Disclaimer:
Let's see if I can get this in one. "JAG" in all forms, minus Major Kansas McWilliams, goes to David Bellisario, Bellisauris Productions, and CBS. Kansas is mine. "Homicide: Life on the Streets" is under the copyright of Tom Fontana, Barry Levinson, and the fine people at CourtTV who have made me love syndication. NBC gets no credit for the show because they wouldn't know how to stand behind a good show if it bit them in the…I'll get quiet now.Author's Notes:
I saw the episode "Map of the Heart" of "Homicide: LOTS" the other night, and I suddenly thought-"Spys. Baltimore. Clayton in Baltimore…" You see where I'm going? :) This story is set maybe one or two weeks after "Map of the Heart" and three weeks after "Healing Process".Dedication:
This one is for all the people who told me to ignore the jerk that flamed my story. You guys keep me writing. An extra thanks to anteB for making sure my characters are in the right mindset and telling me what a good job I was doing. AnteB, I owe you a turtle cake. :)Spy City
By Gayle F. Cox-Moffet
"Multiple stab wounds are what killed her, but she got beaten pretty badly before she died. I put her dead between two and four this morning."
Detective Tim Bayliss nodded as he absorbed the ME's information and looked at the body on the gleaming metal table.
The victim was a woman of about twenty-five with short blonde hair and a tall, well-built body. Stab wounds covered her chest and abdomen, and the bruises all over her body looked strikingly purple against the paleness of her skin.
"Any ID?" The question came from Frank Pembleton, Tim Bayliss' partner. He had listened to the ME and quickly moved to the next part of the meeting.
"Her wallet was missing, as you both know, but there was a pouch on the inside of her shirt with a few things in it." The ME handed a plasitc baggie over the table.
Frank reached inside and pulled out two keys on a ring, a folded up wad of what looked to be hundred dollar bills, and finally a small leather case.
The case held two business cards. One had only a phone number, the other showed a picture of the woman on the table and next to it, her name and information:
Lt. Hannah Shankton
DOB: 5-29-76
Employment: United States Government
"Well, isn't that helpful? We've got a name and an employer, but who do we call?" Frank slipped the card back into the leather case and looked to Tim.
"We have a number." Tim gestured to the other business card.
"But no name for that number."
"Well, then, Frank, let's act like cops and go find out who answers the phone when we dial that number."
*
"Her names is Hannah Shankton. She's twenty-four, and the ME said that the stab wounds were what killed her although the beating was pretty severe.
There was a small business card holder that the ME found in a pouch in the Lieutenant Shankton's shirt-"
"Lieutenant? Was she a cop?" Al Giradello interrupted Detective Pembleton's run down of the facts as he knew them.
"The card we found in the holder puts her employment as the United States Government, but that could be anyone. I already asked Russert to make a few calls and see if anyone she used to know could help her find out more about this woman. Bayliss is working on the number we found."
"What number?"
"There was another card, but it was just a phone number."
Lieutenant Giradello paused in thought. "When you find who that number belongs to, bring that person in. I want to know how that person fits in with the victim."
Frank nodded and exited the office.
Gee sat back in his office chair and stared through the slated blinds into the squadroom, wondering why his detectives were the ones to pull such odd cases.
*
"No one answered when I called, but I checked with the phone company, and they said that it's a prefix for Langley, Virginia." Tim still had the phone to his ear as Pembleton sat on the edge of his desk with a look asking for information.
"I also called information and got the number for the phone company in Langley. I'm waiting for someone to pick up the phone there."
Frank nodded and walked over to his desk. In the bottom drawer was an atlas, and he thumbed through it until he reached a picture of the state of Virginia.
"Planning a trip, Frank?" Detective John Munch peered over the other man's shoulder at the atlas.
"We found a phone number on the woman that got called in this morning."
"Which one? We had three."
"Stab wounds and beating. The number was on a business card, but it was only a number. No name. No address."
"You find anything else?" Munch sipped his coffee.
"Another card with her name, date of birth, and employer."
