Authors: Peter Glassman
Chapter 15
The Happy Hat
March 1972
Army Corporal Sebastian Remo went from a 90-pound skeletonized wheelchair bound patient to 120-pounds in six weeks. His was the typical course once infection was gone and health incentives were given by the ward corpsmen and nurse. In Remo’s case multiple motivations prevailed. Like all colostomy patients getting rid of the colostomy was number one. For Remo the pathway to get on the OR schedule meant gaining weight.
“Remo, every time you have that Aussie hat on you’re eating.” Corpsman Orville Thatch retrieved his empty mess tray.
“Hey Orv I’ve been outta the wheelchair two weeks now and physical therapy says I can get off tha ward with visitors or with another good-shape patient.” Remo’s stomach growled and his colostomy bag gurgled.
“How often are you changing the colostomy bag Remo?” Thatch checked Remo’s fresh bag supply. “And is the stool solid or liquid?”
“My shit bag has been solid for the past month. Look at my belt. My waistline normally is 32. When I came in here it was 24 and now it’s 28.”
“I’ll check with the ward nurse about getting one of the Docs to get you a hospital pass. You have to go in uniform only–no military pajamas or bathrobes.”
Thatch looked at his small notepad. “You got a visitor today in a few minutes. I just got the call from the front desk.”
“Yeah, I’m expectin’ him more now I can walk and go to the sun room for privacy.” Remo looked at his watch which still hung loose on his wrist.
Thatch left just as Crosley Bizetes arrived. A man and a woman also entered and headed for another patient’s bed.
“You’re looking good Remo.” Bizetes looked around the ward. No one was paying them any attention. Bizetes came every other day. His presence was old news to the patients and the ward personnel.
“Yeah, I might be able to get this shit bag removed. The doc said another five pounds and I could get on the OR schedule.” Remo adjusted his hat.
“Look I need you to touch base with our people in here. You’re gonna have to cool it with the surgery for a while.”
“What? Why? I already met the guy who comes here once a month to get the plaster shit outta here. We even have a few ortho patients with colostomies on F-1. He visits me almost every day–name’s Acky–and he mentioned a guy named Perkins.”
“We know about both guys. We have a small problem. I told you the air-evacs originate from Fort Dix New Jersey. We have a few people out at Dix who have access to the advance air-evac list.”
“I know all that. You told me a few times already.” Remo’s colostomy bag gurgled.
“What the hell was that noise?” Bizetes stepped back from the bed.
“A colostomy fart. You’ll have to get used to them if you want me to delay my surgery.”
“You know this F-1 is amazing. I walk into this ward and I smell a cross between soiled diapers and an antipasto salad. After five minutes I don’t smell it anymore.” Bizetes looked around as more visitors appeared. “Let’s walk to the sunroom.”
The sunroom was at the end of the ward through a pair of French doors. It was furnished with three sofas and five parlor chairs with several coffee tables laced with magazines and decks of cards. The sunroom was usually abandoned during visiting hours.
Bizetes sat on a sofa facing Remo on a parlor chair. “Everything is upholstered in gray vinyl.”
“It’s a Navy hospital. The walls are gray. With the Army everything’s green.” Remo leaned closer to Bizetes. “So what’s with Acky and this guy Perkins?”
“Let me finish with Fort Dix. We’re working on getting the list of orthopedic air-evacs who have Nam plaster casts before the hospital gets it. So far we’re not having much luck. The final list is made the day the air-evacs are shipped from Dix to here. We’re trying to make sure no-one here is changing any of the Nam cast patients to patients with casts put on outside Southeast Asia.”
“So what’s that mean?”
“We get only the Nam casts. Only the Nam casts have the heroin. So if someone here diverts casts labeled as not from Vietnam the money goes into their own pockets.”
Remo adjusted his Happy Hat forward to get the sun from his eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”
“As a patient you’re in a key non-suspect position to check on our guys. The other patients we had in your status never managed to maneuver into a position to check on this. As an F-1 patient who can move around the hospital with appropriate passes you can go to other specialty wards.”
Remo touched the brim of his hat. “Like orthopedic wards.”
“Exactly.”
“Acky Spinelli’s one of us. I see him alla time. What does he have to do with the plaster shit?”
“Spinelli is part of the permanent triage staff. He gets to see the list of air-evacs but he gets it after the JMOOD sees it. It would be hard for him to tamper with it.” Bizetes spoke a little softer.
“What about this Perkins. Who the fuck is he–definitely not Italian.”
