Crossing the Same River
Chapter 12
The NCIS sedan and the truck pulled up in front of the Thirty Second Marine Battalion Headquarters Building and the occupants of both vehicles dismounted and with one accord the four junior agents turned expectant faces towards Gibbs.
"Alright, listen up! I don't expect any interference, other than verbal protests, maybe, but let's not take any chances. Make sure that your weapons are accessible and be ready for anything! Got it?"
The varied replies, "Yeah, got it, Boss! On it Boss! Ready Boss!" were punctuated by metallic 'snicks' as sidearms were locked and loaded and the safety catches checked.
"Ready? Let's go!"
The NCIS party quickly mounted the steps to the HQ Building, almost brushing aside a Marine Corps Lieutenant who looked as if he was about to voice a protest, but then meeting Gibbs' frosty gaze, he stood down, merely pushing his garrison cover towards the back of his head and murmuring, "What the hell!"
"Turn right, and then first door on the right, Boss!" Jen muttered to Gibbs, who nodded his acknowledgement both of her input and that she, at least, had memorised the layout of the building.
Gibbs didn't stop at the door, he didn't even knock, just turned the handle and strode in to the Sergeant Major's office. Connolly, the same man as Jen and Tim remembered from their first visit, started to stand up behind his desk, his face instantly transforming into a mask if anger, "What the hell…" he began, but was cut off in mid protest by Gibbs' terse words.
"Sergeant Major Michael Connolly, I am Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. I am arresting you on suspicion of you making a false official statement. Turn around and place your hands behind your back!"
"The hell I will!" Connolly snarled, and made as if to round the desk and assault Gibbs, but was brought up short by a metallic click and the sight of Sam Hood's weapon pointed at his head.
Recognising that there was nothing he could do at the moment, Connolly snapped to a halt. "You are making a big, big, mistake here, Mister. And by the time I'm though with you…"
"Yeah, yeah," Gibbs said wearily, having heard it all before. "Now turn around and put your hands behind your back!"
Reluctantly, but yielding to force majeur, Connolly did as he was bid, standing and fuming as Gibbs snapped the cuffs on his wrists. "McGee, Bishop, take him to the car and secure him in the rear seat!"
"On it, Boss!" McGee guided the Sergeant Major out into the hallway but was brought to a halt by the S-1 of the Battalion, Captain Manningham, who wore a displeased scowl on his face and demanded brusquely, "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Boss?" McGee called out over his shoulder.
Gibbs edged past the prisoner and his two escorts and stared at Manningham, "There a problem here, McGee?"
"Just that the Captain here – he's the S-1, if I remember correctly – wants to know what's going on."
"Well, Captain," Gibbs turned his attention to the fuming Marine Officer, "What' going on is that the Sergeant Major here, is being arrested for making a false official statement."
"That's ridiculous!" Manningham snapped, and even if it wasn't, a message to the CO would have seen us taking the Sergeant Major into custody!"
"Now… why am I having trouble in believing that?" Gibbs drawled.
"Are you calling me a liar?" the outraged Captain demanded.
"Not so much," Gibbs denied, "But I do know how Semper Fi works! But to get back to your original question, why didn't we let you take care of it in house? Well, that would be because it's a federal case."
"You… you could have let the Battalion know before you busted in here and just snatched the Sergeant Major away from his duties?"
"What, and give you the chance to hide him away somewhere and claim that he was on leave, or TDY, somewhere?" Hood put in.
"That's enough, Hood!" Gibbs snapped.
"Yes, Boss," a chastened agent replied and lapsed into silence.
"I would have put things a little more diplomatically," Gibbs said to Manningham, "But he more or less got the essentials right!"
Jen had stood a little to one side while the conversation took place and had noted that a lot of the bluster had gone out of Manningham when Gibbs mentioned that the investigation was a federal case, and at the same time she had seen Connolly dart a shocked glance at Manningham and nervously moisten his lips with the tip of his tongue.
Manningham reluctantly gave round and McGee and Bishop hustled Connolly out to the NCIS sedan where, with his hands cuffed behind his back, they pushed him onto the rear seat and locked the doors. Bishop stayed near the car to keep an eye on the prisoner while McGee hurried back inside the building to assist on the search of the Sergeant Major's office. He entered the room just in time to hear Gibbs explain to Manningham, that yes, they did indeed have a warrant to search the Sergeant Major's office, his vehicles, his real estate and any buildings on them, "So, Captain, unless you want to face charges of interfering with a federal investigation, I suggest you stand down, and let my team do their job without any further interference. The sooner you let them get to work, the sooner they'll be done, and the less disruption there'll be!"
Gibbs nodded down the hallway where three or four of the Headquarters Clerks had gathered to watch, from a distance, what was going on.
Manningham snorted and turned away, he had hoped to contain the scene but now with a full scale search wrecking the Sergeant Major's office, and enlisted Marines gawping at the show, he couldn't possibly hope to accomplish his aim.
He yelled for the Chief Clerk, "Master Sergeant Aimes! Get these idlers back to work!" and as he waited for the startled clerks to disperse he heard Jen's clear voice announce, "Car keys, Boss!"