"So why aren't you going through the employer?" John looked over his glasses at Frank in bemusement.
"Because listed as her employer is the United States Government, and it doesn't get any more specific than that." Frank held up to hand as John opened his mouth. "Go spew your theories of government conspiracy to someone else, Munch." Frank returned his attention to the map.
"The number belongs to Clayton Webb." Tim nodded hello to Munch as he gave Frank the information he had found. "I also got his work number at the State Department, and they forwarded me to CIA headquarters."
John made a quick exit to his desk, a smirk on his face, while Pembleton looked at Bayliss with his eyes wide. He blinked a few times before speaking. "CIA headquarters?"
"Yes, Frank."
He absorbed it, nodded, and then turned around to face the main part of the squadroom. "Russert!"
The blonde detective looked up. "Yes, Frank?"
"What did you find out from your phone calls?" He strode across the room to her desk.
"Hannah Shankton is a Lieutenant in the Navy. She was a law student at Georgetown, and she worked intelligence."
"Intelligence?"
"Yup."
Tim and Frank locked eyes and shared an amazed stare. They seemed to be dealing with a lot of people in intelligence lately.
*
"Alan, we have six people lost somewhere in Bosnia, and you can't find a way to get them out?"
Clayton Webb stared across the desk at Alan Cogan in surprise. "How hard can it be to get six people out of Bosnia. We got twenty-seven out last month."
The other man tossed a folder on the desk between them. "That was last month. This month Bosnia is hostile again. The treaty we have with them is hesitent at best, and right now we aren't at our best and neither are they. I'm tempted to send in more agents, but we could lose them just as easily."
"Excuse me, Mr. Webb, you have visitors."
"Now? I don't have anyone scheduled, Linda."
The secretary shrugged. "They know that, but they're insisting to see you."
"Who is it?"
"Two detectives from Baltimore Homicide."
Clayton's eyes widened in surprise. Across from him, Alan's did the same. "Let them in."
A moment later two men entered the room. The first was an African-American of about six feet with a shaved head, skin the color of strong coffee and eyes the same shade. He was wearing a white business shirt, gray slacks, suspenders, and a gray suit jacket was over one arm.
Next to him was a tall, thin, Caucasian man around six-four, with buzzed light brown hair and a goatee. He had hazel eyes and wore a brown suit with a light blue shirt and a brown print tie. The tie was loose at his neck and the suit jacket was over his arm like his partner's.
Their badges were clipped onto their belts right next to the VISITOR badges the Agency gave to anyone coming into Langely headquarters.
The African-American spoke first. "I'm Detective Pembleton, this is Detective Bayliss. We need some information."
Clayton stretched out a hand and shook the two offered. "Clayton Webb. This is my associate, Alan Cogan."
Alan held out his own hand and shook.
Pembleton sat down in the chair gestured to him as Bayliss took the other empty seat and studied the two men.
Webb looked to be around five-ten with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and an impeccable three-piece suit. The tie was still cinched at the man's neck, and the vest was buttoned all the way up. If Tim had to guess, he would say this man came from money and a lot of it.
Cogan was the same height as Webb with light blonde hair and green eyes. His suit was more casual, only a jacket and pants with a round collar shirt that wouldn't allow a tie. His clothing was just as tailored, but he seemed more at ease around the two men.
"What can I do for you two gentlemen?"
Bayliss was the one to speak. "Do you know Lieutenant Hannah Shankton?"
Clayton thought a moment and shook his head. "It sounds vaguely familiar, but not close enough for me to place."
"What about you?" Frank turned to gaze intently at Alan.
Alan shook his head. "No bells for me. Can you spell her name for me? I could run a check."
"We already did that Mr. Cogan."
"I'm sure you did, Detective Pembleton, but our Agency knows a few more tricks than yours."
Pembleton looked at him a second before consulting his notebook. "S-H-A-N-K-T-O-N. Lieutenant Shankton. *Our* tricks tell us she's in Navy intelligence and law school."
Cogan matched the man for a glare. "Let's see what our tricks turn up."
