12 November 2020

The Past Never Dies

Jack Driscol eased the dilapidated looking black Ford Galaxy up to the gate of Fort Benjamin Harrison. The looks were deceiving. Jack had purchased the former State Police cruiser when he had still been a member of the City police force. He liked that it looked like a junker. But underneath was the biggest engine available, well souped up and maintained. The heavy duty suspension had been totally redone along with bigger disc brakes. It was a car that could run with anything on the road but did not attract attention like a far more visible modern super car.

The car throbbed deeply as he awaited confirmation of admittance to see the General. The MP leaned down next to the open window. “General Robinson said that you should drive to building 7 dash 9. His aid will be at the door to bring you through security. By the way, this car really sounds great. These new foreign jobs just don’t sound like a real American classic V8. I wish I had me one of those muscle cars from the 70s. Hard to afford on a Sargent’s pay.”

Jack grinned out at him. “Well sergeant, keep the dream alive. They’re out there if you’re willing to do a bit of wrenching yourself. Have a good day.” Returning the MP’s salute, he gunned the motor just a bit extra as he pulled away down the drive into the complex.

Fort Harrison was the Army’s worldwide logistics and finance center. If it was going to be bought or paid for by the Army, the paperwork would flow through here. Army’s run on paperwork more than gas or guns or generals.

A Lieutenant was waiting for Jack as he pulled the big car into the Visitors parking spot in front of the headquarters building. He was a bit overweight and out of shape for an Army officer. But then, his badge said “Lieutenant Jeffries, Simon, Quartermaster Corps”, not exactly the fighting wing of the military. His black hair was cut short under his peaked cap. Thick lensed black horn rimmed glasses sat loosely down on his nose. Obviously a guy who spent his days head down looking at ledger entries and requisitions.

“The General is ready to see you sir,” he remarked motioning Jack to follow as he exited the car.

“It’s been a long time since anyone called me ‘sir’, Lieutenant.” Jack said amiably.

“I have seen your record Sir. I know you and the General were in the same outfit in ‘Nam’. He told me how you got him out of a bad situation when a village he was visiting was attacked by the VC’s.”

“Yeah well, Lieutenant, that was a lifetime ago. I was never going to be a lifer like the General. I enjoyed the peace and quiet and humdrum of life too much to want to stay in the military.”

“So that’s why you became a homicide detective? That doesn’t sound too peaceful or humdrum to me.”

“Well, you go where your opportunities are. And what else does an MP do when he becomes a civilian. At least the bad guys weren’t shooting at me. And now you can add ‘former’ to that title. I got too old for that sort of stuff. Now I just track down lost dogs and husbands.”

After going through security, they took the elevator to the 8^th floor of the building, the highest point on the Base. The Lieutenant knocked, waited to hear the “Come” and showed Jack through, closing the door at the General’s curt nod.

General Riley Robinson was the poster boy of a military officer. Trim, square jawed, burr haircut of his still blond hair, uniform crisp and beribboned, he moved around the desk with grace and precision sticking out his hand and giving Jack a vice grip shake. “Jack, thanks so much for coming on such short notice. Please let’s sit down over there at the table.”

He pointed to a long mahogany table with a dozen chairs around it where he held his staff meetings every morning at 7:30 am. He took the chair at the head with Jack sitting at right angle to him in the first chair.

“General it’s been a while since we’ve been together. I think maybe the last time was at the 20^th reunion of our battalion. I think you had just made bird Colonel then. You keep moving on up. Actually, you look the same as ever. The quartermaster’s life must be good to you.”

The general laughed softly. “Well, you know how it goes Jack. All you got to do is stay alive and you outlast the bastards.”

“I think it takes a bit more than that General. The Army does not suffer fools or idiots and you’ve never been either of those.”

The General looked over at Jack, hesitating for a moment. “I’m, I’m not so sure about that Jack. I may be more of a fool than I thought.”

Jack’s senses came on full. A good detective has to see and feel all that’s going on when talking with witnesses or suspects. And Jack was a very good detective. “ So General, I take it this is not a social call for us to reminisce about old times.”

“Well Jack, in a way it does involve our old times together. You see, I’m up for another star and a position in the Pentagon. Of course there has to be a thorough investigation of my past and well, to put it bluntly, I’ve been a damn fool as you said so perfectly. I’m being extorted, and stupidly, I’ve been paying off someone for quite some time.”

“So who are you paying off and on what evidence” Jack said his mind beginning to spin through the consequences. The General sank back into his chair as if deflated. “That’s the really strange part, I don’t really know who it is. But I was sent some documents that they said they would release if I didn’t pay up.”

