by Scott Powers
"Not now," she said.
"You were," he said.
"I said not now."
She turned away, watching the scenery and that was that. At least for now.
Just a few miles south of Columbus, the landscape changed quickly and dramatically. The flat, endless farmland of the Midwest gave way to hills, which got steeper, higher, rockier, more forested, and more unfriendly to the plow. The civilization turned hard-scrabbled too; towns zipped by lined with half-empty, old strip centers, shuttered plants and mills, and houses that looked as if they were decades overdue for far more than just new paint. Except for the fast-food restaurants and occasional small car dealerships, there wasn’t much that looked like it had been built in fifty years.
The farther south they traveled, the harsher they found the landscape. The twisting highway, brick plants, and mobile homes seemed to sit in level spaces carved out of the hillsides. Fifty miles south of Columbus, there no longer was any indication of the Midwest. They were in Appalachia. It could have been eastern Kentucky or western North Carolina. They were deep in the hills.
Nelsonville appeared in a tight little valley. Fish wanted to meet them in a diner a block from a boot factory. There was no mistaking the boot factory, or what was left of it. A twenty-five-foot-tall mural of a ram, with the brand name Rocky, adorned the outside. There was no missing the diner either. Max parked in the gravel.
Jim Fish also was easy to find: the only black man in the restaurant. In Nelsonville, Eve imagined, he might be the only black man in town.
Fish stood by his booth as he realized whom Max and Eve were. He was tall, lean, and mid- to late-thirties, and he approached them with an awkward walk, evidencing back and joint problems. His dark complexion was accented with a bald dome and a faint goatee.
Eve and Max sat across from him, and they waited patiently as the waitress popped in. They both ordered coffee. Max said he just came to listen. Fish seemed unconcerned by either his unannounced presence or his declaration that he had nothing to say.
Fish started out with ground rules: he assumed everything would be on the record unless Eve specifically told him in advance that she wanted to talk off the record. He would be completely honest with them, and he expected complete honesty in return. Still, trust only went so far. He intended to check out anything she offered. If there were discrepancies, he’d get back to her. And he wasn’t going to write anything he couldn’t prove. Eve nodded. He placed a digital recorder on the table and turned it on.“Do you mind if I record this, to keep my attention on your story, rather than taking notes?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,”Max said.
“I thought you were just here to listen,”Fish said.“What are you, her lawyer? Because you look more like some rock geek.”
“I am a rock geek. And I resent that,”Max said.
“It’s all right,”Eve offered.
Fish began by summarizing what he’d already learned. Six deaths at the base, including a wife, in a month. But they were divided. Three in Montgomery County, three in Greene. One was on base, handled by the military police. One was in Dayton, handled by the city cops there. Two were in Fairborn, handled by the cops there. One was handled by the Montgomery County Sheriff's Office, and one by the Greene County Sheriff's Office. They seemed to not have communicated or coordinated.
“And the dead men were from different units on the base,”Jim said.“So officially, there were no connections except really bad luck, a bad summer for airmen. Here. This is yours."
Jim pulled Rose’s notebook from his bag. He handed it to her.
"Rose Senior's notebook detailed all of that, so it was easy for me to pinpoint. He's also got dates of his meeting with the men, and after-the-fact notes on their conversations. It's very helpful but it's not enough.”
Eve nodded.“The old man, Rose Senior, said they were pulled from different units for that secret mission,”she said.“So when they died, it was just one guy here, one there.”
“That’s right. So as far as anybody knew, they were never together,”Fish said. "Except for Rose's notes, which I'm going to use."
“But I’ve got a picture of them all!”Eve said.
“I heard that. I’d like to see it, copy it. Clearly, that's key. There might not be any other physical evidence that these guys knew each other. None of these deaths was investigated by the coroner,”Fish said.“Today, that’s routine. It wasn’t back then.
“But there were accident reports, which I got,”he said.“Fay Fynn—your grandmother?”Jim asked.
