SILENT GUNS (40 page)

“
The Navy crossed us up, Mayor,”
he said. “They made another attempt on the
Missouri
. Charlie
Wingate is in the hospital with a badly bruised skull. Explosions
have been reported aboard the
Missouri
. It appears Admiral
Burns ordered another attempt to disable the turret. Conover hasn’t
a clue as to success or failure: although, Mate Scarese failed to
return. He was to board the ship, alone. It was strictly the Navy’s
idea: Conover was cut out of the action…”

Mitchell cut in, “What was Scarese up to? Why did he
go back? Did he lie about disabling the gun?” Simons replied,
“Admiral Burns assured me the gun had been disabled and that Trent
was bluffing that the gun could still be fired. Possibly, the
Admiral had second thoughts.”

“
But, we sat in Burns’ office and
told him we were going to pay. That should have ended it,”
Chagrined, Chitterman jumped in. “Quit acting so damn
sanctimonious, Hiram. Your recollections come up conveniently
short, at times,” the Mayor ranted. “We agreed to let Scarese try
for the firelock. Charlie Wingate came up with the idea. We sold it
to the Navy. We took the risk. We can’t gamble with the lives of
our citizens. Trent had to be stopped. De-activating the gun was
the best we could hope for, short of his assassination.”

Simons gagged, “Ah!...Well!...I had a private talk
with Trent.” The Mayor’s jaw dropped. Mitchell and Chitterman sat
up and stared, unbelieving. “I needed to find out for sure if it
was just the money: I was right, there is something else. Trent
confided he has a vendetta going with the Navy. The city is an
innocent victims and he is using us for leverage. He gave me his
terms and conditions: the thirty million is only one part. The rest
concerns the Navy: I have been acting as his go-between. So far, it
has been a one-way street with the Navy. I fear it is most likely
the city will be shelled a second time.”

Mitchell closed his mouth and sat stony still, then
said abruptly, “Well, then, can the Navy meet Trent’s demands?”

Simons’ voice calmed, his rage no less intense. “You
mean will…Admiral Burns refused to discuss the matter contending
his orders are to re-take the
Missouri
. He states flatly,
the Navy will deal with the matter…without our advice or help…which
it seems the Admiral just did.”

“
I don’t like that man; I don’t
trust him,” Chitterman exclaimed.

“
Welcome aboard, Hiram,” The Mayor
interjected.

“
The city can appeal to the
Pentagon?” Mitchell said.

“
No. That takes too much time,”
Grille replied.

“
What about Vice-Admiral
Ambler?”

“
He’s back in D.C. assured Scarese
accomplished his mission,” Simons informed.

“
What are Trent’s
conditions?”

“
Nothing relevant to the City,”
Simons replied, warily.

Mayor Joe Grille’ small eyes widened and his voice
became shrill, “If Trent can fire, then we can expect a shell
within the hour?”

“
Help us! God help us!” pleaded
Chitterman, he raised his hands, touching together his
fingertips.

Bud Mitchell spoke, excitedly, “but I have the
money.”

The phone rang. Simons picked it up. “Frank Gonzales
here, Chief. Trent is on the radio, holding. He wants to talk to
you. He’s mad as hell.”

“
What is it, Sam?” Grille
demanded.

“
It’s Frank. Trent is holding.”
Together they rushed down the back stair, the Mayor in the lead.
Hiram puffing followed up the rear. They entered Gonzales’ office
and closed the door. Trent picked up the open mike.

“
Simons here.”

“
You failed.”

“
I tried.”

“
Not good enough.”

“
Burns said ‘no.’”

“
Too bad.”

“
What happened?”

“
Scarese is dead.”

“
What was he doing on
board?”

“
He was armed with grenades.
You’re the cop, you tell me. Did you have anything to do with
this?”

“
No. We knew nothing about it. We
just heard. Burns never informed his superiors of your demands. He
must have sent Scarese in as his ace-in-the-hole. We are ticked-off
as you: the City is appealing to the Pentagon, right now, to back
off. We need time.” Simons cajoled, he swallowed his pride and
lied. Mayor Grille nodded his head vigorously.