Clayton waited for the other man to leave before returning his attention to the two men in front of him. "You'll have to excuse Agent Cogan, he's protective of his territory."
"As of now, Mr. Webb, this is Baltimore homicide territory. You said you don't know Lieutenant Shankton?" Bayliss picked up from where he left off.
"No, I don't know her."
"Can you explain how a business card with your number on it was found on her person if you didn't know her?"
Webb looked at Pembleton in surprise. "You found one of my business cards on her? May I see it?"
Pembleton pulled a plastic evidence bag from his coat pocket and handed it across the desk. "Is that your phone number?"
"This is my personal number. I don't put my personal number on business cards. In fact, I usually put my name on my business cards." Clayton handed it back to Pembleton. "I told you, Gentlemen, I don't know who this woman is."
"Where were you from two to four this morning, Mr. Webb?"
"In bed like any person who sleeps at night."
"Can anyone confirm your story?"
"Major Kansas Lydia McWilliams, Detective Bayliss. She was right next to me."
"Wife?"
"Girlfriend."
Pembleton stood up. "Why should we believe your girlfriend? She could have been elsewhere last night."
"If she didn't have problems walking, that would be a real possibility. She was severely beaten six weeks ago, and her left femur bone was broken. She can get around relatively well, but she wakes me up in the middle of the night if she needs anything. Her leg bothers her if it's dormant for to long."
Webb walked over and opened the door. "She works at the Judge Advocate General's office in Falls Church. It's six miles up the road. Go ahead and confirm my story."
Bayliss stood and moved to the door first. "We'll do that. Good day, Mr. Webb."
"Not really. Goodbye, Detectives."
Pembleton stopped halfway out the door. "Get a lawyer."
"Am I a suspect?"
"You're a CIA agent, you've handled suspects. Look over your alibi and see the holes."
Clayton watched them head down the hall and shut his door. He went to the desk and dialed the phone.
"Judge Advocate General's office, Gunnery Sargent Galindez speaking."
"Gunny, it's Webb. Put me through to Rabb."
*
Frank and Tim walked into the bullpen of the JAG offices and looked around. Desks were scattered on the floor with glass front offices along the sides.
Tim grabbed an Ensign by the arm as the young woman tried to slide past them. "We're looking for Major Kansas McWilliams."
The Ensign shrugged. "Sorry, Sir, but I just started this week. I couldn't help you."
"Then who could?" Frank's tone was impatient. He was getting tired of hopping from one place in Virginia to the next, and an incompetent kid wasn't helping his mood.
"Talk to Gunny Galindez. He's right over there." The Ensign pointed across the bullpen to a tall, thin man with an olive complexion and close-cropped black hair.
"Thank you." Tim let go of her and let Frank lead the way.
"Mr. Galindez?"
The Gunny looked up. "Gunnery Sargent Galindez, Sir. Can I help you with something?"
"I'm Detective Pembleton, this is Detective Bayliss; we need to see Major Kansas McWilliams."
"The Major is in the middle of a meeting with Commander Rabb. They asked not to be disturbed."
Bayliss tapped his badge. "We're the police, Gunny. Her meeting can be stalled a few minutes."
Galindez looked them over for a moment, then gestured. "Follow me, please." He led them around the desks to an office on the left with the shades drawn and a nameplate reading Maj. K. McWilliams. He knocked on the door.
"It's open."
Gunny stepped inside and stood at attention. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Ma'am, but these two men insisted on seeing you." He moved to the right and allowed Pembleton and Bayliss to enter. "They're detectives from Baltimore, Ma'am."
"Thank you, Gunny, you're dismissed."
Galindez exited the office as Kansas rose from her office chair. "Pembleton and Bayliss I presume? Clayton's already called me. Please, sit down."
They sat somewhat warily and took in the woman, and the man standing behind her. She was tiny, barely five feet tall, with a mass of dark red hair pulled into a bun at the base of her neck, and green eyes that watched them both intently. She wore a beige uniform shirt with oak leaves on the collar and olive green pants that seemed big for her frame.
