Operation Blue Sapphire

by David B. Gilmore

  “Rurik is who I’ve been thinking about,” said Zacharie. “He’ll be just as shocked as we are that Jacques and Simone crossed us, but I’m sure we can still do business together.”

  “Then what is the problem?” asked Margaux.

  “He isn’t going to like the fact that we haven’t yet taken care of our other little problem.”

  “You mean the girl?”

  “The girl. She’s the only one who can link you to the bomb, and of course, that links him to the bomb. We have to do something about her, otherwise, he will. And that means he’ll take care of us, too.”

  “You can’t be serious. Then what will he do? You and Jacques are importing the opium and now cocaine for him. He isn’t going to sever that relationship.”

  “He will, Margaux. A source for illegal narcotics is one thing, but being hung for building a bomb that destroyed half a city block, and killed an untold number of people in the process, is something entirely different. I really don’t think he’d stop at anything to protect himself, and we’ll be first on his list.”

  Margaux sipped her tea. “But in the morning we’ll go to the bank and get the money. By this time tomorrow night, we’ll have the weapons.”

  “That’s why we have to take care of the girl tonight. Tomorrow I want to start with a clean slate. The girl will be gone, and that problem will be out of our hair. We can concentrate on the weapons and figuring out a way to get them back to Indochina. Besides, if we have to make a run for the Burmese border, we don’t want to leave anything here undone.”

  “If we do this tonight,” said Margaux, “I want to go with you. I’m not staying in this house, waiting, and wondering what’s going on. I knew we shouldn’t have trusted Jacques and Simone with this. When we get there, give me your Browning and I will personally take care of the girl myself. When do you want to go?”

  “I think we should be there by nine. By that time, on a Sunday night, there shouldn’t be too many people milling about. Plus, it won’t be too late that we startle them when we knock on the door.”

  “Then we should leave soon,” said Margaux.

  “Jimmy, start the car, the gate’s opening up! Go, go.”

  Bunnel started the sedan delivery and pulled forward, blocking the driveway. Emma wasted no time exiting the passenger side of the vehicle. As she approached Zacharie Chevalier, she held the silenced .22 caliber pistol close to her right side. She could see Zacharie directly in front of her and Margaux approaching their car, carrying what looked like two pillows.

  “Can I help you with something?” asked Zacharie.

  Emma felt her throat begin to tighten and her heart begin to pound in her chest. She had taken lives before, but always in self-defense. This would be the first time she would do so in a calculated and purely cold-blooded manner. She didn’t answer him and did not hesitate in raising the pistol from her side, squeezing the trigger three times. All three rounds found their mark in his forehead. She turned, aimed the gun at Margaux, who had frozen in terror, and fired three more shots. Margaux stood in place for a few seconds as if nothing had happened. Emma kept the gun aimed at the Frenchwoman’s head, ready to squeeze the trigger again. Finally, Margaux staggered a couple of steps before her knees gave out from under her and she fell limp to the ground.

  “Jimmy, back the truck in here and close the gate.”

  Within seconds Bunnel had done as she asked and had opened up the back of the sedan delivery. He set a canvas tarp on the ground beside Margaux.

  “Do you need any help?” asked Emma.

  “No, I can take care of them. Go ahead and go into the house. I’ll join you when they’re loaded in the back.”

  Emma stepped into the front compartment of the truck long enough to reload the magazine of her pistol. She didn’t think anyone else would be in the house, but after her experience at the Russian’s, she wasn’t about to go with less than a fully loaded weapon. Taking a flashlight with her, she entered the house.

  Carefully clearing each room she entered, Emma turned the lights on and left them on. When she was confident there was no one else in the house, she took a seat at the desk in Chevalier’s study.

  She was pleased with the train schedules Miller had picked up for her. He’d done his homework well and had the timetables for trains leaving Calcutta to New Delhi and from there to Raxaul, India, a city on the Nepalese border. Emma placed the schedule prominently on Chevalier’s desk.

