“Which is?”
“That you inform the Navy JAG-that’s Commander Lawrence’s boss, Admiral Carpenter-that I’m not a suspect.
Mcnair and the lieutenant looked at each other for a moment, but then the lieutenant nodded. “We can do that, Admiral,” Bettino said. Mcnair nodded his agreement.
Sherman stood up. “Then I think we’re done here,” he announced. “If you don’t mind, I want to go home and have a drink and try to wash this mess out of my mind’for a couple of hours.”
The two policemen stood up, as well. “We’ll call you to make those arrangements, Admiral,” Mcnair said. “Tomorrow morning okay?”
“I’ll call you, if that’s all right, Defective. I’m trying to keep this problem from becoming public knowledge in my office.”
“We understand, sir,” Mcnair said quickly, extracting his card case and handing him a card. “I’ll be in the office by eight o’clock. Commander Lawrence, thanks for letting us meet here.”
Karen nodded and escorted the two policemen to the front door. Train was still perched in his spot by the fireplace when she came back. Sherman was buttoning his uniform jacket when Karen asked him to stay for a few minutes. She needed to find out something, but she had not wanted to bring it up with Lieutenant Bettino there, showing teeth.
“I can offer you a drink,” she said. “In fact, I think I’ll join you.”
Sherman looked over at Train for a moment, then nodded.
“Oka . Scotch, if you have it.” They went out to the kitchen. Karen brought the admiral his scotch, Train a beer, and fixed herself a glass of white wine.
“That was a definite change of tone,” she said.
Sherman nodded. He looked dejected. “And that’s with me not a suspect,” he said. “I’d hate to see how they treat their suspects.
“Well, for one thing, you’d be meeting them on their turf, not out here on yours,” Train said. It was only the second time he had spoken all evening, and Sherman looked over at him. The admiral was getting that cornered look again., “Tell me, Mr. von Rensel, what do you think about the possibility that Galantz survived the Rung Sat, a Chinese jail in Saigon, and was able to make it back to the States?”
Train shrugged. “It’s possible, Admiral. gut notwithout some help, especially in Saigon.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that there is a government agency that did some recruiting in that manner during the Vietnam War.
Think about it: A guy’s officially MIA, which is the same as dead in most people’s minds. He’s trained in the disciplines and techniques of Special Forces warfare. He’s field experienced. And if he survived the Rung Sat, he’s one tenacious sumbitch. Those are pretty formidable qualifications for the clandestine intelligence services.”
Sherman sipped his scotch, absorbing what Train had just said. One of the horses whickered from a back pasture, and another answered.
“I think I’m dead meat,” Sherman announced abruptly.
Karen remembered Train’s first reply when she told him that there was a SEAL after Sherman. The admiral’s face was grim. “A guy who doesn’t exist, and who is probably some kind of-what, assassination specialist or something? I might as well paint a target on my jacket and sit out on the front porch.
Train smiled then. “Think on the bright side, Admiral.
Guy like that, he could have done you a hundred times by now. He apparently wants to play with you first. That gives us time to find him.”
“Oh, that’s just wonderful,” Sherman said, but then he smiled himself “Sorry,” he said, “it’s just that I’m getting this boxed-in feeling.”
“Admiral,” Karen said after a moment. “Who was the young man up on the hill? At the cemetery in Annapolis?
Remember, you stood up right as the service was ending?”
Sherman’s smile vanished. He looked first at Train and then back at Karen. Which is when she remembered the kid on the motorcycle at Elizabeth Walsh’s service and realized that was where she had seen him before.
“Okay,” Sherman said, getting up and finishing his drink. “Okay. I think that was my son, Jack.”
Train raised his eyebrows at Karen, who was trying to comprehend what the admiral had just revealed.
“Your son?”
Sherman stuck his hands in his uniform jacket pockets and walked over to the nearest window, keeping his back to both of them. He looked out into the dark yard for a minute before replying. “Yes. My son, Jack, whom I haven’t seen in years, as I think I told you Thursday night.
Except twice in the past week-once at Elizabeth’s memorial service, then again at Galen’s funeral. It’s as if he’s come out of nowhere-to gloat over these two deaths.”
“Are you sure that’s who he is, Admiral?” Train asked.
“I was down there at Annapolis, hanging out in the crowd.
I saw him, but at a distance, and I never did see his face.”
“I’M pretty sure,” Sherman said, sitting back down.
“Very sure about the first time; pretty sure about the second time.
“Have you detected any other surveillance?.” Train asked. “Cars following you, people in the neighborhood who aren’t normally there?
Noises on the phone?”
Sherman laughed. “Since that letter? Hell yes. Everywhere I go. I see bad guys behind every parked car, under every bush.” Sherman’s mouth was compressed into a flat line. “Karen, I told you something about my marriage, and that my only son was … problematical, I guess I can say.”
“Yes, sir,” Karen said, remembering the conversation in the’restaurant.
“You indicated you two were estranged.”
“Yes, basically since the divorce. But I didn’t tell you the whole story. I told you we were divorced back in 1981.
My wife got custody, naturally, because I was in the Navy and perpetually on the move. But I didn’t tell you what happened after that.
The bare bones of it is that Beth hit bottom three years afterward with the drinking. She lost custody of Jack. He ended up in foster care.”
“What finally happened to your ex-wife, Admiral?” Train asked gently. He had moved into a chair closer to Sherman.
The admiral rattled the remaining ice cubes in his glass for a moment.
“She shot herself,” he declared finally.
Karen blinked. “She shot herselp My God, that’s-that’s terrible.
Sherman gave her another bleak look, then looked away.
“Yes. That was terrible. And, of course, Jack never forgave me. As you might imagine, he felt it was all my fault.
Elizabeth told me many times that Jack was being unreasonable and just lashing out at me. Because by divorcing my wife, I had rejected him.” He was silent for a moment.
“I can rationalize a lot of it, but I can’t really blame him for how he feels. Anyway, he wrote me a letter after she shot herself. Told me in no uncertain terms how he felt about the whole thing. Never wanted to see me again. Said that one day he’d find a way to repay me.” Sherman got up again and went back to the window. He stood there for a minute, his back to them, rubbing the sides of his face with his hands.
“Admiral,” Train said. “Was there anything on or in the note YOU got last week that would positively link it to Galantz?”
Sherman turned around and thought for a moment. “He told me-that night back in San Diego-that he’d be back when I had something of value to lose,” he replied. “He said he would give me one warning. The note said Walsh was the first. So I just Assumed Galantz. But to answer your question, no, there was no discreet identifier. Either way.”
“Postmark?”
“I didn’t notice. I read the note, read it again, and then called Galen Schmidt. Went over there. Talked to him about it. Came back, did some paperwork, looked for the note and the envelope, and both were gone.”