The Zombie Deception

by Marvin Wolf

  Will bobbed his head. “Good advice. Thank you.”

  ‘Dāng jú zhě mí, páng guān zhě qīng,” replied Yang, and again Ash translated.

  “Spectators see more of the game than players,” she said,

  “Let me think about that one,” Will said.

  “It means, ‘stand back and see the whole field,’” Yang said. “Not only what is in front of you.”

  Chapter 58

  Ash sat in her car and watched Will drive away in his pickup. Her guts were churning. Maybe I ate too much, she thought. “I’m kidding myself,” she said aloud.

  It was Will, the All American Boy, she thought. Handsome but not pretty. Strong and tall enough, but not too tall. Very intelligent, but he didn’t rub it in your face. Courageous beyond doubt, but never boastful. Insightful, sensitive, a good listener. Any woman who caught the eye of Will Spaulding ought to grab him and never let go,

  But Asher Shapiro knew that she wasn’t merely a woman. She was a Senior Special Agent of the US Army Criminal Investigation Command and had overcome enormous obstacles merely to become a trainee investigator, let alone her present rating: She was not a US citizen by birth. She was born in Communist North Korea and had lived in Communist China for ten years. She was a woman. She was four inches shorter than the minimum height required for CID selection—so she’d earned every waiver required for rapid advancement through her own merit.

  She was poised to reach a level of responsibility that few of her peers ever achieved, and at least eight years earlier than anyone she knew. But her ambitions lay far beyond running a CID office at a major installation. Special Agent Asher Shapiro knew that the first woman to head the US Army Criminal Investigation Command would come from the Army’s Military Police Corps, so that was never her goal.

  Ash wanted to head the Field Investigative unit, which performed classified and high-level investigations.

  She had worked out a plan: SAC by age 28, overseas duty by age 32, Masters Program by 34. She’d get pregnant near the end of that program, and have her first child while an instructor at the Command’s Quantico headquarters by age 37. Possibly a second child at Quantico, with or without a husband, but with the support of her parents, who lived near Quantico. Then assignment to the Field Investigations unit, where she would stay until she realized her ambition.

  Ash knew that a plan is a dream and that dreams rarely turn out exactly as anticipated. But still, she had the framework. She would probably need to make adjustments. But Will wasn’t part of the plan. He was a great guy, but he was many years too early.

  He would be an excellent father, she thought. And he would definitely want children. But Will would likely return to flying as soon as they cracked their present case. They would be thousands of miles apart for many years. What was the point of starting a serious relationship when she was at least seven years away from motherhood?

  A fling, perhaps? The idea was tempting.

  But Will was not the right guy for a fling.

  A bolt of lightning lit the sky. A moment later came a clap of thunder.

  “Better get going before it rains,” Ash said aloud and started the engine.

  Chapter 59

  It was raining hard by the time Will braked at the main gate and rolled to a stop abreast of the MP box. A young MP in a glistening raincoat waited as he rolled down the window, then shined a flashlight on Will’s CID credentials.

  “Wait just a moment,” said the military policeman, and ducked inside the booth.

  Half a minute went by before the booth opened and an MP sergeant appeared.

  Wordlessly, Will handed him the credential, and with his other hand displayed his badge.

  “Sorry, sir, PFC Peel is new and he didn’t recognize CID credentials.”

  “No big deal,” Will said.

  The sergeant played his flashlight beam across Will’s face.

  “I thought I knew all our CID agents,” he said.

  “I’m just visiting.”

  “We’re on high-security status, sir,” said the sergeant. “I’m going to have to call the CID office.”

  “Sure thing,” said Will, hiding his annoyance.

  The sergeant pointed. “Pull over there for a minute, sir,” he said.

  Five minutes dragged by before the sergeant came to Will’s pickup. He returned Will’s credential.

