Operation Blue Sapphire

by David B. Gilmore

  Dinner revived them from the journey. Since leaving Liberia, they had all subsisted on sandwiches and coffee. A well-balanced meal was just what they needed.

  After topping off all their glasses with wine, Emma broke the ice and broached the reason the three of them had traveled half way around the world. “Vern, did our weapons arrive?”

  “I picked them up from O House this morning. Everything’s in a closet off the living room.”

  “O House?” inquired Emma.

  “Well, it’s really more of a warehouse and transfer station than a house. Whether it arrives by ship or plane, all matériel designated for the OSS is assembled at O House and then later distributed. Anything you might need while you’re here, we can get there. Plus, it’s also a communications center. All of Captain Blaine’s reports were encrypted and then sent on to Washington from O House. Later tonight I’m to go back and send Colonel Wyman a cable to let him know you all made it here safely.”

  “I see. You sent Colonel Wyman the news of Captain Preston’s murder from there?”

  “I did.”

  “What exactly was Captain Preston working on? Colonel Wyman gave us a brief run-down on the economic side of things, but was that all?”

  “Initially, but Captain Blaine had moved on from that.”

  “How so?” inquired Bunnel.

  “As you will all find out, India is complex, and isn’t like home. Here there are three main cultural groups, Hindus, Moslems, and Sikhs. About the only thing they have in common is their distaste for the British. The only reason they’re supporting the Brits in the war is that they like the idea of being ruled by the Japs even less. Each group has its political leaders, but underneath are other various groups, fringe groups if you will, each with its own agenda.”

  “Such as?” asked Emma.

  “Well, the communists for one.”

  “Did Captain Preston meet with them?”

  “He met with some of them. I’m afraid he had kind of a cold reception from the communists, but he did meet with them. I have his journal. When I was informed that you would be arriving to look into his murder, I figured they might be good leads and kept them. Besides, everything had already been put in formal reports and sent back to Washington.”

  “Did you ever get, or did he leave you with, the impression that he might have stumbled across something with one of these fringe groups that he shouldn’t have?” Emma asked.

  “You mean enough to get him killed? No, not at all. If so, he would have warned me about it. That’s why I just don’t understand it, him getting killed and ending up in that canal.”

  Miller then went on to inform them of Preston’s meeting the night he went missing and about his dinner engagement with Jacques du Maurier.

  When he was finished, Emma thought for a moment. “We have a lot to do tomorrow, and we all need new clothes. Then I want to go out to the canal where the police found him.” After further reflection she added, “I think we need to pay a visit to the café where Preston went to meet du Maurier. Probably the best place to start. Any of these fringe groups you mentioned may be responsible, but I don’t want to rule out the possibility of Preston’s death being a random crime. If so, I don’t want to be like Alice chasing rabbits. What do you say we finish our wine and call it a day? In the morning, we hit the ground running.”

  Conrad Kruger stood quietly in the dark on a neighborhood street, watching a bus stop. Several buses had stopped to pick up and drop off passengers, but the man he was looking for was not amongst them. Finally, when he saw his quarry, he waited until the man stood in front of him and then blocked his way. “Mister Tillerman, Mister Edwin Tillerman? I need a moment of your time,” said Kruger as he remained in the shadows beyond the range of the street lamps.

  Tillerman froze. The fact the stranger knew him by name made a rush of fear course through his body like a jolt of electricity. Quickly, he processed his options. The man looked to be larger than he was. If he turned and ran, the man would most likely catch up with him. Reluctantly, he decided his best option was to stay put where he was.

  “What do you want to talk to me about, Mister … ?” asked Tillerman.

  “Who I am isn’t important. What is important is you owe a lot of people a lot of money, and they’re getting anxious about being paid back.”

  “I’m trying, it just takes time.”

  Kruger laughed. “You and I both know you’re in so deep, you’re never going to pay it back. Not on the salary you’re making at the Ishapore Rifle Factory. Plus, it’s common knowledge around Calcutta that your father has cut you off and practically disowned you. No, you don’t have too many options. The Army won’t take you, not as an officer, anyway. Especially, when they find out about your debts. And it doesn’t look to me like you have a way out. The debt you owe is doing only one thing, growing.”

  His voice weak, Tillerman stammered, “A-Are you here to collect? I only have a few rupees on me, but they’re yours if you want them.”

  “Put your wallet away. You can relax. I’m not here to collect, I’m here to offer you a way out of your predicament.”

  Tillerman was skeptical but began to calm down. Still stammering, he asked. “H-How are you going to help me?”

  “You work at the factory. I need two hundred rifles.”

  “How am I supposed to get them for you? Smuggle them out under my coat one at a time?”

  “Do you want my help or not?” asked Kruger, beginning to lose patience.

  “It’s just that I don’t understand what you want from me or how I can help you.”

  “If you’ll listen and quit with the wise-ass remarks, I’m going to tell you. What I want from you is this. I need to know the schedule of shipments leaving the factory, the routes the lorries will be taking, and their destinations. If the rifles are to be taken to a warehouse, I need to know the location. That is what I need from you. Actually, all quite simple.”

