Tears for Allah, Chapter XXVIII
A/N1: This part of the story would not be possible without the NCIS writers George Schenck, Frank Cardea, and Dana Coen for "Eye Spy" and JAG writer Thomas Moran for "Good Intentions"
A/N2: As some of you may already know, Bombardier Howard Trevor Wheble, 1 RHA, known to us in the Fanfiction world as 'byrhthelm' passed on 6 October 2016. Trevor was a good friend and a valuable contact on what we Americans call 'the other side of the pond'. If you know me, you know since I cannot pay for expertise and advice provided, I give people a 'guest' role in my stories. Normally that person and I have an agreement not to overtly advertise who the guest is, but in this case I'm making an exception. Bombardier Ryan 'Wheels' Whelan who was introduced in the last chapter was Trevor's payment for all the help and advice he provided to me in the brief time that I knew him. Trevor, I hope this character honors you – you will be missed. Quo fas et Gloria ducunt.
0931 Local_ 1431 Zulu
JAGC Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
Harm and Mac made their way past Jennifer's desk and headed to Mac's office. As the Light Colonel went to her desk, Harm closed the door, but did not close the blinds. No need to start any rumors flying. They would just look like two attorneys discussing their latest case assignments.
Harm took a seat in the chair closest to the SJA Colonel's desk.
"Well what do you think about that?" Mac asked her partner as she settled in behind her desk.
The Commander gave his fiancée a puzzled look. "About the case? Too soon to tell, Mac."
"No," she gave him a quick dirty look. "About what happened in there, you know, between the Admiral and Coates regarding Meredith?" She gave him a pointed look.
Harm was the model of verboseness. "Well, uh, that is-"
Mac rolled her eyes at his verbal stumbling. "Oh come on, Harm, you aren't going to say you didn't see anything, are you?"
Now it was the Navy JAG's turn to give her SJA partner a dirty look. "No Mac, I'm not that dense. But whatever happened is between Meredith and the Admiral. Coates needs to be careful about her pushing or she's going to push herself onto a garbage scow off Adak."
Mac sighed, he was right about that. You could only urge A.J. Chegwidden so far. "So are you going to talk to her, or do you want me to do it?"
"I'll do it," Harm replied getting up. "You've got a client to go talk to."
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Trista and Michelle were working on court transcripts. Michelle watched as Trista eyed an obviously perplexed Legalman 1 trying to keep her mind on her Yeoman work for the Admiral but failing miserably.
"What do you think happened between the Admiral and his girlfriend?" Trista asked.
Michelle understood the curiosity. "I don't know, but it sure seems to have Coates in a fit." But she also understood that they needed to focus on their work. "C'mon, we gotta finish these transcripts or Coates will have us hanging by the yardarm."
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you," grumped Trista about the task they were doing. "but aren't you just the least bit curious about what happened?"
Michelle couldn't help but admit her curiosity about that. "Well yeah, but-"
"Well, if it ain't Deadeye and her partner, Annie Oakley. What are you two ladies up to?"
Both Trista and Michelle turned to see Corporal Lopez standing there with a big smile on his face. Both ladies returned his smile.
Michelle spoke first. "Trying to get these transcripts completed before Legalman 1 Coates lowers the boom on us for not getting them done."
"What's left?" the JAGC security soldier asked as he eyed the two Legalmen.
Michelle sighed and sat back, rubbing her eyes. "Someone to read what we've completed."
Domingo turned to Trista. "Gimme," he said motioning with his hand.
"I have to print it out. It's gonna take a few minutes," she warmed playfully.
"Do it, lady, time's a wasting," he said with mock seriousness.
"Are you going to read mine too?" Michelle asked. She was pleased that Trista's initial brushoff didn't send him away. Domingo seemed to have a genuine interest in Legalman 3 Wellson.
"Nope, that's my job," Michelle turned to see Noel standing behind her.
Brig, Building 12-285
Norfolk Naval Station
Norfolk, Virginia
Mac sat down in front of her client. Looks could be deceiving, but Lewis Cumpiano looked like anything but a killer. It could have been a good act, but the Light Colonel swore the Petty Officer looked genuinely distraught about this whole situation.
Boilerman 3 Cumpiano looked at his hands and then at Mac as he talked. "I'm an alcoholic ma'am. I had two and half years sober...before the other night."
"So what happened?" she asked. Having fallen off the wagon herself she wanted to hear from him why he had done this.
Cumpiano looked crestfallen. "I told the guys I didn't want to have anything to do with the Tequila Bowl...they wouldn't take no for an answer. I thought I could have one drink, ma'am."
Mac knew what he was thinking. She had thought it too. "One drink's too many and 400 ain't enough," she in a world-weary voice as she made a note in his case file.
The Boilerman 3 nodded stoically. "I should have known that, ma'am. But I do know this: I didn't kill anyone." He added that last part with some force.
Mac wanted to see if this was just bravado. "How can you be sure when you don't remember anything from that night?"
But Lewis Cumpiano stood his ground. "Because I know who I am, ma'am. And no amount of alcohol will change that," he said determinedly.
Mac then asked the next hardest question. "Were you attracted to Ensign De La Torre?"
