Sweepers

by P. T. Deutermann

  Carpenter gave him a level look. “This, matter has the potential to embarrass the Navy flag community, Kyle. I need to find Galantz, or, which I suppose would be equally useful, prove that he does not exist-that he went MIA and stayed that way. I guess what I’m saying is that I need you to tell them that we can do this the easy way or hard way.”

  “Oh dear,” Mallory protested. “That sounds like a threat.

  Do you know how those people usually react to threats from other government entities?”

  I’m not sure I give a damn, Carpenter replied. “Since the Fairfax County cops are involved, I can always just turn the whole thing over to CHINFO, let him invite the Washington press corps in for a chat. That way, those people can exercise their newfound expertise at . doing damage control fight here in River City.”

  Mallory, rolled his eyes. “And then I get to explain to the CNO why this thing got loose, is that it, Admiral?”

  Carpenter got up. “You’re the official pipe into the cave of the intel bears, Admiral My lawyerly instincts tell me if, Galantz went MIA and then was resurrected somehow, the American version of the Lavender Hill Mob was probably involved. Basically, I’m proposing to give our client one free shot at extricating himself from this tar baby. But my bottom line remains the preservation of the herd. Just make the call, okay, Kyle?”

  Mallory frowned and pursed his lips. “Very well, I’ll will make the call.

  But there’s something else they said in their call. Do you perchance know what a sweeper is-in their vernacular, that is?”

  “Nope. Although I would assume it has to do with cleaning up a mess.”

  “Rather more elaborate than that, Thomas. As you know, those people have the need from time to time to take-how shall I put this?-to take extreme measures connected with their line of work.”

  “This is news, Kyle?”

  “I suppose not. But the people they engage to perform these distasteful functions are not nice people. Not gentlemen, shall we say.”

  “Understood. And the point to all this is-“

  “The point is, Thomas, that from time to time, these ungentlemanly people themselves require the imposition of disciplinary measures. Think about it. Think about what kind of people would be good at imposing disciplinary measures on the wet-work mechanics. That is the function of the so-called sweepers. Which makes the rest of their message rather important.”

  Carpenter stared at him. “And that was?”

  “That they don’t acknowledge the existence of this fellow Galantz. But that if he did exist, he might be involved in certain extracurricular activities, and that, because of what he is, they are of the opinion that they are best equipped to look into that problem, not us. One assumes that will happen sooner rather than later, but one never knows with those people.”

  “Forgive me, Kyle, but I still don’t get it. If Galantz is one of their wet-work mechanics, as you call them, and he’s gone wrong, why don “t they get one of those-what’d you call ‘em, sweepers? Why don’t they put one of those guys onto the problem?”

  “Well, nobody over there is speaking in declarative sentences, Thomas.

  But you may have I touched on the heart of the problem. My guess is that this fellow Galantz is a sweeper.

  Karen was not surprised to find Train waiting in the otherwise-empty office when she got back to the Pentagon at 5:30. He was now dressed in his regular office clothes.

  The rest of the JAG offices along the C-ring halfway were dark, except for the workaholic Appellate Defense Division, where they always worked late.

  “Counselor,” Train pronounced when she came through the door.

  “Well if it isn’t Igor, the grave diggers’ assistant,” she replied brightly. She was secretly glad to see him, if only because the empty corridors of the Pentagon after working hours were a mildly spooky place. She slung her purse over the back of the yeoman’s chair and sat down. “So what was Admiral Sherman jumping up about toward the end of the ceremony? I saw you take off.”

  “Some kid on a motorcycle. He was standing up there on the hill among all the tourists and midshipmen. It looked to me like Sherman recognized him, which is why he stood up. By the time I got up the hill, the kid was jumping on a big Kawasaki two-seater and hauling ass. Never really saw his face. Any ideas?”

  Karen shook her head. Something was playing at the edges of her memory, but she couldn’t surface it. “No ideas,” she replied. “I was going to ask Admiral Sherman about it, but he was really down about the old man’s death.”