“Look General, why don’t you involve the CID or the FBI. There’s a lot of people with far more resources than I have. I mean, threatening a General has got to be a federal offense. I’m just a has-been detective, trying to make enough to keep gas in my car and beer in the fridge and pay my cable bill so I can watch sports every night with my cat.”

“Don’t give me that aw-shucks attitude Jack. I know you. You were one of the best at your job. And if you hadn’t gone public with how the Mayor was shaking down businesses in the city for licenses, you’d still be there doing your job. Besides, you are actually involved in my problem in some way. You were there with me.”

“I don’t understand” Jack said trying to organize his mind. The General sighed, then looking straight into Jack’s eyes began.”Jack, it goes back to that firefight we had in that Vietnamese village. I was there trying to do the ‘build morale among the locals’ thing when the VC’s attacked the village. If you and Sargent Jenkins hadn’t heard my radio call and swooped in with your platoon by helicopter to counter attack and drive them off, I would have been captured.”

“Well, General, lots of guys got captured and most survived. Look at John McCain. He made admiral and then became a senator. So no big deal, I mean yeah, not a good place to be but so what?”

The General’s face grew even tighter as he clenched his jaw before speaking. “I was in that village to build morale all right, my own. I had a woman there. Mi Song Yi. I got stuff from the PX and supply and brought it out to her and her family. There’s documents showing I got the stuff and gave it away.”

“Yeah General, as did half the non coms and officers in the Army. There’d be nobody left above lieutenant if they prosecuted that. And as you said, you were there to try and keep the village on our side.”

“That’s just it Jack. It turned out to be a Viet Cong village. Mi Song was a VC spy. It was she who set me up. She had the entire attack planned. If you hadn’t happened to intervene, I would have been captured.”

“I still say, so what. That was our problem being there in the first place. It was impossible to know on who’s side anyone was.”

“The problem is Jack, Mi Song Yi was an extraordinary woman and she still is. She is now on the Vietnamese Politburo. She’s head of their intelligence services. Oh and one other thing. Not only are there documents with my name on it, there are letters. I would write and tell her when I could come next and what did she need.”

“So you think that she is the one threatening you?” “I dont know for sure but doubt it. I just send the money to an account. It wasn’t all that much in the past, maybe $5000 a year and then I stopped getting more demands and heard nothing for a half dozen or so years. But now they want 10 times that to stay silent. That’s a lot of money on a General’s pay.”

“General, do you really want my help or my advice. You got to go public or at least report it to the chain of command. You are compromised unless you do, especially given Mi Song Yi’s position. Think of it as similar to gay guys in the military. As long as it is a secret, they can be compromised. If it’s just a fact of life, no big deal.”

“Jack, if I’d have laughed this off long ago it would have been brushed under the rug. But I didn’t. So before I give up my career, can you please try and find out who is doing this. Then maybe I can find a solution.”

I left the General’s Office and began to try and think through who could have access to those documents and why they were trying to hang him with them? I knew only one place to start. The bank account. I needed a favor from my colleague of the police force and military days, Sargent Jenkins. After I was booted off the force, he had been switched from Homicide to the Bunko squad looking for grifters and cheats. This would be right up his alley. I knew I could trust him to keep this quiet. He certainly had respected the General when we were in the military together. In those days, it was common for Battalions to be made up of guys all from the same state. That’s how Jenkins and I ended up working under a command that included the General.

In those days though, he was still a combat Major. He was one of the best. He cared for his troops and did everything he could to keep us safe while achieving our assigned mission. We might have saved his life one time, but we had survived only because of his skill and leadership. We owed him.

I was sitting outside at a picnic table in front of Mac’s Bar-b-q, my rack of baby back ribs half eaten, when the sun was blotted out over me. It was Jenkins huge frame standing behind me.

“Hey Lieutenant. Got any for me?” boomed out his deep voice. For such a big man, Jenkins moved with remarkable grace and silence. He remained a regular at the Police Academy gym and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. His physical presence had protected me on so many occasions.

“Oh Dan. Aren’t you worried that all this fat would ruin your figure?” He laughed as he sat down opposite me taking up almost the entire space of the bench.

“Aww, it’s ok Jack, I got to be on duty in 20 minutes and I don’t have time to go home for a shower. You should see your face. You got sauce from ear to ear.”

Reaching into the inner pocket of his sport coat, he pulled out a folded sheet of paper which he passed across to me. “That account you were interested in. It’s from the Paoli Savings and Loan down in the south of the state. Thing is, it was closed 5 years ago due to the holder being deceased. Name of Springer, George Springer. I ran his name through Records, not really much on him. He was in the military though and guess what, he was in Nam at the same time pretty much that we were. He was a corporal in headquarters. He was a company clerk. That any help to you?”