The man behind her was the same build as Bayliss, tall and thin, with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a white uniform that had gold wings over the left breast pocket.
Kansas retook her seat. "I'm Major McWilliams, this is Commander Harmon Rabb."
"Detective Pembleton."
"Detective Bayliss. You said you had already heard from Mr. Webb. What did he tell you exactly?"
"He told me that two detectives came into his office asking questions about a murder and his whereabouts, and he said he had cooperated."
"I find that hard to believe."
Pembleton and Bayliss changed their attention from Kansas to Rabb. "Why do you find that hard?"
"Clayton Webb, by nature, is a difficult man. He doesn't like cooperation." The Commander ignored the look Kansas gave him.
"Harm, leave."
He exited, and Kansas turned to the detectives again. "You'll have to excuse him, he and Clayton don't see eye to eye."
"On what?"
"On everything, Detective Pembleton. What is your first name?"
"Why?"
"Because you know mine, and I don't know yours." She looked at him as if it were so obvious.
"Frank."
"And you?"
"Tim."
"Frank, Tim, Clayton called here to talk to Harm. He was told to call a lawyer. Do you see him as a suspect?"
"There are some inconsistencies in his story."
"Such as?" She leaned against her desk and intertwined her fingers.
"Where were you between two and four this morning?" Frank ignored the question.
"Sitting up in bed trying to find the aspirin in the night table."
"What time was that?"
"The clock said two eighteen."
"Why were you looking for aspirin?"
"I broke the femur bone in my left leg six weeks ago, and if to much pressure gets put on it, it starts to hurt. During the night I had managed to turn over and rest most of my weight on my left leg. The pain woke me up, and I reached for the aspirin."
"Did you go back to sleep?"
"It takes time for the pain in my leg to recede. When I went back to bed the clock said three thirty-two."
"Did Mr. Webb wake up at any time while you were up?" Tim was jotting down notes as he spoke.
"No. He's used to the noise I make when I wake up in the middle of the night."
"So he slept through everything."
"Yes, Detective Bayliss. Now may I ask why you suspect Clayton of anything?"
Frank and Tim shared a look before Frank spoke. "A young woman was found murdered this morning. A business card on her person was traced to Mr. Webb. The card had no name, just his personal number. Our source says she worked Navy intelligence."
"What was her name?"
"Hannah Shankton. She was a Lieutenant."
Kansas' eyebrows rose. "Shankton? We had a Lieutenant working here by that name. She assisted Mac on a couple of cases."
"Mac?"
"Lieutenant Colenel Sarah Mackenzie, Detective Pembleton."
"Where is her office?"
"Two down to your right, but she's not here right now. She had a court date."
"Is there anyone else we could talk to about her?"
"Lieutenant Bud Roberts gave her a hand learning the filing system. I can call him in here if you like."
"That would help, yes." Tim spoke before Frank could let loose the retort Bayliss could see coming.
The two men observed as Kansas stood and limped to the door, favoring her left leg by putting most of the weight on her right. She opened her door and looked around the bullpen. "Lieutenant Roberts, could I see you a minute?"
She went back around her desk as a man of about thirty with a boyish round face and gray hair entered her office. "Yes, Ma'am?"
"Bud, this is Detective Tim Bayliss and this is Detective Frank Pembleton." Her tone let Frank know what she thought of him. It wasn't a kind thought. "They're with Baltimore Homicide, and they'd like to talk to you."
Lieutenant Roberts nodded his understanding and put his hands behind his back, waiting. "What can I do for you, Sirs?"
Frank spoke first. "Did you know Lieutenant Hannah Shankton?"
"Yes, Sir. I helped her with some of law school work, and she did some research for me. She seemed-" He cut off suddenly and understanding showed in his eyes. "What do you mean 'did' I know her? Is she okay?"
"Lieutenant, answer the detectives' questions and then ask your own."
"Yes, Major."
Tim marveled for a moment at the unquestioning authority Roberts gave McWilliams, but he kept silent. "Did she ever mention holding down another job along with her work here?"