  “What are you going to do with the information? What if I get caught? I could get discharged or worse.”

  “You don’t need to know what I’m going to do with the information. And no one is going to get caught doing anything.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Later tonight I’m meeting with the gentlemen who are holding your debt. If I tell them you were uncooperative, they will be by to collect. As you’ve figured out, they can be very persuasive. When they’re finished with you, you’ll be lucky to ever walk again, and you’ll be taking your meals through a straw.”

  “If I help you, what’s in it for me?”

  Kruger was happy. The hook had been set, but he showed no emotion. “Your debt goes away, and this ugly business of who you’ve been dealing with will never be mentioned again. Your father will not be embarrassed and you can start rebuilding your life.”

  Tillerman stood in silence.

  “What other options do you have? You can’t take your problem to the police. I’m your only solution.”

  “I’m going to need some time to think this over,” replied Tillerman.

  “The time for thinking is over. I want an answer now. And if you’re entertaining any ideas of telling your superiors about our conversation, get them out of your head. What the people you owe are going to do to you will be mild compared to me.”

  “All of my debt goes away?”

  “Like it never existed.”

  “When do you need the information?”

  “In the next few days. I’ll find you. If you don’t have what I need, I tell your friends our agreement didn’t work out. You know what happens then. So I suggest tomorrow morning you begin getting together everything that I’ve asked for.” Kruger pointed to a house down and across the street, “I know you live right there in room number five. I suggest you go ahead home now, your landlady will have dinner ready. You don’t want to hold everyone up.”

  Shocked, and at the same time relieved to still be alive and in one piece, Tillerman didn’t say a word and quickly
began walking toward home.

  Kruger watched him and then silently slipped down an ally to where his car was parked. As he drove off he was pleased. Fool, he thought, he just traded one master for another, and he’s too stupid to even realize it.

  The next morning Emma was happy when she entered the kitchen and was greeted by the smell of fresh coffee. Miller had just finished brewing a pot. As she sat down he placed a clean ashtray in the center of the table and poured her a cup of coffee. “I have cream and sugar,” he offered.

  “No. No. Black will be fine,” replied Emma. She took a sip and then lit her first Lucky Strike of the day.

  Miller placed a small leather-bound notebook on the table. “Captain, I know it’s early, but last night after you went to bed, I retrieved Captain Blaine’s journal for you. From the time we got here until he was shot, it’s pretty much everything he did. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I’m familiar with everything, as I helped type up all the reports we sent back to Washington.”

  Emma thumbed through the pages. Page after page was filled with the names, addresses, telephone numbers, and mental impressions of all the people Preston had met with. After a couple of minutes, she closed the book and set it down on the table. “You two have been busy. Even with the four of us, it could take weeks to interview all these people.” She looked up at Miller. “Last night you mentioned that Preston had moved on from his initial assignment. What was he really working on?”

  Miller nodded. “As you know, for security reasons we weren’t briefed on the overall goal of the mission. Captain Blaine speculated that for several reasons, including economic and political, Washington feels Britain is going to lose India when the war’s over. He felt Washington wanted to know which team to back.”

  “So, you two were here not only spying, but picking the team roster,” said Bunnel as he joined them at the table.

  “That about sums it up,” replied Miller.

  “Wow,” said Emma. “If word of this gets out, it could not only change the outcome of the war but ruin American and British diplomatic relations for decades. You know what the next step in this was going to be, don’t you?” Before either of them could answer, she pointed to Preston’s journal on the table. “We’re going to start funding them and buy their support. What a potential disaster!”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter now, but I wonder just who in the hell came up with this great idea? It had to be a politician,” said LaCroix, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

  “Glad you left the Coast Guard, Henri?” asked Bunnel.

  “Yeah, come to exotic India, try to salvage diplomacy between the Allies, and not get dysentery in the process. I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” replied LaCroix as he helped himself to one of Emma’s cigarettes.

  “Vern, did you see an autopsy report on Captain Preston?” asked Emma.

  “Actually, I did. Cause of death was one, thirty-two caliber slug to the back of the head. I know where you’re heading, but there were no other signs of trauma. So I don’t think he was tortured.”

  “That’s good news. I know you respected Captain Preston, and I mean no disrespect, but no matter how embarrassing it may be, did he have any secrets, things he could be blackmailed for? A girlfriend here or in the States or any shady business dealings? Anything that could be used against him or get him killed?” asked Emma.

  “Absolutely nothing. He was a stand-up guy.”

  “We all need to give this some thought. What do you say we have a bit more coffee then get the day started?” Emma suggested.

  After breakfast Miller took them to Whiteway Laidlaw and the other department stores on Chowringhee Road. Emma was pleased, as they were all able to find everything they needed. Everyone agreed it was good to once again be in clean clothes. Since it was close by, and at Miller’s insistence, they had lunch at Fripo’s, a place popular for its food and, unquestionably, the best ice cream in Calcutta. The restaurant was crowded with locals and servicemen. The number of British soldiers and GIs made Emma feel uncomfortable; she didn’t want any unnecessary tests of their cover identities. As soon as they had finished lunch, she insisted they go.