"I'm married Colonel… my wife is pregnant," Cumpiano said as if this invalidated any ideas like that.
But the SJA Colonel wasn't got to let him slide by with that seemingly pat response. "Doesn't answer my question," She said stonily.
Cumpiano knew what she was saying, but he also knew how he felt. "Ensign De La Torre was a good officer, ma'am...and a good person. I would never have done anything to hurt her."
The Light Colonel studied him for a moment and then nodded. "Thank you, Petty Officer."
Normally a potential client would get panicked at this point asking her she was going to help or not or get angry with her for asking these questions. Not Cumpiano. He merely nodded and stood as she left the room.
? Local _ ? Zulu
A Few Miles South of the North Korean-Chinese Border
Ron exchanged a look with Ken, who nodded. SO2 Yashamura counted down from three then kicked in the door, hoping to stun or surprise whoever was on the other side.
The door barely hung onto its hinges as it slammed open, revealing two occupants who were far beyond caring that a SEAL operative and an MSS double agent had penetrated their lair.
Laid out on a thick shag carpet in the middle of the room was Chi Kon Rho and an unknown subordinate. If one ignored the spreading pool of blood that leaked from the men and the ugly bullet holes near their hearts, one would think they were sleeping. The carpet seemed to be doing a good job at capturing the blood as it drained out of their bodies.
Ron and Ken, weapons at the ready, made a quick sweep of the room. No one else was there.
Ken holstered his pistol and knelt closer to examine the bodies. Ron clicked his radio mic. "Rat Terrier One Bravo to Three."
"This is Three, One Bravo, go."
"We have two bodies in here. I say again, two bodies."
Steve exchanged a disgusted look with Freddie.
"Who are they, One Bravo?" Steve asked.
Ron looked at Ken. "Rho and his subordinate Yu Dilong. Both shot at close range." the MSS agent replied as he stood up.
"Chi Kon Rho and subordinate Yu Dilong. Both were executed. Double taps to the heart," One Bravo reported.
Steve exchanged another disgusted look with Freddie. Whatever chances they had in determining the exact location of North Korean missile testing site had disappeared with Chi Kon Rho's death. Ken Fong knew the generalities about the testing and what had taken place so far, but they were all relying on Chi Kon to give them the specifics.
"Well what do we do now, "Smooth Dog'?" Freddie said with an edge to his voice.
Steve was about to respond with his own surly comeback when a report crackled over their radios accentuated by the distant groan of truck engines laboring under a substantial load.
"Exterminator to Three and Four! We got company coming!"
Air Freight Terminal
Charles de Gaulle Airport
Paris, France
Jenny watched as Rene's armored limousine pulled up to front of the hanger. This time I have you, Rene Benoit.
She was about to get out of the car when the right back door opened. Jenny and Ziva turned to see her Mossad partner and friend, Namir Eschel settling into the back seat of the sedan.
"Namir!" Ziva said to her partner with a surprised bright smile on her face as she nearly dropped her book. "What are you doing here?!"
He eyed Jenny as he spoke. "I'm here to keep Ms. Shepard from making a serious mistake, Ziva,"
Jenny and Ziva shared on confused look. "A serious mistake?" Jenny replied not really sure she was understanding what he was intimating.
"Yes," he said obliquely. "Watch what is happening, Ms. Shepard," he said as he pointed toward the hangar entrance.
Rene's limo had stopped just short of the open hangar door. Rene and Trent got out of the car and walked over to similarly dressed man who had someone standing next to him that could have passed for linebacker for the Philadelphia Eagles. The scowl on the thug's face seemed to be permanently etched.
"I do not recognize him, Namir," Ziva said quietly about the businessman, "Who is he?"
"He is Treshchenko's arms dealer." the Mossad agent said bluntly.
Jenny Shepard was stunned.
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"Well Rene, we meet again." Francois DeGalland said in his best diplomatic voice - his smile was innocent looking enough.
La Grenouille gave the man a beaming smile in return. "Ah, yes, it is good to see you, Francois. You are looking well."
Francois looked over at the grim looking bald man standing next to Rene. "I see you brought your auditor."
Rene glanced at Trent and then back at Francois. "Trent is a man of many talents, Mon ami." Rene looked up at the man who looked like he had barely squeezed into his leisure suit. "How are you doing, Antoine?"
Antoine merely stared at Rene and Trent.
"Ah, as talkative as ever I see," La Grenouille said with another ingratiating smile.
Enough of this. Francois muttered a French expletive. "Enough of this prattling around, Rene, you arranged this meeting. What have you got for me?"
A shocked look crossed Rene Benoit's face. "Oh no, Mon ami, I did not arrange this meeting."
"Then why are you and your auditor here?" Francois said snidely "To, um, check up on the books for this airfreight service, perhaps?"
Rene practically tut-tutted as he spoke. "No, no, not, not at all. Trent and I are here to pick up a delivery."
"Fine, fine. Just don't get in our way." he warned.
Rene made a show of allowing Francois to enter the inner office first. "I wouldn't dream of it."
Rene turned to Trent and shot him a quick cautioning look. "Do not go in with them," he whispered.
