Code Name: Crescent: A Matt Preston Novel

by Paul Shadinger

  “What’s going on?” the colonel barked.

  I butted in and addressed my comment to the fake pilot. “Are you going to tell us who you are? Oh, and by the way, the reason we’re here at this field is because there are several Seattle cops hiding in the bushes around this stand. The best thing you can do is put down your pistol and tell us what’s going on.”

  The little man pointed his gun towards me. “I don’t believe you. You’re bluffing.” At this point Sakol, along with half a dozen other officers all with rifles, stood and pointed them at the supposed pilot.

  “Look around you.” I hoped the relief I felt wasn’t present in my voice. “You don’t stand a chance. Put down your gun before somebody gets hurt.”

  The colonel shouted, “Put that gun away, James, now! And what the hell is going on here? I demand somebody tell me what’s happening, now!”

  “It would appear your fat little buddy there is not who you think he is.” I looked at the short man, who had put his gun on one of the seats in the bleachers. “Are you going to tell us who you are?”

  The little man sat on the bleacher and with his hands between his thighs and his head down, proceeded to tell us the story about his brother’s death, the switch, and why he was trying to get some of the money. He ended his tale with, “The government owed my sister and me something. Because of his tour in Viet Nam he was exposed to something that brought on cancer and he’s dead. He trusted the Army and they killed him.” He turned his head to face the colonel. “You killed him. Just as if you had put a bullet in him. You used him and then sent him home to die. The fact that it took this long to happen has no bearing on anything. It just took longer than if you’d used a bullet. Some of that money is mine.”

  By now the cops were standing in a loose circle around the three of us. Sakol stepped up to me and asked, “What are we going to do now?”

  I smiled at him and replied, “By the way, thanks for being out there for me. As for what are we going to do? Beats the shit out of me. I wish I had an answer.”

  As soon as the words had left my mouth, two more dark Suburbans and a Ford Crown Victoria came careening onto the field. Both of the Suburbans had blue lights flashing behind their grills and the Crown Vic had both blue and red lights flashing. When the cars stopped, men came piling out of the vehicles. Some of them were in uniform and some of them were in suits. A couple of them had on jackets with the letters FBI printed on the back. One of the men in uniform had stars on his lapel. When he stepped into the light I realized this guy was a four-star general. I had to fight the urge to salute. The colonel drew up to his full height and saluted him. The general tossed back a casual salute and told the colonel to stand at ease. The general addressed the colonel, “What’s going on here, McNaulty?”

  “Sir, it turns out this is not Burt James but his brother, Brad. Burt James died of cancer from chemicals we used in Nam.”

  The general snapped back, “Don’t say that. There is no proof that any of the chemicals we used can cause cancer.”

  “Meaning no disrespect sir, but you and I both know that’s total bullshit. Chief Warrant Officer Burt James died from cancer. That cancer was caused by what he did over there in Nam. At least give him that much respect.”

  The general’s cheeks turned red and he looked down at the ground. I could tell he was not used to being spoken to like that, or used to being embarrassed by anybody in the Army. “Well, that’s a topic for another time. What about the gold?”

  The colonel replied, “We know where it is and we have the key. We also have the diary kept by Hayward Hollis during his time in country.”

  The general seemed relieved as he exclaimed, “Great!” Then he motioned towards me, “Has he read it?”

  I butted in, “No sir, I have not. I considered it but I decided I really didn’t want to have the knowledge. I’ve tried to put what I did in Viet Nam away and that diary was not something I want to read.”

  The general glanced over at McNaulty and said, “I don’t care, take him in anyway. We have to be sure.”

  “General, I give you my word I did not read a thing in that diary. Besides, I think the colonel still has something he wants to tell you about that.”

  The general wheeled and glared at the colonel. I was amazed to watch McNaulty actually shrink before my eyes. “Well McNaulty, out with it. What do you know about all this?”