Eve nodded.
“In the accident report, the deputy stated that a front tire blew,”Fish said.“But Joe Fynn was drunk so there was no investigation. He might have faced prison time for vehicular manslaughter. Even in 1955, that was a felony. But he and the Air Force cut a deal with the county attorney. He walked. The Air Force discharged him, and he disappeared.
“That was the only case that could have had a court trial,”Fish continued.”Butsurprise! It never happened.”
Eve didn’t respond.
“It doesn’t mean it wasn’t your grandfather’s fault, at least in part. It just means they never charged him with anything.”
Fish described his research into the other suspicious deaths in 1955, all within weeks of each other. None of them led to actual police investigations, only incident reports.
“I’ve found bits and pieces,”he said.“But except for Rose’s interview and notes, I have nothing linking them.”
Eve reached into her bag, opened Grandpa Joe’s scrapbook, and set it open to the page of Joe and the other airmen in uniform, standing in front of a nondescript brick wall.
“That’s my grandpa on the end,”she said, pointing. “This picture must have been taken the night they were on their mission together.”
The waitress brought their coffee. Max and Jim ordered sandwiches, and Eve ordered a salad. Fish insisted he’d pick up the check.
He pressed Eve to talk about her grandfather. Despite the recorder, Fish pulled a narrow reporter’s notebook from his hip pocket and took notes. From time to time, he glanced at the recorder and wrote down time stamps along the way.
“I didn’t know much about him. I knew he spent some time in the Air Force. After the accident that killed my grandmother, he moved to Texas. He shrimped. He was a mechanic. He ran a garage for years. And he drank. All the time. I don’t think he made a lot of friends, not that I ever met. I think he was hiding.
“My whole life my Grandpa Joe was a mean drunk, a prick,”Eve told the reporter.“He was the same when my mom grew up.
“She left soon as she could,”Eve continued. The reporter waited for more. Eve shrugged.“That’s all I know. That’s what he was to me.”
Fish stared at her and his eyes pushed her for more. She started again.
“So that’s why it was so surprising that he wanted me to solve this mystery,”she said.
Fish looked at her hard.“He what?”he asked.
“You know, to find out what happened back then.”
“No, no, no,”Fish said.“You didn’t drive all the way from Texas on the chance that your grandfather didn’t kill your grandmother.”
There was silence. Eve looked like she was deliberating whether to answer.
“Don’t,”Max said.
“Tell me what brought you here,”Fish commanded.
“That’s it.”
“That’s nothing,”Fish countered.“Maybe you’d drive up here. I don’t see it. But maybe. But not him.”
“Me?”Max asked.“What about me?”
“I thought you were just listening,”Fish said.“You two are up to something. There’s a bigger deal here than looking for scraps on something that you and I both know you’ll never prove. This.”
He lifted the accident report on her grandmother and waved the stapled pages in the air.
“This is all there is. There’s no more. A lousy three-page crash report. It proves nothing.”
“It gives no pass to your grandfather. It gives no meaning to her death. You had no reason to believe Dan Rose Senior would be worth the drive. Hell, you didn’t even call him until you got here. And you had no idea how to find Gleibicz, or that I would do it for you.
“You have something else. You tell me now, or we both drive back empty-handed.”
“Don’t,”Max said.
“He left me this, this legacy,”Eve said.
“Aw, Eve,”Max said.
She raised her hand.
“If you go there, he’s gonnawalk,”Max said.“Don’t.”
She took a deep breath, staring at her salad. She brought the hand down slowly and spoke without making eye contact with either of them.
“He wanted me to learn what happened in 1955. Learn what it means. And for some reason, I know I have to.”
“Why? I don’t like to play games with sources’motivations. I’ve got to know,”Fish said.
She still didn’t look up.
“Didn’t Rose tell you?”she asked. "It's got to be in his notes."
“Let’s pretend he didn’t,”Fish said. "I need it from you."