  “Apologies, Mr. Spaulding. What threw me was you said you were visiting, but there’s a Rucker officer sticker on your bumper. But Agent Foosler explained that you’re undercover to check base security. Sorry about the mix-up. Please don’t take it personally.”

  “You did the right thing, Sergeant,” Will replied.

  As he drove onto the base and headed for his quarters, Will mulled over the sergeant’s words. There was something in them that stuck in his mind.

  “Spectators see more of the game than players,” he said aloud, quoting Mrs. Yang. The two conversations, taken together, seemed to suggest something important, but Will couldn’t quite put it together.

  An hour later, after brushing his teeth and climbing into bed, he was nearly asleep before he realized that the words of the MP sergeant and the wizened Chinese restaurateur, and General Davis’s final admonition provided a new direction for his investigation.

  Chapter 60

  Will rose early, It was half-past seven when he pulled into the office lot parked next to only other car.

  He found Ash in front of a computer.

  “Uh, about last night,” he began,

  She turned to greet Will with a dazzling smile.

  “Thank you for being so thoughtful, partner. It was very sweet of you.”

  Taken off guard, Will swallowed. “What are you up to now?” he said.

  “Alvie is blown,” she said. “We had trackers on two casino SUVs and both of them disappeared. The trackers, I mean.”

  Will frowned. “The one I put in the wheel well can’t be traced back to me.”

  “Alvie’s was in his belt buckle. We have to assume the drivers of those vehicles know who rode where and when.”

  Will shook his head. “Then he’s blown. Those two SUVs, at least, have been on this base. That means they either have guest placards or more likely base stickers. They’re registered on this base.”

  The office door slammed and Ash and Will turned to see Landon entering. “We checked out every hybrid SUV registered on the base,” he said. “There are nine and only one is black. It belongs to the deputy director of logistics, a GS-15, and he’s fishing out of Key West and has been for a week. The local PD verified that his car, a Ford Escape, is with him, along with his wife and two daughters.”

  Ash smiled. “Maybe the bumper stickers are counterfeit. If the casino is just a way to launder phony hundreds, why couldn’t they counterfeit a few base tags?

  The door opened and Chelmin limped in. “What’s this about counterfeit base tags?”

  Ash said, “Just speculating.”

  Chelmin said, “I had a conversation with Colonel Moffett. He’s aware of the SUVs that we tracked and then lost, and he’s considering whether to ask the Alabama Department of Transportation to borrow some traffic cams.”

  “That could take weeks, assuming that they have the cams and are willing to part with them,” Ash said.

  Will scratched his head, thinking. “The Secret Service is planning a major operation to bust that casino. I’d have to think that if the casino bosses know about the trackers, they’ve packed up and moved on.”

  Alvie said, “You should call the guy who rode down with you—Agent Bourassa. Tell him to call it off.”

  Ash said, “No. Let them raid the house.”

  “Why?” asked Landon.

  “So the counterfeiters will think that you’re Secret Service and that you were after the fake money and the people who made it,” said Will.

  “And then they won’t get the idea that CID is working a kidnapping,” Ash added.

  Will took out his wallet and h
anded Alvie a hundred-dollar bill. “This was the only legit bill in the bunch. It’s yours.”

  Alvie smiled and tucked the note into a chest pocket. “A souvenir. Thanks, Will.”

  Will pointed to the computer screen.

  “So what are you looking for?”

  “Caves. Abandoned mines. Both GPS devices just vanished from our receivers. One up by Bear Creek and the other near Four Mile Creek, a couple of minutes after Foosler and Keiser lost sight of the vehicle. Those cars weren’t beamed up to a visiting spaceship.”

  Will nodded. “Here’s the thing, Ash. There are dozens, maybe hundreds, of abandoned mines on and near the reservation. In the Eighteenth and Nineteenth centuries, what’s now Fort Rucker was riddled with small lead mines, few of which are accurately mapped. Also a couple of abandoned gold mines.”

  “How do you know this, Will?”

