Free The Reunion by Curt Autry Page A

nose. It was obvious he was fighting off both fatigue and sadness. “One is in a convalescent home in Dortmund, Germany. He’s in a vegetative state. Has been for years. The second owns a bed and breakfast in the Caribbean. I can’t remember where—I think one of the French islands.”
    â€œDo you talk with him?” Dunlevy asked.
    â€œNo. He wants nothing to do with any of his old shipmates, or me for that matter. He won’t even take my calls.”
    â€œAnd the third?”
    â€œWalter Huber, the youngest of the group. He was just sixteen when the sub went down.”
    â€œWhere is he?” Franklin asked, his pen scratching across his notebook.
    â€œAbout three hundred and fifty miles north of here, in Virginia, just outside of D.C. A nice man. I interviewed him several times for my book.”
    Dunlevy shot him a perplexed look. “Why didn’t he attend your reunion?”
    Hudson took a second to give it some thought. “Physically, he was well enough for the reunion, but he lost his wife a couple of years ago and never recovered. His son lives nearby and looks after him. He told me the doctors had been treating him for depression lately.”
    Dunlevy persisted. “Did it occur to you that those other three men might be in danger, and you too?”
    Hudson’s eyes darted around the room. “Honestly, no. I hadn’t given it any thought.”
    â€œMaybe you should. If the U-352 survivors were the target yesterday, it stands to reason those men would be in danger.”
    He shook his head. “I don’t think anybody could find them, let alone kill them. These men don’t associate with the other survivors.”
    â€œWould your book give anyone a clue to their whereabouts?”
    â€œNo. I list the names of all the crew members, but not where they live, or even if they’re alive, for that matter. These men are all old. If I had listed the names of just the survivors it would have been a good bet that some would have been dead by the time we went to press.”
    Franklin nodded. “That’s true. But someone could find them if they wanted to.”
    The professor gave him a curious look. “Why do you say that?”
    â€œWell, you found them, didn’t you?” Dunlevy jumped in. “Why in the hell would anybody want to kill these old men? Certainly you must have an idea.”
    Hudson’s knuckles were white as he twisted a small pillow from the couch, seemingly ready to rip it apart. “I’ve gone over it a thousand times in my mind. I can’t imagine anyone having a reason to kill one of those people, let alone all of them. It makes no sense.”
    Dunlevy shook his head. “It rarely does.” He leaned closer, staring the professor in the eyes. “I need you to think carefully about this. You’re the expert here, and I’ll need your help. First, we’re going to have to get in contact with those other three former crew members. I’ll need names, addresses, and phone numbers.”
    â€œMy files are back in Wilmington, but I guess I could call Walter’s house for you,” Hudson offered, still refusing to look up from his pillow. “I have his number in my address book.”
    Dunlevy nodded. “Please.”
    The professor excused himself, went to the kitchen, and started dialing. From the couch they could all see him with the receiver to his ear.
    â€œNo answer at Walter’s,” he yelled into the parlor. “I’ll try his son.”
    The agents could hear the professor’s nails on the keypad as he dialed the next number.
    â€œYes, Mr. Huber, this is Derek Hudson. We talked last year. I interviewed your father several times about his experiences in the war for my book. I’m trying to reach him.”
    There was a long pause. Hudson paled. “I’m so sorry. What happened?” His eyes blinked hard, fighting back tears. “Please