“I’m not happy I missed Pop’s funeral,” Tree said. “But that was the Deep South for you. Wasn’t Billy’s fault. Billy Boyle is a born snoop, but this time around it worked out for me. I got my gunner back.” He raised his pint to Angry Smith, and we all drank a toast to the 617th Tank Destroyer Battalion.
Later, as we piled into the jeep to drive Tree and Angry back to their bivouac area, Tree asked Angry why he’d had such a hard time thanking me earlier that day. He took a deep breath, and his answer didn’t come right away.
“Because I never thanked a white man before, and meant it. Colored man got to say a lot of things to keep trouble at bay, Captain. Some of those things eat at you, know what I mean? But I can’t say no white man ever did me a kindness, until you come along. I know you did it to even things up with Tree, but still, it put me in your debt. I owe you.”
CHAPTER FORTY
I made the drive to Saint Albans the next day to see Major Cosgrove. I told Kaz and Big Mike to head back to SHAEF, knowing that Cosgrove wanted to talk to me alone. Saint Albans was a rest home, a hospital for those who held secrets in their heads and sometimes demons as well. It was top secret, staffed by doctors and nurses who had security clearances better than mine.
Saint Albans was reserved mainly for those who had been emotionally damaged but who needed to be patched up, for the greater good, and sent back into the fight. There were SOE agents, commandos, and foreigners from all over Europe. Major Cosgrove of MI5 was important enough to warrant a bed here as well. Or perhaps it was the knowledge he held.
My name was on the list, which got me past the armed guard at the entrance gate. I was taken to the back garden, where I spied Cosgrove seated in a wheelchair, reading a book. He looked up as I approached, and I was surprised at how good he looked, compared to how terrible he had looked the last time I saw him.
“Boyle,” he said, standing and extending his hand. “Good of you to come.” He was dressed in blue pajamas and a quilted robe. The wheelchair was wicker, and looked built for comfort as opposed to transport. There was color in his face, which had been pallid and pasty after his attack. “Please excuse the casual attire; uniform of the day at Saint Albans.”
“Are you supposed to stand, Major?” I asked, pulling a lawn chair closer and taking my seat.
“They have me doing a bit of exercise,” he said. “This thing is for moving about the property easily, not because I need it.” He slammed his palm down as if to reinforce the point. Charles Cosgrove was not the kind of man who wanted to appear helpless, and I could tell being in the chair bothered him. “But the medicos insist, so here I am.”
“You do look pretty good, Major,” I said. “I thought I’d find you in a hospital bed, hooked up to some contraption.”
“I’m not dead yet, Boyle. It was a heart attack, yes. But they said I was also suffering from exhaustion. I didn’t like being taken here, but I must admit the rest has done me wonders. Didn’t really understand how tired I was.”
“Will you be back on duty, or …?” I let the question linger.
“If I have no relapse, and the doctors concur, I expect I will. Desk duty, most likely. No more running about keeping tabs on you, Boyle! That will be a relief for both of us, I wager.”
“I don’t know, Major. I’ve almost gotten used to you.”
“Well, then I will redouble my efforts to heal from this event. Perhaps you haven’t seen the last of me yet. But tell me, your talk with Masterman, what exactly did he tell you?”
“I’m not sure I’m at liberty to say, sir.” I waited, feeling the warm breeze on my face. I didn’t want to hold out on Cosgrove, but this was beyond top secret, as far as I was concerned.
“Well done. I told Masterman you could be counted upon. Boyle, you must forget what you learned from him. It was necessary to tell you, but it is such a gigantic secret, the most precious of the war so far, I believe.”
“It frightens me, knowing,” I said in a quiet voice.
“Yes,” Cosgrove said. “There are so many things that could go wrong, so many people involved. I think about it nearly every moment of the day. The Millers, they suspect nothing?”
“No,” I said. “I visited them this morning, to give them a report on what we determined about Neville’s death. They were relieved.”
“You betrayed nothing? Your voice, how you looked at them?”
“Major, I’ve been a cop long enough to know how to lie with a poker face.”
“Very good, Boyle,” he said. “I
“When the invasion comes?”
“Yes, and then for some short time beyond, if we’re successful. We’ll keep Jerry looking in all the wrong places for as long as possible. Then we’ll pick up Herr and Frau Miller and deal with them as they deserve.”
“What about their daughter, Eva? She can hardly be part of this.”
“Likely not. But they are the ones who put her in harm’s way, not us. She may be lucky, if that term applies. If she had stayed in Germany in any one of their cities, she could have been long dead by now. Every night we bomb and burn them, Boyle. It is a terrible business all around.”
We sat for a while, thoughts of burning cities mingling with the visions of crippled men and women all around us, enjoying the sunshine while night reigned supreme in their minds. After a few minutes, I gave him all the details of the investigation, everything that happened after he was taken away. He asked a few questions until once again we lapsed into silence. The quiet and the clear blue skies were deceptively calming.
“Can you tell me anything about Diana?” I finally asked. “Where she was sent?”
“She angered some very powerful people, Boyle. Politics and passion are not a good mix. But rest assured, she was not sent on a suicide mission. She is probably quite bored where she is.”
“Here in England?”
“In Great Britain, yes. A training facility. Sealed tight. A dilapidated country estate surrounded by barbed wire. I hope to find out about getting her back to London soon.”
“Sounds like she’s safer there.”
“Yes, but the Diana Seaton we know would not be satisfied with mere safety, eh Boyle?”
“No, sir. Is there anything you need? Anything I can get you?”
“No, thank you. You’ve done enough by telling me about the Neville case. Justice was served, official secrets kept. Well done.”
“Thank you, Major.”
“And your Negro friend, that case was concluded to your satisfaction?”
“Yes, the real killer was found and Private Smith was released. He’s back with his unit, and they’re ready for action.”
“I wish them well. And you too, Boyle. I hope our paths cross again, but if not …” This time, he was the one to let the sentence hang. He rose and we shook hands. For two guys who started out not liking each other much, it was a helluva goodbye.
“See you in the funny papers, Major.”
Cosgrove laughed and shook his head, settling back down into his wicker wheelchair. It’s always good to leave them laughing.
Driving out of Saint Albans, I wondered why Cosgrove had really sent for me. Was it to hear a first-hand report about the Millers and the murder investigation, or was it something else? Cosgrove was a military man through and through, a pal of Winston Churchill’s from the Boer War. If this was the end of his career, or perhaps his life, maybe he wanted one more taste of the hunt. Couldn’t blame him one bit.
I had nothing to do until I had to report back to SHAEF tomorrow, so I decided to go back to Hungerford for
