“You don’t think it was suicide, Mr. Ziegler?” Jackson asked.

“No, sir. Stauffer didn’t know what was in his cherry cobbler.”

“Sergeant?”

“I go with Augie, Mr. Justice, sir.”

“Colonel Cohen?”

“Mr. Justice, in my experience, people contemplating suicide rarely serve themselves a hearty last meal.”

“Let’s go down that path,” Jackson said. “Stauffer died as a result of biting into a capsule of potassium cyanide that had been put into his cherry cobbler. How do we know that capsule was intended for him? And not for Göring or someone else?”

“We don’t,” Cohen said. “But I suggest that if Göring wanted a pill, he would have gotten it by now.”

“Casey,” Cronley asked, “who do you think smuggled the cyanide in?”

Casey did not immediately reply.

“How well are the kitchen personnel searched before they get into the mess?” Jackson asked.

“Sir, they make them take a shower,” Casey replied. “It’s not a body search, but it’s almost.”

“But a cyanide capsule could be hidden?” Jackson pursued. “In the mouth? Or the anal cavity?”

“In the mouth, perhaps . . .” the doctor said.

“They look in their mouths,” Casey said, and then quoted, “‘Stick out your tongue and then spread your cheeks.’”

“Who is ‘they’?” Jackson asked.

“Sir, sometimes the sergeant of the guard, but most times one of the guards.”

“The temperatures in the anus,” the doctor said, “would probably melt the gelatin capsule.”

“Unless it’s a special gelatin, designed to resist the temperatures in the anal cavity,” Cohen said.

“Answer my question, Casey,” Cronley ordered. “Who do you think smuggled the capsule into the kitchen?”

Again, Casey did not reply.

“Casey, why do I think you think Sergeant Brownlee is the villain?”

“He’s a good guy, Captain. Not too smart, but a good guy. I can’t see him giving a cyanide capsule to anybody.”

“What if he didn’t know what he was smuggling into the mess was a cyanide capsule?” Cronley pursued.

“I didn’t think about that,” Casey admitted.

“I think we should have a talk with Sergeant Brownlee,” Justice Jackson said.

—

Ken Brewster led Sergeant Robert J. Brownlee Jr. into the office and put him in the chair the doctor had just vacated.

Cronley thought, He’s a nice-looking twenty-odd-year-old with crew-cut light brown hair who knows he’s in trouble.

“I guess you know you’re in the deep shit, Sergeant,” Cronley said.

Tags: W.E.B. Griffin Clandestine Operations Thriller
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