  “They’re loaded in the truck. Everything in order in here?” asked Bunnel as he entered the room.

  “Everything’s good. Later tonight we’ll take their car and park it near the train station. Tomorrow, when neither Chevalier nor du Maurier shows up at the office,” Emma explained, “the staff probably won’t think much of it. They seem to come and go as they please. But by Tuesday or Wednesday, calls are going to be made. When neither of them can be found, somebody will call the authorities. Eventually, the du Mauriers and the Russians will be discovered, along with the hole in the floor at the du Mauriers’ house. If everything goes as planned, the Chevaliers will be the ones they’ll be looking for.”

  “That Kruger,” said Bunnel, “the one they’re supposed to buy the guns from, is probably going to be mad as hell when nobody shows up tomorrow.”

  “And if he comes here, he’ll soon be like the rest of them and be halfway to Nepal looking for them.”

  Bunnel paused thoughtfully. “We haven’t counted it yet, but with the amount of money we recovered, they could live comfortably in Nepal for the rest of their lives.”

  “That’s exactly what we want everyone to think,” agreed Emma.

  “And we’ll all be on to our next assignment, wherever that is.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ll start packing his clothes,” said Bunnel.

  “Don’t forget his shaving things. After I wash the blood off the driveway, and pick up the spent casings, I’ll be in to take care of hers.”

  Emma, Bunnel, LaCroix and Miller undertook the unpleasant task of fitting the Chevaliers into the 55-gallon drums. When he was finished welding the tops back on, LaCroix came into the kitchen to talk with Emma. “When Vern told me what you wanted to do, I knew it could be done, and it can be. However, there are some foreseeable problems that you need to be aware of.”

  “Such as?” Emma prompted.

  “First, the barrels are going to float. That’s an easy fix. Before we dump them overboard, all we need to do is punch some holes in the sides, at the top and bottom. As the water comes in, the air will go out and they’ll sink. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “What’s the other problem?” asked Emma.

  The steel is thin. I did a good job of welding, if I do say so myself, but given the weight, the depth and speed they’ll be falling, I don’t want to take a chance on the impact with the bottom knocking the welds loose. We don’t want the contents floating back up to the surface. To compensate for that, I’ve fabricated some metal brackets on the top and bottom. They’re bolted on and aren’t going anywhere. So even if the welds break, the contents are staying in the barrel.”

  “Sounds good,” said Emma.

  “The problem is having them rigged up like this,” LaCroix continued. “They’re going to look suspicious as hell and they’re not going to pass any kind of close inspection by the cops. Once we’re in the boat, we can cover them with a tarp, but I just want you to know the risk if we’re stopped by the police or a patrol boat.”

  “Henri, we don’t have much of an alternative. If our situation here were perfect, we would, but it’s not. Go ahead as planned and let’s just hope the navy uniforms do the trick.”

  “Being a Coast Guard man, for once I’ll gladly put on a navy uniform.”

  After cleaning up and changing into their uniforms, LaCroix and Miller were ready.

  “Everything’s all set and we’re ready to go,” said LaCroix.

  “One more thing,” Emma told them. “On the kitchen table are all the wea
pons Jimmy and I used. Sutter did such a fine job on them that I hate to do this, but put them in your tool bag and dump them overboard. The boxes of ammo for Jimmy’s forty-five, my thirty-eight, and the twenty-two contain live rounds and the spent cartridges. They go over too.” Emma opened her hands and added, “The same is true with the guns we collected from du Maurier, Chevalier, and the Russians. They all need to go to the bottom of the river. Especially the thirty-two du Maurier used to kill Captain Preston. As far as the local police are concerned, this is going to remain an unsolved and random crime.”

  “We’ll make sure of it,” said Miller.

  “While you two are on the river, Jimmy and I are going to park Chevalier’s car near the train station. That should give me plenty of time to start drafting a report to Colonel Wyman. It’ll be ready when you get back,” said Emma.

  “I’ll take it to O House, get it coded, and off tonight,” Miller assured her.