"No, Sir. We usually just talked about what cases she was helping me with or where she could find information to help her in her classes. It never got very personal."
"Where were you this morning between two and four?"
"Changing my son's bed. He had an accident."
"An accident?"
"He wet the bed, Sir. He's two."
Frank nodded at Bud and then at Kansas. She nodded back at him and then looked to Bud. "You had questions, Lieutenant?"
Bud nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. You said that these two men were Baltimore Homicide. Is Lieutenant Shankton dead?"
"Yes, Bud. These two are working her case."
"Thank you, Ma'am."
"You're welcome. You're dismissed."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Tim watched him leave and then turned to Frank. "He took the news well."
"Bud isn't as innocent as he looks." Kansas moved around her desk and leaned against it as she faced the two men. "He's seen plenty to prepare for news like what he got today."
"When can we talk to Colenel Mackenzie?" Frank went straight back to the subject at hand.
Kansas looked at her watch. "I'm meeting her for lunch to discuss a case. If you'd like to come with me you could ask her questions there."
"That'd be appreciated. Thank you." Bayliss smiled at her.
"I like you, Tim. You're partner's a pain in the ass. You're lucky I even suggested it."
Frank and Tim shared an amused look as Kansas reached for her cane and led them from the office.
*
After introductions between Mac and the two detectives, the foursome set down at a table in a small restaurant near the courthouse and placed their orders.
After the waitress left, Mac zeroed in on the men across the table from her. "What do you want to know?"
Bayliss and Pembleton shared a look at the blunt tone she used. The woman was about medium height with dark brown hair to her collar, brown eyes, and a wholesome smile. She wore the same uniform shirt as Major McWilliams except her collar had gold leaves, and an olive skirt with black heels in place of the pants.
"How well did you know Lieutenant Hannah Shankton?"
"Not very. She helped with my case research and asked some advice for her law school classes, but that was it."
"Did she ever mention having a job outside of the office?" Frank watched her with a hawk's eye as he spoke.
"What kind of job?"
"Any job."
"Detective, that leaves open a very large idea of work."
Tim interrupted the byplay with his own question. "Did she ever mention working in Navy intelligence?"
Mac and Kansas both looked surprised. "Naval intelligence?"
"We have a source that says the Lieutenant worked for Naval intelligence."
"Could you excuse me for a minute?" Kansas didn't wait for an answer as she got up from the table and walked across the floor.
Mac took a sip of water and spoke again. "Lieutenant Shankton never mentioned working anywhere but at the JAG offices. As far as I knew she was a law student who did research when I asked her."
"Where were you between two and four this morning?" Frank flipped open his notebook.
"I was at home sleeping with Jango."
"Boyfriend?"
"Dog, but unless one of you can pull a Dr. Dolittle, I doubt he can second my story."
Both men ignored the joke and stood up. "Thank you for your time, Colenel." Tim nodded to her.
Mac stood and shook their hands. "Whatever I can do. Don't worry about the bill, I'll handle it."
They thanked her and left the restaurrant. Once outside, Frank spoke his thoughts. "Where do you think the Major went when she excused herself?"
"She looked surprised when we mentioned that Shankton worked intelligence." Tim's voice was thoughtful. He grabbed for Frank's arm.
"Don't touch me."
"Frank, she's dating a CIA agent."
"I know that." Frank opened the driver's side door. "When you called to check the number with the Langley phone company, what number did you get for Webb?"
"The State Department undersecretary division."
"Then what did it do?"
"It transferred me to CIA headquarters. Why didn't the number just take me straight to CIA if that's where he works?" Tim slid into the car and realized that Frank had already pieced it together as he had talked. "Were you planning on pointing it out to me?"
"Why should I? You already figured it out yourself."
"I really hate when you do that, Frank."
"Do what?"
Tim threw his head back and waved his hands slightly. "You know what. You piece everything together, but then you give me a look like I'm a head case if I don't get it as quickly as you. I haven't been doing this as long as you."
"I know that." Frank kept his eyes straight ahead.
