by Ace Collins
Lije felt a strange kind of sadness. Why should someone he’d never known, who hadn’t even lived during his lifetime, evoke such feelings? Why did such an ancient death seem so fresh?
“You said she was shot?” Cathcart asked.
“Yes. Shot four times in the heart. The report’s in the file. I figured you’d want it. They found some other blood that tests proved didn’t belong to her. But never found another body. Who’d do a thing like that?”
Looking back at the photograph, Lije asked, “Did your father suspect one of the Schneider brothers?”
“Everybody suspected them of everything. They had moved here earlier in 1946. They were strangers, outsiders, so it was natural to be suspicious.”
“How’d they buy their farm?” Lije inquired.
“Bought it a few months before they came to Sublette. Their agent was a man named Powers. When he signed the papers, he said he was purchasing it for some men who were fighting in the war. Heroes, he called them. He lived out there until they got here in 1946, then he just disappeared. The only thing he did while he killed time waiting was build a huge barn out behind the home where James Schneider lives now.”
“What’s in the building?” Cathcart asked.
“Nobody knows,” Osterbur explained. “Nobody’s ever seen the inside of that barn. I’m figuring no one will until James finally joins his brothers out here in the cemetery.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve got something else for you,” Osterbur said as he reached into his pocket. “They found these in the woman’s pocket.”
He handed Lije the wings JoJo had earned during World War II as a member of the Women’s Air-force Service Pilots.
Maybe now she had a harp to go with them.
64
“LISTEN, HILLMAN, MEN ARE DYING. YOU REALIZE that? Every day you don’t deliver, men die! It’s that simple. We’re tired of you telling us to wait just a little longer. I’m getting a lot of pressure. You shouldn’t have breathed a word about this until you had it in your possession. Do you understand me?”
Barton Hillman’s eyes narrowed to slits as he leaned forward in his desk chair. “I’m the one taking the risk. My career’s on the line, not yours. I’m very close to getting my hands on what we need. And believe me, I don’t like this midnight-meeting stuff in my home any better than you do.”
The visitor adjusted his tie and walked to the door. As he reached for the knob, he turned and shot a look of disdain at his host. “You jumped that gun. You’re not ready for the big leagues. Just tell me when you’ll have what you promised. And it better be right this time.”
“Things happen, but we’ll get it. It’s safe and no one knows what we’re doing. I’ve made sure of that. I’ll contact you…soon. Just stay patient. After all, this is worth waiting for. Just imagine the power you’re going to have.”
The visitor took a final cold look at Hillman and walked out.
Hillman watched as the man got into his car and headed out the driveway. For years Hillman had looked for this kind of break. He’d dreamed about delivering on a big job. And this topped even his wildest dreams. He was so close…
The ABI director had almost had it. Then McGee came along. Why was he there? Had he guessed what was going on? Hillman had been careful. He was sure he hadn’t been double crossed.
He punched in a number on his cell and waited. When the call rang through to voice mail, he ended the call and hit Send again. He repeated it four more times. Finally a voice said, “Do you know what time it is?”
“Yes, and because of you I was hung out to dry. Do you know what that’s like? We can’t afford to make these people angry. You know what they can do! “
“Not my fault. You jumped the gun.”
Hillman’s face was red and the veins in his neck pulsed. “You should’ve contacted me.”
“I tried,” came the reply, “but things got in the way. We can’t afford to be caught together. In fact, those were your orders. The press is everywhere. That’s your fault. You set McGee up.”
“But you destroyed it! “ he shouted.
“I had to. Having it on me was a risk. I can get another.”
“When?”
“Soon. Wait for my call. Now I’m going back to sleep. I’m turning off my phone.”
The mantel clock chimed twice. Hillman threw his cell into a chair and stomped across the room. He’d seen it. He almost had it in his hand. And then he’d watched it be destroyed.
The secret of Swope’s Ridge. Would that day ever come?