Eve looked in his face for a clue. Didn’t he know? Or was he just looking for corroboration?
“It’s about UFOs,”Eve finally said.
“Aw, jeez, Eve,”Max said.
“The Roswell one,”Eve said.
“He doesn’t need to know. And he’s not going to believe anything you tell him now.”
“I was told my grandpa and these other men moved the wreckage. Then they were all eliminated.”
“The Roswell UFO. The Roswell UFO? From the‘40s? Now come on,”Fish replied. "You look too smart to believe that kind of bullshit."
Was he in denial or was he playing games with her? Rose Senior knew. It must be in his notes. It must have come up in the interview. Why was this reporter baiting her? She couldn't figure him out, and she wasn't sure whether or how to respond.
“See?”Max said.“The media hate UFOs.”
“It’s true,”Fish said.“There aren’t many subjects that are taboo, but our credibility’s too important. There's got to be more.”
“At least you’re not laughing,”Max said.“Thanks for the sandwich.”
“So do you want to hear about it or not? You said you had to know,”Eve said.
“I did. I did. And I still want to know. Go ahead. I want to hear it from you. Why do you believe it was about a UFO?”
“There’s this swatch.”
“Eve, don’t.”
“Swatch?”
“Swatch. It’s a piece of cloth. Or metal,”Eve said.“Actually, it’s diamond.”
“Diamond?”
“Not diamond, exactly, but just as hard. I fired a Goddamn bullet at it. Pushed it six inches into the ground. Hard Texas caliche too. Didn’t hurt it a bit.”
Fish looked like he was interested.
“My Grandpa Joe left it for me. With this album. He left it with a neighbor and told him the story. These guys. These guys who all died and my grandpa were given a mission to move this stuff from Patterson Air Force Base to some lab in Columbus. One night. One mission. And then they all died. That’s what this is all about. That’s why these men and my grandmother were killed. For this swatch.”
“Where’d did this swatch come from?”Fish asked.
“They swiped some. All of those guys did. Souvenirs, curiosity, whatever. They all took a piece. All ofthose guys that night. And they all died for it.”
“Almost all,”Fish said.
“Somehow, my grandpa survived. Then he got out of there before they could get him again.”
“Who?”Fish asked.
“Who what?”Eve asked.
“Eve, if you tell him we’re chasing after men in black who are chasing after us, then he’s going to laugh.”
“Yes, I probably will,”Fish said.“But you tell me: Who was going to get him?”
“You want to hear a good joke?”Max said.“I know you won’t believe us, but there’s this secret international society.”
“I thought you were just going to listen.”
“My grandpa left me this swatch,”Eve said fast and loud.“He stole it from the wreckage. They all took one, as souvenirs. And for two weeks, we’ve been hunted for it. That's all I know.”
“Hunted?”
“Yes, hunted.”Eve told the reporter about testing the fabric in Ted’s lab in Orlando, then in the Ohio State lab, and the results. She told about being locked in Ted’s lab and the escape and about goons at Ohio State and the escape. Eve did not tell about shooting her way out in Orlando, or Max being kidnapped, or about the kidnappings and police in Columbus. Max sat next to her simmering, but each time she came to and then skipped an incriminating detail, she saw him exhale a small sigh. She figured he’d explode if she crossed a line. She thought, Don’tworry, I won’t.
“Where is it now?”Fish said.“Did you bring it? Can I see it? Test it myself?”
“They stole it,”she said.
“Oh,”Fish said.
“Of course,”Max said.
“They stole it twice. Actually, theystole part of it, and I kept part of it. But they came back and took that too.”
“Um. These men, how did they steal it?”
“I’d rather not say,”Eve said.
“Why not? You’re telling me a lot already,”Fish said.“I need something to make it believable. I need more to buy into this, Eve.”
Silence.
"It's my experience that the difference between a believable story and an obvious lie is whether the teller can provide detail on demand,”Fish said.