"But you still act like I should get all the facts together as fast as you."
"You should."
"And why should I, Frank?"
"Because I should have rubbed off by now."
*
The phone was cut off in mid-ring as Clayton grabbed the receiver. "Clayton Webb."
"Did you know Lieutenant Shankton?" Kansas' voice came through the phone sounding tense.
"Hello to you too, Dear. Have you ever considered actually saying hello when you call me, or do you prefer getting straight to the point?"
"Answer the question, Clayton."
He smirked as she ignored him. "No, I didn't know her."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"You didn't know she worked Naval intelligence?"
"Not until Joe Friday and Bill Gannon told me. Alan ran a search for them."
"He ran a search?"
"As far as I know." Clayton looked up as his secretary knocked. "Hold on a minute, Kansas." He nodded to the woman at the door. "Yes?"
"Those two detectives are back."
"Fantastic. Give me two minutes and then let them in." He turned his attention back to the phone. "The Dragnet boys are back. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Okay. Get Alan to fax me a copy of whatever his search came up with."
"Will do. Bye."
"Bye."
Clayton hung up the phone as Pembleton and Bayliss walked in. "Gentlemen, which part of 'have them wait two minutes' slipped past your hearing?"
"Mr. Webb, when I first tried to get ahold of you here at your office, the first number I received dialed into the State department." Tim slid into a chair and linked his fingers together loosely so that his elbows rested on either armrest. "Why didn't I get the number for your office here?"
"Because this is the CIA."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Frank leaned into the desk and stared down at Webb."
"It means that secrecy is one of the rules of our offices. We keep our secrets by allowing as few personal facts into the public as possible. My office number is personal. Only a select few have it. A very select few. Everyone else recieves the number to the State Department. It keeps things simpler."
Frank leaned in closer. "How is it simpler?"
"It's simpler for me because I don't have to worry that some lunatic can get my office number and use it to track me down. We're paranoid in the CIA, Detective Pembleton. It's a rule of survival."
"Do your rules also say that you should give your personal number out to twenty-five year old women?" Tim was still in a relaxed pose, but his eyes showed a line of questioning unfolding.
Clayton gave the man a once over before answering. "I didn't give her my card. I thought I already told you that."
"You didn't? I find that odd. You just said you gave your number out to only a few people. A select few people."
"A very select few, Frank."
Pembleton waved an arm towards his partner. "That's right. A *very* select few. So, Clayton, how is it possible that one of your *very select few* people ended up dead in Baltimore?"
"And how many of them work in your line of work?" Tim leaned forward and rested his chin on his knuckles.
Clayton stood and got eye-to-eye with Frank. "I already told you I don't know her. I never gave her my card, and I don't put my personal number on business cards. I don't make friends with spies."
"Why not? You're one."
"Detective Pembleton, spies can't be trusted. We're bred to lie."
Tim stood and walked over to the desk. "And that is why we don't trust you, Mr. Webb."
"Put me on a lie detector."
"You know her. You said the name was familiar."
"I hear many names in this business, Pembleton, and if I recall, Agent Cogan offered to do a search on the name for you, even though he doesn't remember it at any capacity. So, why don't you get the hell out of my office and go harass him for a while? I have six agents lost in Bosnia, and they take priority over false accusations from a couple of overworked, under-paid, out-of-town detectives. Good day, Gentlemen. The next time you want to talk to me, my lawyer will be present."
Clayton sat back down and pointedly started working on the papers in front of him.
Tim and Frank exited the office with a liberal slam of the door and faced each other. "Get the search results. I'm going to call Gee."
Tim nodded and headed down the hall in search of the blonde agent from the morning while Frank found a phone. He managed to convince a young man in a box of an office that police business made use of a phone urgent, and he called Baltimore.
"Homicide, Howard."
"Kay, it's Frank."
"Hey, Frank. How's Virginia?"
"A pain in the ass. Kay, run a check on the name Clayton Webb-C-L-A-Y-T-O-N-W-E-B-B."
"I can spell, Frank."