“
Time!! I’ve given you time!!”
Trent shouted.

Simons continued, “I’ve explained what I’ve just
told you to the Mayor and City Council President. It’s Sunday and
they ask for more time.”

There was silence.

“
Wednesday at 0500, I fire.” Trent
said coldly. “The target is the Bartell Drugstore at Fourth and
Pine. You have until then.”

The speaker went dead.

“
God help us! Amen.” Chitterman
croaked.

“
At least, we bought time,” added
Mitchell. “Fifty-six hours, to be precise.” Grille looked up at the
clock.

Sam Simons lay back exhausted. He knew what he had
to do, but not how to do it. How to flush out the guilty and cease
the threat? With little sleep in the past thirty-six hours, he felt
his eyelids droop and his body goes limp. That bastard, he thought,
always pressing, never enough time, impossible deadlines; yet, all
played out in deadly, orderly seriousness. He had not thought
beyond that instant that Trent cut the speaker.

“
The gun is still to our head,”
Mitchell warned. “With fifty-six hours before the trigger gets
pulled.”

Simons snapped open his eyes, and spread his arms
across Frank Gonzales’ desk. “Trent leaves us with only two
choices: Sorry, Mayor. We either get the Pentagon to agree to
Trent’s conditions: guilty parties, confessions and a re-trial: Or,
we find out what makes Admiral Burns run so hard.”

They stared at him.

Simons laid back and shut his eyes. Time! Time! So
little time! He thought. It’s like starting all over again, he
thought. Where is the beginning? How will it end? First things
first: he must order the evacuation of the area around fourth and
Pine, immediately. This time he knew the shell would be live.

~ * * * ~

CHAPTER 27

Deftly sidestepping the clamoring media, Sam Simons
managed to slip into his office unobserved. He desperately needed
time alone. Brusquely shaking the Seattle dew from his topcoat, he
tossed it on a hook to dry. Glancing at the Seattle Times
headlines, he shook his head and tossed the newspaper into the
wastebasket. Snatching a bottle from his desk draw, he gulped a
mouthful letting the heat course through his body. “I needed that,”
he muttered as he flicked on the TV.

“
Admiral Burns. Is it true the
Navy made another attempt last night?”

“
Yes. But, our man
failed.”

“
Only one man against a
well-armed, bunch of terrorists?”

“
He was capable; we felt he had a
high chance of success.”

Simons nodded, his mind clearing slightly. As he
half reacted to Burn’s smooth talking voice, he let his features
sag. Setting aside the helpless feeling of defeat, he lashed out,
“Burns, you bastard. You ordered Scarese to kill Trent. You sent a
man to his death under the guise of a military action. You are
guilty of murder, and I’m going to prove it.” Unsteady, he felt a
tinge of guilt as he blamed himself for triggering Burns’ drastic
action. Although he miscalculated the outcome badly, he wearily
shrugged it off. With a sidelong look, he flipped off the TV,
grabbed, bottle in hand and sat in his own gloom.

There came a sharp knock on the door.

Detectives Frances and Gleese burst in without
waiting. Simons flew at them, “What do you mean barging in?”

“
Chief. We’ve tracked down
Proust’s widow, Denton, Johnson, Loomis and Nicholsen,” Frances
blurted out, excitedly.

“
Ryder, too,” Gleese
added.

“
O.K. Spill it. So what did you
find out?”

“
Denton, first,” Frances
said.

“
I’m listening.” Simons set his
jaw.

“
Denton said from the findings, he
had recommended that Captain Proust be brought up on charges for
the disaster, not Trent. Kindler overruled him and then personally
ordered him to defend Captain Proust. Denton said orders were
orders. I tend to believe him. He couldn’t give me a clue as to
Kindler’s reasons. Denton said Kindler cut him off when he edged
too close.”

Simons made a wry face.

“
Lt. Johnson said Denton ordered
him to defend Trent. Denton gave him no choice and then took
advantage of his inexperience. Trent could have objected to
Johnson; but Johnson said Trent was too naive, too trusting of Navy
justice. ‘Trent relied on me and I failed him,’ he said. As the
trial wore on, Denton and the witnesses constantly put Trent down.
The Military Judges had shut their minds. Doors kept closing and it
left Trent frustrated, angry. He came to believe his conviction was
predetermined.”

