Decker's Dilemma (8 page)

“Several folders. Mostly routine supply stuff that's classified. Casualty reports that have been filed over the past couple of years. There was one folder that might be of interest. Chief labeled it ‘Inventory.'”

“Did you look inside?”

“I'd just opened it when you called. I barely made it to the storeroom in time.”

Decker took off his hat and scratched his head. “You see what was in it?”

“Requisition lists, mostly. And a slip of paper with the name ‘Allen Sumner' written across the top and several more names written below it.”

Decker's eyes widened. “Allen Sumner?”

“You know him?” Hack asked.

“No, it's not anybody on the ship.”

“There's one more thing.” Hack glanced at the desk.

“What's that?”

“Your keys. I forgot to grab them when I hid in the storeroom.”

Decker turned and saw Tweety Bird sitting plain as day on a white desk calendar.

“I doubt if Chief noticed it,” Hack said. “And if he did, he probably assumed you left it there sometime earlier today.”

“Then how did the door get locked?”

Hack looked around the room as if the answer might be hiding in a dark corner. “I don't know….”

Decker thought for moment. No time to worry about it now. “You sure that was the name?”

“What name?”

“Allan Sumner.”

“Positive. At least I think I'm sure.”

Decker put his hat back on and checked his watch. “We've got to find out for sure, but I need to get back to the quarterdeck. I'll call when I get there. Open it up again and make copies of the papers.”

“Pay attention this time,” Hack said. “I don't want another close call.”

“I'll do my best,” Decker said, leaving Supply Support and jogging up the ladder to the main deck.

Two minutes later, Decker called from the quarterdeck to say it was clear. Hack locked the door to the office and once again opened the safe. He quickly grabbed the folder and made copies of the documents. Hack returned the original documents to the safe, locked it, and made sure everything on Chief's desk was returned to normal. He grabbed Decker's keys, closed the door to Supply Support, and headed to the quarterdeck. He was relieved to see the officer-of-the-deck in conversation with a fellow officer returning from liberty. Hack walked over to Decker and they stepped next to the life line, looking at the water below. “I've got the copies.”

“Where?”

“In my back pocket.”

Decker didn't lift his head. “Keep them there. And let's not talk about it anymore on the ship. Not even tomorrow. Let's meet at Cal Jam after work.

Hack nodded and began walking towards the brow. He turned to Decker and handed over the keys. “What if Chief saw them? They were laying right there....”

Decker followed him to the edge of the quarterdeck. “If he noticed the keys, he may be on to you. But what's worse, he's going to think
I'm involved
.”

Hack heard him but didn't reply. He was already heading down the gangway, feeling lucky he was able to leave the ship.

CHAPTER TWELVE

1830, Wednesday, January 8

“I brought the copies,” Hack said, anxious for Decker to have a look at them.

Decker brushed aside the news. “Hang on a minute,” he said. “I have to finish this.”

Decker and Hack sat in Cal Jam at their favorite table near the window, Hack staring at people walking down the sidewalk and Decker writing in his Book of Dates. Ten minutes later, Hack took a drink of beer and decided to interrupt. “You about done writing?” He looked around the bar. “Where's Vega tonight? I expected her to be here.”

Decker finished a sentence and closed his notebook. “She's working until 1900. I'm supposed to meet Mo here but he's obviously stood me up. Where's Lee tonight?”

“Working late, too. I'm going to stop by there a little later.”

“Working late?” Decker said, surprised. “I thought she had a nine-to-five job?”

“So did I.”

“Well then, what can be so pressing at the supply depot to make her work late?”

“I guess they have their busy times, too. She said they have stuff piling up for all the ships deployed throughout the Pacific. It seems to happen frequently. Makes me wonder if shore duty is that much better than sea duty.”

“It is. Trust me on that one. Sea duty, in case you haven't noticed it yet, can really be a miserable undertaking. All that time at sea, then your reward for returning to port is duty every four days. Not much time to do anything meaningful. Wait 'til you've been on board a year, and you'll be ready for shore duty, too.”