"Then try Kansas McWilliams."
"Kansas? As in the state."
"Yes. Tell Gee we're still looking over people here, and I'll call when we get something substantial."
"Will do. Bye, Frank."
He hung up the phone without saying goodbye and walked in the direction he'd seen Tim taking. He found his partner in an office on the right talking with Agent Cogan."
"Everything I found is right here. I highlighted her home address and phone number so you can pull the phone logs to see who she called. I also got all her medical records just in case that might have had something to do with her death." Cogan handed Bayliss a tan manilla folder.
"Are her work hours in here?" Tim flipped open the folder and skimmed the documents.
"Yes, as far as I could tell she was a model employee. Didn't miss a day in the month and a half she worked at JAG."
Frank glanced at the folder. "Is this the only copy of the information?"
"Of course. The less copies, the harder to track where the information comes from."
"You people are paranoid." Bayliss closed the folder and handed it to Pembleton.
"The saying is trite but true, Detective. Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you."
Cogan was studiously ignored as the two detectives exited. A minute later, Clayton slipped in.
"Tell me that wasn't the only copy you had of that information."
Alan smiled. "Of course not. The more copies, the easier to have our own investigation." He reached into his desk and pulled out another folder.
"Fax a copy to Kansas. She's expecting it. Did anything interesting show up in her records?"
"She worked intelligence, that was right. I'm waiting for a list of her assignments. While I was running the search for Shankton, I ran a search on Pembleton and Bayliss."
Clayton browsed Lieutenant Shankton's file. "Any idea who their source is?"
"Detective Meghan Russert. She was a detective, promoted to Lieutenant, promoted to Captain, and fell back to detective after standing up for the Homicide squad during the sniper attacks in Baltimore a few years back." Alan moved to his fax machine and punched in Kansas' office number. He waited a minute while it connected then started sliding the papers in.
"Detective Russert was also in Naval intelligence back in the eighties before she joined Baltimore's finest. She still has connections."
"Apparently."
Alan's phone rang, and he reached for it as the fax machine took the sixth sheet of paper. "Cogan…It's being faxed now. Why so urgent?…I'll tell him…Bye." He hung up the phone. "Chegwidden's called for the JAG offices to make their own investigation."
"On what premises?" Clayton dropped the file on the desk.
"She was a Naval officer. It's par for the course."
"If it's par for the course why haven't they started before this?"
"Because they didn't know before this. You going to Falls Church?"
"Yes. Keep faxing."
Clayton hurried out of the office as the fax machine took the ninth sheet.
*
"What?"
Tim looked up from the file at the tone of Frank's voice. They were standing on a sidewalk in the middle of Falls Church while Frank called the office from a pay phone. On their way back to talk to Lieutenant Colenel Mackenzie again to see if they could find out what cases Shankton had researched for her, they had come across a list of names, and Frank had called to have them checked out.
Now he just sounded angry. "Yeah, we'll go there." He hung up the phone.
"What is it, Frank?"
"JAG's doing their own investigation. It's policy. Gee wants us to go and talk to the Admiral." Pembleton headed for the car with Tim at his heels.
"Are we going to team up with them?"
"That's what Gee wants."
"That's not what I asked, Frank."
"What Gee wants. Gee gets. It's part of being in charge."
They got back into the car and drove to JAG headquarters in silence.
*
Admiral AJ Chegwidden was an intimidating man. He was slightly taller than Bayliss with a buzzed ring of gray hair around his head and a perfectly fit body that only made him that much more menacing. He seemed to be all rough edges, the S.E.A.L. insignia on his brest pocket didn't help dispute the rumor, but there was kindness beneath the yelling.
"Why wasn't I informed first of the death of one of my employees?" Chegwidden was standing behind his desk and directing his question to the two detectives by the door.
"We weren't aware who to inform." Frank's voice was impassive.
"Do you two find it difficult to *ask* someone around here who to tell? Why didn't you ask Major McWilliams when you were talking to her? Or Lieutenant Roberts? Or Colenel Mackenzie?" His anger suddenly dropped his focus on the detectives and settled on the three aformentioned people plus Commander Rabb.