  McNaulty lowered his voice, “Sir, can we speak in private?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I don’t feel comfortable talking about this in front of,” he waved his hand at the police and government people standing around, “all these people.”

  “No! You’re wasting my time. Spit it out. What is this man talking about?”

  I decided at that point I needed to speak up. “Sir, if you will allow me…” The general turned his head towards me and nodded. “We haven’t met; my name is Preston. After I found the diary, I have to admit, I debated reading it. I finally decided not to but I was afraid the colonel or the fake flyboy there might do something rash if they thought I had. I had three copies of the book made at my attorney’s office and those copies are locked away in three different banks where you can’t get at them.” I waited a moment while the general digested what I had just told him. I continued, “Okay, the deal is as long as I’m safe and nobody is bothering me, those copies stay locked up. However, if you cats decide to mess with me, my lawyers have the authority to make as many copies as they feel are necessary and release them. In addition, if anything should happen to Walter McLaughlin or his family the same thing applies.

  “You now have the key, the diary and a fake helicopter pilot. I don’t care what you do with any of them. I just demand you get out of my life and stay out. You know what will happen if you don’t.”

  I watched the general’s face turn several different shades of red. I wondered briefly if he was going to have a heart attack. I doubt if anybody had ever spoken to him like I just had. He stared at me for a few seconds and then turned on McNaulty. “I don’t believe any of this.”

  McNaulty replied, “It’s true sir, I saw the letter from his attorneys.”

  “How the hell could you let this happen, McNaulty? I want an explanation. I want you in my office at oh nine hundred Monday. I want a written report on my desk by then telling me exactly what happened during this whole fuck up. Do you understand, mister?”

  I watched as the colonel drew himself to attention. I could see his eyes grow cold as he stared at the general. “Sir, I have given myself completely to resolve this problem. I came out of retirement to help you fix this.” The general started to interrupt and McNaulty held up his hand to stop him, “Please, I told you going in I didn’t think we could expect to come out of this without some collateral damage. Considering that we have the diary and the key to the gold, this turned out much better than it could have.

  “I asked you if we could discuss this in private and you declined, so be it. I have a good idea what’s in that diary. You also know what’s probably in that diary. We both understand the fallout if the contents were ever to get out. I pulled your chestnuts out of the fire along with a lot of other people’s. I saved your pitiful ass along with a bunch of your buddies and now you have the audacity to stand here and treat me like some lackey.” McNaulty’s voice now was cold and sharp. “I will not be in your office on Monday. When I get a chance to write up what happened over the past few months, I will. As of this moment, I’m done. Done with you! Done with the service! And for sure, I am done with keeping your sorry ass out of trouble.” McNaulty paused and then added, “Or worse!”

  The general glowered. One of the suited men who had arrived with the general stepped up. “What do you want us to do, sir?” he asked.

  “Get back in the vans. We’re going back to Fort Lewis,” the general ordered. I watched as everybody returned to their vehicles until just the gen
eral, the colonel and the fake flyboy were left. McNaulty nodded towards James, the fake pilot and asked, “What do you want us to do about him?”

  The general looked at the short dumpy man and scowled at him. Finally he addressed the fake pilot. “Mr. James, my advice to you is to go back where you came from. There will be no gold. There will be no money. You are lucky we don’t bring charges against you. You will never discuss this with anybody. Do I make myself clear?”

  The little man never looked up, just nodded that he understood the general’s message. The general climbed back into one of the waiting vans and the colonel and Mr. James got back into the vehicle they had arrived in.

  When I looked around I realized all of the Seattle police had left except for Sakol. I smiled at him and asked, “I ain’t ever going to learn what this was all about, am I?’

  Sakol smiled sagely at me. “You velly lucky. You still alive. And so ends lesson, grasshopper.” With that, he bowed his head and turned and walked off into the dark.

