himself. And he sees everything in the camp as an opportunity.
More or less the same way Trader Vic did.'
'So,' Hugh asked, 'what do you suppose he's talking about?'
'Well, what are we missing? What do we need to know?'
Hugh smiled.
'Two things: the truth and the means of finding it.'
Pryce nodded. He turned back to Tommy and spoke with sudden intensity: 'I think this could be important. Tommy.
Very much so. Why was Fritz inside the wire in the predawn dark? He could very well have paid for that little trip with his life if he'd been spotted by one of these teenagers that the Krauts are enlisting and putting up in the guard towers. And it doesn't seem to me that
Fritz is the type of gentleman to risk an accidental death unless the reward is great.'
'Personal reward,' Hugh added.
'I don't think Fritz does much for the fatherland unless it helps him out, as well.'
Pryce clapped his hands together once, as if the ideas flooding through his head were as warm as the water he was pouring over his ravaged feet. But when he spoke, it was slowly, with a deliberateness that surprised Tommy.
'Suppose Fritz's presence implies both?' Pryce then made his hand into a fist and waved it with a sense of triumph in the air in front of him.
'I think, gentlemen, that we have been slightly foolish. We have spent our time considering the murder of Trader Vic and the accusation against Lincoln Scott in precisely the manner that the opposition desires. Perhaps it is time to consider these things differently.'
Tommy Hart sighed.
'Phillip, once again, you're being cryptic and slightly obtuse.'
'But that's my manner, my dear boy.'
'After the war,' Tommy said, 'I think I shall require you to come visit the States. A lengthy visit. And I will force you to sit around an old woodstove inside the Manchester General Store one day in the dead of winter when the snow is piled up about six feet high outside the window and listen to some old Vermonters talk about the weather, the crops, the upcoming fishing season in the spring, and whether or not this kid Williams the Red Sox have playing for them will ever amount to anything in the majors. And you will discover that we Yankees speak concisely and always directly to the point. Whatever the hell that point might be' Pryce burst into a laugh tinged with coughing.
'A lesson in forthrightness, is that what you have in mind?'
'Yes. Precisely. Straight-shooting.'
'Ah, a distinctly American phrase, that.'
'And a quality that will be needed on Monday morning at zero eight hundred, when Scott's trial commences.'
Hugh grinned.
'He's right about that, Phillip. Take it from me: our southern neighbors are nothing if not straightforward.
Especially MacNamara, the SAO. He's right out of West Point and probably has the uniform code of military conduct tattooed on his chest. It won't do a lick of good to suggest anything in trial. The man has little imagination.
We're going to have to be exact.'
Pryce seemed abruptly to be lost in thought.
'Yes, yes, that is so,' he said slowly, 'but I wonder… ' The emaciated, wheezing Englishman held up his hand, cutting off both Tommy and Hugh from speaking. Both men could see his mind working hard behind his eyes, which darted about.
'I think,' Pryce started slowly, after a long pause, 'that we should reassess the entirety of the crime. What do we know?'
'We know that Vic was killed in a hidden spot an entire alleyway away from the location where his body was actually found. We know that his corpse was discovered by a German ferret who shouldn't have been inside the camp at that hour. We know that the murder weapon and the very method of death are different from that which the prosecution will contend…'
Tommy paused, then added, 'Arrayed against these elements, we have Lincoln Scott's bloody shoes, bloodstained flight jacket, a weapon that also has blood on it, though it is doubtful that it was used in the killing…'
Tommy sighed, continuing, 'And we have well-documented animosity and threats.'
Pryce nodded his head slowly.
'Perhaps we would be wise to examine all the factors separately. Hugh, tell me: What does moving the body tell you?'
'That the murder location would compromise the killer.'
'Would Lincoln Scott have moved the body closer to his own hut?'
'No. That would make no sense.'
'But putting Vic in the Abort made sense to someone.'
'Someone who needed to make certain that the actual crime scene vicinity wasn't searched. And, if you consider it, who would do more than a perfunctory examination of the body inside the Abort. The place smells…'
'Visser did,' Hugh grunted.
'It didn't seem to bother him in the slightest.'
'Ah,' Pryce grinned.
'An interesting observation. Yes.
Tommy, I think it is safe to assume that despite his Luftwaffe uniform,
Herr Visser is Gestapo. And a policeman with expertise.
And it is doubtful that whoever moved Vic's body would have anticipated his arrival on the scene. They would probably have assumed that the somewhat prissy and stiff Von Reiter would be in charge of the crime scene. Now, would Commandant Von Reiter have carefully searched the Abort? Not bloody likely. But all this prompts a second question: If the killer wanted to avoid a search of a specific location… well, who was he afraid of? Germans or Americans?'
Tommy raised an eyebrow.
'The trouble is, Phillip, every time I think we're making some sort of progress, new questions arise.'
Hugh snorted.
'Damn right. Why can't things be simple?'
Pryce reached out and touched the hulking Canadian on the arm.
'But you see, accusing Scott of the crime is simple.
And therein lies the lie, if you will.'
Pryce wheezed a laugh, which translated into a cough, but still smiling, still enjoying himself, still delighting in each intricacy they unfolded, he turned back to Tommy.
'And the unexplained and somewhat surprising appearance of Fritz Number
One on the scene? This tells us what?'
'That he had a deeply compelling reason to be there.'
'Do you think that the illicit trade of some item of contraband could bring Fritz and Trader Vic out in the dead of night at considerable risk to the both of them?'
'No.' Tommy spoke before Hugh could reply.
'Not for a minute. Because Vic had already managed to trade for all sorts of illegal items. Cameras. Radios. Souvenirs.
'Anything…' Fritz said. But even the most special of acquisitions can still be managed in regular daytime hours. Vic was an expert at that.'
