Gavin Holder Series

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Eugene Huhn was a short man, but he was definitely not a nervous man. And if there is anything that really ought to make you nervous, it is being interrogated on Federal charges. He was a lot like one of those yappy little dogs that doesn't understand how small it actually is. Like he could just keep yipping at us till we got out of his yard. He sat in the hard plastic chair in the interrogation room and grinned right back at us from across the table, puffing on his cigarette like there was nothing in the world he had to be scared of. His little mustache and goatee were both neatly trimmed, and his blue eyes gleamed with amusement at it all. The tear tattoo next to his eye was a bit incongruous, given how amused he seemed to be with the whole thing. Duffy spoke into the recording device as the interview began.

“Interrogation of Eugene Huhn. This is Special Agent Jim Duffy speaking. Present with me is Special Agent Gavin Holder. This interview is being conducted at the J. Edgar Hoover Building, 935 Pennsylvania Avenue NW in Washington, D.C. Just for the record, Mr. Huhn, we need you to understand that this interview is being recorded. Do you understand that?”

“Which one of you guys is the bad cop?” he said. “I'd just like to know ahead of time so I know whose ass to kiss.”

“We're not cops in the first place,” I said. “We're the FBI.”

“Oh, so you're all bad.”

“Mr. Huhn, would please spell your name for us?” asked Duffy.

“H-U-H-N, Huhn. E-U-G-E-N-E, Eugene. You want my serial number?”

“Are you active-duty U.S. Military, Mr. Huhn?”

“I'm active-duty something.” Still grinning.

“And your address, Mr. Huhn?”

“No fixed abode.”

“Your driver's license shows your address as 325 Broadway in Revere, Massachussetts.”

“Home of America's first public beach,” said Eugene.

“You don't live there anymore?” I asked.

“No fixed abode,” he said again, as if he liked the sound of it.

“Okay,” said Duffy. “Here's the situation. This is your first interview with us here right now. It doesn't matter what happened before. We're starting fresh. The page is blank, you can fill it in with whatever you want. All we want is the truth.”

Eugene chuckled. “I know what you want. You know what you want. But you're never gonna get it from me, so why bother? I'm not a snitch like Bobby.”

“You're different from Bobby in more ways than one,” I said. “Let's list off a few. For starters, nobody stuck a dull switchblade through your tongue. Right?”

“Yeah, that's one,” he said. The grin got bigger.

“Second, you're still alive. That's a big one, right?”

“Sure is,” he agreed quite cheerfully. “And good old Bobby is not. I wonder how that happened?”

“Third is that you can easily spend the rest of your life in a maximum security federal prison, considering how alive you are. Much of it probably in solitary.”

“Over-incarceration is a serious problem these days from what I hear. Even for nonviolent offenses such as mine.”

“Nonviolent offenses,” said Duffy. “You’ve got to be kidding. Care to clarify that?”

“I mean technically, yeah. Snitches and FBI agents aren't actually human beings, so...” He shrugged and puffed on his cigarette. “I suppose you could get me for discharging a firearm within city limits. There's that anyway.”

“So you admit to firing on us in the motel parking lot?” I asked.

“Why don't you just tell us the story from your own perspective,” said Duffy.

“Well, let's see,” said Huhn. “We were interrogating an enemy agent when we came under attack from hostile forces. Sergeant Schroeder provided covering fire while I loaded my weapon, then I engaged the enemy by laying down a pattern of suppressing fire until Schroeder was wounded. When I realized Schroeder was out of action I continued to engage hostile forces until lack of ammunition rendered me unable to continue. Then I surrendered in order to remain available for future operations.”

“I don't think this guy actually realizes the situation he's in,” said Duffy. “This is not a war game.”

“I agree,” said Eugene. “It's not a game at all.”

“Seriously, Huhn,” I said. “The fact is, we own you. There is no conceivable way you could beat this thing. And anyway, the Federal conviction rate is something like 90%. If we charge a man, that man is done.”

“Oh, I know you've got me,” said Huhn. “You were there when I emptied my clip at you. I mean, what I can say? It just doesn't matter. I'm a prisoner of war. For now.”

“What do you mean when you say that you're a prisoner of war?”

“The Geneva Conventions on the treatment of prisoners of war, Article 3: In the case of armed conflict not of an international character occurring in the territory of one of the High Contracting Parties, each party to the conflict shall be bound to apply, as a minimum, the following provisions...”

“Let me stop you right there for a minute,” said Duffy. “You're a bank robber. An armored car robber. Maybe a guy who jacks up drug dealers.”

“I am a soldier,” said Eugene Huhn, “And you are my enemies. I'll be a prisoner until my brothers free me. And what happens to you after that?”

“I don't think we're making a lot of progress here,” I said. “Let's try a different angle. If you're at war with the United States government, the United States government has the right to know it. That's in the Geneva Conventions too, you know.”

