The Fairfax Incident

by Terrence McCauley

  I kept the Thompson trained on the door as he ran. When he got to the side of the door, he leveled the shotgun at the entrance and beckoned me to follow. Now he was covering me.

  I was starting to like this kid.

  I got up and ran toward him.

  ***

  We stepped over the man I’d killed and moved further into the hospital. The entire center of the building was gone, but the east wing was mostly intact. We made our way up the stairs to the second floor, where my room had been and the Germans had been held.

  Bullet holes pockmarked the walls and stairs. Smears of blood lined the way, but no bodies.

  Half of the door to the second floor had been shredded, only jagged portions of the bottom remained. Coleman took the left side and I took the right. I pulled the door open and Coleman pinned it behind him. He checked my side of the doorway.

  Clear.

  I checked his side of the doorway.

  Also clear.

  Since one of us had to go first, I decided it would be me.

  I stepped into the hallway and saw the remains of a pitched battle. The firefight that had started in the stairway had moved up here. Three men in coarse gray overcoats lay dead across from two soldiers. I kicked the guns away from the Germans just to be safe.

  Coleman and I crept past the dead, down to the end of the hallway, and checked both ends. To the left, a shattered ruin of rubble. To the right, walls blackened with smoke and blood.

  I thought I heard something, and motioned for Coleman to be quiet for a moment. Then I heard it again, a metallic clack and a curse.

  I’d heard that curse before. “Hauser?”

  “Charlie?”

  “Anyone else here?”

  “No. Come ahead.”

  I met Hauser in the hallway as he stepped out of my old room, his Thompson raised above his head with both hands. “Don’t shoot. It’s empty.”

  I lowered my weapon. So did Coleman. “What the hell happened?”

  Hauser set the empty Thompson against the wall. “They drove a truck into the center of the hospital. It exploded and wiped out most of the staff. I hid when the shooting started, but managed to get one off of them and hold them back. Burnitz was with them, Charlie. He was with them!”

  I didn’t care about that. “Where are they now?”

  “They went straight for Tessmer and Otto. I don’t know how they knew where they were, but they did. They got them, too, and killed a lot of guys doing it. I tried to stop them, but they had too many guns. I picked off a couple, but they went down the back stairs.

  Coleman asked, “How long ago?”

  “Right before I heard you out here.”

  They were still close.

  I ran to the stairwell with the other two close behind me. I leapt over a man Hauser had killed and missed a few steps, skidding on the blood on the treads before catching my balance. I practically tumbled down the rest of the stairs, but stopped when I heard another burst of gunfire from outside. It didn’t sound close, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

  When I got to the bottom, I pulled the door open and stepped aside, waiting for someone to shoot at me. No one did. I looked outside in time to see a car speeding away from the hospital. The car rocked heavy on its axels, like it was overloaded. One man with a rifle was standing on the running board, holding on for dear life.

  I caught a glimpse of a wounded man on the ground between us and the car, just as bullets began peppering the left side of the doorway. I ducked back inside just in time.

  “Looks like we’ve got a live one. Left side, ten o’clock.”

  Coleman stepped forward with the shotgun. “I’ve got him.”

  I stepped aside as Coleman took a knee, stuck the shotgun out the door, and fired.

  No one shot back.

  “Clear.”

  Although I saw the car was picking up speed, I ran after it. “Coleman, get the car. Hauser, you go with him. We can still catch up!”

  I ran after the fleeing car as hard as I could, ignoring the pain that spiked in my side with every step. I stopped to bring up the Thompson when the car hitched as the driver shifted into higher gear. Despite the growing distance, I raked the car with bullets, my rounds punching holes in the back of the sedan and webbing the rear window as the car lurched into a higher gear.

  One man dropped off the left running board, followed by the man on the right. The rear window was cracked, but hadn’t shattered. Bulletproof.

  Damn it.

