Free Ruins of War by John A. Connell

your other ones.”
    Mason hesitated. He knew what was coming but he had to ask. “Sir, I also request permission to access U.S. Medical Corps personnel files—”
    “You what?”
    “Major Treborn confirms that in all likelihood the killer has medical expertise. And the fact that the killer can move around after dark, transporting a dismembered corpse without being noticed, points to someone with permits or in uniform.”
    “For me to grant access to confidential personnel records, you’re going to have to come up with something better than that. What about a German physician or a DP with medical training?”
    “We’ll pursue those avenues with Inspector Becker’s help. But we can’t rule out U.S. personnel.”
    “If you come up with evidence, anything that would convince me and the Provost Marshal, then there’ll be no question. But for now, you’re shooting in the dark here. No. Permission denied. Get to work on those other cases. I want to see progress on that train robbery. Now, get out of here.”
    •   •   •
    M ason left headquarters feeling exasperated and drained. He’d spent the afternoon and evening rehashing the train robbery case, which included conducting more pointless interviews. It was all an exercise in futility, but the colonel kept looking over his shoulder or making surprise visits to the interview room. And all the while, Masoncouldn’t get the slasher case out of his mind: the victim’s unbearable suffering, the horrors of the autopsy, and the vexing lack of leads. Before heading home, he needed to do something worthwhile, some little gesture of comfort. He went by the PX and caught the staff just as they were closing. With a little persuasion they allowed him to buy a bundle of chocolate bars and some cans of ham, peas, and fruit cocktail.
    Fifteen minutes later he stood across the street from the hole in the destroyed building where he’d seen the orphans flee after being chased away by the hotel MP. The two boys he’d seen gathering cigarette butts sat just outside the hole. When Mason crossed the street they scurried inside. He heard whispered voices and scuffling of feet in the darkness beyond the hole. He placed the box containing the chocolate and food on the ground just far enough away from the opening that at least one of the children would have to come out.
    “I’m not here to hurt you,” Mason said in German. “I have food for you.”
    No response, no sound of movement from within.
    “Is no one hungry?” He waited a moment. “Okay, then I’ll have to throw it away.” The older of the two boys who had been sitting outside the hole peeked out. Mason backed away a few steps. “There’s chocolate, ham, peas, and fruit.”
    The boy looked to be around twelve, with a dirty face and dressed in an adult-sized overcoat. He made one tentative step onto the sidewalk. A few murmured voices behind urged him on. He approached the box, keeping his eyes fixed on Mason.
    Mason squatted. The sudden movement startled the boy. “What’s your name?”
    “Kurt.”
    “My name is Mason. Are you the oldest?”
    “The oldest boy.”
    Some of the other children vied for space at the hole to peek out. Kurt pointed to his younger cigarette-collecting companion. “That’sDieter.” He then pointed to a freckle-faced girl of around six. “And that’s Ilsa.” The introduction seemed to give Ilsa the courage to jump out of the hole and peer into the box. She grabbed a chocolate bar and dashed back inside.
    “Everyone has to share, okay?” Mason said. He tossed Kurt a can opener. “Be sure the little ones get enough to eat.”
    Kurt nodded, and Mason backed away. Once he’d walked far enough down the street, he heard shuffling and excited voices. He looked back and saw fifteen or more children attacking the contents of the box. Kurt was trying to dole out the food equitably, but the children were too hungry to listen. He looked at Mason, clearly afraid that Mason would be