“He’s a senior cast technician on G-3. Perkins is one of our key players who keeps track of the casts going to G-1 when he delivers his G-3 plaster. Right now all the removed Nam casts go to G-1. There’s only one other possible player here and the only information we have is that she might be a nurse.”
“Might be? Who’s running this set-up–us or the Navy?” Remo’s colostomy gurgled.
“We think she might be an independent agent or someone an upper management cartel wiseguy has in place to start skimming from us. Or she might just be a spy on our people. There’s also another one to keep an eye on. She’s the charge nurse responsible for each month’s tally before our guys haul the plaster shit outta here. Her name is LCDR Philomena Skagan.”
“Christ. You got a lotta possibles. How am I gonna connect with these possibles?” Remo’s colostomy bag made more collection sounds.
“First thing is we’re gonna get you mobilized to move around the hospital. We’ll have you ‘accidentally’ meet Perkins. Acky you already know. Keep an eye on them and have them get used to you being around.”
“Being around?”
“We’re arranging something for you very soon.” Some visitors were moving slowly toward the sunroom.
“What about the Skag nurse? How the fuck am I going to bump in to her?”
“You’ll arrange that. Once we get you ambulating around the hospital we’ll get you qualified for getting to know everyone of possible interest. I want you to get a little stronger. Gain more weight. What we have in store for you needs a little muscle–not much.” Bizetes smiled.
“Well for fuck’s sake tell me what it is I’m going to be doing.”
“It’s better if it comes as a surprise so it seems natural. I believe you’ll be able to watch Perkins, Skagan, Acky and anyone else we don’t yet know about. With your colostomy still attached you’ll be invisible. I’m told when you guys walk around the hospital people avoid you and your bubbling colostomy fart-and-shit bag.”
‡
Perkins watched Dr. Norman’s pager flash and knew his own would appear shortly. An air-evac was due in and Norman was JMOOD again. There it was. His pager seemed to blink with vigor. 113. 113. 113.
The ward nurse gave him the okay to head to the air-evac. It was a practiced routine. For a month now Perkins had full access to the advance air-evac list from Fort Dix. He’d been able to divert at least one cast per air-evac as having been applied either on a hospital ship or the Naval Hospitals in the Philippines or Japan. His only possible impediment was if LCDR Skagan beat him to the ER. It had happened twice in the past month. He saw her page number light up just as he got to the ER.
Too bad Skagan. I got here first.
Perkins grabbed the air-evac list before it was stuck on the ER clipboard. He read down the number of orthopedic patients and found a shoulder spica cast on a big marine and changed the most recent plaster application from RVN to RPN–Republic of Vietnam to Republic of the Philippines. JN was easy to simply delete the RV and add the J for Japan.
In the back of his mind though, he kept picturing the evisceration of the young woman as told to him repeatedly by Abe Linsky and as he remembered in the movie and the photos.
No. Not me. I’m too smart for those crooks.
Chapter 16
Ike Kaplan
Kaplan watched with photographic eyes as the civilian plaster disposal contractor paid the first monthly visit to G-1 in its new status as the common dirty-plaster depository. The beer-bellied mustached sweaty man waddled with two heavy-set taller and younger men up to the Nurses Station. Kaplan stared at them reading their soiled once-white coveralls. The right breast pocket logo declared the trio as representatives of Souza Sanitation and Disposal.
Garbage men
. Kaplan waited for them to speak first and the blimpy body seemed to be their leader as he scanned G-1 and back to Kaplan with dark bags under his eyes. “I’m Frannie.” He held up his visitors pass. “These visitor tags don’t stick to our uniforms on account of the dust and crud what sticks to the cloth.” Frannie motioned to the two bouncer-type colleagues who showed their visitor tags. Frannie reached for a clip board extended to him by bouncer number one and continued to stare at Kaplan.
“Says here this G-1 has all the old plaster casts in one place.” He scratched his left lower belly and smiled. “At’s good. Saves us a lot of time goin’ roun’ to all the other G wards like before. So where you keepin’ the stuff for us. I hope it’s still in the plastic bags. We don’t won’t no Asian diseases contaminatin’ our uniforms.”
Kaplan kept his arms bent with his fists at his waist. He stared at the Souza Sanitation leader’s nametag. “Frannie Zingo. Do I call you Frannie or Mr. Zingo?”
“I like Frannie. A lot of people call me Zingo but it sounds too cartoonish, you know. Like something from the Saturday mornin’ TV funnies I watch with my boy Angelo.”
Kaplan looked at him and his goon crew.
The lot of you look like comic book crooks.