“I'm glad we're not at sea this week,” Hack said. “I'm worried Chief knows we were snooping around. He didn't mention it today, though, so maybe we got lucky.”

“Maybe,” said Decker, raising his beer bottle. “And that, my friend, is a perfect segue. Let's have a look.”

“About time,” Hack said, pulling the papers from his back pocket and setting them on the table. There were four requisition lists and one page of handwritten notes.

Hack drank his beer as he watched Decker flip through the papers. “What do you make of them?”

Decker picked up one list, examined it closely, and pointed to the columns. “It's a list of repair parts that were ordered. Each item is listed by stock number. Here's the quantity ordered and over here is the date at the top when the order was placed. The requisitions were submitted December 24, December 26, and December 31.”

“Doesn't do us much good,” Hack said, sinking into his chair.

“I'm afraid you're right. Where's the copy of the note with Allen Sumner's name written on it?”

“It's in there along with several more names.”

Decker flipped through the requisitions and found the document. Across the top of the note Chief had written “Allen Sumner” along with several other names listed below it.

“I don't recognize any of these names,” Decker said. “There must be over twenty on the list. Some are first and last names. There's James Owens, John Thomason, and Wallace Lind. Then some words like ‘brush,' ‘strong,' and what appears to be ‘stormes.' Typical Chief Fray, though. He misspelled it with an ‘e' before the last ‘s.' And there's a Hank and Zellars.” Decker rubbed his forehead. “They don't mean anything to me. They're not sailors on the
Harvey
.”

“They don't mean anything to me, either. They could be anybody. Maybe they're guys Chief knew at his previous commands.”

“Or they could be names of people who are helping him,” Decker said. “If Chief's running a black market operation, he wouldn't be able to do it alone. Maybe they're not even here at Subic. Maybe they're spread out all over the navy, each one working their own angle at their local supply command.”

“Maybe,” Hack agreed. “But we have no way of tracking them down.”

Decker suddenly stopped reading. A broad smile formed across his face. “I was wrong. I do recognize one name.”

Hack leaned in to see what Decker was looking at. “Which one?”

Decker held the paper so Hack could see and pointed to a name. “Mansfield. I thought you said you didn't recognize any names?”

Hack took a sip of beer and sat back in his chair. “I saw that, too. It's a common name.”

Decker raised his eyebrows. “Really? How many Mansfields do you know besides Leeandra and Jayne?”

“Plenty,” Hack said. “And who's Jayne?”

“Never mind about her,” Decker chuckled. “Although she obviously could have been related to Lee.” He tapped the paper with his finger. “It's interesting her name appears on here.”

Hack took another drink of beer, annoyed. “I know plenty of Mansfields. I just can't remember first names. It doesn't matter, though. We've probably got it all wrong. If they're people helping Chief, he'd be dumb to write the names down like this.”

Decker held up his index finger on his right hand. “Not really. Maybe he needs to remember the names. It's not like he had the paper lying around on his desk. He kept it in his safe. And he's the only with the combination.”

“And there are someone's initials written at the bottom,” Hack said.

“A. A.,” Decker said, reading the name. “And something that looks like ‘j-bee' written next to the name.”

“Do they mean anything to you?”

Decker stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Nothing. Could be someone on the ship with those initials, but no one comes to mind. Could be that he attends AA meetings, but I don't think he drinks that much. And I have no idea what ‘j-bee' is supposed to mean. Maybe it's a nickname for someone.”

Hack slumped in his chair. “We're back to where we started. Which is nowhere.”

“We have all of this,” Decker said, holding up the papers.

“But if we can't make sense out of them, then it doesn't do us any good.”

“It's a start and, I should add, more than we had a couple days ago.”

Hack picked up the paper with the handwritten notes. “Who are these people? Where are they are stationed? We don't even know who Allen Sumner is.”

“Mo might know. He's been on board the
Harvey
for three years.” Decker scanned the room. “I was hoping he'd be here by now.”