  She dialed into the voice-mail system, and there was one message, from Detective Mcnair, requesting a meeting as soon as possible-like tonight.

  She told Train about the message and that Sherman wanted to put it off a day.

  “Homicide cops don’t like to wait,” Train said. “Better call Sherman.”

  She put a call in to OP-32. The admiral was in conference, having left orders not to be disturbed. Karen hesitated, then told the yeoman to tell the admiral that the Fairfax business meeting had to be tonight.

  She said she would remain in her office until he was able to return her call.

  Train slouched down in a chair by the office door. Karen thought he looked like a big old bear trying to balance on a rock. A treacherous part ‘of her brain began to speculate on what a hug might be like from such a bear. He killed her thoughts with the observation that he wasn’t surprised that Sherman wanted to duck the cops.

  “Oh, c’mon, Train. You don’t still think he had anything to do with killing those two people, do you?”

  Train looked away for a moment. “I’m still bothered by the fact that all the current information on this mysterious Galantz comes from Sherman. I want some external corroboration.

  “But how about the syringe? I mean, I saw that thing, and the look on his face when he saw it.”

  We’ve been over this: He had an opportunity to put that thing in your car.”

  She shook her head in exasperation. “But why? The syringe had blood in it that matched the old man’s blood type, as well as traces of a substance that could’ve killed him.

  Why on earth-“

  “Because he could be playing a game,” Train interrupted. “A dangerous game, but still a game. Those cops have to be wondering, too. I know,” he said, seeing the look on her face, “motive. That’s where I’m stuck.

  I can’t figure the motive.”

  The phone rang before Karen could reply.

  “Navy JAG, Commander Lawrence speaking, sir.” She mouthed the name Sherman at Train.

  “Tonight, huh?” Sherman was saying.

  I’ll m afraid so, sir. Althouah I haven’t called him back.” There was a pause. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be done here in about thirty minutes. At this hour, thirty minutes to get home.”

  “Let me give you directions to my house,” she said, ignoring the sardonic expression spreading over Train’s face.

  “It’s about twenty minutes beyond where you live, but a lot closer for him, coming from Fairfax.”

  He agreed, wrote down directions, and hung up. She called Mcnair and made the necessary arrangements. She told him that Sherman had wanted to put it off a day, hoping she could find out why they wanted the meeting so urgently.

  “Two people are dead, Commander-in a week’s time. i As I think I mentioned, some people here are starting to’t view this as a situation involving a serial killer. By the rules, we’re supposed to bring the FBI into it, sooner rather than later. We want to talk to Sherman again because he’s the common’thread. Plus…” He hesitated.

  “Plus?” 11 I I m going to ask that you not tell him this, Commander. need to see his reaction when I ask the question. Deal?”

  “Yes, of course, Detective. I can keep a secret.” Train was watching her when she said that, his eyebrows rising.

  “Well, I contacted Admiral Schmidt’s lawyer today.

  Asked him our standard questions about contacts, possible business or tax pro
blems, etcetera. Tried not to highlight the fact that I was a homicide: guy, if you follow my drift.”

  “Yes. Go on.”

  “Lawyer said he was the executor. There was no other family. The old man left a bequest of a year’s salary to the housekeeper. The rest of his estate-worth something just north of a million bucks, a lot of that in the Mclean house and five acres bordering on that park-goes to guess who?”

  “Oh my,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, job my.’ Looking at things in an objective fashion, the good admiral has had his net worth bumped up about a million three in one week. So one of the things we have to do at this meeting is to inform him that we need to look hard at his finances-with his full cooperation, hopefully. And I guess this is the time to inform you that we might be migrating to different sides of the fence.”

  “I see,” she said. “Formally?”

  He hesitated. “No, not yet. We don’t have a consensus here. And it depends on a couple of things-what we find when we pull the strings on Citizen Sherman and what you guys come up with on this Galantz guy.”

  She nodded to herself. “Let me ask you something. Put aside the circumstantial issues for a moment. Do you, personally, believe Admiral Sherman is a killer?”

