Thanks for the reviews. Should be a shorter chapter here.
Remember this story is set around "Lawyers Guns and Money" and before NCIS inaugural episode, "Yankee White". So no Caitlin "Kate" Todd. Tony and well his back-slapping boss only. They'll be enough.
Once again, my description for how the Football operates is all fiction, but taken from other military fiction writers (easy to guess) and online open sources.
Skates' exploits over the skies of Afghanistan is an avenue for another FF, maybe.
Potbellys Outlet
Washington DC Navy Yard Brach
"Good to see you again Rabb, and not in a prisoner's outfit," Senior Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo greeted, extending his hand. It was the NCIS agent who came over to Harm's table, not the other way round.
Harm looked at him and thought for a few seconds. It was Dinozzo who was the "kinder" of the NCIS team, and it was him, well Gibbs first, that re-looked at the case and cleared Harm of any wrong doing.
"Nice too see you too Agent Dinozzo," Harm extended his hand. "Been busy these days?"
"Well not exactly investigating murdered JAGs and arresting their colleagues," Tony quipped.
"Hey, wel..." Harm started then stopped. Dinozzo's sarcastic remark was sort of a lecture. Harm was the one who fumbled and nearly was convicted had Gibbs' team not dug deeper into the case.
"Anything interesting you can tell me?" Harm changed his line.
"Not really," suddenly Dinozzo's phone rang. "Yeah, boss, no...just eating lunch. Ok will be will be back straight after." Closing his phone he continued, "Just as you mentioned that Commander, there's something up."
Office of the Director of the White House Communications Agency
White House Military Office
West Wing
White House
1500 hours local
"Thank you for making it, Lieutenant Commander Hawkes, please take a seat." "Making it" was much of an understatement. Even though she had a formal letter stating her reason for visiting the White House, the security check lasted around forty five minutes. During which Skates passed through two sets of metal detectors, an X-Ray Scanner, a pat-down by a female Secret Service Agent, a check through her navy issue handbag and even her heels. Only then was she provided with a temporary pass and a close escort all the way to this rather stuffy office.
"Thank you sir, I'm ready to start." Her "sir" comment was directed at the White House Communications Agency director, an army Colonel, Andrew Sanders, with a bountiful level of ribbons. There was also another bespectacled man who introduced himself as the White House Military Office Director, Jack Lindsey. Skates had briefly heard about him through Scuttlebutt: He was previously Under-Secretary of Defence for Acquisition, and many in the Navy complained about his initiatives. Before that he was a Senator and Congressman, and the staunchest right-wing politician in the legislature.
The WHMO Director motioned her to a seat and replied, "Just a few more checks, Commander."
She raised eyebrows in surprise. "I thought...I as cleared when I received the orders."
"Just the usually formalities. You do realise the sensitivity of this post. Now," Lindsey flicked through a file. "You graduated summa cum laude in Electrical and Computer Engineering?"
"Yes, sir." She replied, wondering if they were going to look through her whole college life.
"In your first year, you took a module in International Relations and..." he paused, "you wrote an essay advocating a massive reduction in nuclear disarmament." His tone made it sound as a sentence, but the look on the WHMO Director's face showed otherwise.
Oh shit, they even dug that up? "Um...sir, that was written many years back and my views have changed."
"It was selected by your professor for a college academic journal..."
"Sir, it's not a widespread publication. I believe...I believe that nuclear disarmament can happen but such weapons play a key part in our national defence." Skates chose her words carefully.
"Ok..." He returned his folder. "So you are a veteran of the Kosovo campaign...where you received the Air Medal for pushing another F-14 out of enemy territory?"
"I assisted with that sir; I was the RIO and it was my pilot who flew the fighter." Skates' Air Medal was presented much later after Harm received his second DFC. Word from the grapevine said it was the latter who wrote to the higher authority to give her something for her role in that heroic act.
"...Veteran of also Operation Enduring Freedom, noted for many close in air support flights that were critical in each phase of the campaign." Skates gave an acknowledgement to that statement. Nice to know they picked up her efforts across the last few years.
"Excellent record...your mother's family is British?" The topic suddenly changed.
"Yes...they all are...will that be a worry in this assignment?"
"Your parents and siblings are registered Democrats...and they have a strong history voting against this President and his father." He failed to answer her alit question.
"I...thought a citizen's political leaning was suppose to be private sir," she replied, getting annoyed with this line of questioning. "If you fee my family's political interests are going to hinder my duties, I suggest you excuse me and let me head back to a carrier."
The WHMO director glanced at his uniform colleague, then suddenly smiled a smile which Elizabeth Hawkes saw was both amicable yet hostile. "We never ask for yes-men or women in this country or its military, Lieutenant Commander. If fact, you in. Welcome aboard."
"O...h," was all she could say. All these questions to tell me yes?!
"Any questions before you start?" This finally came from Colonel Sanders.
"Er...what happened to the previous officer at this post sir? Not to be overly judgemental, but these change of orders came rather fast."
"He suffered an accident," was the reply. "Now," he rose, "let's get you acquainted with your new friend."