  I kept running, even though my empty Thompson had locked open. I kept running, even when I heard Coleman tell me our tires had been shot out.

  I threw the empty machine gun aside when I reached the spot where the men on the running boards had fallen and picked up his Thompson. I kept running, even though the car was getting further away with ever stride I took.

  I reached the first man who’d fallen. His head was mostly gone, but I hardly noticed. I barely stopped as I grabbed his Thompson and kept running. I watched the car disappear over the gentle hill along the hospital road and willed myself to run even faster. When I got to the hill myself, the car had to slow down to take the harsh curve of the road.

  I leveled the Thompson at the car and fired, full blast. I squeezed the trigger until the drum went dry and the car was long gone from sight.

  Burnitz and Tessmer and Otto had gotten away.

  I threw the empty rifle at the road and screamed for as long and as loud as I could. I screamed because of all the people who had died because of a stupid plan. I screamed because Burnitz had won and I had lost.

  I screamed because screaming was about the only thing I could do.

  A gentle wind carried my rage along the hillside. And the cows barely noticed.

  Chapter 24

  Neither Mr. Van Dorn nor Father Mullins would look at me.

  The two of them just sat there in the Van Dorn study lined with oak shelves and handsome books, snifters of Cognac at their elbows and grim looks on their faces.

  I had decided to stand.

  Coleman, Hauser, and I hadn’t made it back to Manhattan until well after dinner, which was just fine by me. I didn’t have much of an appetite anyway.

  Mr. Van Dorn looked at his polished shoes while Father Mullins puffed away at his pipe. If I hadn’t known these two were responsible for the deaths of over a dozen people, I would’ve thought it was just another Tuesday night in old New York.

  But it wasn’t a regular Tuesday night. Not for me. Not for the dead left behind down in Delaware, either.

  Mr. Van Dorn cleared his throat. “Are you going to say something, or just stand there and glower at us all night?”

  “I should shoot both of you right now.”

  Neither man reacted. Not even a flinch. Neither of them looked at me, either.

  Mr. Van Dorn kept studying his shoes. “I won’t deny you your rage, Charlie. God knows you’re entitled to it after all that’s happened. I’m sorry.”

  “About what? The part where a bunch of Nazis blew up a hospital, or the part where our only links to the Germans got away?”

  “All of it, actually. The entire episode was a mix-up from the start.”

  “You call twenty-four dead people a mix-up? Jesus. I’d hate to see your idea of a slaughter. What the hell were you thinking?”

  “We took a calculated risk,” Mr. Van Dorn explained, “because we were desperate. None of our usual sources in the German community had the slightest idea of where Burnitz was. Or, if they did, they were too afraid to admit it. They didn’t even talk about him amongst themselves when they thought no one was listening. We didn’t even know if he was still in the country. That’s when we decided to try to flush him out by letting word of their location slip to some key people we suspected of knowing Burnitz. If he came for them, we planned on surp
rising him, and either catching him or killing him. It turns out our suspicions of their association were correct. It’s cold comfort, I know,

  but—”

  “It’s pretty cold comfort to the men who died today,” I said, “including Donnie and Jack, who helped me escape the camp in the first place. I owed those men my lives. They deserved better than to die in some half-baked setup like this.”

  Father Mullins took the pipe from his mouth. “It wasn’t as though we took out an advertisement in the New York Times, Charles. We only spread the information to sources we suspected of being in contact with Burnitz. The strategy was sound and, ultimately, correct. We took every precaution to lay as strong a trap as possible. We hardened the installation with troops and guns and fences. We lured him to a remote location, far away from the city. We even evacuated the hospital staff so the danger to innocent lives was minimal. We believed that once Burnitz and his thugs found themselves up against experienced troops, he would lose. As it turns out, we appear to have underestimated his abilities.” He slid the pipe stem back into his mouth.

  “Underestimated his abilities?” I repeated. “You knew Burnitz tried to gun me down on the street just for talking to Mrs. Fairfax. You knew he had a goddamn military camp set up in Long Island. What made you think telling that maniac about the hospital was a good idea?”