  Train whistled softly from his chair and then got up and started pacing around. This time, there was a longer silence on the phone. Karen found herself holding her breath.

  “Actually, my gut feel is no. The lieutenant keeps writing the facts up on a case board and underlining the common thread, which is Sherman. Our lieutenant is hell on facts, which is probably why he’s the lieutenant.

  I’ll say this: If Sherman is the guy, he is one cold and calculating bastard, and a damned good actor. Both Mrs. Klein and the old admiral’s housekeeper swear that he’s a prince of a guy.”

  I t was Karen’s turn to be silent. Stalling for time to think, she asked another question. “Was there a DNA match on the blood in the syringe?”

  “Much too soon. DNA matching takes time. But on gross markers, yes. The ME couldn’t find an injection point, but then again, that was a very fine-gauge needle on that syringe.”

  “What about potassium?”

  “Total bust. The chief toxicologist wouldn’t even try.

  They said that there was no way to detect a toxic level of potassium in the tissues, especially after embalming. So, see you at seven-thirty.”

  He was cutting off the questions. She reviewed the directions and he said he and his lieutenant would be there. “My lieutenant wants to meet the admiral. See you there, Commander.”

  Karen hung up the phone and recapped the conversation for Train, who whistled again.

  “I should be there,” he said when she was finished.

  She looked at him for a moment. Given Sherman’s reluctance to share information, Train’s presence might be awkward for Admiral Sherman. On the other hand, Mcnair’s latest information had unsettled her. Once again, she was beginning to wonder about Admiral Sherman.

  Train saw her working it out and grinifed at her. Then he skewed his face, hunched his back, and dangled one arm lower than the other. “Igor may have been fight, -distress.

  Igor might be good troll to know if you’re going to hang around with bad guys, mistress. Maybe let the bad guy know mistress has Igor on call.”

  “Oh, quit,” she protested, but without rancor. “I’ll admit I’m a little more worried than I was. But yes, you should be there.

  He straightened up, his face becoming serious. “But not for the reason you’re thinking,” he said. “I should be out there because of that lockout banner on your computer screen this morning.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  :, I promise to explain” was all he said as he reached for his coat.

  Out on the GW Parkway, Karen checked her mirror to see if Train’s car was still behind her. She had been trying to figure out his cryptic comment about the security lockout on the Galantz investigation file.

  But she had been too proud simply to come out and ask him. Maybe he was trying to show her that he was thinking ahead of her. Baffled, she refocused her mind on the problems posed by the news about Galen Schmidt’s bequest. She could see the cops’ point of view. Alibis aside, the only other explanation on the table depended entirely on Sherman’s version of something that happened more than twenty years ago, involving a man who had, according to government records, officially disappeared in the swamps of Vietnam. On the other hand, if Galantz did exist, and if he was bent on setting Sherman up to take a fall, he was doing a pretty good job of it.

  Mcnair’s use of the term serial killer would do nothing to soothe the Navy flag community’s uneasiness about this whole situation. Maybe after this meeting it would be propitious to review the bidding with Admiral Carpenter. Remember your tasking, she thought. The big guys want to avoid surprises. On the other hand, if Sherman was innocent the fundamental unfairness of what was going on was starting to gall.

  “Not bad for a commander, USN,” Train said, looking around the expansive living room.

  “Not bad for an oil-industry lobbyist who’d been in the ‘bidness’ for twenty-six years,” Karen replied as she turned on more lights in the room. “Frank was pretty good at what he did.”

  He wandered around the living room, looking at pictures of Frank with name-brand senators and with two Presidents.

  “I don’t suppose you ever get over the loss of a spouse,” he said carefully.

  She sighed. “At some point, I guess I was able to start getting on with life. But there are days, Train … there are definitely days.”

  “And nights, I imagine,” he said. She nodded almost without thinking, and then she flushed. But there was no sexual innuendo in his eyes, only genuine sympathy. It was a side of him she hadn’t expected. They were interrupted by headlights in the drive. Karen looked out the porch windows and recognized the admiral’s car. Another car came up the drive behind him.