65
IT WAS TEN THE NEXT MORNING, UNDER CLOUDY foreboding skies, when Lije Evans pulled the rented Focus off to the side of the rural road leading to James Schneider’s farm.
“Doesn’t appear he grows much anymore,” Robert Cathcart noted as he and Lije and Edith Lehning stepped out onto the gravel.
“It sure is humid today,” Lehning said. “Kind of feels like southern Arkansas.”
The professors were correct on both counts, but it was the first point that most interested Lije. The latter he’d just have to endure.
Schneider was growing wild prairie grass. It was strange that, during a time when grain was used for so many different things, including fueling cars and the world had millions starving, Schneider had turned his back on those profits. There were few farmers, even old ones, who’d walk away from a sure market. Even if they couldn’t do the work, they’d hire it done or rent out their land. Yet hundreds of acres around the Schneider farm were unused. And that wasn’t all that was suffering.
The man’s two-story farmhouse was badly in need of paint. Compared with the other neat, well-maintained homes they’d driven by, this one hadn’t seen a paintbrush in years. White strips peeled off every board.
But what most interested the visitors was behind the house.
The farm had six outbuildings. Five were typical corncribs, cattle barns, and utility buildings. One was unique. It stood out as surely as a dairy cow on a goat ranch.
The structure was more than sixteen feet to the top of its Aframe roof, at least sixty feet wide, and two hundred feet long. The front doors of the old wooden building were each at least twenty feet across. Though the doors were open about four feet, the agricultural cathedral remained so dark they were left to guess what was inside. On the one long wall they could see, the foreboding wooden mass had only one small door and no windows. What was its possible use out here in the middle of the Kansas prairie?
The sound of a John Deere tractor caught Lije’s attention. As it slowed to a stop, the driver hollered, “You have car trouble?”
Lije shook his head. “Just wondering about that big building. Never seen anything like it.”
“It’s one of a kind,” the farmer replied. “Been farming here for thirty years and never seen the doors open before. Never seen that truck there before either. If I didn’t know Schneider would shoot me, I’d just drive up and satisfy my curiosity. Always wanted to know what the brothers kept in there. I’m moving on. Want to get this rig into the shed before the storm hits.” Pulling down the throttle, the farmer eased down the road.
As Lije studied the fortress-like building, a man came out of the barn, jumped into the truck, and headed down the long lane toward the road. The truck had HighTop Dairy Products painted on the side. The driver smiled, his dark eyes shining, as he slowed to ease around their car. He waved as he passed, then hit the gas. At the next stop sign, the truck turned right. Soon it was just a blip on the horizon.
“Have you seen any dairy cows around here?” Lije asked.
Cathcart shook his head.
“Neither have I. Get in, gang, we’re going to visit James Schneider.”
“The morning’s forecast on the motel lobby’s TV did mention that conditions were right for severe storms today,” Cathcart noted as he looked toward some ominous, green-tinted clouds. “And look how fast the front is moving! “
As he started the Taurus, a drop of rain hit the win
dshield. By the time he pulled up to the barn, the wind was gusting and rain was falling in buckets.
“Stay here,” Lije said as he got out of the car and raced through the open barn doors. Stopping just inside the massive building, he took inventory. An old car was parked to his right, three International-Case tractors were to his left, and, just at the edge of the dark shadows, a man lay on the ground. The remainder of the interior was a black curtain of mystery.
Moving swiftly to his right, Lije reached blindly for a light switch. He found six. Flipping them simultaneously transformed night into day. And then he saw them: five silver tri-motor bombers. They looked like they had just come off the assembly line and could be fired up and flown at a moment’s notice. The sight was breathtaking.
Heavy rain pelted the roof. Lije heard two car doors slam as he kneeled down next to what he assumed was Schneider’s body. The dripping professors joined him.
“Amazing! “ Cathcart exclaimed. “They look brand new! “ “They’re Junkers,” Lehning said. “Great planes. I’ve never seen one up close. The Ju-52s were so dependable, Hitler even used one as his private air transport.”
