A Mortal Terror by James R. Benn Read Free Book Online Page A

He got his guys out of scrapes when they had too much to drink, and in the field he was always up front with them.”
    “Sounds like a stand-up guy,” I said.
    “So why would someone want to kill him?”
    “Good question, Cole. Any of his men have a theory?”
    “No, nothing.”
    “What about Galante?”
    “What about him? He was a doctor, he helped people. Killing him makes no sense.”
    “Unlike Landry?”
    “No, I didn’t mean it that way.” Cole shook a fresh cigarette out of a pack and lit it from the stub of the other one. His hand shook, the faintest of tremors sending ash onto the playing cards on the desk. I sat back and waited as he crushed the first butt out in an ashtray. A wisp of smoke curled up from it, but Cole didn’t notice. He inhaled deeply, and blew smoke toward the ceiling, his politeness a good cover for not looking me in the eye. I didn’t speak.
    “What I meant was, why would anyone kill a doctor? There are plenty of captains around here. Why pick one who actually helps people?” His voice had a tinge of panic to it, as if the thought of anyone who’d murder a doctor was too much for him to bear.
    “Sergeant Cole, what did you do before you were assigned to CID?”
    “I was with the Third Division. Squad leader, after Sicily.”
    “Been with them long?”
    “Since Fedala,” he said, and brought the cigarette to his lips with his left hand. The right sat on his lap, out of sight. Fedala was the invasion of North Africa, fourteen months ago. That had been a long haul, being shot at by the Vichy French, Italians, and Germans along the way.
    “Let me guess,” I said. “You got your stripes because you were the only one of the original squad still standing.”
    “You learn something by staying alive, can’t deny that,” Cole said, as if he were confessing a mortal sin. “All the other guys—killed, wounded, captured. I lost track of dead lieutenants, and saw four sergeants killed before they promoted me. Replacements kept coming, most getting it pretty quick. Not much I could do about it either. They’d panic, forget everything I told them, run around when they should stay put, stay put when they should advance. They weren’t ready.”
    “Were you? At Fedala, fourteen months back?”
    “Hard to remember. That was a lifetime ago.” He lit another butt, unable to hide his shakes. He gripped his left arm with his right hand, over the stripes, as if he’d been wounded.
    “After Sicily they made you squad leader. Then Salerno.”
    “Then Salerno. Then the Volturno River crossing. That’s where I got hit. Shrapnel in my leg.”
    “Not a million-dollar wound,” I said. Not bad enough for a stateside ticket on a Red Cross ship headed westward.
    “Nope.” Cole smoked with a determination that was impressive. He didn’t talk with smoke flowing out of his mouth like some guys. He savored each inhale and exhale, as if the burning tobacco held the kiss of an angel.
    “Anything else I should know?”
    “Nope. What are you going to do next?” Cole was a cross between nervous and relieved. Relieved that I was here to tell him what to do, and nervous that he might have to do it. Buying up playing cards seemed to be his limit.
    “Find where I’m billeted, dump my stuff, and get some sleep. I’ve been in the air more hours than I care to count.” I wanted to meet Einsmann and see what he’d found out, and there was no reason to take Cole away from his cards and smokes. I handed him my billeting papers and asked him how I could find the place I’d been assigned.
    “On the Via Piave?” he said when he looked at the address. “Jesus, that’s Captain Galante’s apartment!”

CHAPTER SIX
    K EARNS HAD APOLOGIZED , saying that the corporal was supposed to have told me. Space was at a premium, and his idea had been that I might as well be given that bunk, where I could talk to the two doctors who shared the apartment. It did have a certain logic, but I wondered what