"Why didn't any of you think to inform me immediately? I don't know how much you remember from your grunt days, but when something happens, you inform your commanding officer." The Admiral came around his desk and got nose-to-nose with his officers. "If you've forgotten, I'm your commanding officer. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Sir!" Chorused from the four people in front of him.
Chegwidden's anger immediately turned back to the detectives. "As for the two of you, the next time you barge in to question my people, you find me first! And if that's too much for you to grasp I can easily kick both of your asses back to Baltimore and take the jurisdiction I'm allowed on this case."
Frank was indignant. He hated being yelled at, especially when it came to how he handled a case. "What jurisdiction?"
"Lieutenant Shankton was a naval officer. Her death is a naval matter. It's a matter for JAG."
"You can't do that." Tim's tone matched Frank's for indignity.
"I most certainly will if you continue to step on my toes, Detective Bayliss."
"The crime happened in the city of Baltimore. It's our jurisdiction, no matter what line of work Ms. Shankton was in." Frank lifted his chin in defiance.
"Actually, you're both wrong." Clayton shut the door behind him as he stepped him. No one had noticed him enter.
"Webb, what the hell do you want?" Chegwidden took a step towards the other man.
"Hannah Shankton was a Naval intelligence officer, she indirectly worked with the CIA. Therefore, it's our jurisdiction, and I'm here on behalf of the Agency to remove all of you from this case."
"Webb-"
"Don't even try it, AJ. I've already been in touch with the SecNav, and he agrees with me. If you want it different, yell at him. Not that it will make much difference." Clayton nodded at the people in the room and reached for the door.
"Anyone tries to go against this I'll have you brought up on charges." He left.
Harm, Mac, Bud, Kansas, and the Admiral shared a glare at the door before resigning to the knowledge that they could do nothing.
Pembleton and Bayliss looked at the five of them in shock. "You're not going to do anything?"
"There's no point. CIA outranks the military." Harm slumped against the wall at the Admiral's nod to stand easy.
"You've got to be able to do something." Tim stared at Kansas.
She waved him off. "Don't look at me. Jurisdiction is what it is. If the CIA has taken it, we can't do anything."
Frank cursed under his breath. "That's not right. The case was in Baltimore."
"She was a Naval officer, " Mac inserted.
"But she died a spy, therefore Webb gets the rights to the investigation." The Admiral nodded to the people assembled in his office. "Leave. All of you. I don't want to see my four officers until tomorrow morning, and I hope to never meet you two detectives ever again. Dismissed."
"Yes, Sir."
They filed from the office, Mac, Kansas, Harm, Bud, Tim, and Frank, and seperated to handle separate tasks.
The JAG officers headed to gather their belongings while Frank called Balitmore from Petty Officer Tiner's desk.
"Tell Gee we lost jurisdiction. We're on our way home."
*
Back in Baltimore, Frank stood on the roof of the police building and stared through the fence at the lights of the city. He had come back to an understanding Lieutenant Giradello, who had dealt with plenty of jurisdiction disputes in his years, and after filing a final report, he had come up to the roof to think.
"Don't think. Go home."
Pembleton turned at the voice and saw Webb leaning against the door. "What the hell do you want?"
"I came to claim the body. The lab at Langely wants to look at it."
"First you pull our jurisdiction and then you don't trust our ME?"
"Detective, this wasn't personal. This was part of my job. I'm not happy about taking your case. Odds are, once Shakton gets back to Langely, her body will be examined, buried, and then all her records as a Naval intelligence officer will be destroyed. If anyone looks her name up in two weeks, it'll show her as a junior officer working her way through law school at the JAG offices in Falls Church."
"That's it?"
"Don't damn me, Detective. The Marines are the ones who don't leave men behind."
"What do you do?"
"Pretend they never existed."
Frank stared at the man down the roof. "How do you sleep at night?"
"On my right side without thinking. Good night, Detective." Clayton left the roof.
A few minutes later, so did Frank.