Straightening his shoulders Manningham was about to knock on the CO's office door, when the door in question almost flew open and an Irate Lieutenant Colonel snarled in his face, "What the hell's going on Manningham?"
Nervously, Manningham took a half step back, "Sir, it's NCIS, they've come back mob-handed and with a search warrant… and they've arrested the Sergeant Major!"
"Arrested the Sergeant Major, what the fu… what the hell for?"
"Making a false official statement in a federal case, sir," Manningham admitted unhappily.
"What federal case! By God, I'll teach those SOBs to try to arrest my Sergeant Major! With me, Manningham!"
"Ayer, aye, sir!" Captain Manningham fell in behind his CO as the latter stormed up the hallway towards the Sergeant Major's Office.
"Boss," Sam Hood quietly said and nodded towards the doorway.
Gibbs straightened up from where he was examining some of the paperwork that had been extracted from the Sergeant Major's desk drawers, "'Morning Colonel," he said affably enough.
"The hell with your good morning! Hey! I know you! Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs! Get the hell out of my battalion area Gunnery Sergeant!"
"Wrong, Colonel… or should I say, Lieutenant Colonel Wainwright? I am not Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs. I am Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS, and I have no intention of going anywhere until I have finished what I came here to do."
"The hell you say!" Wainwright snarled, sounding like a bad impression of John Wayne. "This is my battalion, and I say what happens or does not happen within it. And I say that what does not happen in this instance is the arrest of my Sergeant Major, and this ransacking of his office!"
The affability had fled Gibbs' voice as he answered, "Wrong Colonel. My special agent trumps your CO, and if you have any doubts about the matter, then this search warrant and arrest warrant trump those."
"Warrants? Signed by who?" Wainwright demanded.
"Rear Admiral Owen Sebring, Assistant Judge Advocate General of the Navy and Commanding all Naval and Marine Corps Judges. I think you'll find that he would be pretty well ticked off if he heard that you interfered with the execution of his warrants."
Gibbs' self-assurance had made Manningham think twice, but Wainwright was thinking along different lines altogether. Making a false statement was rarely the focus of a federal investigation, and this was the second occasion in a matter of days that NCIS had come snooping around his battalion, and the last time it had been, ostensibly, on account of the death of Staff Sergeant Keeler. Wainwright knew very well just how and why Keeler had died, and he did not like the idea, at all, of NCIS finding out the whys and wherefores themselves. So… some conciliation was required, for a time anyway, until more thorough efforts had been made to cover the tracks leading from Staff Sergeant Keeler's death to other matters. Matters which Wainwright could ill afford to become public knowledge. The problem was, Connolly was a vital member of the crew that Wainwright was using to cover those self-same tracks and as far as Wainwright was concerned, Connolly was now a security risk. He knew far too much, and if he talked…
"Very well, Gibbs, if you have the properly signed warrants then obviously I can't interfere, and won't even attempt to, but I will be contacting the Director NCIS to let him know how his agents burst into my headquarters building and started arresting members of the cadre, without having the decency to alert me first!"
Gibbs allowed himself a twitch of his face which might have been interpreted as a fleeting example of his lop-sided grin, "I'm sure you will, Colonel, and now, if you'll excuse me. Me and my team have a lot to do today!"
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A tap on his office door made Harm look up, repressing a smile as he did so; he had come to recognise that knock and, after glancing at his watch, he had a pretty fair idea of what was about to happen. "Enter!"
Diane Letterwood opened the door and stood just inside it, her purse slung at the regulation angle over her left shoulder and her cover tucked between her body an her upper arm. "Sir, unless you want me for anything urgent, I'm going to stand down for lunch."
"No, that's fine Yeoman Two, you go right ahead. In fact, I won't be many minutes behind you!"
"Aye, aye, sir!" Letterwood smiled and stepping a pace back through the doorway she closed it gently behind her
Harm gave her a five minute start before he collected his cover from the hat stand by the door and strolled down to the cafeteria. Collecting and paying for his meal he looked around for somewhere to sit, where he could either be left in peace, or enjoy the company of old acquaintances. Seeing no-one with he cared to share his company he selected a small table in the far corner of the room and settled down in solitary splendour to enjoy his, in his opinion, well-earned lunch.
As he ate, he allowed himself a wry smile. This morning had been busy enough, with welcoming Faith Coleman aboard and he flattered himself that he had knocked some of the wind pit of her sails. He had never before seen her show any emotion but today he was positive he had seen a flicker of surprise in her eyes, at least twice.
A frown followed his smile as his reflections on Lieutenant Commander Coleman inevitably led him to the follow-on contretemps with the Admin Branch of JAQG HQ. Harm had never been the type of officer who pulled rank, but he was damned if he was going to permit a Lieutenant Commander to flout his instructions. Glaring at the remains of the broccoli quiche on his plate, Harm suddenly lost all appetite, and pausing only to buy a second bottle of mineral water made his way back to his office.