“He's right,” said Duffy. “We had to learn about all that in the service. It's been a while, but let me think. You were definitely carrying arms openly, I'll give you that. But if you wanted to have combatant privileges you should also have been wearing a uniform identifiable from a distance. So you kind of have a problem there.”

Huhn shook his head as if he just couldn't believe how ridiculous we were. “The United States government knew all about it. We declared war on the Feds a very long time ago, just after we started the UT. Christ on a crutch, man. Look that s**t up in your files.”

I looked over at Duffy, who seemed just as impressed with Huhn's inflated sense of self-importance as I was. He mouthed the word narcissist and turned back to Huhn.

“According to the information we have, you grew up in Minneapolis,” he said.

“Yeah, that's right. What, do I have to type it all out for you? Double Bolt!”

I didn't have any clue what 'double bolt' referred to, but it sounded like it could be a gang name. I made a mental note of it for later.

“How exactly did you declare war on the US government?” I asked. “If we wanted to look up this declaration of yours, where would we find it?”

“It's all in your files,” he said. “And you know it is.”

Eugene was making the same mistake a lot of conspiracy theorists do. The US government is not always as organized and on top of everything as people like to believe. In fact, it usually isn’t. It could very well be that Ultima Thule had mailed some sort of document to some office or agency at some point, formally announcing their intention to wage war. That didn't mean we actually had the document handy. It could just as easily have gone in the circular file somewhere, dismissed as the work of a crackpot.

“We'll check into all that as soon as we're done here,” I said. “But since you're here with us as a POW, would you mind telling me exactly what it is your group is fighting for?”

The grin he gave me wouldn't have looked out of place on a Khmer Rouge killing field. “We're fighting for the renewal and revival of the species,” he said. “Renewal through purification, revival through transformation, the rebirth of a people and its place. Ultima Thule will cleanse the earth, revive the compact between the planet and her human children. None of that is classified, I'm allowed to share that information openly. Ultima Thule will empty the cities, put an end to decadence and despair. And you know what that means.”

“Yeah, I do know what that means,” said Duffy. “It means your best bet is an insanity defense.”

“That's only what I expected,” said Huhn. “The sheeple all bleat the same.”

“Sheeple?” said Duffy. “Would you mind clarifying what that means?”

“It's a clever combination of sheep and people,” I said.

“That really is clever. But here are some facts for you, Mr. Huhn. You are not at war with the United States government, you are just a gang-member. You rob banks and jack up drug dealers, like I said. Your gang brothers are not going to get you out of here. That's not because they don't have the power to do so – although they don't – but because they actually don't care about you in the first place. At this very moment, they are making plans for how to keep you from ever testifying against them. Because they're going to assume that you have already flipped. You call those men your brothers, but a brother who is talking to the government is no brother at all. If you were ever a soldier for the Ultima Thule, you are no longer.”

“I'm not worried about it,” Eugene said.

“You certainly should be worried about it,” I replied. “If you actually got out of this mess you're in through some far-fetched miracle, they will shoot you immediately if you are really lucky or deal with you like you dealt with Robert Hitchcock if you are not.”

“You really think so?”

Eugene pretended to look scared.

“No, not really,” said Duffy. “Because you aren't getting out. You're going to go to prison for what happened at that motel. And when that happens, don't you think the Ultima Thule has contacts with the Aryan gangs on the inside? Don't you think they'll reach out to those guys and tell them you can't be trusted? And what happens to you then? You're standing in front of a lot of closed doors right now, and there's only one open one. Start telling us the truth, and we can save your life.”

Eugene Huhn laughed and shook his head with mirth and started clapping slowly.

“I'll give you guys this much,” he said. “You're absolutely consistent. Predictable even. But you should really go f**k yourselves. I mean, how could you possibly expect me to take you seriously? If I go prison like you say, everybody is gonna know I'm not a snitch.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that,” said Duffy. “Just to make sure of your safety, they would probably put you in administrative segregation.”

The grin disappeared from Eugene's face. “You can't do that,” he said. “That would put a mark on me.”

“It's not up to me in the first place,” said Duffy. “I'm just saying it's what they would probably do. You say you're a soldier in some kind of underground army. Okay, fair enough. But it's standard practice in that type of organization to assume that any captured operative has been turned. It's the only way the organization can stay safe. So they'll assume you're an informant and put a price on you. We don't want that to happen to you and neither will the warden. He'll probably put you in administrative segregation for your own protection. That is just the reality of the situation.”

“You f*****g maggots,” spat Eugene Huhn, all pretense of mirth suddenly gone. “If you hang a snitch sign around my neck, I will see to it that you die slow. What happened to Bobby Bullet will seem like mercy to you. You'll beg me to finish you off that easy.”

“Interview concluded,” said Duffy. “Come on, Holder. Let's let him think about it.”