  “Concentrations of heavy metals in the soil can affect a magnetic compass, and that fact is taught to all aspiring Army aviators in connection with navigation here.”

  “Are there old mines around Four Mile and Bear Creek?”

  “That I don’t know. As I said, most of them were never mapped.”

  Ash turned from the computer, her face downcast.

  “I had an idea last night,” Will said.

  “About what?”

  “Our case. Remember how Mrs. Yang explained the proverb?”

  “Which one?

  “’The spectators see more of the game than the players.’”

  “Tell me your idea?”

  “You and your crew spent a lot of time and energy looking for associations between the missing men—”

  “—and found none,” Ash interrupted.

  “What about check rides? What if LTC Slocum and Captain McHugh went on check rides with Lopez? What if they saw something that they shouldn’t have?”

  Ash’s face lit up. ”Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Landon said, “Easy enough to find out.”

  Will said, “You driving, Ash?”

  Chapter 61

  “I’ll find his flight log,” said Master Sergeant Mercado, the noncommissioned officer in charge of the 109th Aviation Brigade flight operations office.

  “I’d kill for a cup of coffee,” Ash said, looking around.

  “There’s a Starbucks by the commissary,” Will said. “Five minutes.”

  “Unless it’s misfiled or something, I’ll be only a few minutes,” the noncom replied.

  “I’ll go,” said Ash. “Text me if you need me back.”

  Twelve minutes later, she returned with three large cups of coffee to find Will slumped in an aged folding chair. Mercado was nowhere in sight.

  “Lost or misplaced,” said Will. “He called Lopez’s battalion flight ops and they don’t have it either.”

  Ash handed Will a coffee, took a long pull on her cup and leaned against the counter. “This stinks,” she said.

  Mercado returned. “Aviators who take a check ride do so to demonstrate that they’ve maintained proficiency, and remain eligible for flight pay,” he began.

  Will smiled. “That means the date of every check ride, at least, should be on a computer somewhere. Maybe at Finance, with his pay records?”

  Ash said, “We should check with their wives. Maybe the missing men kept their own logs.”

  Will shook his head. “I should have thought of that.”

  Ash said, “I’ll take McHugh’s girlfriend.”

  Will said, “He might have a BOQ room on base. His boss will know. Meanwhile, I’ll go see Mrs. Slocum.”

  Unabashedly eavesdropping, Mercado cleared his throat. “Is something going on with Slocum, McHugh, and Lopez? And by the way, I haven’t seen Mister Lopez in more than a month. What’s going on?”

  Ash and Will exchanged pained glances.

  Will said, “I wish we could tell you. There’s an ongoing investigation, but it’s classified. I have to caution you not to discuss what you heard with anyone.”

  The noncom nodded. “I think I can help. I maintain the master calendar for field grade officer check rides. And I can also tell you that I recall Mr. Lopez taking LTC Slocum and a young captain for a check ride about two weeks after Thanksgiving. Slocum’s check ride was originally scheduled for the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. That Monday he called about four in the afternoon. From Michigan, I think, where he and his family had gone for Thanksgiving. He asked to reschedule. He’s the deputy brigade commander, so I obliged him.”

  Will said, “If I had a photo of the missing captain, would you recognize him as the one who flew with Slocum?”

  The master sergeant shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Ash said, “Can you come to our office with us right now?”

  Mercado shook his head, no. “Give me half an hour to round up a replacement.”

  Chapter 62

  An hour later, while Ash was in Captain McHugh’s BOQ room and Will was at LTC Slocum’s quarters, Alvie Landon showed Mercado a set of four head shots. Mercado shook his head. “Don’t recognize anyone,” he said.

  Landon handed him a second card with four more headshots. The master sergeant shook his head, no.

  Landon produced the third card, placed it in front of the master sergeant. “That’s the man who flew with LTC Slocum and Mr. Lopez,” he said, stabbing one of the pictures with his index finger.

  Landon turned the card over. The man selected was Captain William McHugh.