Once safely behind his desk Harm pulled the top file from the stack in his on-tray and scowled at it. JAG, like every branch of the Navy was being pressured to reduce costs. Unlike most of the Navy, however, there was very little in the way of equipment – JAG had no vessels, aircraft or weapons systems that could be stood down or that could be declared redundant – which only left infrastructure and personnel as areas where savings could be made. And as JAG was about to ask for more personnel, not less, then cuts in infrastructure were the only alternatives. The first folio in the file, from the JAG herself, made it clear that finding a way out of the dilemma was up to Harm, and as far as Harm could see the only way out was a JAG centred mini-BRAC. The situation in Florida would serve as an example. There was a Trial Service Office and a Legal Support Office the one at Jackson, the other at Mayport, both commanded by an O-6, and both requiring to send JAGs TAD to the other location to fulfil their professional duties. Sure, it was only fifty miles, or thereabouts, between the two locations, but that was still an hour's travelling time, with fuel costs to be taken into account and two offices meant twice the number of support staff.
So… close one base and downsize the number of support staff would be the easiest solution, but… Before anything else, a new billet would need to be found for the O-6 who had just lost his job and while there were a few O-6 who would agree to take retirement, no reliance could be placed on there being a sufficient number to meet JAG's needs. Secondly, if the Trials Service Office were to close, and its attorneys moved to Mayport, what would be the impact on the Command? Trials Service Offices were, in Harm's opinion the prosecutors of the future, while Legal Services Offices would provide defence counsel. Both would continue with their other duties naturally, and attorneys would of course, be moved from TSO to LSO as required to further their professional education. Ruefully shaking his head, Harm realised that the JAG had dropped another potentially very hot potato in his lap, and with a resigned sigh he reached for pen and legal pad to start making notes of his ideas.
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Sergeant Major Michael Connolly glowered at his weeping wife, "For Christ's sake, woman, shut up!"
"Oh, Michael! What have you done?" the tearful woman asked her husband as from outside their house and under the watchful eye of Sam Hood they stood, Connolly still handcuffed, and listened as Gibbs and the rest of his team searched the house on the Top Three street of base enlisted housing.
Connolly listened with a sinking heart, he knew that if the team were as through and as professional as they looked then they would doubtless find what they were looking for. And that would mean the end of Sergeant Major Connolly, but if he was going down, he'd be damned if he was going to take the rap on his own. In the meantime, "I've done nothing woman!" he braved out her accusation and its silent companion in the eyes of the burly NCIS agent watching over them.
The lounge looked as if a tornado had hit it. Magazines, their pages spread open, littered every horizontal surface. Books had been removed from the shelves and their pages riffled, photographs had been taken down from the walls and their frames and backing examined. In the kitchen the devastation looked even worse. Containers had been emptied of their contents, the kitchen chairs had been turned upside down and the bottom of their legs checked for plugs that concealed hollowed out cavities in the legs, and yet, so far all to no avail.
The search had moved upstairs. Bishop was in the bathroom, checking the various creams and powders, McGee was in the second bedroom while Jen searched the master bedroom. Currently on her stomach, she squinted up at the underside of the bed frame.
"Boss! Got something here!"
"What?" Gibbs crossed the room and dropped into a squat beside Jen's legs.
"Looks like a lock box, been screwed to the bed-frame!" she grunted as she tried and failed to move it.
"Okay, come out of there," he ordered, and waited until Jen had squirmed backwards from underneath the bed. He extended a hand to help her to her feet and then nodded at the bed, "Flip it!"
"Flip it?" Jen asked, momentarily at a loss.
"Yeah, flip it! Turn it on its side so we can see what we're doing!"
"Oh, right, Boss!" With a heave Jen flipped the bed onto its side, and there in the corner formed by the bedhead and one of the stretchers was a dark grey, metal box, about a foot long by six inches wide and four inches deep. It was held in place by two hinged metal straps, fastened by padlocks.
Gibbs contemplated the locks for a moment or two and then yelled, "McGee!"
"Boss?"
"Get in here! And bring the keys with you!"
McGee had taken possession of the household keys as a first move on entering the house and with those which had been taken from the Sergeant Major, now had a set that would have gladdened the heart of any medieval chatelaine.
Juggling the two bunches of keys in his hands McGee inspected the two padlocks and then found two keys on the Sergeant Major's key ring that looked as they fitted. They did and three pair of curious eyes fastened on the box as Gibbs lifted it clear of the bedframe. Any hope of a quick resolution seemed dashed when the agents saw that the box was fitted with a combination lock rather than a traditional lock that could be opened by a key.
Gibbs grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and dialled Hood's number.
"Yeah, Boss?"
"Ask Connolly what the combination for the lock box is!" Gibbs snapped.
Hood had no idea what Gibbs was talking about, but he had to assume that the senior agent knew what he was doing, and that Connolly would understand.
"On it, Boss!"
The four agents now crowded into the bedroom waited for the reply.
"Boss?"
"Go ahead, Hood."
"Connolly only said one thing, Boss. He said 'lawyer'."
"Yeah that figures!" Gibbs said sourly and broke the connection.
"No luck?" Ellie Bishop asked,
"Nope, he lawyered up," Gibbs replied as he eyed the lock box and rubbed his chin with finger and thumb.
"It'll take a good while to cut into that box, even if we had the tools with us," McGee commented.
Gibbs nodded, "Maybe… maybe… just maybe… Try eleven, ten, seventeen, seventy five."
