Ruins of War Read Online Free PDF Page B

and murdering.
    Colonel Walton continued, “Two MPs and two civilians were seriously wounded. That case deserves some serious attention, don’t you think?”
    “Because of their widespread activity, it has turned into a zonewide investigation. I’m coordinating with three MP battalions and their CID detachments in Frankfurt, Stuttgart, and Mannheim. I’m working the Munich end, but for the moment it appears the gang has moved west into other areas of command.”
    Colonel Walton downed his cognac and offered Mason another pour, but Mason declined. He needed a clear head for what was coming.
    The colonel shrugged and poured another for himself. “You know the situation we’re facing. There are over six hundred thousand soldiers and support personnel in the American zone, most of them homesick and resentful for not being sent home. Mix in low morale, boredom, and an unlimited supply of food, booze, and cigarettes, which millions of starving and desperate locals will give them anything for in trade—and I mean anything—and it’s a potent mix for graft, drunkenness, narcotics, rape, and murder. It’s a goddamned madhouse. The MP battalions and the CID detachments are overloaded with cases. More than half our men have never done police work. And as fast as we can train them, the army’s sending them home.”
    Colonel Walton let out a tired sigh. Mason listened to the distant clacking of a typewriter and hum of the electric space heater while waiting for the colonel to get revved up again. He didn’t have to wait long.
    “The point I’m trying to make in all this is: I can’t have you stuck on this homicide case with no leads, no evidence, and—I have to be honest with you here—in all likelihood one German murdered by another. Now, you can continue to pursue the case in a supervisory capacity. See what the ME says after his autopsy, but then I want you to give other cases your full attention. It may sound callous, but there are too many other cases that concern the army more than what goes on between Germans.”
    “We don’t know if the victim is German. And even if he is, what if the killer is an American? And, sir . . . killers like this? They don’t necessarily stop on their own. This guy even referred to ‘those’ he makes suffer. What about his next victim?”
    The colonel slammed his hand on the desk. “May I remind you, Mr. Collins, that the CID’s primary job—your job—is to investigate crimes committed by and on U.S. military personnel.”
    A few seconds passed while neither spoke. Mason knew the colonel was sizing him up, remembering the complaints about Mason’s pushing the boundaries of authority. Remarks from fellow officers and the command ranks would no doubt claim that Mason was not a teamplayer, which left the colonel mulling whether it was worth putting up with such battles to benefit from Mason’s investigative experience.
    Finally the colonel said, “I’m going to bargain with you. As long as you work other cases to my satisfaction, including this train robbery fiasco, I’ll let you and Wolski follow up any leads that arise in this case. I guarantee you that if we find out that the victim or the killer is American, or any other member of Allied forces, you will have my full support in pursuing the murderer.” He rose from his desk. “Stay here.”
    Colonel Walton went to the door, poked his head out, and said something Mason couldn’t hear. He then stepped to one side to let someone enter. The craggy-faced man who’d been waiting outside stepped in. He eyed Mason with a solemn expression. The colonel gestured with his hand for the man to follow him.
    “Chief Warrant Officer Collins,” the colonel said, “this is Herr Oberinspektor Becker of the Munich Kriminalpolizei.” The Kriminalpolizei was the German police detective bureau.
    With a slight chill, Mason realized why the man had caught his eye earlier: He reminded Mason of his own German-born grandfather. They wore