  “Thank you, Master Sergeant Mercado. You’ve been very helpful.”

  “I should be able to find the flight plan for that check ride,” said Mercado.

  Landon smiled. “That would also be helpful. Give us a call and we’ll send someone to pick it up.”

  On the drive to Mercado’s operations desk, Ash said, “So we get proof that all three abductees were in the same helicopter at the same time. What does that get us?”

  Will said, “I have a theory.”

  Chapter 63

  “Colonel Meachem will see you now,” said the trim, attractive, thirty-something Adjutant-General Corps major who served as the 111th Aviation Brigade Commander’s chief of staff.

  Ash and Will followed her into Meacham’s office, where the commander, a tall, florid-faced, bulky and balding man rose from his desk and came forward to shake their hands in turn.

  “Always a pleasure, Agent Shapiro,” he said, then glanced at Will. And looked again.

  “You’re Spaulding, the fearless flier,” he said. “How is that you’re in civvies and carrying a badge?” he said.

  Will said, “Before I joined the Army, I was a police detective, sir. General Davis detailed me to this special investigation. If you have questions about that, sir, with the utmost respect, you’ll have to ask him.”

  “This is about Captain McHugh and CWO Lopez?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have a seat. Coffee?” asked the colonel, and both agents shook their heads.

  “We don’t want to take too much of your time, sir,” said Ash.

  “What can I do for you?”

  Will said, “We will now share some classified information, sir. We have to remind you that this is need-to-know, and we ask for your discretion.”

  Meacham frowned. “Proceed.”

  Ash said, “In addition to the two aviators from your brigade, a third officer, LTC Slocum of the 109th Aviation Brigade, has disappeared, and was presumably abducted.”

  Meacham snorted. “And I’m just hearing this now?”

  Ash said, “Need-to-know only, sir.”

  Will said, “We have reason to believe that in early December of last year, your CWO Lopez took LTC Slocum and CPT McHugh on a check ride. Mr. Lopez’s personal flight log, his flight plan, and his official flight log have all disappeared as well. But a senior NCO recalls that all three were on the same bird for check rides in December.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  Will said, “We’ve tried almost anything else, so now we begi
n with a theory that since all three of those aviators were together on the same aircraft at the same time, perhaps they saw or heard something that put them in danger.”

  “Like what?”

  Ash said, “We don’t know yet, Colonel. Maybe a hit-and-run traffic accident. Or a murder. Anything that might give someone a reason to abduct them.”

  Will said, “So we’d like to interview Company A, Third Battalion’s flight instructors, in the hope that one might shed some light on Mr. Lopez’s check rides—did he like to fly a particular pattern over a particular area? Where did he prefer to do landings and autorotations? Was there a part of the base, or the surrounding area, that he liked to fly over on check rides?

  Colonel Meacham nodded, his face grave. “Now I understand why General Davis has you on this investigation. You’re an aviator and a detective.”

  Will said, “I suppose so, sir. He never told me.”

  “Well. Go down to Alfa Company and talk to whomever you want.”

  Ash said, “We don’t want to go to Alfa Company, sir. It would be disruptive, and create speculation and rumors. Instead, we’d like to see the instructors here, in your headquarters, one at a time. We can interview each in turn, and impress upon them the need for continued secrecy.”

  Meacham cocked his head, thinking.

  “You’re right, of course. No need to get tongues wagging. I’ll have their battalion commander set it up. When would you like to start?

  “This evening, after chow,” Will said.

  “Come back at 1900 hours. Cynthia—Major Colvin, my chief of staff—will coordinate.”

  Chapter 64

  The first pilot to enter the brigade conference room was a short, graying, chief warrant officer named Bill Roundy. Sporting an enormous handlebar mustache, he moved gracefully and silently to the offered chair.

  Ash displayed her badge and said, “Special Agents Shapiro and Spaulding, CID. You are not a suspect in any crime. We need information about Mr. Lopez.”