Chapter 13

  Five minutes later, Jesse tried to stop in front of the barracks where he was to pick up Shawn, and he slammed into the back end of an armored personal carrier instead. The Jeep’s brakes had failed.

  “Damn, I’m glad I only have two more days with this piece of shit,” Jesse said as he backed up and then started to search for the can of brake fluid in the cargo hold. He had tried to get a replacement Jeep or have it fixed, but he just got a runaround from the ARVN personnel in the motor pool. The front end was only slightly damaged, but he had a hard time opening the hood. He finally succeeded and emptied the remainder of the can into the brake reservoir, then slammed the hood shut. He found Shawn, and the two made their way to the airfield, where they were to meet up with the Tigers. Shawn didn’t say a word about the Jeep’s front end, at least for a few minutes anyway. “What happened to the Jeep?”

  “What do you mean…what happened to the Jeep?

  Shawn pointed to the front end and said, “The whole fuckin front end is caved in…that’s what.”

  Jesse calmly said, “Oh, that… a M113 backed into me.”

  Shawn laughed, “Yeah, right…an armored personnel carrier backed into you. By the way…did you check the radiator?”

  “Radiator?”

  “Yeah, as in, is it leaking fluid?”

  “Yeah, I did that.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Was it leaking?”

  “No, not that I could tell.”

  “Then why is that steam coming out from under the hood, and your temp gauge is reading “I’m fucking hot…please add some water, you fucking moron.”

  “Just a coincidence, I guess?” Jesse looked at him as if he was perplexed.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. It must be just a fucking coincidence!”

  Because of the noise and traffic, Jesse decided to say something to Shawn about his conversation with Sanders when they got to the airfield. With a full brake fluid reservoir, the Jeep had no problem stopping the rest of the drive. They reached the airfield without incident, parked in a grassy field, and waited for the Tigers Team to arrive.

  “I ran into Sanders just before I stopped to pick you up, and he told me something that’s been bugging me ever since.”

  Shawn got out and went to open the Jeep’s hood.

  “So what the hell did he have to say?”

  “Do you remember that spook that was killed about six weeks ago?”

  “You mean that geeky little spook they found dead behind a cat house at two in the morning?”

  “Yeah, that’s the guy.”

  “What was that guy’s name? I think he was at Phuoc Long when we were there.”

  “Yes, he was. His name was Jensen, Peter Jensen.”

  “Ok, what about him?”

  “I spotted Sanders sitting in his Jeep outside the CIA field headquarters. I pulled up behind him and slipped into the passenger’s seat. He was looking at a letter, and he seemed to be upset. He didn’t even notice me until I touched him on his shoulder. When he finally did, he quickly folded the letter and put it in his pocket. When I asked him if anything was wrong, he told me that he found a travel envelope that was hidden under his desk drawer. He said the handwritten letter was stapled to the outside front cover. He said that Jensen had written the letter and that it pointed to his killer. And it wasn’t the NVA spy the CIA investigators reportedly claimed to have killed him. He also said that he was involved in something that got him killed. Sanders thinks that Jensen was about to rat the person out; however, he didn’t get the chance. Apparently, the killer decided that Jensen wouldn’t keep his mouth shut and decided to take him out before he changed his mind. Apparently, the killer was right because Jensen wrote that letter, and he didn’t have a chance to finish it before he was killed.”

  “You know, I never did believe that bullshit story the investigators came up with. Correct me if I’m wrong, but as I remember it, they were only here for a few days before they came up with that lame story. I personally think they were covering for someone. Jeff told me that the lead investigator had his nose so far up Sydney’s behind that the only thing that sticking out of her nice little ass of hers were his shoes.”

  Jesse chuckled and said, “And just how do you know that she has a nice little ass?”

  “Well, I don’t have firsthand knowledge like some lucky bastard I know, but I do have a pretty vivid imagination.”

  Jesse was laughing now, “You know you are one sick puppy, Shawn.”

  “Yea, my shrink told me that…so I fired his ass,” Shawn said with a mock frown while Jesse simply smiled.