McGee twirled the combination wheel back and forth and as he reached the seventy five there was a metallic click and McGee gently eased the box open.
"Nice one, Boss!" he said appreciatively, "but of all the number combinations it could have been, how come you picked the right one, first time 'round?"
"Connolly's a Marine, and a not very bright one. The number I gave you is a date, November Tenth, Seventeen Seventy-Five. The Marine Corps' birthday. The one date that no Marine will ever forget!"
Ellie Bishop turned to Jen and quirked a humorous eyebrow, "Now why didn't you think of that?" she teased the brunette.
"That's because I'm a sailor, not a Jarhea…Uh… Marine!" Jen hastily amended what she was about to say and cast a covert look at Gibbs, who luckily for her, was paying attention to what was inside the lock box.
Gibbs took the bulky envelope from the lock box and he felt the paper in his hands, "Feels new…" he grunted and then carefully he took the papers out of the envelope, unfolded them and grinned, "Well, well, well whaddaya know? Deeds to a property down in Florida… and just two months old. Mister Connolly must have gotten a wiggle on when he got back from the 'Stan! There was nothing on his financials to indicate that he'd come into a large sum of money, or that he'd been buying property?"
"Nope, nothing, Boss."
"So… if there's no record of it, then he won't have paid tax on it. I reckon that once we're done here, the IRS might just like to have a talk with the Sergeant Major! Anything else there, McGee?"
"Yeah, Boss, a Beretta nine mil, one full clip, several hundred dollars in cash, and another envelope… with another key in it!"
Gibbs peered at the key, "What do you make of it?" he demanded.
McGee grew thoughtful, "Looks like it might be for a safety deposit box?" he suggested doubtfully.
Ellie Bishop shook her head, "I don't think so. It looks more like the kind of key for luggage storage at train stations and bus depots… Or maybe a gym locker key?"
"Okay, bag it and tag it, together with the weapon and the deeds to the Florida property; we'll get SE office to check out the property and see if they can locate the former owners. In the meantime, let's finish up in here!"
"Bathroom's clean, Boss," Ellie Bishop declared, not referring to its hygienic or otherwise condition.
"Could do with a hand in the other bedroom, Bishop," McGee said to the blonde as he turned towards the door.
"On it!" Bishop agreed and followed the senior agent out into the hallway.
"Well?" Gibbs demanded of Jen, "What are you waiting for? Let's get finished with this room!"
"Yes, Boss!" Jen stepped around the end of the bed and made her way to the vanity that stood against one wall and opening the jewellery box that stood on the top if the vanity table, almost immediately struck lucky, or so she thought, "Boss!"
"Yeah?" Jen held up a pair of ear rings one held between thumb and forefinger of a latex gloved hand, "These look pretty oriental to me…"
Gibbs held out his own similarly gloved hand and Jen dropped the two items of jewellery into it, and then reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper.
"What's…?" Gibbs began and then as Jen unfolded it he realised it was a print out of the illustrations of the missing artefacts.
Jen looked from Gibbs' hand to the print out, and back again two or three times before she grinned, "Got him, I think, Boss! Those ear rings look mighty like these ones here! She indicated one of the images on the print out.
Gibbs grinned, "Good work, Coates! But keep on looking!"
Despite another two hours of intensive searching nothing else was found that might link Sergeant Major Connolly to the artefacts missing from the museum in Afghanistan. But Gibbs, and even more so Jen, were convinced that they now had solved at least one part of the puzzle. The remaining two parts were firstly how many from the Thirty Second were involved and secondly what was the link to Staff Sergeant Keeler's death.
The search ended, Mrs Connolly was allowed back into the house, where looking at the state of it she promptly burst into tears. Although Jen felt a degree of sympathy for the woman, she also felt that whatever felonious conduct the husband had been engaged in the wife must have reaped some benefit. Maybe she questioned what he was doing, but then again, maybe she didn't, but either way, she could have, indeed should have, voiced her suspicions.
Once in the car Gibbs twisted in his seat and showed Connolly the sealed evidence envelopes in which title deeds, key and ear rings had been placed. "Want to save us all a lot of time – including yourself?" he asked alluding to the time that he was convinced Connolly would be spending behind bars.
Connolly stared Gibbs in the face and said "Lawyer!"
Gibbs nodded, "Okay, Michael Sean Connolly, I am arresting you on suspicion of theft and of receiving and handling of stolen goods. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you do say can and will be used against you in any subsequent disciplinary proceedings. You have the right to consult with a lawyer prior to any questioning. This lawyer may be a civilian lawyer retained by you at your own expense, a military lawyer appointed to act as your counsel without cost to you, or both. You also have the right to have such counsel present at any interview conducted in connection with these charges. Is that understood?"
Connolly debated for a moment as whether or not to answer and both Jen and Gibbs could see in his face that he didn't intend to, but then a sea-change overtook his attitude and he seemed to slump within himself, "Yeah, I understand!" he growled.
Gibbs grinned, "Good! Coates get on the horn to the Legal Department and ask Commander Arnold to round up a JAG for the Sergeant Major's defence!"