  After LaCroix and Miller loaded the barrels onto the boat, LaCroix started the engine and maneuvered it into the river. “Vern,” he said, “we’re going to be running without lights. The Japs can easily see lights on the river for miles then just follow them to the docks. The dark’s good for what we need to do, as the less attention we draw to ourselves and our cargo the better. But there’s a drawback. I want you up in the bow to keep an eye out.”

  “For what?” asked Miller.

  “Debris. Boards, trees, dead animals, other boats, anything that can sink us.”

  “You really think there could be those kinds of things in the water?”

  “We’ll be going slow, but in a river like this, anything’s possible.”

  “Where did you learn all these kinds of things?”

  LaCroix paused for a moment before answering and laughed to himself. “Staten Island Ferry.”

  “What, did you pilot it?”

  “Actually, I took it once. I was on a date with a girl and made sure she got home okay.”

  “You mean …”

  LaCroix started laughing, “Vern, go on, get up in the bow. I’ve been on boats all my life. Just keep a sharp lookout and we’ll be fine. Take the tool bag with you. If it looks like we’re going to be boarded, deep six the guns. Otherwise, they go over with the barrels.”

  LaCroix skillfully steered the small craft past the darkened docks. A few miles downriver he piloted the boat into the middle of the river and put the engine in neutral. As the boat slowly drifted with the current, he made sure no other craft was on the water. Satisfied there were none, he cut the engine. “This is probably about as good a place as any. If we get too far away, we’ll be cause for suspicion,” he said.

  Miller brought the tool bag to the back of the boat where the barrels were stowed. Setting the bag on top of the canvas tarp, he and LaCroix began pitching the guns and ammunition over the side. Then they removed the tarp from the barrels and, with a chisel and mallet, punched several holes around the bottoms and tops.

  As the first barrel went over the side, Miller had to hold an end of it under water. Soon, they heard a gurgling sound as the water displaced the air in the barrel. Once it became heavy with water, it quickly disappeared from the surface and made its descent to the bottom. Just after they had dumped the second barrel into the water, they heard the sound of another boat approaching them at a high rate of speed.

  “Where in the hell did that come from?” asked Miller.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see or hear anything else on the water when I cut the engine,” said LaCroix, his voice expressing his sense of urgency.

  “We don’t have a choice, we have to work fast. Start pushing on that barrel, it’s has to go under before they get here.”

  Risking falling overboard, Miller leaned over the side and put as much weight on the barrel as he could. It began to fill with water, but not as quickly as the previous one. Meanwhile, the boat continued to shorten the distance between them.

  “Keep pushing it under, Vern! Pretty soon, I’m going to have to turn the running lights on so they don’t hit us.”

  With less than fifty yards separating the vessels, Miller said, “It’s starting to go under!”

  LaCroix switched on the running lights and waited. In a matter of seconds, the boat was next to them, right where the barrel containing one of the Chevaliers had been just moments before. It was a patrol boat. The crew quickly switched on a spotlight, illuminating LaCroix, Miller, and their boat.

  “What are you doing out here? Do you need help?” asked one of the sailors from the patrol boat.

  “No, we’re fine. Just a training mission for the seaman here,” said LaCroix, pointing at Miller. LaCroix reached in his uniform pocket and produced a package of cigarettes. “Care for a smoke, they’re American?”

  LaCroix took one for himself and tossed the package to one of the sailors on the patrol boat.

  “Thanks, mate. If you’re sure you don’t need any help, we’ll be on our way.” The sailor tossed the much lighter package of cigarettes back to LaCroix and the boat sped off.

  LaCroix lit his own cigarette and handed the pack to Miller. “Damn, Henri, that was close! They pulled up right where the barrel had been! I could still see the bubbles in the water.”

  “Where in the hell did they come from?” asked Miller.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see or hear anything. That’s why I shut off the engine.”

  “It was almost a disaster. If they had seen the barrel, they probably would have wanted to help us get it out of the river. Then what were we going to tell them? We don’t want your help, because we’re just disposing of some bodies, thanks anyway. We would have had a hard time explaining that.”