The next morning, I fired up the Galaxy and pointed it south to Paoli. There are only two lane roads headed down that way. Nothing important enough to merit an interstate to get people rapidly to and from the capital city. I passed through the small towns that were slowly dying as the economy had shifted away to the big cities as with much of the Midwest. Small rundown frame houses, most with pickups parked out front, lined the roads.

Mile after flat mile passed with fields empty after the fall harvest. The reality of fall and winter in farm country is the lack of color or interesting terrain. The dirt was so rich it was almost black which is why this area remained mostly agricultural. It was too good to build on in a way. Unless you farmed, or supported farming, there’s not much in the way of good paying jobs.

I enjoyed being out on the road, feeling the rumble of the big motor and exhaust. It gave me time to think. So George Springer, being a company clerk would certainly had access to all the requisitions for equipment and supplies. And also, all letters going out would have to pass through his hands. But what would cause him to want to blackmail the General. Like I had told him, he wasn’t the only one bleeding supplies out to the locals.

I drove down the main drag of Paoli, typical of all the small towns in this part of the state. The old buildings contained small mom and pop shops, simple family restaurants, and more than a fair share of bars. A good portion of the store fronts showed they were empty. Few people were walking the street. I found a spot to park the Ford and put a couple quarters in the meter.

Opposite me was the Paoli Gazette. “Serving the Community since 1897” it proclaimed proudly on the dust covered window. A bell above the door tinkled as I walked through. A counter ran across the front of the room with an opening on the left end that allowed a pass through to the back. A large iron printing press dominated the space. Off to the right were a couple of desks, only one of which was occupied by an elderly gent with thinning white hair. He had been pounding away at an ancient typewriter when I entered and looked up.

“If you’re here to place an ad, it’s too late. The edition is all locked up for the week.”

“Uh, no. I was wondering if I could look through your morgue, death notices from about 5 years ago or so.”

He peered at me over his glasses which were pushed down onto the end of his nose and got up and walked to the counter, looking out the window at the Ford across the street. “Who you looking for?” he said.

“How do you know I’m looking for someone?” I asked. “I’ve been a reporter long enough to know a police car when I see one. And all police have a look, and you got it.”

“Well, it’s a former police car. Just like me.” I handed him my card. “I’m just a private investigator now. I’m trying to track down some former members of my battalion from Nam.”

“Must be pretty important for you to drive all the way down here?”

“Well, it could be. It’s about back benefits that could be owed these guys.” I stood still, waiting.

“Who you looking for? Just about every guy around here is a vet.”

“Springer, George Springer. Did you know him?”

“Of course. I know pretty much everyone. It’s my job. But you’re too late, he’s been dead for 5 or 6 years.”

“What can you tell me about him. His heirs may have some benefits coming to them in his place.”

“The word “heirs” and George don’t normally go together. You see, he came back from service pretty screwed up. There was a lot of drugs over there, which you probably know. And when he got back home things had changed here. Even in this community, the war had become pretty unpopular. He didn’t really learn a trade in the Army. And factories were closing around here. So he scuffled from one thing to another. Went through a couple marriages. Drank a lot. He always seemed to have enough money for booze. Last couple years of his life he mostly hung out at the Covert Tavern down on the corner. He used to laugh at the name. It’s really the name of the street that comes in from the side. But he would say it was his place because he could hide out there..”

“So you knew him then? What happened to him?”

“He went downhill pretty quick after his second wife, Ruth, threw him out. She told the sheriff that he had beaten her up one night along with her son from her first marriage who tried to stop him. Judge Davenport gave him 3 months in the county jail. After that, he lived out of his car or in a shack down by the river. And that’s where they found him. Some guys went down there to fish and he was face down in the creek. Bottles of whiskey were everywhere. He had a big bump on his head and the coroner figured he was drunk and fell on a rock in the creek and drowned.”

“So what about his family?”

“He didn’t really have any. His first wife moved away long time ago. He second wife is still around. She took back her family name. Ruth Johnson.”

“And the boy?”

“Actually, I ain’t seen him in years. From what I heard, he did pretty good for himself. Went to the local branch of State U. Joined ROTC right away, and graduated a Lieutenant. Don’t really know how he made it into the Army though. He wasn’t really a physical guy. Had terrible eyesight and wore thick glasses. I guess they need all kinds these days.”

Jack was making notes. “And what was his name?” “Simon” “So Simon Johnson? “No, he kept his Daddy’s name from Ruth’s first husband. It was Jeffries. Simon Jeffries.”

Jack’s eyes widened. His brain flashed back to the General’s aid who had met him in the parking lot and his name tag. “Simon Jeffries”. The guy who spent his time in front of computers and reading reports. The guy who knew of the General’s record of the event involving Jack and the village in Vietnam.

“There are no coincidences” he thought to himself as he jumped into the black Ford and pulled back onto the road. He certainly had an interesting report to make to the General.