"On it Boss!" Jen replied cheerfully, her hand dipping into her purse for her cell phone
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Harm shook his hand in mid-air to relieve the writer's cramp he had developed as he wrote steadily for most of the afternoon. He now had six and a half sheets of legal pad covered in his spiky handwriting or Letterwood to decipher and then type up in the morning. But that could wait for the morning! He carefully made sure that the sheets were in the right page order and slid them into the centre drawer of his desk, making sure that he locked it once he had done so. Not that his ideas threatened the security of the Navy, or anything of that sort, but there was some pretty far-reaching and explosive stuff contained in his notes. Not that he expected his more radical suggestions to receive anything more than polite attention, but, and he allowed himself a slight grin as he continued his explosives theme, letting them loose in the small JAG community would be the equivalent of igniting a powder train leading to a magazine full of gunpowder.
Collecting his over and briefcase, he opened his office door to find himself face to face with Diane Letterwood. Both took a half step back and Harm arched an eyebrow, "Calling it a day, Yeoman Two?"
Diane coloured faintly, "Yes, sir. I was just about to let you know…"
"That's fine! I was just about to tell you the same thing! Go on, then, dismissed!"
"Ayer, aye, sir!" Letterwood replied smartly and flashed Harm a smile and then turned and left the office.
'Quite a nice smile she has too,' Harm mused as he strolled along the corridor to Admiral Longstreet's suite of offices, where he tapped once for politeness' sake on the door frame of the outer office and let himself in, waving off the attempt to stand by Master Chief Pickett.
"Stand easy, Master Chief. I just need you to pencil me in for a meeting with the Admiral for some time tomorrow afternoon."
"Tomorrow afternoon? Aye, sir!" the Master Chief tapped a couple of keys on his computer key board. "I think she can see you at fifteen hundred, but that will be subject to her conformation, sir."
"That's fine, Master Chief. If you can give me more than about five minutes warning it would be appreciated." And although his tone was serious, the laughter in his face let the Master Chief know that Harm didn't really expect anything like such short notice.
"Of course, sir," the Master Chief replied just as gravely although the twinkle in his eye told Harm that the joke had been heard, understood and appreciated.
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Harm rinsed his hands and grabbed a towel as he turned away from the kitchen work top when he heard Jen's key in the lock, "Hey sweetheart," he greeted her, his eyes drinking every aspect of her appearance, noticing that she looked tired but also happy and relaxed. "How was your day?" he continued.
Jen smiled and dropped her purse on the hall table that stood just inside the door, "Pretty damned good!" she exclaimed as she crossed the space between them, and walked right into Harm's arms.
"M'mm…" he smiled about thirty seconds later, "So the forces of justice and right have triumphed?"
Jen leaned back against the support of his hands on her hips, "Not yet, but we've taken a few steps in the right direction. I'll tell you all I can once I've freshened up and changed!"
"Plenty of time!" Harm assured her, "I've only just started chopping the veggies, so we've a way to go yet!"
"M'mm… what's on the menu?" Jen called over her shoulder as she made her way towards the bed and bathroom suite.
"Oh, roasted root vegetables, with red cabbage and apples."
"Sounds good!" Jen approved, and truth to be told she did like this particular dish and knew that Harm knew that she did, so his going to the trouble of making it on a weekday meant much more to her than would have been apparent.
Jen took Harm at his word and decided that if the vegetables weren't yet in the oven then she did have plenty of time, so instead of the quick shower she had intended, she drew herself a bath liberally sprinkling her favourite bath salts into the steaming water so that the aroma of jasmine and vanilla filled the bathroom.
In the kitchen, even over the smell of the oil heating in readiness for the vegetables, Harm caught the scent of Jen's bath and smiled happily. But behind the smile was a sense of regret for all the wasted years. 'If I had manned up six years ago and confronted my feelings for Jen, we could have already had those years together and maybe with a couple of the children that we both so much wanted. But then there had been the regulations in the way, but… Yeah, sure, it was good to be a Captain in the Navy, but if he had to choose now between career and Jen, then Jen would win, hands down, every time! So what,' he asked himself, 'had changed so much over the intervening years, or maybe it was me that has changed?' That was something he would have to take up with Jen, after of course, she had bathed and had eaten her dinner and had a glass of wine with which to wash it down!
But before that, Harm decided, he would gently quiz Jen as to what she had been doing today. Again bittersweet thoughts crept unbidden into his mind, 'Yes, I know what I'm doing is essential for the good of JAG as a whole, but I miss the old days. I haven't set foot in a courtroom for what seems like decades, and I'm beginning to wonder if I ever will, and If I do, will I still have what it takes?'
The sight of Jen as she emerged from the bedroom did much to raise his spirits. She had changed into a pair of sky blue pyjamas decorated with fluffy white clouds and little yellow airplanes, and carried her old blue terry cloth bathrobe over one arm.
Harm nearly choked with laughter when he saw the pyjamas, and he was quite certain that he'd never see them before. "Are those new?" he asked with a chuckle.
Jen beamed, the PJs had had exactly the effect for which she had been hoping, "Got 'em this afternoon on the way home!"
"Ah that's why you were late… I know, I know… women and shopping – oh, sorry – retail therapy!"