  “None of the prisoners said Burnitz had that level of capability,” Mr. Van Dorn said. “Not even your friend Hauser knew he was capable of such an attack.” He pointed at a table across the room. “It’s all documented right there in the file I planned on showing you at dinner tonight. Tessmer and Otto’s interrogation reports. Hauser and his colleagues, too. The War Department even performed a full assessment of the hospital and gave us detailed instructions we should follow to set the trap. We followed everything they said right down to the smallest detail. I’d hoped to be able to tell you the attack had failed and Burnitz was either captured or dead. I’d hoped tonight would be a celebration instead of this. It’s all right there. Look at it for yourself, and you’ll see this wasn’t some half-baked scheme we hatched one night over sherry.”

  “We lost a great deal today,” Father Mullins added, “but look at what we have learned. I mourn the dead as much as you do, perhaps more since I had a hand in the plan that led to their deaths. But we learned the true nature of the enemy. Of the kind of man we are dealing with, and a great deal about what he is willing to do to accomplish his goals. This will help us convince those in Washington to take this threat seriously and give us the resources we need to fight them. I promise you, Charles, their deaths shall not be in vain.”

  I didn’t bother looking over at the table, much less the file. And the more they talked, the more my stomach turned. Not because of the pain in my side, but because of what they were saying. They were too busy justifying their failure to realize they had already lost.

  I felt my anger begin to rise as I said, “Today wasn’t about Nazis, or German agents in the country, or funding from the government. This isn’t even about Burnitz. He did what he was trained to do. He did what I would’ve expected him to do, because I understand how men like him think. He didn’t go after Tessmer and Otto because they were important. He didn’t go after them to keep them from talking, because he knew you’d already broken them.”

  When the two men looked at each other, I knew they hadn’t thought of that.

  I went on. “Burnitz came for them because we took them away from him, and you don’t take something away from a man like that without consequences. You two were playing chess while this guy was playing smash-mouth football.”

  I looked at Mr. Van Dorn. “This isn’t 1917 anymore. You’re not dealing with spies or saboteurs. You’re dealing with committed lunatics who think they have God on their side.” I looked at the Jesuit. “Or did you forget that? Hell, you’re the one who explained it to me. They don’t think like us and they don’t act like us.”

  I pointed at the file on the table across the room. “I won’t read that goddamned thing because there’s not one word in the whole pile that’s worth the paper it’s printed on. You think it justifies what you did today, don’t you? Well, I’ve got news for you. It doesn’t, because you don’t understand the kind of man you’re fighting. Men like you never can. Oh, maybe after today you’ll get some rough idea, but even then it’s too late. It shouldn’t have taken twenty-four bodies for you two to get the goddamned point.”

  I wanted them to be offended by my language. I wanted them to give me just one disapproving glance, anything that would give me an excuse to go at them. But they didn’t.

  The Jesuit looked up at me through his pipe smoke. “We didn’t misjudge their intent or their resolve, Charles, only their capacity to do the unthinkable. I promise you, we won’t make the same mistake again.”

  “I sure as hell hope so. Not for your sake, but for the sakes of whoever else you throw into this meat grinder. Because I’m not part of this University Club or whatever you two have going on here, and I’m not going to be. You boys are on your own. I’m out.”

  Mr. Van Dorn slowly rose from his chair. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

  “Goddamn right I can. I can take being lied to by perps and by other cops, and even my ex-wife. Hell, I can even take being lied to by clients. But the one thing I won’t take is being lied to by the people I thought I could trust. People I admire, or at least used to.”

  Mr. Van Dorn’s lips moved, but he didn’t say anything. I guessed because I had said it all for him.

  “You’ve been good to me, Mr. Van Dorn, but I don’t let anyone use me as bait. I’ll be out of the apartment by tomorrow night. I’ll leave the keys with your maid when I’m done.”

