Chapter 15

The flight to San Angelo was interesting. Without lights, they flew well below the radar ... and just above the power lines. E'veen used the watch and landed ... without permission ... at the Army Air Corp base on the east side of town. She taxied up to the little tower and jumped down. She was surrounded by Military Police.

"I need to see Master Gunnery Sergeant Aloysius T. Cornpone." She flashed her deputy Marshals badge, "NOW!"

When the Japs did such a bang up job of sticking our asses in a shooting war, it was discovered the Army didn't have as many weapons as it thought it did. Pictures of the newly inducted training with broom handles and yelling 'ratatatat' and 'Bang' let people know that arms we were supposed to have ... weren't there.

In 1939, Cornpone had been arrested for selling armory supplies to Prohibition gangsters. But it was 1932 and he had a thriving business going. In another six years, recognizing that eventually the country was going to war, the Provost Marshal General decided that an extensive inventory of Army property needed to be done.

In the general way of Army protocol, local Provost Marshals were normally allowed to police their own ... the wolf guarding the sheep, so to speak. The General realized corruption started at the top and wormed it's way to the bottom. CID Agents, independent of local command, were dispatched through the US and Cornpone, one among a great many others, was caught.

The command does not charge individuals with crimes. CID Agents investigate allegations and turn official findings over to the appropriate command and legal authority for disposition, unless the Agent has determined the wrongdoing extends to the base command.

CID exercises jurisdiction over military personnel who are suspected of offenses under the Articles of War, as well as civilian personnel when there is probable cause to believe the person has committed an offense under the criminal laws of the United States with in connection with the U.S. Army.

It is NOT a safe occupation. E'veen was packing heat.

Ushered into Cornpone's august presence she shut and locked the door. Glancing at her notepad she said,

"Sergeant, you have been stealing from the United States Military since 1926. Your first theft consisted of..." She proceeded to document every large sale of arms right up to yesterday..."when you sold three Browning Automatic Rifles to Uncle Charlie's Pawn Shop for the sum of three hundred dollars.

"Throughout your rather profitable service you have pilfered a total of one million three hundred thousand dollars ... and change ... from the treasury of the very government you swore to protect.

"No ... opening that drawer and attempting to draw that pistol will give you a rather neat hole in your forehead." E'veen drew her silenced High Standard 22 Short Only and shot the Sergeant in the muscular bicep of his right arm. He dropped the .45 in the drawer.

"Fuck, lady."

"Smarts, doesn't it. You have a three choices. I can finish you off ... I can turn my information over to my superiors ... or you can accompany me to the armory and fill my shopping list."

She passed him a rather comprehensive single sheet. The list was formed with words and letters cut from the Sunday edition of the 2010 New York Times ... something no one would have access to ... for a few years.

He filled her list. She actually paid him ... with gold.

Her new watch mostly worked like the old watch ... mostly. It still kept the fuel tanks full ... that was a plus. E'veen knew things about the Army Base at Johnson's that didn't make the records. Very little about the base made the records. There was nothing known about who authorized the construction and no record of anyone who served there.

The Army knew nothing of the experimental station in the back tunnels and caves. But, E'veen had an idea.

After they fueled up at the Alta Vista Ranch she timed it direct to the hills behind the Johnson's ranch and watched the oddly shaped flying object silently over fly the landing field and destroy the C-130 that was sitting on the camouflaged runway. That was good enough for Bill.

"We are out of here," he said. "Head for Del Rio ... we need bigger guns."

"Nope, I want to see." E'veen said. She wound the watch one click counter clockwise. Now they could see the past but the past couldn't see them.

With the slats extended and the flaps down, the Pioneer has a stall speed of 35 mph ... it can loiter at 36 all day long. They flew back and forth just under the military crest of the hills behind the ranch, popping up every once in a while to see what was going on.

"I wish we had the Mast Mounted Sight like the OH 58 helicopter. I guess we need to involve the Army in this." Bill suggested.

"Maybe we need to go to Alpine," E'veen was thinking out loud.