"Sexist pig," Jen said with a smile, "No I bought these because as far as I know you haven't been up in Sarah since you got back to DC. Where is she? And when you do go up, you'll need to take me up with you!"
"Ah…there's a slight hitch top that idea…" Harm began as he served up the meal. "Sarah is out on California, with Mattie. She's looking after her for me, so there's a certain logistical problem in finding the time to get her back here. Sarah's got a range of five hundred miles, give or take, and a cruising speed of ninety five miles per hour and the distance between Montgomery Field, San Diego and Leesburg is a little under three thousand miles… so a flight would take thirty hours, not counting refuelling stops, and realistically I wouldn't want to be airborne in Sarah for more than about five hours a day, so we'd be looking at between six and seven days just to get across country. And that's assuming I could arrange hangarage at Leesburg."
Jen listened quietly as Harm ticked off his objections on his fingers, "M'mm tricky… but doable… maybe later in the year we could both take some leave and instead of rushing things and getting tired and grumpy, we could take it easy, maybe do shorter hops and give ourselves a chance to see parts of the country we've never seen before?"
Harm looked across the table, "You know, that's not a bad idea…"
"Of course it's not," Jen claimed outrageously, "After all, I thought of it!"
"You did, but…"
"But what?" Jen demanded suspiciously.
"But you didn't think it all the way through! Suppose we flew – commercial – to SD for July Fourth, and then flew Sarah back east. We'd be killing two birds with one stone, and you just know Mom and Frank would love for all the family to be together for the holiday for the first time in I don't know how many years!"
Jen's face lit in a brilliant full dimple-revealing smile, "That's a marvellous idea – but don't forget it was all mine!" she claimed mischievously.
"I'll grant you the original idea was yours. But the later, much improved, I might add, edition was all mine!" Harm grinned, blew on his finger nails and pretended to polish them against his shirt.
"Okay… so how about we split the credit for the idea. I get credit for the concept, and you get credit for development?"
Harm eyed her shrewdly, "Are you sure you were telling A J the truth when you told him you weren't studying law?"
"Oh, I wasn't at the time!" Jen denied, "But you can't spend four years at a master's feet without learning one or two of his tricks!"
"Okay, now that's settled, I'll give Mattie a heads up after dinner… In the meantime, you were going to tell me about your day?"
"Oh, yes! Well, there are still certain aspects that I can't talk about yet, but we went down to Quantico, mob handed and arrested the Thirty Second Battalion's Sergeant Major, and d'you know? I don't believe his CO was too happy about it!"
"No, I can't imagine any CO being happy about having his senior non-com arrested! What was the charge?"
"Making a false official statement and handling and receiving stolen goods! Anyway, before we went down there Gibbs got Admiral Sebring – why, Harm, whatever is wrong?"
"Nothing! Well, not much… I just remember, every time I hear his name, the tough time he used to give me in his court!"
"But he eased off after you got him off that vehicular homicide thing, surely?"
"On the contrary, he was even harder on me, just so that he couldn't be accused of favouritism!"
Jen giggled, "Yeah, that sounds like Admiral Sebring! Anyway, as I was saying, he signed a search warrant for the Sergeant Major's accommodation, wherever it might be, his real estate, ditto, all his vehicles and any and all buildings on his property!"
"That's pretty far ranging!" Harm said with a low whistle of surprise. "How did you get Judge Sebring to agree to that?"
"We had information from the FBI that a Terence Connolly, the Sergeant Major's brother, was a person of interest in the buying and selling of stolen art and antiques. Apparently that was enough for Admiral Sebring to sign the warrant."
"Nice going!" Harm said admiringly.
"So… we searched his house, and came up with a pair of ear rings that were on the list of items missing from the museum, and the deeds to a house in Florida. As soon as we got back to DC Gibbs called the Mayport NCIS office and faxed them the warrant, and we're waiting to see what, if anything they find. The funny thing is, the deeds were dated since the Sergeant Major's return from Afghanistan, but there's nothing in his financial records showing any movement of substantial amounts of cash, so Gibbs reckons it hasn't been declared to the IRS and so we called them too!
"Ouch! That's nasty!" Harm winced.
Jen nodded, "Yeah, but we also found a weapon, ammunition and a key in a lock box strapped to the underside of his bed and the thing is the key looks like one of those keys from a luggage locker, or maybe a gym locker. Gibbs has got Sam Hood tracking that down; he thinks that Connolly may have a stash of cash hidden away…Oh… do you know a Lieutenant Commander Fullerton? Alex Fullerton?" Jen asked with a mercurial apparent change of subject
Harm shook his head, "No, I've heard the name somewhere, but I don't recall ever meeting him, why?"
"Oh, it's just that Connolly lawyered up the second we arrested him, and this Fullerton guy, he's the attorney that was sent over from the Falls Church Trials Office."
"No, still don't know him. So… what's the thinking behind the case?" Harm asked.
Jen gnawed her lower lip, "We're not quite sure, but the current theory Is that somehow the cadre of the Thirty Second Battalion organised a drone strike on the Museum, and while the dust was settling, they went in and helped themselves to as much as they could shove into their pockets – this is all small, easily concealed loot. Somehow, Staff Sergeant Keeler learned about the heist and was going to go public with it, so the cadre had him murdered and tried to pass it off as a KIA."