  “Where will you go?” Mr. Van Dorn asked. “What will you do?”

  “Don’t worry about me. You’ll hook another fish. The force is full of them. Hauser said you offered him a job, so give him a shot.”

  I turned to leave, when Mr. Van Dorn said, “I never took you for a coward.”

  The words stopped me cold. I slowly turned around, feeling the rage that had been brewing inside me all day begin to rise to a boil. If he’d been any other man, I would’ve already lunged at him. But some remnant of respect kept me where I was. A remnant that was crumbling awfully damned fast.

  But Mr. Van Dorn didn’t look afraid. “Can you really walk away from all of this, Charlie? Especially now, after everything you’ve learned about what’s going on in this country? Can you throw up your hands with the knowledge that a foreign government is trying to build an army within our borders? To subvert our very way of life? To subvert the very things you fought for in France? The very things your friends died for?” He pointed toward the window. “You saw how easily Steve Hauser and other men like him were sucked in by their vitriol about being good Germans, about being proud Germans.”

  “Hauser was in it because Carmichael ordered him to get enough dirt to blackmail them.”

  “Is that so?” Mr. Van Dorn asked. “Do you know how many meetings he attended before he reported back to Carmichael? I do. Over twenty. He only reported to Carmichael when he realized he might be getting in over his head, but until then he was no different than any other recruit.”

  “He saved my life.”

  “Only when they ordered him to kill you.” Mr. Van Dorn paused for a moment to let that sink in. “He would have beaten you, though. Breaking your legs, fracturing your skull, putting you in the hospital would’ve been perfectly fine by him. There are worse things than killing a man, Charlie. He would have crippled you if Alexandra let him.” He pointed at me now. “You know I’m right. You said as much yourself. He even admitted it to us. Think about that for a moment. Murder is a bridge too far, but maiming for the cause is acceptable. So was covering up the murder of Dr. Blythe. Now think about how many other men like Hauser are out there. Relatively decent men who won’t go as
far as murder, at least not intentionally, but will hurt people and companies for the sake of the German people. Now think of all of those entirely willing to cross that line, men just looking for validation to kill those they hate. Think about what happens then.”

  Mr. Van Dorn lowered his hand. “Now think about what would happen if such men were in this country. Men who were organized and well-funded, willing to protect their beliefs by any means necessary. What happens when there is no line to cross, Charlie? You’ve seen how easily loyalty can blur that line. Do you really want to give Burnitz and the others like him the chance to turn good men against their own country? Today it’s just picnics and beer and boy’s camps. All of it appears to be quite innocent enough on the surface. Tomorrow it’s violence in the streets when people speak out against their beliefs. As resistance hardens, so will the Bund’s resolve. We’ve learned that after today, haven’t we, Charlie? What then? Protesters getting shot on the street or organizers murdered in their homes? Police unable to restore order? Newspapers firebombed by those who don’t like what they publish? Think about what happened in Delaware today and tell me I’m wrong.”

  He took a few steps toward me. “You’re a free man, Charlie. I owe you the life of my son, which means I owe you everything, more than I could ever repay you. What’s more, your country owes you a debt for how you uncovered the extensive German activities in the country. It owes you for what you endured today. But there’s still much more to do, and you’re the ideal man to do it.”

  It was quite a speech. Good enough to keep me from leaving. Good enough to remind me of why I admired Mr. Van Dorn so much. “Me? I’m just a cop, sir, and not a very good one, either. You need people who know what they’re talking about to handle this kind of thing.”

  “Experts, you mean? People who know what they’re doing?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Mr. Van Dorn pointed back to the file on the table. “The trap we laid out for Burnitz today was coordinated by some of the finest minds on the subject. Intelligence professionals. Military experts. We even had psychiatrists who claimed they could predict how a man like Burnitz would attempt to rescue his men. You saw how well that turned out with your own two eyes.”