US Navy Judge Advocate General Headquarters
Washington DC Navy Yard
Around the same time
"Commander, where have you been?" Rear Admiral (Upper Class) Albert Jethro "AJ" Chegwidden voice boomed across the room as soon as Harm stepped in the main outer office. All eyes turned and looked at the former Naval Aviator.
"Sir...I was at lunch with Lieutenant Roberts, I did inform you before hand."
"Roberts returned over an hour ago and do you know what time it is?" Chegwidden's annoyance, no temper was clearly visible.
"Admiral...I didn't exceed my allotted hour.." Harm replied, hoping for a good afternoon. The next reply told him otherwise.
"Well to me you have. Go take the duty JAG's chair and be useful."
"Sir, isn't there already one today? I saw Lieutenant..."
"Commander, do I have to repeat myself? I have a great shortage of staff especially with McKenzie taken away by the CIA. Now take the duty JAG's chair. That's an order."
Harm wanted to push it again, but instead snapped to attention as the head JAG walked off. "It's just one of his days, sir," Harm turned to see Legalman Second Class Jennifer Coates next to him.
"It's ok, Coates, I can manage."
"You sure?"
"Coates, just let it be." The Legalman nodded though she still thought she would press the matter later.
Gathering necessary files, Harm headed to the duty office which was a room filled with cabinets and dusty files. Wiping off the table and chair, he was about to settle in when a knock on the door disturbed the silence. Turning about, he saw a blonde-haired lady about five foot and in a chequered coat. "Excuse me, I'm looking for the legal assistance officer?"
"I'm the assigned duty JAG ma'am, Commander Harmon Rabb," Harm shook her hand and guided her to a nearby chair. "What can I help you with?"
"Well, you can help me find information about my husband. They, the...your navy said he was injured badly in an accident a few days ago but that's I got. I tried calling and calling but it was either and engaged tone or a voicemail."
Flicking on the terminal Harm accessed the military records database. "What's your husband's name?"
"Laramie, Commander Michael Laramie."
"Bah!" The computer sounded. "There's...no record of him here."
"What do you mean? That's his name. He served in the Navy..."
Inner Office of the Director of the White House Communications Agency
White House Military Office
West Wing
White House
The "friend" looked like a normal briefcase that had put on at least several kilograms, Skates thought. It didn't look like a device that could start a war, let alone allow the leader of the free world to destroy the planet several times over.
"It may not look like much," the WHCA Director began, as if reading her thoughts, "but it definitely wasn't designed to be appealing."
"Now," began another officer, an Air Force officer of Brigadier General rank. "Take a close look at it, touch it, and tell me where the opening locks are."
She bent closer and felt around the whole device. Funnily enough, the whole leather skin was all she could see and feel. "There isn't any," Skates replied, hoping for the session not to turn out to be a magical trick show.
"That's because no one is suppose to see it," replied a second officer, an Army Brigadier General. "Here," he extended a rectangular box, "place all your fingers, thumbs included on this pad." Skates did so. "Now put your fingers back on the briefcase, along the middle." The bag suddenly opened, but only half an inch. Another whirling sound was made and a key pad popped out from the side.
"That was phase one." The WHCA Director replied.
"Now, Commander, I hope your memory skills are really truly as great as great as they say they are." The Air Force Brigadier General revealed another device which looked exactly like an automatic dealing machine. Skates had visited Las Vegas once with her relatives years ago but only watched them playing blackjack. "Press the side button." Another whirling sound emitted and then over a dozen "dealing cards" were ejected out of the device. "Pick one card and place it back in the machine. A set of numbers will appear on the screen, but only for ten seconds. Memorise them and remember them by hard." Her heart beating fast, Skates did so and caught sight of the numbers. "9..." as soon as they appeared the screen went blank. "Do it two more times with two different cards."
That part over, the army general gave the next instructions. "Enter the memorised numbers on that keypad." Finally, the whole briefcase sprung open, but only to reveal a black book, a manila folder with ten pages stapled together and a three-by-five inch card. By the side was a small digital device.
"That's...all there is?!" She exclaimed then seeing the expressions of the senior officers she mumbled an apology.
"Well not quite Commander," the Air Force Brigadier General replied. He presented a TOP SECRET NOFORN folder over. "You have to also memorise this by hard by at most tomorrow before we take it back." Looking closer, she saw it was a briefing manual on "Continuity of Government Plans", "Strategic Command emergency operations", "National Command Authority control" and the last "Special Weapons release procedures and options." Nuclear Weapons, she mentally translated.
"Sign here, Commander Hawkes." That line was repeated at least a dozen times and as soon as the twelfth form was signed, a mobile phone rang. "Yes...oh...now? Ok, we'll get the officer ready. No problem." Clicking his phone shut, he addressed the rest of them. "We have to finish this later gentleman; POTUS has suddenly an unscheduled trip."
"Huh?" That came from Skates.
"You have to carry the briefcase, Commander and accompany the President."
"Like...right now?"
"Yes. Welcome to the wonderful world of the White House."
To Be Continued...