Harm grimaced, "It wouldn't be the first time something like that happened. Not every Staff Non-Com in the Corps is as upright as Victor Galindez was!"
"What happened to him?" Jen asked. "I never met him, but he was a legend amongst the enlisted at Falls Church. If someone was going about a job in ham handed way, or just generally screwing up, all it took was for someone else to say, 'Gunny wouldn't let you get away with that'."
"Victor Galindez was one of the finest men I ever met!" Harm affirmed. "When his twenty years ran out he didn't re-up, instead he went back home to New Mexico, got himself married and started into raising a passel of kids on a big old ranch somewhere near the Texas state line, then he started taking in kids who had gone off the rails, and straightened them out. Turned it into a business, charging parents to sort out the mess they had made of their kids' lives. Funny thing is, I met one of Victor's kids in Naples, just before I handed over command there. He was a Corporal in the Embassy Security Detail, detached to the consulate in Naples." Harm took a mouthful of wine and swallowed before he continued, "Told me that Victor had probably saved his life. Most of the kids he used to run with got caught up in people, gun and drug smuggling across the border from Mexico. He said those that weren't dead were looking at life in some federal penitentiary somewhere."
Jen smiled, a little mistily, overcome with memorised, "Sounds pretty much like you, then, Harm."
"What, me? No! No such thing. I'm nothing like Victor!"
"Yeah, you are. You straightened me out. Don't you remember what I once said about my old friends? Well that young Corporal said pretty much what I said, almost word for word, the way you put it. So, yeah, you could say you did save my life!"
"But Jen, you were into kiting a few checks and a little shop lifting, nothing like those kids down on New Mexico got involved in." Harm protested.
"Yeah, well at the time I went UA, Pia was into shop lifting and petty theft, and look what she graduated to! And that's just one example."
"Jen, Pia was a different character, you could never have done what she did. You're not a murderer!"
"No, but I can kill under certain circumstances, remember only a few nights ago?"
"He isn't dead!" Harm objected.
"No, but if my aim had been better he would have been. Harm, I was aiming where I was taught, centre of mass, and if either of those rounds had been just a couple of inches lower…"
"But they weren't! And anyway, self-defence or defence of other people is a far cry from murder one!"
"Maybe!" Jen said mulishly as she dug her fork into the cabbage and apple on her plate.
Harm was about to expand on his theme when he saw the stubborn set of Jen's expression, so contented himself with a smile, and reaching across the bar, he covered one her hands with his own for a brief moment and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Startled, Jen looked up and saw the expression his face and instantly her own features softened, "Sorry, Harm, I never realised I could be such a witch!"
"M'mm… are you sure you haven't been learning from Loren Singer as well as A J?" Harm teased her.
Jen looked thoughtful, "No… at least I don't think so. No, that was all natural talent!" she finished with a smile that made Harm's breath catch in his throat.
With dinner done and the kitchen cleared away to their mutual satisfaction – Harm remembered in the early days that Mattie had grumbled that Jen was a 'neat freak', Harm and Jen, armed with mugs of drinking chocolate, made their way into the lounge where Jen, checking the time asked, "Are you going to call Mattie, about the Stearman? I know July is over two months away, but if it needs work to make it safe…"
"Don't worry, Jen, if there's the slightest doubt about her airworthiness, I'm not climbing into her and you aren't going to get within a hundred feet of her!"
"There's no need to go that far," Jen chuckled, "But I take your point!"
"M'mm," Harm said non-committally as he took a sup from his drink.
Jen eyed him in apparent disgust, "Well is you is, or is you ain't going to call Mattie?"*
Harm lowered his mg from his mouth a couple of inches, "Once I've finished this excellent cup of hot chocolate," he said and smiled disarmingly.
Jen scowled at him, "If the chocolate is that good, then next time I'll let you make it! Then you won't have any excuse for dragging your heels!"
"Okay, okay, I can take a hint!" Harm laughed and put his mug, now empty anyway, on one of the coasters on the coffee table and dug out his cell phone, choosing the speed dial menu and pressing the button to call the first name on the list.
"Rabb!"
"Hey, Squirt, it's your old man. How're things?"
"Things?" Mattie's voice seemed to shoot up an octave. "Things are fine. Just great in fact, why?" she added hurriedly.
"Oh just checking… but you seem a bit breathless… are you okay, you haven't caught a cold or anything?"
"Relax Harm! No nothing like that! I was doing a work out to a video when you called is all." And Mattie's breathing rate did seem to have dropped to a more normal level. "But you didn't call just to check up on me – or did you?"
Harm wasn't quite sure, but there seemed to be an overtone of nervousness mixed with what sounded remarkably like guilt, just as when years ago having grounded Mattie for some minor infraction of the rules, she had invited one of her school friends around to spend the evening with her. Arguing that she hadn't gone out, so she wasn't breaking the grounding order. That hadn't worked then, and Harm, to Mattie's mortification had immediately driven the other girl home, where he had to apologise to her parents for Mattie's behaviour. Mattie's grounding was extended for a further week. But the point is that when she tried to argue her case, it was apparent from the guilt in her voice that she knew she was in the wrong, and Harm was certain he could hear that guilt now.