Zingo’s two muscle men had telltale firearm armpit bulges. “Okay Frannie. The casts are all consolidated in our plaster work room. This is the only orthopedic ward with a loading dock. We get new supplies for all the ortho wards and now all the Southeast Asia casts exit from here. You guys don’t have to walk around the hospital with the potential for any air contamination due to an accident.”
“Accident? We ain’t never had no accident. You have the list of all the casts from all the other G wards? We don’t get paid unless we have a document for the whole load.” Zingo waved his clip board.
“As soon as LCDR Skagan arrives we’ll go over the invoices she’s bringing. It has to match mine.” Kaplan saw Skagan’s page stop blinking. “She’ll be on her way now. So let’s go into the workroom and I’ll show you guys the new layout.”
Kaplan thought back to his meeting with Agent Adam Stokely just a few days before.
‡
FBI Special Agent Stokely arrived at visiting hours. It was his third meeting with Kaplan. The doors to the cast room were closed and LT Sparrow was with the other corpsmen managing the busy visitors and patients on G-1.
Stokely sat on the combination examination and cast table looking down at Kaplan seated at the small steel desk. “Ike, I wanted to see you earlier about the change in keeping all the Vietnam applied cast material in one ward–your ward.”
“You knew about that didn’t you? You knew before me?” Kaplan felt miffed.
“We’re doing this in every stateside military hospital. In a few weeks we hope to make our mass movement to grab the key movers and players in this heroin smuggling operation. You’ll be a key figure at Queens Naval.”
“I thought it was LCDR Skagan’s brain storm. I actually had the idea she was pulling some kind of stunt as a possible cartel member.” Kaplan raised his eyebrows.
Stokely smiled, “We still have no idea where Skagan fits into this. So far she’s still a straight-laced Navy Nurse obsessive with her job–but we still don’t know if any cartel connection with her exists.”
“I was thinking of getting a little closer to her both professionally and socially.”
“Ike if you think you can do it without blowing your cover or jeopardizing your safety I say go for it.” Stokely looked around the cast room. “How often do you receive supplies at the loading area in this room?”
“Once a month. It’s always the last Thursday of the month which is the day before the tainted casts are picked up.” Kaplan leaned his chair back which made the spring groan. “What do you mean about jeopardizing my safety?”
“These people are killers. Anyone perceived as a threat to their operation or caught diverting profits is terminated in the ugliest of ways. The Agency doesn’t want you to get sloppy. On the other hand, we do want you to identify the division of labor within Queens Naval Hospital. We want to know who’s who on the cartel staff and that includes military, civilian and patient personnel.”
“You make it sound like an army.” Kaplan sat forward again.
“We don’t think it takes a lot of people. What we’re getting from San Diego Naval Hospital and Walter Reed Army General Hospital is just the opposite.” Stokely got off the cast table and stood next to Kaplan’s desk. “The pattern is three or four military staff and one patient. This small group coordinates within the hospital and makes sure the casts are funneled a hundred percent to the civilian cartel cast pickup crew. They may actually never even communicate with the civilian cast removal team.”
“On the military side what’s the officer-to-enlisted ratio?” Kaplan envisioned Skagan in a framed painting wearing a Napoleon uniform with her right hand tucked into the tunic.
“So far it looks like one officer and several enlisted. The officer is necessary to move around the different specialties to follow the cast removals wherever they occur.”
“You mean like the operating room and different wards.” Kaplan asked.
“Exactly.”
“Which reminds me, I have a problem with my total body cast patient. The GMO, Dr. Norman, is allowing this patient to roam all over the hospital. Like I told you before I get the feeling I’m losing control over this guy.”
“C’mon. A total body cast? No one’s going to kidnap him. The only control you need is to be the sole person responsible for removing that cast. It’s probably worth a quarter of a million or more in heroin.” Stokely looked at his watch. “My main purpose is to convey to you that the consolidation of the casts to one ortho ward is our doing and not anyone else’s. It’s pivotal for when we make our final move. I didn’t want you racking your brain or wasting time trying to find out who instigated it. We did. I had to tell you in person and not on the phone for better security.”
Kaplan stood up and walked Stokely to the door. “I suppose you’re right.” Kaplan stopped and touched Stokely’s suit coat sleeve. “You keep mentioning a patient cartel operative. Are you talking ‘orthopedic’ patient?”
“It doesn’t have to be. We’ve identified the patient connection at Great Lakes Naval Hospital and he’s from a plastic surgery ward.”
“Plastic Surgery? That’s a long-term ward.” Kaplan frowned. “How the hell am I going to find my patient connection here in Queens Naval?”