  I climbed back up into the stands and sat down. I remembered I had a small pipe hidden in my bike with some excellent weed stuffed into the bowl. I went down to the bike and then returned to the top of the stands. I decided I was going to break a rule I have for myself. A rule I have never broken before. If I have had a drink or anything to smoke, I never ride my bike. It’s dangerous enough when I’m straight, let alone if I’m stoned. Until that moment I have abided by that rule, but that night, I felt I had every reason to make an exception.

  As I sat and puffed I had a ton of questions. But,I also realized I really was very lucky to be walking away from what could have gotten very ugly. I was almost charged with the murder of a famous college football star, but the real killer had confessed. I almost got killed because the colonel thought I had read Hollis’ diary. Flyboy had almost shot me because I had exposed him as a fake. Yes, Sakol was right, I was a very lucky person.

  I leaned back and looked up at the moon. I hadn’t even noticed it was full before now. Leaning my head back, I let out the longest howl I could manage.

  Sitting there on the top board of what at one time had been the bleachers, I looked back at my old boarded up junior high school and my mind wandered back to people I knew from that time. For some reason the memory of how much crap Jeff had given me when I told him I signed up for typing class came to mind. He had called me a sissy. Oh, and by the way, it’s no longer called typing class, it is now known as keyboarding.

  I asked Jeff if he was taking any classes where there were just two males in the class and the rest females. His comment and his question were the same, “No shit?” And I used the same two words as my response.

  I don’t remember if I got any dates out of typing class, but it was one of the best things I ever learned. There’s not a day that I’m not on the computer working or sending emails. Typing has served me well. And every time I stop by Jeff’s office and watch him hunt and peck with two fingers, I make sure and comment on the sissy class I took and how it never has helped me one little bit in my life. He will then string together several four letter words ending with the demand I leave his office at once. I end with my normal closing remark, “Who loves ya baby?” Which gets me a grunt in return.

  As I sat in the stands I remembered happier times. I thought back to my first day attending what I thought was such a large school. I remembered getting lost going to some of my classes on the first day. I remembered the first day of math class the girl sitting across from me. I thought Cheryl was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life. But I was nowhere cool enough for her to even acknowledge my existence.

  I recalled how much I hated PE. I wasn’t a jock and I was always picked last for any team sports. There’s something about being picked last. I’ve known others who had to endure the same stigma. Not all of us were gifted when it came to playing sports, but somehow the teacher took some sadistic pleasure in watching a few kids always get picked last.

  As I sat there looking across the old playing field wallowing in memories, my thoughts drifted to Jeff and the games I watched him play at the old junior high. As I looked across the field, I swore I could see him standing there in his football uniform. I watched as he knelt down and drew a play in the dirt. I saw the center hike the ball and watched as Jeff stepped back, avoiding the rush. I watched as he rolled to his right and then threw the ball. I watched as the ball settled into the receiver’s arms and then the receiver stepped over the goal line.

  I took another puff and held it for a long time. I leaned back my head and as I released the smoke I let out a mournful howl.

  I said, “That was for you, Jeff, and that was for a youth neither of us will ever see again.” I laughed out loud.

  “Who loves ya baby?”

  EPILOGUE

  Other than a lone candle flickering on the mantel, my front room was in total darkness. It was late and I had just given Bean her treat after we returned from our walk. I was curled up in my favorite chair with Albert King crying the blues over a lost love. Bean snuggled in and I was looking out over a serene lake. The lights of Seattle lay spread out before me and I was being comforted by my small, but nourishing, Scotch. There was a sliver of a moon left high in the sky and the night was as peaceful as it was beautiful.

  My mind drifted over the events of the past few weeks and as I sat gazing out over the beauty of the night lake, I reflected on how happy I was with my life. I know all of us get so bogged down in the daily grind we tend to forget to stop and look around. Over the years I’ve tried to savor life, but I will admit sometimes things just go by way too fast to really appreciate them. Tonight I was in a reflective mood.