Officer Gleese spoke, “I tracked down Loomis,
Vice-Admiral Farr’s yeoman and Nicholson, Denton’s yeoman. They
handled the paperwork and drifted in and out of the meetings. No
one paid any attention to them, they said. They both felt there was
more than a military relationship between Farr, Proust and Kindler,
but they had no idea what it might be. Denton bucked Kindler hard;
Farr, too, but eventually Denton went along with Kindler. Farr
begged off. They felt Trent was set up to be found guilty, but
could offer no proof, or implicate anyone or why? I think we’re on
the right track. I wish I had some idea where it led.”

“
Patience,” Simons replied
quietly.

“
Oh, by the way,” Gleese said.
“Newby Hatcher had asked Loomis and Nicholson the same questions.
They gave him the same answers. These Yeomen stick together like
fraternity brothers.”

Simons felt the stab of truth surfacing, his face
came alive, no longer moribund. He looked at Gleese, “A dime will
get you a doughnut Newby told Trent, maybe to cheer him up;
instead, it might have set him off, but it’s still not enough.” He
narrowed his features and said, “Trent said he had proof - I wonder
what proof?”

“
Lt. Johnson couldn’t help on that
score,” said Frances.

“
I visited Proust’s widow,” Gleese
jumped in. “She let me go through his papers. I didn’t find much
except a picture of Proust and Kindler on a fraternity parade
float. They both attended a small school in Maryland before they
were appointed to Annapolis. Kindler was two years Proust’s senior.
That was the earliest link I could find between the two, they
overlapped only one year, then Kindler entered the Naval
Academy.”

“
What about after that?” Simons
inquired.

“
Their trails tracked, almost
parallel, like one pulled the other along. Kindler would move up,
then Proust would show up and he would get promoted, too. In just
one year together, they turned out to be bosom buddies.”

“
Where was Farr in all
this?”

“
He and Proust were roommates at
the Naval Academy, but their career paths separated at graduation.
Farr’s latest assignment to Kindler’s command was accidental. Don’t
get me wrong, Farr got along well with Kindler, but Farr was his
own man.”

“
Where does Burns fit in?” Simons
asked. “When did he show up?”

Frances spoke up, “Burns was on the
Missouri
with Trent for two years. They didn’t get along, but it didn’t
bother Trent, he ignored him. Burns was a standing joke. They say
he had a hair-trigger temper and his men avoided him, he carried a
chip, particularly, against senior officers. He believed they were
all after him to ruin his career. Lt. Cmdr. Ryder, operations
officer says Trent was ignorant of Burns’ back-biting and would
have cared less had he known - Trent was that kind of officer,
straight and true. Ryder says things blew up when Proust assumed
command of the
Missouri
. He claims Proust chewed out Burns
something fierce about his poor navigation in front of himself and
Trent. Trent just laughed, but Burns was furious. Burns had hit a
dead-end in the Navy and he knew it. They were surprised he even
made Lt. Commander.”

“
Yet, Trent claims Burns lied in
Proust’s behalf at the court-martial. If Burns hated Proust, why
would he do that?” Gleese asked. “Maybe, he had reason to hate
Trent more. After all, he had two years with Trent versus two weeks
with Proust.” Frances said. “But, after the collision, both Proust
and Trent were in trouble. Why bother? Why choose one over the
other?” Gleese insisted.

“
Maybe Burns saw a
chance.”

“
A chance for what?”

“
You got any idea?” Simons
challenged.

“
If Burns lied, he lied to favor
Proust?”

“
Could Kindler be behind
it?”

“
Behind what?”

“
Why not Farr?”

“
No chance!” Frances glared in
mock anger at his superior. “Not if Farr expected Kindler to charge
Proust, not Trent.”

“
All right, then,” Simons
chuckled. “It’s Kindler, or someone behind Kindler. Why did Kindler
want to protect Proust? He offered up an innocent man, tampered
with the witnesses, and possibly the conduct of the trial itself.
Nasty stuff, if you ask me.”