  “I don’t know who it was, but someone came up with the brilliant idea that he was killed by an NVA infiltrator who was working for the spooks as a double agent. Just because the dude disappeared right after Jensen was murdered doesn’t prove that he was the killer. The same dumb shit also speculated that Jensen discovered that he was a spy… the spy found out that Jensen was about to expose him, killed him, then dumped his body behind the brothel. End of story. Only the dude who was supposedly the spy was found dead two clicks north of Xuan Loc with a bullet in the back of his head just two weeks after he allegedly killed Jensen. And from the state of his decomposed body, they determined that he’d been killed around the same time as Jensen.”

  Jesse nodded and said, "I never gave it that much thought until now."

  Shawn finally got the hood open and was almost burned by the hot steam coming off the radiator.

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  "So, who do you think killed Jensen?" Shawn asked.

  "I have no clue…and Sanders wouldn't even give me a hint. But he also said something that confused me."

  "And what was that?"

  "Sanders said that the letter was more of a confession than anything else."

  "Confession?

  Confession to what? The guy was an absolute nerd. And by all accounts, he kept to himself.

  "Sanders hinted that the killer offered him something in return for his silence? Perhaps his conscience got the better of him, and he wrote the letter as an explanation and a confession?" Jesse said with a raised voice as a chopper flew by in the distance.

  "Okay, I guess that could happen."

  "We'll just have to wait and see when we return to Saigon."

  "Why then?"

  "Because Sanders told me he would turn the letter over to Tom Polgar when he returned to Saigon. Oh, there's one more thing. I'm quite sure that Jensen encrypted the letter, and I think the encrypted copy was in the travel envelope."

  "And what makes you think that?"

  "Because I saw random letters and numbers over all the words in the letter, and there was a page inside the envelope that contained just letters and random numbers separated by commas."

  "Well, that doesn't make any sense. If the letter was a confession, why not just hand it over to Polgar and be done with it. Why go through all the trouble of encrypting it?"

  "Because Sanders told me that the letter wasn't intended for anyone in the government."

  Shawn looked around from the front of the Jeep.

  "Well, who the hell was it intended for then?"

  "I have no idea. Sydney showed up before he could tell me. At first, it crossed my mind that he wrote the letter as a confession and explanation for his actions to his wife, girlfriend, or perhaps even his parents. But the more I thought about it, the more unlikely it sounded because, frankly, who the hell sends encrypted letters home?"

  Shawn poked his head from around the Jeep's hood again.

  "Fucking little geeky spook bastards, that's who."

  Jesse nodded his head and said, "Good point!"

  "You know, maybe the guy had a geeky little spook girlfriend that he went to spook school with, wherever that is. And the two of them wrote encrypted love letters to each other."

  "That's a possibility."

  "You know, another thing that's been troubling me is when Jeffery and Sydney pulled up, Sanders's demeanor seemed to change instantly."

  "Just what do you mean by that?" Shawn asked.

  Oh…I forgot to mention that when Sydney got out of her Jeep and started walking our way, Sanders placed the envelope in the cargo hold. He obviously didn't want me to share our conversation with her because he poked me with his elbow when Sydney approached us and asked what we were discussing."

  Shawn took the towel from around his neck and removed the radiator cap.

  Steam poured out of the radiator, and he stepped back out of the way of the super-heated water vapor.

  "So what do you gather by that smart guy?" Shawn asked as he returned to the cargo area and grabbed a water can.

  "I have no idea, and that's been bugging me."

  Shawn was curious about Jesse's conversation with Sanders but wasn't overly interested. He was more concerned with the Jeep at the moment.

  "I don't think your little accident damaged the radiator. You were low on water. Have you checked it lately?"

  When Jesse didn't answer, he just let it pass. He was more concerned with what Sanders had told him than anything else. Then something dawned on him.

  “Hey, I just remembered something. There was some scuttlebutt about Jensen’s room being trashed the same night that he was killed. Do you think Jensen had something on whoever killed him, and this person was looking for it?” Shawn asked as he walked back to the front of the Jeep and motioned for Jesse to start it up.

  When Jesse came out of his trance, he started the engine, and Shawn filled the radiator slowly, being very careful not to get burned by the steam still pouring out from the hot radiator. When Shawn was finished, he gave Jesse the kill sign and put the can back into the cargo hold.

