He stopped in mid-sentence, seeing a woman approach whom he hadn't expected to see.

Ashley pulled back a chair and sat down. "Congratulations, Tanner, your long shot hit pay dirt. Walter Schwark, number seven on the list, lives in Fayetteville. The resident office there sent the Atlanta office a confirmation message. Walter Schwark retired as a first sergeant five years ago. He works as chief of security for Sears in a mall in Fayetteville. The agents didn't make actual contact with him because he's in Florida on vacation with his wife. The Sears people said he was expected back in two days."

Eli raised his hand and spoke to a passing waitress. "Two more beers here and--" He looked at Ashley. "You going to stay long enough to have a drink?"

Ed scooted his chair back. "Cancel that beer for me, Tan. I gotta hit the road. Looks like you two gotta talk business anyway. Thanks for the dinner, the ribs were delicious. See ya, buddy. Agent Sutton, it was a pleasure."

"Thanks again, Ed. Let's do it again when you're in town again." Eli turned to the waitress. "Make that one beer and a gin and tonic with lime for the lady."

Ashley studied his face a moment. "I thought you'd be pleased with yourself, Tanner. Your long shot saved Walter Schwark's life."

"I am pleased, but I'd feel a lot more comfortable if our people could have talked to him today. He might know where the others are living or he might have an idea who on the team would have a reason to murder his old unit members."

"You're right, I'm sorry. This case is getting to me. I hate sitting here knowing that four men on the list are being hunted and the fifth is doing the hunting."

The waitress smiled as she set the tray of drinks on the table.

"Sugar, ya want me to play 'The Last Dance' again for ya? I just love that song."

Eli grinned and tossed a five dollar bill on her tray. "Would ya? I love it, too. Play it a couple of times. Thank you."

Ashley gave him a glare as the leggy waitress walked away.

"You're just making all kinds of friends, aren't you?'

"She likes the same song I do, Agent Sutton. Give me a break. What did you find in the letters?'

Ashley sipped at her drink and set the glass down. "I made notes for you on the specifics, names of others, like you asked.

In general you were right. The team was working a secret mission. They and several other teams were working in Cambodia fortifying a series of villages that were close to the South Vietnamese border. Seems some general deemed the villages vital for the security of Vietnam. The team worked in a village known simply as Camp 147. Hoffman's letters were the best on the subject. He was twenty-six years old in 1972 and had just married his wife, Imogene. She didn't know anything about the Army or the war, so Hoffman wrote trying to explain what he was doing. He was good at it. Even I understood what they were trying to do. Basically it was to train, arm, and equip the villagers to fight the North Vietnamese if they used the valley as an invasion route. Problem was, the war was winding down and Hoffman was getting worried that they were trying to do too much too late. His later letters betray depression and self-doubt. He obviously liked the people of the village very much and didn't want them to be put in serious danger. He thought that by fortifying the village the higher-ups were making the village a target. Hoffman turned out to be right.