"Are you accusing me of lying?”Eve screeched.
"I've done this a long time."
“Turn that thing off,”Max said.
Fish reached down and pressed a button on the recorder. A little red recording indicator light went out.
“She can’t tell you that because it’s possible we were breaking a few laws along the way.”
“What laws?”
“Can’t tell you. Hypothetically, it might be something like B&E, discharging firearms, maybe more serious stuff like kidnapping and assault with a deadly weapon. You can’t know. And you don’t want to know. If that kills whatever credibility we have left, so be it. We’re not saying.”
“That's a problem,”Fish said.“I don’t give a damn about your credibility. I care about mine. If I write about someone, and it comes up later that they lied to me or misled me or that there were important details, something that I should have checked out, that means I misled my readers. And if I mislead my readers, I’m screwed.”
“Well, now you know. Deal with it,”Max said.
“Now I know what?”
“That our hands are not clean.”
Fish contemplated that for a moment.“Fair enough,”he said.
“So are you going to write about it? Are you going to tell my grandparents’ story?”
“I want to. As best I can, I think,”Fish said.“The problem is motivation for their deaths, if they were malicious deaths, homicides, murders. You’ve given me a story that’s highly dubious. Rose Senior backs some of it up. Not enough. But we'll see what we can do.”
“So you don’t believe me?”Eve asked.
“Doesn’t matter whether or notI believe you. What matters is if I can convince my readers to believe me. You have no evidence, which leaves me with a big dilemma. Can I write about the deaths without allowing for your speculation on why they occurred? Without even a suggestion of motive? Or do I risk blowing the believability of the entire story by proposing an element that eighty percent of our readers wouldn’t believe even if you had evidence.”
“Which we don’t,”Max said.
“Which you don’t.”
“So, are we done?”Max asked.
“We’ve still got to meet Gleibicz. And I want to copy that picture, if I may. I have a laptop an
d a handheld scanner in my trunk. Let’s get the bill,”Fish said.
“You still want to go see him? Why?”Eve said.“I thought you were walking.”
“I never said that.”
“But you and Max…”
“I still have a story here. Six dead people. They all died in 1955 in a mysterious coincidence. That’s worth pursuing, whether anything you told me is of any use to that story or not. Who knows? Maybe Gleibiczwill provide some confirmation. Maybe he'll provide some proof. That's why we came here. I've got to find out. Whatever you two are up to, that’s another matter.”
“What about Rose?”she asked.“I think he believes us.
“Doesn’t matter,”Fish said.“Again, the issue is what we can convince our readers.”
“So…?”Max asked.
“At this point, yes on some sort of story. No on UFOs, or any motivation, angle, unless I find something else, or the lieutenant talks. I suspect we’ll leave that for the follow-up.”
“Follow-up?”Max asked.“Is that journalist talk for‘I’ll call you some time?’”
“Yeah.”
Eve looked relieved. Max looked disappointed.
“Before we head over there, is anything else you think I should check into?”
“Here’s something that’s bothering me,”Max said.“This photo. These are the guys who died. This is Joe. This is Gleibicz. Right? And these are the other guys who all died."
"Yeah, so?”Fish asked.
"So, who the hell shot the picture? And why? I thought this was a top-secret mission.”
CHAPTER 18
IT'S BEEN AWHILE
Thank God for GPS, Max thought. Getting to Hal Gleibicz’shouse was like a treasure hunt. It wasn’t in Nelsonville proper; it was at least ten miles out of town by multiple roads. Halfway there, they lost the signal but Eve kept the map on her phone. Just where the GPS said it should be, a mailbox had the correct address. A ruddy, unpaved driveway led the last couple hundred yards to a house that appeared out of nowhere, connected by wire to a utility line path through the forest.
The lawn, a row of dogwoods and rows of shrubs, was impeccably groomed. Near the front porch, mums surrounded a lawn statue of the Virgin Mary.