  “Show time,” Train said.

  Karen took a deep breath and went to the door to let Sherman and the two policemen in. Once inside, Mcnair introduced his boss.

  “This is Lieutenant Bettino. Admiral Sherman, Commander Lawrence. And Mr. von Rensel of the Naval Investigative Service.”

  Bettino offered his hand tentatively to Train, as if not sure he was going to get it back. Next to Train, Karen thought, Bettino looked like a college kid, with modish blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a very youthful face. She noticed that he did not say anything, but he also did not appear to be upset to have a fed present.

  Sherman unbuttoned his uniform jacket and dropped into a chair. “I hope we can make this short, gentlemen,” he said. “I buried a dear friend today. Mr. von Rensel, I assume you are going to expedite the NIS effort to find Galantz?”

  “Yes, sir,” Train said.

  “If I may, Admiral,” Mcnair interjected. “I apologize for calling this meeting so soon after Admiral Schmidt’s funeral. But we’re concerned that there have been what appear to be two homicides in one week, homicides that have a common thread.”

  “Two homicides? You’ve established that, Detective?

  Galen was killed by something in that syringe?”

  “It’s ambiguous at this time, Admiral,” Mcnair admitted. “Just like the Walsh case.”

  “And the common thread,” Sherman said. “I suppose that’s still me?”

  “Yes, sir, it is,” Bettino said, speaking for the first time.

  His voice was smooth, almost silky. There was an abrupt hush in the room. Sherman’s face tightened perceptibly.

  Mcnair moved to fill the suddenly awkward silence.

  “Admiral Sherman, are you aware of the provisions of Admiral Schmidt’s estate?”

  Sherman blinked. “Estate? You mean his will? No. We were personal and professional friends. Since 1977. He has a lawyer. His name is-“

  “We talked to him today, Admiral,” Mcnair interrupted.

  “He informs us
that you are the sole beneficiary of Admiral Schmidt’s estate. With the exception of a stipend for his housekeeper, everything he had is now yours. That house and the acreage in Mclean, everything.”

  Train was watching Sherman, who was starting to nod his head. He looked first at Mcnair, then at the lieutenant. “I I was going to say that I’m surprised. But I guess I’m not surprised after all. He was like a father to me. His own family is gone-his wife, his son. No, I didn’t know about this, but …” He ran out of words.

  The lieutenant leaned forward. “Admiral, as of now you are not a suspect in this investigation. But as you are aware, we had a strange forensic situation in the Walsh house, in that we didn’t find a normal forensic background. In the admiral, s house, on the other hand, we have found evidence that you had been there.”

  “A fact which I told you earlier,”

  Sherman pointed out.

  “On Wednesday night-last week. No, on Tuesday. On Wednesday, I went to Elizabeth’s memorial service. Galen was there.” He looked around the room as if to make sure that everyone had noted that point.

  “Yes, sir,” Mcnair said, picking it up, almost as if they had rehearsed this. “Admiral Schmidt died sometime Thursday night. You were with Commander Lawrence until what time, around eleven?”

  “Yes, something like that, We left the restaurant. And then found that syringe. Called you people.”

  “You called us, Admiral?” the lieutenant asked.

  “No. I meant someone called. I guess what I’m saying is that your patrol officer can vouch for the fact that I was with Commander Lawrence.” He looked around the room again, then realized how he was sounding. “Look, I was surprised by the . fact that Elizabeth had named me in an insurance policy. The situation with Galen … well, that’s a little less surprising. But I still think I’m being set up.”

  “By this Galantz individual?” Mcnair asked.

  “Yes. I’ve told you all this, Detective.”

  Mcnair sat back in his chair. “That’s right, sir, you have.

  But as of now, we have no way of corroborating the existence of the threatening letter or even the existence of Galantz. Or, for that matter, the incident that supposedly set him off after all these years.