“Look Ike. We found the Plastic Surgery patient because he mingled with the ortho guys. Look for a person here who doesn’t really belong, like some recurrent patient visitor. That’s how we got our guy at Great Lakes.” Stokely looked again at his watch. “I have to go. Do you have any more questions?”
“I’m going to meet with the civilian cast pickup and disposal team this month. Any input on them so far?”
“They all seem to be gruff manual laborer types. Our descriptions make them out to be more than what they should be. By that I mean they’re well muscled and the report from Orlando Naval Hospital makes them as armed. They’re excessively protective of their cargo which is supposed to be just biological waste. Of course we know the casts are worth more than their weight in gold.” Stokely shook his hand. “Let me go now. I’ll keep in touch. We think the patient might be the key liaison to the civilian cartel link and not the staff or any civilian hospital employee. Having said that be on the lookout for a regular civilian visitor once the patient is identified.”
‡
And today Kaplan verified his expectations of the cast disposal pickup crew–ruffians and cargo protectors. He showed Zingo the layout of the cast room and the corrugated metal door which opened to a loading-and-unloading dock.
“Yeah, Kaplan. Is it okay for me you call you Kaplan? Your ID tag only says Kaplan.” Zingo wiped his moist nose with his grimy coverall sleeve.
“This is a military installation. You’re required to address us as Corpsman, Corpswave, Nurse, Doctor or by our rank. You can call me Corpsman and I strongly suggest you address LCDR Skagan by her rank.”
Frannie Zingo laughed. His beer belly moved up-and-down within his coveralls. “Hey you don’t have to tell us about that nut-crusher nurse. We already met.”
“Laughter? I see nothing amusing about our business.” The door to the cast room opened and Skagan entered with a closed leather portfolio under her arm. “Mr. Zingo I have a duplicate invoice for each of the plastic bags containing the biological waste plaster casts. Each bag is from a different orthopedic ward, G-1 through G-6.”
“Pardon us LCDR Skagan ma’am.” Zingo ogled the attractive woman. “I’ll have Sergio bring the van around. This new system is much friendlier than having to lug all these bags to the ER for loading…ma’am.”
“Ike, here’s the main invoice. Check and make sure each bag goes into their truck and the truck door is secured and locked.” Skagan looked back at Zingo. “Mr. Zingo you are not to leave the hospital until you check out with the main entrance CPO. Your truck will pick you up there and an MP vehicle will escort your vehicle to the rear hospital gate and off the compound.”
Zingo took out a once white handkerchief and blew his nose on it. “Of course LCDR Skagan ma’am–just like always ma’am.” He thrust the handkerchief into a side coverall pocket and wiped any residue from his hand onto his coverall.
Kaplan suppressed a grin at the look of revulsion on Skagan’s face and walked her to the Nurses Station. “I’ll watch them like a hawk ma’am.”
She looked around the ward and looked at the watch schedule on the cubical wall. No one else was in the Nurses Station. “I know you will Ike.” She looked away from the watch list and faced Kaplan. “I see you have the weekend off. So do I.”
‡
Amstel Perkins packed a G-3 laundry cart with several plastic bags containing removed Vietnam applied plaster. He laid his own laundry bag on top and headed off G-3 to deliver the casts to the G-1 depository. He stopped at the G-3 locker room and placed his laundry bag in his locker. It contained a sectionally-removed shoulder spica cast with an estimated $60,000 worth of heroin. Perkins headed to the elevator and to the G-1 cast room with the remaining drug-impregnated plaster.
LT Sparrow and Kaplan logged in the G-3 items and Perkins was done for the day. He went back to his locker, put on his jacket and grabbed his laundry bag. He could hardly wait to call Abe Linsky. He had weighed the cast and at least six-thousand dollars would be his payment.
Perkins liked Dr. Norman who commented on how efficient he was in sorting out the Vietnam applied cast patients from those whose casts were applied on the hospital ships and Naval hospitals in the Philippines and Japan. Perkins always checked on when Norman was the GMO who had JMOOD duty. Norman now expected him to give him the air-evac list with his pre-emptive triage of the orthopedic patients and their documented cast origins.
“Perkins you keep me one step ahead of LCDR Skagan and I appreciate that. The first thing she asks is how many ortho patients have Vietnam plaster.”
“Sir it just makes the air-evac process go that much faster. I mean sir, the air-evacs take us from our ward work and anything to get us back that much quicker helps all of us.”
Norman was as overworked as everyone else. “Let me know when you’re up for promotion Perkins. I’ll put in a good word.”
“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”
And thank you for helping me increase my bank account
.