  “You know you might have something there, Shawn, because the only things the investigators could tell were missing from his room… were his camera, film, and all of his books. And from what I’ve heard, he always had rolls and rolls of film and a shitload of books.”

  “I remember talking with Jensen when we were at Phuoc Long. He had this really expensive Nikon camera with some big buck lenses. The dude loved to take pictures. Maybe Jensen had taken some pictures of something he wasn’t supposed to see and was killed for it?”

  “Shawn, you’re just a regular fucking Dick Tracy.”

  “I do have my moments.”

  Shawn returned to the Jeep's front again and closed the hood. It didn't fit very well. He climbed back into the passenger's seat and looked at Jesse.

  "You know what really strikes me as odd?" Shawn asked.

  "And what would that be, Dick?"

  "From what I've heard, Jensen was such a geek that all he would do was work, write reports and play with his damn camera. He didn't drink, smoke, or chase pussy. In fact, I don't think he could find a pussy in a whorehouse. Yet they found him drunk behind a skin joint with his head nearly cut off and his eyes stabbed. You know, it sounds more like a mafia hit to me."

  "Unlike you," Jesse said.

  "Unlike me, what?"

  Jesse just shook his head and said, "Never mind."

  Jesse got out, stretched his legs, and walked to the front of the Jeep.

  "You know you didn't shut the hood properly."

  Shawn snorted and said, "Yeah, very funny."

  Jesse got back into the driver’s seat and was about to say something when a group of Hueys flew over, drowning out any possible conversation. Finally, when the choppers passed, he said,

  “What was the name of Jeff’s buddy? You know that other spook he always hung around with?”

  “You mean Seth?”

  “Yeah, that’s the dude. I was having a beer with him one night, and he told me the investigators interviewed all the girls at the brothel, and none of them remembered seeing Jensen there that night. Same thing with the bars; no one remembers seeing him. So, what do you suppose he was doing out in the middle of the night?

  “Beats me; maybe he was trying to get himself killed.”

  “Damn, you’re good, Shawn…maybe you should become a fucking detective someday.”

  “No, I don’t think so. My feet aren’t flat enough.”

  After the brief moment of humor subsided, Jesse said, “I only talked with Jensen a few times when we were in Phuoc Long, and you’re right, he wasn’t exactly mister personality.”

  “Where was that dude from? He sure had a funny way of talking,” Shawn asked.

  Jesse let out a short laugh, “Some people would say the same thing about you!”

  “Me…my English is perfect.”

  “Keep telling yourself that you fucking hillbilly. It’s funny that you would ask where he was from. That’s about the only thing that Bennett and I got out of him. Just before a meeting, Bennett and I were talking outside the FH tent when Jensen approached us and asked Bennett a question. After that, we had some time to kill, so Bennett asked Jensen about his camera. I recall that Jensen handed it to him, and Bennett started to laugh after he read the name tag because it also had his address on it. He said that his second wife was from the same small town.”

  “And where was that?”

  “After they started talking, I didn’t pay too much attention, but I do recall that it was a small farm town just south of Minneapolis. I remember Jensen saying that he loved the solitude of the farm and hated the City, too many people.”

  “Where is Minneapolis? Is that in Minnesota?”

  “It was the last time I checked.”

  “Do you think the dude was gay? I saw him with Jeffrey quite a few times.”

  Jesse looked at him sideways and just shook his head. “That’s because they worked together, you idiot. Just because they worked together doesn’t mean that…..you know what I mean."

  "Maybe Jeffery and Jensen had a lovers spat, and Jensen got the short end of the stick. No pun intended. And that’s why Sanders claimed up when Jeffery and Sydney approached his Jeep.”

  Jesse just shook his head again.

  “Anything’s possible, but I doubt it. Jensen just doesn’t seem like the type, and I don’t think Jeffrey would hurt a fly…although you never know.”

  “Maybe, but if I had to guess, I’d say that the man was still a virgin.”

  Shawn got up, dug around in the cargo area, and found a hammer. He climbed into the passenger’s seat again and handed the hammer to Jesse.

  “What the hell is that for?”

  Shawn pointed to the hood and said, “I think you need to do some bodywork on the front end.”

  “You know, Dick, on second thought. You should have been a comedian. Your fucking hilarious.”