Ruins of War by John A. Connell Page B

way.”
    Mason had already thought about that, and wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he hoped that wasn’t the case. He wanted to be the cop to take this guy down. He wanted him badly. “It’s possible, but Germans have travel restrictions, and these types of killers are as likely to stay in one place as they are to move around.”
    As they climbed the stairs, Mason said, “Let’s look at this murder another way. What can the killer’s methods tell us about him that he may not have intended to communicate?”
    “Well, he has medical knowledge. Some engineering skills since he’s good at rigging up the dead weight of a corpse. You say he’s probably working alone, so, lugging a heavy corpse around in the dark, he’s got to be fit and agile. With the curfew and night patrols all over the city, you said yourself he might have a pass. He might have a car. Hell, he might even be disguised as a U.S. soldier.”
    Mason picked up Wolski’s train of thought. “Or could be he’s in the U.S. Medical Corps.”
    That stopped them both, as they considered this possibility. Mason could tell by Wolski’s look that he didn’t want to go there.
    “We’ve got to consider every angle,” Mason said.
    They emerged from the dark factory, squinting against the daylight, and headed for Manganella and the jeep.
    “You want to start looking at U.S. Medical Corps personnel?” Wolski said. “We can’t have access to those files or start questioning personnel without a damn good reason.”
    “We start by scanning MP and CID files for any arrest reports involving medical personnel.”
    “Then if we come up with a list of suspects on vague information and have to get permission to interrogate them? What kind of shit’sgoing to hit the fan if the army brass finds out we suspect one of our own?”
    “We tread carefully,” Mason said.
    “Like hell,” Wolski said as they climbed in the jeep. “That’s treading into a minefield.”
    •   •   •
    T he U.S. Army Medical Corps had taken over a Munich police forensics lab and morgue, a nondescript blockhouse in the Maxvorstadt district. The front desk receptionist gave them directions to Major Treborn’s office. They followed the hallway, passing desks and small offices of the major’s staff of doctors, technicians, and secretarial workers. At the end of the hallway they came upon Major Treborn’s office. Mason and Wolski waited outside the open door while the major lambasted someone on the phone.
    “And tell the captain that if I don’t get those replacements and supplies soon, I’m going to personally embalm him in his sleep.” He listened a moment, then said, “I don’t give a damn. No more excuses. Get it done.” He hung up. “Get in here, you two.”
    Mason and Wolski removed their caps and entered. Major Treborn was still clearly worked up about the phone call. “We’ve got five cases pending. A private who expired under mysterious circumstances, a Negro sergeant knifed to death, two vehicular manslaughters, and a major’s wife, who the major claims fell down some stairs. The Judge Advocate’s office is chewing out my ass for things to go faster, and army lawyers are breathing down my neck. Understaffed, undersupplied, and working in an outdated facility. There’s partial structural damage to the building, water leaks, intermittent electricity, and no clean room to keep contamination of evidence down to a minimum.”
    Major Treborn sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “You’ve got a hell of a case, Collins. I’ve never seen anything like this. I’ve heard of them but never been involved in one personally. I’ve had the occasional mutilation, but yours . . .”Treborn shook his head, and his attention went somewhere for a moment. “I haven’t written up the final report, but I knew you were anxious, and this case is exceptional.” He looked at both of them in turn. “You ready for the trip down horror