  “We couldn’t explain it,” said LaCroix. “We’d just be spending the rest of the war, if not longer, in jail, or worse. Everything we came here to do would have been for nothing, and the entire mission would have been a failure.”

  Miller pitched the mallet, chisel, and canvas tool bag into the water and began folding up the tarp. “Just in case they decide to come back, I want everything in order.”

  “Good thinking,” agreed LaCroix as he started the engine, “Let’s head for port.”

  “No arguments here,” replied Miller, gladly taking his lookout position in the bow.

  While LaCroix and Miller were on the river, Emma and Bunnel moved the Chevaliers’ car and parked it near the ferry that crossed the Hooghly River near Howrah Station. After Bunnel counted the money, Emma drafted a detailed report to Colonel Wyman. When it was finished, she set it on the kitchen table, along with a large manila envelope containing the code book she had obtained from the du Mauriers, the ledger from Kulikovskaya, and all of the passports and forms of identification belonging to the du Mauriers, Chevaliers and Kulikovskayas.

  Shortly after two in the morning, LaCroix and Miller entered the house and found Emma and Bunnel in the living room.

  “How did it go?” asked Emma.

  Both LaCroix and Miller chuckled for a moment then informed Emma of their experiences on the river, including the encounter with the patrol boat.

  “Are you positive they didn’t see anything?” asked Emma.

  “I’m sure. It was close, but we got away with it,” replied LaCroix.

  “And both barrels are at the bottom?” asked Emma.

  “They’re where we wanted them to be, along with the weapons and ammunition.”

  Emma reflected for a minute, “Good.” Then she looked at LaCroix and Miller “Henri, Vern, I’m glad I won’t have to amend my report. Both of you, very good work. I know it’s late, but Vern, do you still feel up to taking the report to O House? If not, it can wait until morning.”

  “I’d rather do it tonight and then it’s done,” said Miller. “Besides, it’s still afternoon in Washington and we can get the report to the colonel now. Plus we should probably get the sedan delivery out of here as soon as possible. Once I change the license plates, it won’t be traceable back to us.”

  �
��Change out of your navy uniform first, and let me have it,” said Emma. “You too, Henri.”

  After Miller had gone, Emma took the navy uniforms out into the backyard and placed them in the barrel Miller used to burn garbage. She added the clothes that both she and Bunnel had been wearing earlier in the evening. Bunnel joined her and emptied the contents of the Chevaliers’ suitcases into the barrel. After LaCroix thoroughly saturated everything with kerosene, Emma lit a match and dropped it into the barrel. As the fire grew, LaCroix splashed a liberal amount of kerosene in and on the suitcases and dropped them, one at a time, into the fire.

  “The Chevaliers are at the bottom of the river, their clothes are gone, and their papers will soon be on the way to Washington,” Emma said as she smoked one of her Lucky Strikes and watched the flames leap above the rim of the barrel.

  “It’s like they have disappeared and never existed,” said LaCroix.

  “It will stay that way. We’ve all done a good job,” said Emma.

  Early Tuesday morning, Miller received a telephone call from O House informing him that there were several messages for the team. He wasted no time going there and returning to the house. He waited in silence as Emma and LaCroix read theirs.

  “What about me?” asked Bunnel.

  “Jimmy, tomorrow afternoon you’re to report to O House to Major Reese Dixon. They want you to bring in the money, the opium, and cocaine,” replied Miller.

  “I wonder what that’s about?” asked Bunnel. Shaking his head and shrugging, he turned toward Emma. “What did yours say?”

  “It’s congratulations to all of us from Colonel Wyman for a job well done. He’s very pleased. Katherine Williams has been called home to Los Angeles, but I’m going to my next assignment and it’s in Switzerland.”

  “That’s where I’m headed, too,” said LaCroix.

  “We leave Thursday morning,” said Emma.

  “Anything else?” asked Bunnel.