He didn’t have to finish, leaving the image of Stukas dive-bombing Allied troops with impunity clear enough in our minds.
“That’s why you plan to seal off Nordland?” I asked.
Harding looked out the window, avoiding my eyes as if he didn’t want to answer. “There are sound tactical reasons for securing Nordland. One is that it provides a foothold in case the southern campaign goes badly. It also gives us air bases and ample harbors for supply and warships. It’s very important, which is why we’re committing an American ranger battalion and the 509th Parachute Regiment, along with British and Norwegian commandos. Once they secure the airfield at Fauske we’ll fly in more infantry. Heavier stuff will be landed from the sea at Bodo.”
“Major, isn’t it dangerous to release all this information with a spy in our midst?” Daphne asked with a quizzical look on her face.
“Yes, it is. We have to be on our guard. He may try something again.”
With that cheery thought, Harding filled our glasses and we drank another round. And one more, then Daphne excused herself, and then we lost count.
I feel asleep pretty easily, or passed out, I can’t remember which. I woke up in the middle of the night with a dry, parched throat and a throbbing headache. I forced myself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. My tried-and-true hangover cure was a big glass of cold water and a couple of aspirin. I managed to shake out the aspirin and turned the faucet on, looking forward to letting the water run long enough to get really good and cold. I was rewarded with less than a dribble. Damn these pipes! The warm water came out full force, though, and I managed to fill a glass before it got too hot and force the aspirin down. I knew that without a tall drink of cold water my head would still be pounding in the morning. So far, the worst thing about being in England was hangovers and the plumbing. And almost getting killed, of course.
CHAPTER NINE
I didn’t feel so great a few hours later, standing outside Beardsley Hall as the sun thought about coming up over the horizon. But I was still a lot better off than Knut Birkeland, who stared up at me with lifeless eyes, lying on his back and ruining the geraniums he lay on in the garden below his open window, four stories up.
Jens Iversen paced back and forth behind me, questioning the two sentries who had found the body. He had sent for me as soon as the discovery was reported to him, and right now people were spilling out of the hall like it was a beehive that had been hit with a stick. Harding pushed through the growing crowd just as the first rays of the sun hit the granite side of the building and illuminated the scene without casting light on a thing.
“What the hell is going on, Boyle?” he demanded as he stepped toward the body. I put out my arm to stop him.
“Hold on. Sir. Please don’t touch him. We need to move these people back.”
Harding pushed my arm away but didn’t move any closer or threaten me with a court-martial. “What happened?”
“I don’t know yet, Major, but if we let everyone stomp through here we’ll never find out. Jens says the sentries woke him at a few minutes past six thirty when they found the body on their rounds. He got me a few minutes later and here we are. All I really know so far is that’s Birkeland’s room up there.” I pointed to the swinging casement window on the top floor. “I’ve already asked Jens to post a guard outside the door and not let anyone in.”
A breeze blew the window back, and it gave out a rusty grinding noise and the old iron hinges protested the sudden movement. The edge of a curtain flapped out of the window as if it were waving a sad good-bye to Knut Birkeland. Harding looked at the crowd, looked at me, and decided I was his best bet.
“OK, Lieutenant, it looks like you’ve got the situation in hand. You’re in charge of the investigation. Let’s see what kind of detective you really are.” At that moment, Jens came over to us.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. We will remove the body now.”
“Not until Lieutenant Boyle completes his investigation of the scene,” Harding said, holding his hand up to Jens just as I had to him.
“I am in charge of security here, Major, not the American army.” Jens bristled as his men watched him and waited for their orders, but he didn’t slap the hand away.
“That’s not a very impressive claim to make over the dead body of a senior governmental official,” came the voice of Major Cosgrove as he moved closer to us, stabbing the ground with his cane to help make his point. “And since this facility is owned by His Majesty’s government, I am certain that you will cooperate with us in this joint investigation. You will agree it is better than calling in the local constabulary.”
“We will handle this investigation ourselves,” snapped Jens, all the friendliness of yesterday’s allies in arms gone.
“Do not force the issue, Captain,” said Cosgrove in a low man-to-man tone. “It would not do to rupture relations over a jurisdictional matter, especially one that you cannot win. This is Crown property, provided for your use. It is not Norwegian territory.”
Cosgrove had laid his cards on the table as neatly as if he were showing off a royal flush, which wasn’t far from the mark. Allies or not, the Norwegians were foreigners, dependent upon their hosts, even with all that gold safe in America. Gold. A dead man. Jens’ quick attempt to preempt any investigation. Was he just trying to do his job or did he have another motive?
“As guests in your country, we can do nothing but cooperate,” answered Jens with a sneer, and turned away on his heel, spouting rapid Norwegian to the sentries. Touchy. I saw Kaz coming out the door and told him to head straight up to Birkeland’s room and make sure the guard was there and let no one inside. Now there was nothing left to do but investigate. I glanced at Harding, who had shooed the gathering crowd away and was standing back, arms folded, watching me.
I stood there, trying to remember what my dad and uncles did at a crime scene. They’d always called me in for crowd control when a homicide came up on the board, to show me the ropes. Now I wished I had paid more attention. This is why they did it, so when I made it to the big leagues I’d know what to do. So I’d make the Boyle family proud. It felt like Dad was standing behind me, just shaking his head a little, wondering why he’d wasted all that time teaching me. I had to stop myself from turning to look for him.
Instead, I got down on my hands and knees close to the body, after checking to be sure there were no footprints or drag marks in the dirt around him. Just like Dad used to do. I looked at the flowers just in front of his feet. They weren’t crushed or disturbed. He hadn’t been standing and then been knocked down. This fella had come straight down, for sure.
I felt his jaw and neck for the first signs of rigor mortis. Nothing there, which is where rigor first sets in about four hours after death. His head was turned to the right, and the skin close to the ground was darker in color, where the blood had begun to settle. I pressed my finger firmly against the darkened cheek, and watched the skin whiten under the beard stubble and then return to the same crimson color. As the coroner would say, no evidence of fixed lividity. Around six hours after death, the blood settling in the body becomes clotted, and won’t blanch at a touch. That’s what fixed lividity means. I looked into the dark eyes below the bushy, thick eyebrows and saw they were flattened, as fluid drained out and the eyeball collapsed. That happened thirty minutes after death. I stood up triumphantly.
“He died no less than thirty minutes ago and no more than three hours ago, probably closer to an hour ago.”
“Boyle, it’s almost been thirty minutes since the sentries found him. That doesn’t tell us much.” Harding was unimpressed. I frowned and crouched down again, looking at Birkeland. I remembered seeing my father in this pose so many times. He would squat and stare for a long time, then suddenly get up and start barking orders. I was squatting and staring just fine, but I had not a clue what to do next. A clue. I really needed a clue. Dad, what was it you looked for? What did you see?