“How or why did you come to that conclusion?”
Her voice was almost condescending.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but can I ask a question?”
“By all means.”
“Why are you asking me this? Wasn’t there an FBI agent there on the scene?”
“Yes there was. In fact, it was me. I am a Special Agent but I have also been trained in post-blast investigations. I arrived from San Antonio a few hours after you left. I conducted an investigation of the site and decided that it was in fact best that the Army EOD team take the explosives to their facility for storage until we determined our next course of action.”
Jazz sat back and breathed a sigh of relief. Cruz had agreed with the recommendation to have the Army move the explosives. In fact, she directed that exact course of action. He knew that Solarsky would be pleased to know this. He was tempted to ask to be excused immediately to phone his superior but decided against it.
“Again, ma’am, respectfully, then why are you asking me these questions? You were there? I’ll be frank with you, we thought you were coming here to try to lay blame on us for the accident.”
Cruz stared at Jazz a moment. He watched her blink several times as if she were considering something very carefully. Nobody moved.
Finally Cruz spoke, “Did you puncture the tire on the 797th’s explosive vehicle, Lieutenant?”
“Of course not, I…”
“Did you set a demolition charge on the vehicle’s gas tank? Did you shoot Sergeants West and Martin in the back of the head?”
Now Jazz had no response. The conference room became so silent that he could hear the lights humming.
“Lieutenant, I have just found out that there is a very organized group in southern Texas that would like to use military explosives to build IEDs and commit who knows what other sinister deeds. This group is so organized and intent on carrying out their agenda that they were able to discern, probably from intercepting emails, telephone conversations, and radio traffic, that Martin and West were picking up their explosives and transporting them to Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio. Somehow they punctured the 797th’s explosives vehicle right front tire, probably during a fueling stop and, if the sergeants were following procedure, while the vehicle had at least one armed guard. They then approached the sergeants while they repaired the flat some ten miles away, probably to offer assistance, which came in the form of a nine millimeter round to the back of the head.
“They did all of this with only hours of notice, emphasizing their organizational skills and planning ability. Many highly trained military units would not have been able to carry out this same mission with more warning time.
“The only silver lining in this story is that this organization, ironically, is not very knowledgeable in the use of explosives. They tried to make it appear as if the vehicle was consumed in an explosive accident, which remains the official story. They did not place the explosives correctly, nor did they use enough. Undoubtedly, they wished to recover most of the cargo.”
“Holy shit,” murmured T-Ball.
“Gentlemen, we have failed being subtle,” Cruz continued. “I hope you understand that my concern is to not let this leak. We have not even told the soldiers’ families the true story, they may never know. More importantly, it is our intention to deceive the culprits into the notion that they are not under suspicion.”
“So what do you need from us, ma’am?” asked T-Ball.
“I need any and all information you obtained during your investigation. You may have some insight or may have merely seen something that can enlighten us. Did you take pictures?”
“Dozens,” Jazz answered.
“Could we have them?”
“Sure, T-Ball…”
“On it, sir.”
T-Ball got up to go retrieve the photos. After Jazz saw Ball disappear down the hall, he felt Cruz staring at him. He turned and looked back at the Agent. Cruz’s expression was indiscernible.
Is she looking at me or lost in thought? Jazz wondered.
After a moment, Cruz asked, “Lieutenant, please give me a verbal description of everything that happened. I will take notes and interject as you relay your story. Agent Atkins and I will both take notes. Okay?”
“Sure.”
During his narrative, both Cruz and Atkins interrupted him several times. Atkins’ questions seemed to be related more to the explosives and the proximity fuzes. Cruz’s questions probed more into the specific actions of Jazz, T-Ball, and the other law enforcement personnel at the scene. Jazz suspected that she might believe that someone at the scene was involved in the crime based on her line of questioning. He then realized why Iglesias was asked to leave the room.
Jazz gave as much information to Cruz as he could. When they were done, Keating offered to show all the law enforcement officers the way out. Jazz resisted seeing Special Agent Elena Cruz to the door.
Jazz sat and thought for a long time about the fact that it could have been he and T-Ball who transported the explosive materials to San Antonio. He could have been killed on the job the night before instead of West and Martin.
Then something Jazz’s brain clicked. He looked up to the PQS board. The EOD crab next to his name was silver.
Jazz debated how to tell Melanie about the 797th EOD men, though there was nothing to debate. It was clear that Cruz wanted to maintain the story that the vehicle had met with some type of accident. Jazz knew after the previous night that before he was finished telling his wife what happened, the conversation would turn into another argument.
“Damnit, Jazz, this is just what I’m talking about!”
“Mel, they fucked up! They packed the explosives improperly, or smoked in the vehicle, or used a cell phone. They were knuckleheads and that’s all there is to it.”
“Yeah, well I’m sure those EOD Techs have had this same discussion with their wives!”
“That is not fair.”
“I’m leaving. Take care of the kids.”
As Melanie drove off, Jazz wondered if this was going to happen regularly.
Elena Cruz drove two hours back to the San Antonio office. Almost nobody was there. She compiled her notes and transcribed them onto the computer. It was almost ten o’clock when she got home.
Frances, Elena’s roommate, left a note stuck to a bottle of wine on the dining room table.
Thought you’d need this to end your day.
Elena consumed a few glasses of wine trying to forget about the case. The only thing that distracted her from the gruesome sight of the two victims was Lieutenant Jascinski. His blue eyes tugged at something within her. She fell asleep thinking of him.
EIGHTEEN
An oiler of the Supply class caught Jazz’s eye. She was entering the Thimble Shoals Channel at the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay. He could just make out men lined up on deck to act as linehandlers for entering port. A gathering, probably including the captain and the pilot, were on the port bridge wing.
Jazz continued without slowing. The sand on the beach reminded him of Panama City Florida, because he was running in it. Despite being the junction of the nation’s largest bay and the Atlantic Ocean, the seas were still. A light breeze blew over them and into Jazz’s lungs. The cold air in his chest burned.
Up ahead Jazz could make out first Delgado, then Ball turning right off the beach. Somewhere behind Jazz were the other members of Det Four with Keating undoubtedly trailing.
Jazz turned right, crossing the street and entering the forest beyond.
Although an Army base, Fort Story was home to more sailors and Marines than soldiers. The Army had a transportation corps and its music school there. The Coast Guard maintained a small contingent to man the Cape Elizabeth Lighthouse.