“Maybe he found a better offer,” Hack smiled.

“Wouldn't surprise me,” Decker agreed. “But I've got another idea. When are you going to Lee's?”

“In a few minutes. She should be off work soon.”

“Ask her … wait, don't turn around,” Decker said. “Pretend we're talking.”

Hack glanced behind him. “We
are
talking.”

“I mean a serious conversation.”

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

“Never mind,” Decker sighed, peering over Hack's shoulder. “Pinto, what are you doing here? I thought beer was bad for your caloric intake?”

Pinto hovered over the table, obviously wanting to join his shipmates. “One beer a month is good for the system and it's my birthday today so I wanted to celebrate. Mind if I join you?”

“We're just leaving,” Decker said pointedly. “And we're not going to another bar,” he added. “We'll have a beer with you next month. It'll be a belated birthday beer.”

“Very funny,” Pinto said. “Which way you headed?”

“To the trike stand,” said Hack.

“I guess I'll head back to base if you guys are leaving,” Pinto replied. “I'll walk with you.”

“Suit yourself,” said Decker, “The Amo Band's getting ready to play. You should stay and listen. I highly recommend it.”

Pinto put his hands in his pockets and took a quick look around the club. “Not tonight,” he said abruptly.

Decker looked at Hack, pointing with his eyes towards the door. The three sailors walked out of the club and down the sidewalk towards base. They said their goodbyes in the midst of a gaggle of trikes at the corner of Magsaysay and Gordon. Decker and Hack watched as Pinto made his way upstream against the flow of foot traffic leaving base.

“That was weird,” Hack said.

“Tell me about it. I've never seen him in Cal Jam before.”

Hack looked towards the Shit River Bridge trying to see Pinto. He turned to Decker. “You were getting ready to ask me something before we were interrupted.”

“I forgot what it was,” Decker said.

“You started to say ‘ask her' and then Pinto showed up.”

“Oh, yeah,” Decker said. “When you see Lee, ask her if she can print out
Harvey
requisitions from the past couple months. We only have a few lists and it'd help to see what's been ordered over an extended period of time.”

Hack hesitated. “I'm not sure she'll do it. She's a by-the-book girl and isn't thrilled I'm involved in this in the first place.”

“You
told
her?”

“Not everything,” Hack lied.

“Just have her get a few printouts,” Decker paused while a group of young sailors walked by, clapping each other on the shoulders and bragging about booze and women, obviously first-timers on the strip. “We're stuck in neutral, but maybe we can learn something if we have more data. It'll give us a more complete picture.”

“I'll ask,” said Hack. “But don't expect her to help.”

“You can charm her,” Decker said, checking his watch. “I've got to get to Vega's.”

“What are you doing with Vega?” Hack asked, signaling the nearest trike driver and wondering why he cared what Decker and Vega were doing together.

Decker ignored the question. “Just make sure you get Lee to help.”

“Maybe you should talk to her. You're the one who seems to be able to get people to do things they don't want to do.” Hack climbed in the side car and gave the driver Lee's address.

“Don't forget to ask her!” Decker called out as the trike roared away in a cloud of dust. Another trike suddenly pulled close to him, narrowly missing his feet with the front tire.

“Hey, you almost hit me.”

“Not a chance,
pare
,” said Rusty. “I'm an expert driver. Climb in. It's been a slow night.”

Decker moved a step towards Rusty's side car, but a small Filipino grabbed him by the arm, jerking him backwards, almost off his feet.

“Need a ride?” the man said. “I get you there fast.”

“
Hindi
,” Decker said firmly, prying the man's fingers from his arm. “And get out of my way.” The man mumbled something in Tagalog and walked towards a group of drivers milling on the corner.

Decker rubbed his arm where the man had had a hold of him. “You know that jerk?” he asked Rusty.

“I've never seen him before, but I can tell he's
walang pakinabang
.”

“What's that mean?” asked Decker.

“Good for nothing,” Rusty said. “Now grab your nuts and hang on.”