However, "Do I have to?" was all he said.
Mattie's "No!" was almost frantic, "I'm fine! Just loving the life!"
"H'mm…" Harm decided that with Skates, the Roberts and Jason Tiner all keeping an eye on her, Mattie couldn't get into too much trouble and decided to let her slide on this occasion.
"Okay… the reason I called is to let you know that Jen and I are making plans to come out to the West Coast for the July Fourth weekend, and then fly Sarah back to the DC area. Plans are all pretty nebulous right now, but what I need from you is to go out to Montgomery Field and make sure that Sarah is airworthy, and ready for a three thousand mile flight."
"Oh… she's just fine Harm. I took her up on Saturday last week, with little A J Roberts in the front seat and she was a perfect lady, purred along at cruising speed with no complaints, and even managed a couple of gentle aerobatics in her. She's scheduled for a ten hour airworthiness check next week, and I'm sure she'll be fine, but yeah, of course I'll keep an eye on her and make sure that she's ready for you when you come. You're really going to bring Jen out here for July Fourth, and then fly Sarah back to DC? Wow! That's going to take you a week! Does Jen know that?"
Harm grinned, "Yeah, Jen knows that, and she's pretty excited about the idea…"
"Lemme speak to her!" Mattie begged.
"Okay, she's all yours!" he said and handed the phone to Jen, sitting back resigning himself to at least half an hour while Jen and Mattie talked.
To his surprise the conversation was considerably shorter than that, and as far as he could tell consisted of Jen reassuring Mattie that they would be headed for La Jolla for the holiday, and yes, she was looking forward to the flight back to DC. "Remember Mats, that Harm and I don't have the time for a proper honeymoon, so this trip will be it… well sort of!"
Mattie's laugh was infectious enough, even from three thousand miles away, for Jen to grin too as Mattie replied, "Yeah, some honeymoon. Hours each day with your ass getting numb from sitting in the cockpit, and then overnighting in some down market airport motel!"
"Yeah," Jen smiled dreamily, "It's going to be great!"
"Oh boy! Have you got it bad! There's no point in talking to you if you're in that sort of mood! So, remember, I love you! And tell Harm that I love him too."
"I will, kiddo, take care, we love you too, 'bye!" Jen put the phone down and squinted at Harm. What was all that stuff about Mattie having a cold? She sounded fine to me!"
"Well, she didn't when she answered the phone, she was out of breath and dragging air into her lungs. Said she was watching a work out video. C'mon Jen, when did Mattie ever take ay notice of that sort of crap? Besides she sounded guilty. She's up to something!" Harm declared firmly.
"Well, maybe she's got a little corrupted by the laid back So Cal life style?" Jen suggested.
"H'mph! Maybe! But I don't buy it!"
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
In her hotel room in the Coronado Hotel, San Diego Mattie replaced her cell phone on the nightstand next to the bed, and then turning over onto her other side she grinned in relief and said, "Wow! That was close! But I think I got away with it!"
Captain Bob McLaren USMC, stretched out a hand and gently brushed a sweat dampened curl of copper hair off Mattie's forehead. "Gotten away with it? You were fine!" he protested lovingly.
"Like hell!" Mattie laughed as she flopped back on to her back and stared up at the ceiling, "That was my Dad, Captain Harmon Rabb, Navy JAG Corps, and back in the day before he got desk bound he was one of the best investigative attorneys in anyone's book anywhere in the world! And he could always tell when I was lying!"
"So… why lie about us?"
"Because if I spring it on him over the phone, he'll go straight to zone five over protectiveness and he and a shotgun are likely to be on the first direct flight from DC to here!. The man has got a superman complex the size of China and an heroic streak a mile wide. No, the best way to approach this is for you to be my plus one at his wedding next month, so he can meet you face to face to face!"
"He's not married?" Bob asked with a frown.
"No, but he's getting married to my best friend! Like an older sister, almost!" Seeing that she had now totally confused Bob, Mattie settled down on her side again and began re-telling the story of Harm, Jen and Mattie.
When she had finished, Bob frowned, "And after what he's been through with this Sarah MacKenzie, he's going to be okay with you taking up with a Marine?"
"Sure," Mattie said confidently, although she too had one or minor, nagging doubts on that score, "He'll be fine once he's seen you've been house-trained, and your wings are going to be a big help too!"
"Why my wings?" Bob asked.
"Oh, I guess I forgot about that part!" Mattie giggled, "He used to be a Naval Aviator before he became a JAG."
"Yeah?" Bob's face lit with real interest, "What was his ride?"
"F-Fourteens!" Mattie said with relish.
"Oh hell… I've been and taken up with a Tomcatter's daughter!" Bob said mournfully.
"Well, if you survive meeting Harm, I'm pretty sure that you'll survive me!"
"That's what worries me!" Bob complained with a grin.
"Oh shut up! And unless you want to start something that I don't reckon you'll finish, then take your hand away and stop what you're doing with it!"
"And if I reckon I can finish what I started?" Bob threw down the challenge.
"Then shut up and kiss me!" Mattie panted
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
*"Is You Is Or Is You Ain't My Baby" is a 1944 Louis Jordan song