“He’s alive,” Lije said as he carefully turned Schneider onto his back. The man groaned, then opened his eyes. For a few seconds he unblinkingly stared at the lawyer.
“Schneider?” Lije asked.
“Ja.” The voice was weak.
“What happened?”
“He took it,” he whispered. “He took it all! “
“Calm down,” Lije said. “We’ll get you some help.”
Schneider shook his head. “Zu spat.”
“That means ‘too late,’ “ Lehning explained as she approached the man.
“Call 911, professor,” Lije called out.
“I’ve tried,” Cathcart said. “No signal.”
Lije pulled out his own cell. He also had no bars. Storm must have knocked out a cell tower, killing service. They’d have to get Schneider into the car and drive him to a doctor.
The wind shook the big doors. They looked out just as one of the farm’s few trees was yanked from the ground and spun before falling into the rental car.
“Don’t think we’ll be getting our deposit back on that one,” Cathcart noted.
“Look! “ Lije shouted. “Look at the twister on the other side of the house! That was a tornado that tore through here. It could’ve taken this whole place down.”
He pulled a cushion from a tractor seat and slipped it under Schneider’s head. “Who did this?”
Schneider didn’t answer. His eyes were closed.
“Bleicher! “ Lije said.
Hearing that name, the old man opened his eyes.
Lije leaned so close he could feel the man’s breath. “Schneider, did you kill Bleicher?”
The old man didn’t answer, but his eyes shot to a large square wooden post just to his right. The floor-to-ceiling post was solid except for a number of holes about four feet from the floor. Bullet holes.
So this is where Bleicher had been killed. Executed.
Lije got up and investigated. Beyond the post, in a cabinet nearby, were four rifles. The fifth one was surely at his home on Shell’s Hill. Ballistics tests could match one to the bullet in the crate.
“Lije,” Cathcart said, “he’s trying to say something.”
“Schleter?” the old man whispered as Lije fell to his knees next to him.
“Did he work with you?” Lije demanded.
“No,” the old man gasped, he face twisted in anger. “He was verräter.”
“That means ‘traitor,’ “ Lehning explained.
“He…the woman…he stole…formula.” “Did you shoot the woman?”
He nodded. “She saw us…shoot Bleicher. She…tried to run. She would have talked. They’d have killed us…Bogen des Todes.…She was nett und mutig…” His voice drifted off. He looked up, as if to a different place and time.
“‘Nice and courageous,’ “ Lehning explained. “I don’t think he wanted to see your aunt killed.”
Lije nodded as he whispered, “You left her body by the road?”
“Bleicher too.” He took a deep breath. “They didn’t find him. Only her. We thought he’d lived. We went to the woman’s funeral to see if he was there.”
“Maybe he was alive,” Cathcart said. “Maybe Schleter found him and took him back to Arkansas.”
“If the shots missed the heart,” Lehning explained, “he might have lived for a few days.”
“But why hide his body?” Cathcart asked.
“Schleter was a foreigner, a German,” Lije said. “If someone had found the body, he figured he’d probably be arrested.” Looking back at Schneider he asked, “Why did you keep her ring?”
“My brother…collected things. Always kept stuff.”
“Lije,” Cathcart called from the door, “the sky’s getting darker. Major storm’s coming.”
Lije leaned back over the farmer. “What was the mission? Why did you need the bombers? Why did you come to America?”
He smiled. “To deliver death.”
“Death?”
“We waited for orders. Never came…All this time we wait…General Renfelt…tell us our targets…never did. Now death gone. That man! “
“Lije,” Cathcart shouted, “looking pretty mean! The sky’s kind of sick green. Looks to me like hail’s coming in.”
The lawyer ignored the professor’s warnings. What did Schneider mean by “death”? And why was it gone? Lije walked over to one of the Ju-52s. On a cart beside the plane were six small cylinders. “Are these bombs?”
Lehning nodded. “Probably small ones, but they wouldn’t do much damage.”