  I wondered what would become of the general and McNaulty. Would the diary be destroyed or kept locked away somewhere? I had no idea what the diary contained, but I would think the smart thing to do would be to destroy it. In a way I felt sorry for the twin brother. He seemed like such a lost soul. I’m sure he felt he was owed something because his brother had died from things that had happened to him in Nam, but then that applies to a lot of other guys as well.

  As for the gold, I’d heard enough stories back in country about how a guy could make money in the black market. Stories about how to take your earnings and put them into valuable things that would be easy to smuggle back into the US. I think I was actually more curious about what was in the deposit box than the diary. I doubted if the fortune was still in the form of gold, but as to what it was, I had no clue. Something more for my little brain to chew on.

  I was stirred out of my pleasant place by the obnoxious sound of my cell phone intruding on my reverie. I wondered who was calling me so late at night. I answered. “Talk to me.”

  “Matt, it’s Gladys.”

  I’m always happy to hear her voice. “Hi babe. Whatcha doin’?”

  Her voice sounded a bit depressed and I could tell she was down. I heard her sigh before she told me, “I’m outside your building. I’m feeling a bit lonesome and I was wondering if you wanted company.”

  Any time I spend with Gladys is a great experience and her company would fit in well with my current mood. “I’d love some company, especially yours. Call me from the lobby and I’ll send the elevator down for you.”

  “It will be just a few minutes. I’m right outside the building.”

  I considered turning on some lights, but finally decided candlelight was most appropriate for my visitor. I set Bean down on my seat and went off to light a couple more candles. About the time I had four of them lit, the phone buzzed for me to send down the elevator for Gladys. Bean climbed out of the chair when she realized we were going to have a visitor. It’s funny how animals learn what certain behaviors mean. She knew if I was sending the elevator down, somebody was gonna come back up shortly.

  I heard the elevator stop and as the doors slid open, out stepped Gladys and Sharon. As the two women exited the elevator, they s
topped and looked at each other. With a nervous laugh, Gladys asked Sharon, “Is this your floor?”

  “Yes, I was coming over to visit Matt.”

  Even in the candlelight I could see Sharon was getting red. “Oh shit! I’m so sorry. I know I should have called first.” Sharon looked at me and grinned. “Well, I guess we’re even. Me with George and now you with…?” I stepped forward and introduced everybody. Sharon turned and started to push the elevator button. Looking back over her shoulder she told us, “It was a really crappy day at work. Big accident out on I-5 with four kids really messed up. Looks like three will live, but the baby…” She hiccupped and I watched a tear roll down her cheek. Her face was so sad as she took a deep breath and continued, “It was touch and go for all of them. We lost the baby and I just wanted some…”

  Gladys stepped forward and as she interrupted her, she put her hand on Sharon’s arm. “How about you stay for a while and we all have a drink? I’m sure Matt,” Gladys looked over at me as she finished, “would love to have us both stay a while. Right, Matt?”

  What was I going to say? Two lovely women who had dropped in out of the night unexpectedly, of course I wanted them to stay. I asked them what they wanted to drink and went off to get them. When I returned both of them were sitting on the couch that looks off across the lake.

  Bean had grabbed the perfect spot and was now sitting between them. She was in heaven having both of them stroke her body. I handed them their drinks and then went over to my chair. I put my feet up on the ottoman and hunkered down. Candlelit shadows danced across their faces and I watched as they got acquainted. Gladys knew what Sharon did for a living but Sharon knew nothing about Gladys. When Sharon asked, Gladys told her straight out, “I’m an exotic dancer. I work at Robbie’s.”

  Sharon leaned forward, put her hand on Gladys’ arm and asked with excitement, “Are you serious?” Gladys nodded. “That’s really interesting. I’ll confess a secret to you, I always wanted to dance in front of some men and take my clothes off.” Sharon looked down at her lap, obviously embarrassed at this intimate disclosure. I’ll admit, I was surprised. This was news to me.