Eagle Squad. James C. Glass
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Holleque left the room, walked the labyrinth of narrow corridors back to his office, entered through a back door and settled himself comfortably at his desk before punching an intercom button. “Any calls, Margaret?”
“No, sir, but a Mister Ebensack is here to see you.”
“Of course, send him right in.”
The door opened, and it was a middle-aged man who stood there looking dapper in a black wool suit with vest, red-striped tie and highly polished shoes. His grey hair was neatly trimmed, and the way he held himself suggested a military background. The way he dressed made him look like a lawyer. The man extended a hand as he entered the room.
“Colonel Holleque, so nice of you to make time for me.” He flashed an identity card which Holleque barely glanced at. They shook hands as they studied each other for an instant, then the Colonel motioned Ebensack to a chair and sat down again behind his desk.
“What brings the NSA out here? I haven’t seen one of you spooks in years.” Holleque gave him a friendly smile.
“Oh, I assure you we’re around, sir, looking after our interests, and we do have a lot of interests on this campus. There are research grants, you know, in chemistry, physics and psychology.”
“All classified, I suppose. There has been some hoopla about that.”
“Yes, all classified, all work done in controlled areas, so we’re naturally concerned about security, particularly on research hill. That’s why I’m here now, in fact. There seems to have been some kind of breech in security.”
“What’s the problem?” asked Holleque, and raised an eyebrow.
“To the point, Colonel, a faculty member and chemist, Jacob Bauer, was murdered in his lab on the hill last weekend. A student of his is a suspect, but we haven’t found the young man yet.”
Holleque’s eyes widened. “The newspaper said he had a heart attack, and a history of heart problems.”
“True as far as it goes,” said Ebensack, “but the heart attack in this case was induced by a good whiff of SB4, a recent nerve gas development. There were one or more people involved. They forced him inside a fume hood and gassed him there. Sloppy job, definitely not professional. I do hope you will keep this all in the strictest confidence, sir.”
“Of course.”
“Particularly for the sake of Bauer’s wife, left alone. How awful it would be if she knew someone murdered her husband.”
“I understand, but why tell me it was murder? Do you need my help in some way?” Holleque’s eyes were again soul-searching. He looked at Ebensack, and saw years of intelligence experience looking back at him calmly, studying him, watching for reactions.
“Not directly,” said Ebensack, “but perhaps you can provide me with some observations, or opinions. There has been a penetration of security here very early on a Saturday morning, or late in the evening last Friday. Any information on the movements of people on campus during that time would be very useful to me. You operate a group of cadets, I understand, who keep an eye on campus, a sort of patrol. I’ve seen a few of them myself; they wear red berets with regular army uniforms, and jump boots.”
Holleque chuckled at the misunderstanding, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “You’re talking about Eagle Squad. Those people are the handpicked physical and intellectual elite of the battalion, and I’m proud to work with them. They do not spend assigned time patrolling the campus, and whoever told you that is way off base. On their own initiative they proposed a coed escort service some months ago. It has been used by students and even some faculty members. There have been no sexual assaults on campus since the service began, and there had been some problems before, enough so that women were afraid to walk even in pairs from the library or union back to their dorms at night.”
“So nobody will mess with a red beret.” Ebensack smiled.
“Two red berets. They always work in pairs.”
“Are they armed?”
“Certainly not,” said Holleque, his voice rising. “This is an escort service, Mister Ebensack, not a police action. These people are students.”
Ebensack smiled again, and wrote something down in a little notebook. “Nonetheless, there’s a chance that in the course of their rounds last Friday or early Saturday they might have seen something that would help me. If possible, I’d like to speak to them.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” said Holleque quickly. “These are kids, not professional soldiers. If someone from NSA starts questioning them it’s going to be upsetting, and will accomplish nothing I can’t get by asking them to file a report on what they saw up to eleven P.M. Friday, when the escort service ended. If you like, I’ll ask for their individual observations after that time. Coming from me, such questions won’t be threatening or accusative, as they might be with a federal investigator. These kids have grown up in rural communities where people know and trust each other, and honesty is taken for granted. I try to maintain that atmosphere here.”
“Okay,” said Ebensack, “you have them file their reports, but eventually it might still be necessary for me to talk to them. Please understand, Colonel, I have to examine every possibility. A security penetration has been made, and with some skill. There has been a murder, quick, silent and brutal, and a sloppy attempt to cover it up. I see a group of athletic young people with special military training, patrolling the campus at night, and I think I’ve found a group of people who would have both the ability and opportunity to strike a secure area and get away unseen.”
Holleque looked as if he thought Ebensack was a madman. “My God, you suspect a red beret. I just told you Eagle Squad is handpicked; those kids are some of the finest, most respected students on campus, and you suspect them of murder.”
“Try to understand, sir. Everyone on this campus and in town is a suspect. I can’t leave anyone out. If I have to question one of your students we could do it in this office, and in your presence. Would that be acceptable to you?”
Holleque thought for a moment, eyes moving back and forth between his desk and Ebensack. “Yes, if we must have questions, then I suppose it’s best if I be there. A familiar face might help. You understand I’m only trying to protect a group of kids I think highly of.”
“Of course,” said Ebensack gently. “I’ll be as discreet as possible, and questions may not even be necessary. I gather you work very closely with these students.”
“I handle them personally.”
“Do they get extra training the other students don’t receive?” Ebensack was writing in his notebook again.
“Yes. There’s an extra session with small arms each week, a night reconnaissance drill in the hills once a month, three weekends of field exercises a year, and then in the summer they attend a two week jump school at Fort Benning.”
“You do all this by yourself?”
“I have a staff of six to handle the teaching duties. My primary aid is Sergeant Rodríguez; he oversees the weapons training and assists me in the field drills.”
Ebensack was scribbling furiously. “Is he in the building, now?”
“I had coffee with him a few minutes ago.”
“Could I meet him for a moment? I don’t have time for another interview.”
Without replying, Holleque picked up his telephone and punched some numbers.
“Ah, good, you’re still there. I have someone in my office you should meet right away. Could you come down now? Good. See you.” He put down the telephone, looked at his watch and sighed.
“This will just take a minute,” said Ebensack apologetically.
“I’m afraid my mind is wandering a bit,” said Holleque. “I have another