  Leaving the city behind them, Miller pulled the car onto a side road and stopped. Emma didn’t see any houses or businesses for at least a half a mile in either direction. “We go on foot from here,” Miller told them. “The canal they fished Captain Blaine’s body out of is just up ahead.”

  As they walked onto the bridge over the water, it was the smell that first struck them. The water was stagnant and smelled of rotting vegetation and sewage. Emma instinctively reached into her purse and quickly covered her nose and mouth with a handkerchief.

  “This is the approximate location where they found him,” said Miller when they reached the middle of the bridge. “He was either shot here or dumped here. The police don’t know which. Usually, we don’t get much rain this time of year, but the night he went missing, we had an unusually heavy rainstorm. If there was any blood on the bridge, it was washed well away by the time he was discovered.”

  “So would any tire marks or evidence of that nature,” remarked LaCroix.

  “And you said there were no other signs of trauma? Nothing to indicate he had been tied up?” asked Emma.

  “Nothing.” replied Miller.

  “My God, this place is awful,” observed Bunnel. “I didn’t know him, but he deserved a lot better than to end up here.”

  Miller turned to Emma. “Captain, he did deserve a lot better than this. Listen, I realize you three have come all the way from Washington to solve this. You don’t have to tell me that this is important, not only to Colonel Wyman, but to the bigger picture as well. I don’t need to know what the connection is. My orders are to help you in any way I can, and I will. If you’re willing, I want to be part of the team, to help you find the bastards who killed the Captain, and help you dispense justice. I owe it to Captain Blaine and his family. It isn’t right, but he’s lying in the French cemetery under his code name, Phillips. There was nothing else we could do. I can’t even send his wife a picture of his headstone.”

  “Vern, don’t worry, you’re on the team,” said Emma. “I think I’ve seen enough here. Let’s get going before we all catch some sort of disease. This place is putrid.”

  At the house, they unpacked and thoroughly checked and cleaned their weapons. Sitting in the living room, Miller once again gave Emma, Bunnel, and LaCroix a quick briefing of all the people Captain Preston had met. Emma began making an outline on a large sketchpad she had purchased earlier in the day.

  “It could be any of a half dozen political groups or just a random crime. If it’s the latter, we’re wasting our time. But my instincts tell me it wasn’t,” she said. “I keep thinking about the canal. It’s a good place to dump a body. However, if Preston was killed there, he went there with someone he trusted. In order to get to the bottom of this quickly, we’re going to have to divide up the work.” Emma glanced back at the sketchpad then turned to Miller, “Vern, Colonel Wyman told us you’d be able to help us with anything we may need. Can you get us another car?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “Anytime you want. Colonel Wyman gave me a priority code at O House and informed them of such. All I have to do is make a call, and there will be no questions asked.”

  “Good. Make the call later tonight and pick it up in the morning. Make it something inconspicuous.”

  “Will do.”

  Shifting her gaze to LaCroix and Bunnel, Emma said, “This is what I’m thinking. Using my cover status as a reporter, I can probably easily get interviews with the Indian independence groups Preston met with. That will take time, so I think we ought to start with the ones Preston had met with. It may not turn out to be anything, but it’s the place to start.” Emma paused to consider a thought before speaking again. “Jimmy, I want you to pay a visit to du Maurier. Go to his office. Tell him you’re Preston’s replacement
at the War Department and were also a close friend of his. Act distraught over the death of your friend. Be friendly and not overbearing. If we need to lean on him later on, we will. Go alone. Henri speaks French, but I don’t want to give du Maurier any ideas. Plus, I don’t want him to know there are more of us. Again, you just want to find out what happened to your friend.”

  “I can do that,” said Bunnel.

  “Vern, you and I will pay a visit on the café owner. We’ll go in the afternoon after the lunch crowd has gone.” Emma noticed the slight look of disappointment on LaCroix’s face. “Don’t worry, Henri, before this thing is all said and done, there will be plenty of things for you to do.”

  “Understood,” said LaCroix.

  “I don’t want to sound paranoid,” Emma continued, “but until we know who and what we’re up against, I don’t think the four of us should be seen together in public. That’s all I kept thinking about at Fripo’s today. What if one of the patrons is the person we’re after. The lower our profile, the better.”

  At six the next morning, Bunnel and Miller departed to pick up the additional car.

  “I wanted to leave early before traffic starts,” said Miller. “Let you get your bearings. I thought on the way I’d take you by Hamilton Trading where du Maurier works so you’ll know where to go later today. I think your best bet will be to go either late this morning or later in the afternoon. I got the impression from the Captain that du Maurier was a long lunch kind of guy. For now we can get the car and go back to the house for breakfast,” said Miller.

  Miller navigated the car through the still empty streets, occasionally pointing out landmarks so Bunnel could familiarize himself with the city. “Don’t worry, Jimmy, I’ll leave you a map. You won’t get lost,” he said.

  “That’s an impressive building,” remarked Bunnel.