The front of the tubes looked as though they could house a detonation device, but more than three feet of the one-foot-wide tubes was hollow. A large caplike screw was on the floor. He noticed small bits of powder in several spots on the concrete beneath the tubes.
He hurried back to the injured man. “Schneider! Was the powder the death?”
“Ja.”
“Where is it now?”
The old German flyer lifted his arm and pointed toward the door. “He…took it.”
“Who?”
Schneider’s arm dropped to his side. His eyes closed.
Lije leaned in closer and realized the man was no longer breathing.
66
“LIJE! TORNADO! IT’S GOT TO BE A MILE ACROSS!” Cathcart yelled over the howling wind. “It’ll tear this place to shreds. Level everything! “
Lije looked back toward the planes and realized they were in a death trap. The odds of surviving here were minimal. If the collapsing barn didn’t kill them, the flying projectiles would.
“You two! “ Lije screamed over the clatter of hail hitting the roof. “Push that door all the way open! “
Schneider had maintained the planes. Lije had no doubt they would crank up even now. The tractors, even though one was fifty years old, were in perfect shape. He figured the old car, a 1934 Auburn 652Y Sedan, was also ready to run.
He opened the driver’s door of the black-and-red sedan and glanced under the steering wheel. The keys were in the ignition. Sliding into the car, he spun the key, pushed in on the clutch, and flipped the old Startix switch down. The engine began to crank. Looking at the knobs, Lije pulled back on the one stamped C and pushed the gas pedal three times. The motor caught and stalled, but just like it had been built to do, the Startix box automatically restarted the car. By the time Cathcart and Lehning reached the vehicle, the six-cylinder Lycoming engine was purring.
“How fast does a tornado travel?” Lije asked.
“About thirty miles an hour,” Lehning shouted, “but some have been known to reach seventy. This one looks like it’s on steroids. It’s probably moving like a freight train.”
“I think we can outrun it. Get in and hang on! “
Lehning got into the back seat and Cathcart got into the front. Lije hit the gas and the old sixteen-i
nch, bias-ply tires squealed on the barn’s concrete floor. The trio shot out of the building, the dark cloud looming in front of them. Hail and rain peppered the old hood and fabric roof as Lije twisted the wiper switch. The old six-inch blades went to work pushing moisture and ice off the glass.
Winding through the Auburn’s three forward speeds, Lije drove directly toward the charging, swirling mass. Like two knights racing to meet on a jousting field, the storm and car moved recklessly toward a collision point.
Pushing back into the Bedford cord-covered bench seat, Cathcart screamed, “This is your escape route?”
Behind him, Lehning, her face amazingly placid, studied the storm that seemed to be reaching out to them.
“You a pray-er?” Lije yelled back to her.
“Of course! “ she screamed over the noise of the car and the wind. “Been praying for years for Bobby to find his way back to me. Don’t think God brought us back together to die here.”
“Well, pray now! “ Lije hollered. “We need angel’s wings to get out of this mess.”
One field remained between them and the twister. The strong forward winds were already lifting the car’s nose off the ground. As he approached the road, Lije slammed the vehicle into second gear, mashed on both the clutch and brake, spun the steering wheel to the right, and fishtailed onto the road. He hit the gas.
“Now we can see what this baby will do! “
“Needs to do better than this! “ Cathcart yelled while watching the storm through the driver’s side window.
Lije hit fifty and was feeling like a miracle worker when a strong dose of reality hit. The road ended! They had come this close! A wall of tall cornstalks stood in the way. Then, about an eighth of a mile ahead, he saw a narrow strip of worn grass, heading like a path through the corn.
Jamming the car into second, he spun the steering wheel while ignoring the brakes. The car lifted up on two wheels but somehow made the turn onto the narrow trail that must have been used by farm equipment. With the tornado all but licking their rearmounted spare, Lije hit the gas and pushed the ancient sedan into third gear. Even though the car was bumping along the path at fifty, the tornado still seemed to be gaining on them.