As Antoine opened the door to the holding area, he took an involuntary step backwards as a French solider wearing full combat armor stepped out of the holding area, his automatic rifle point directly at Antoine's massive center of mass.
"What is the meaning of this?" Spluttered Francois, trying his best to sound like a flustered businessman.
"The meaning of this," replied Lieutenant Armand Gambierale, "will be clear to you very shortly, Mon Ami." He gave a curt nod to one of the soldiers standing next to him.
Without uttering a word, the soldier savagely tore into the large oblong wooden crate with a crowbar. The splintering of wood announced that the cover of the box was history. The soldier reached in, and assisted by an equally heavily armored police officer, began digging through the packing material which resembled cotton mixed with straw. After a few moments of searching, the officer retrieved a Soviet made RPG-22, a one shot disposable rocket launcher. The soldier pulled out a recently cleaned RPK-74 light machine gun.
Antoine and Francois' eyes were wide as saucers. "Th-this is a-a mistake—Francois stammered, "These are not mine! I have been set up!"
"Oh, I assure you, Monsieur DeGalland," Armande said with deadly calm. "There is no mistake." Two more soldiers stepped forward and proceeded to handcuff Francois and Antoine. They had to use three sets of cuffs on Antoine.
Francois still had a look of utter disbelief on his face. There was no time to bluff or bluster his way out of this. No attorneys could help him.
Lieutenant Gambierale gave the arms dealer a wicked smile. "Thanks to our American and Israeli friends along with a few loyal French citizens, your days of funneling arms to Islamic terrorists are over with, Cochon."
Trent Kort was shocked at what was taking place inside the office. Did Rene know about this?
Rene nodded as the police and military men continued uncrating the cache of weapons. "Did you send the messages as I asked, Trent?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"Good! Then we have done our part for La Belle France against this scum! You see, Trent, we are businessmen, and we provide arms to just causes…not to butchers who would kill women and children … and innocents because of their religion."
A merchant of death with a conscience, how ironic, Trent thought. But he also thanked whoever was watching him…the gods, luck, the stars, that Rene had not suspected him of working with Treshchenko. Compromising La Grenouille and taking over his business, all under the guise of doing this for the CIA for a supposedly noble purpose…was going to take lot longer than he originally anticipated.
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Jenny couldn't believe it when Rene and Trent walked out of the building on got into their limousine. In a few moments, Armande came out and spoke to Rene through his rolled down back window. They briefly shook hands and the Lieutenant. Gambierale looked up and made his way over to Jenny's sedan.
He motioned to her to roll down his window. There was a look of genuine embarrassment on his face. "I misjudged you, Mademoiselle Shepard. Had I known that you were helping loyal French citizens take down Muhannad Treshchenko's main arms dealer, I would not have given you the grief that I did. My sincerest apologies."
The NCIS agent was speechless.
He leaned over and looked at Ziva and Namir. "And to you two, France owes Mossad a debt it can never fully repay. As long as I am in the Police Nationale, you will always be welcome in our country."
JAGC Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
"A few months ago, the Navy received a tip on the fraud hotline, accusing a commander of a SEAL Team training unit in counterterrorism with misappropriation of funds,"
The former Bubblehead looked briefly at the report handed to him by the JAG. "I would think that kind of misconduct would be best handled by NJP at the command level, sir," he said in his usual direct manner.
AJ gave the two attorneys a determined look that meant JAGC would be handling this.
Sturgis looked again at the report before passing it to Bud. "Hmm, Commander Michael Rainer accused of...fraud against the United States and larceny. Man's a Gulf War hero, sir."
Bud handed the papers back to the Admiral, "Doesn't sound like the embezzling type, Admiral."
AJ gave him piercing look. "Don't prejudge your client, Lieutenant."
Bud's eyes flared as the Admiral handed him his case file. "My client, sir?"
AJ ignored him while handing Sturgis his case folder. "Commander, you'll prosecute."
The former Bubblehead nodded as he examined his case file. "Yes, sir. Any chance this is just another bookkeeping error?"
AJ gave the former Dolphin a dry mirthless chuckle. "Yeah, sure the hell hope so. I mean, personal feelings aside, uh, given what's going on in the world…the SEALs are the last unit I want to see with a black eye."
MTAC
NCIS Headquarters
Abby Sciuto was watching an overhead infrared shot of Lieutenant Egan's car courtesy of a G-Nex Corporation satellite 'borrowed' by Ashton Kugel. She spoke into her headset as she watched the big screen in front of her. "Gibbs, she's on the move. I'll redirect the satellite to you."
*xxviii*
Sitting in a NCIS Ford Taurus, Gibbs watched Egan's house as Tony and Kate watched the satellite image on the laptop monitor they were using. Hopefully Lieutenant Egan was going to lead them to the missing prototype, proving that she was the one who murdered her husband, Lieutenant Commander Tom Egan.
"Are you getting this?" Abby's voice asked the trio.
The silver haired senior agent flicked his eyes over at the monitor and then back to Mrs. Egan hurrying over to her car.
"Yeah," Gibbs replied.
Tony looked at the infrared figure running to the car and then at Egan getting in and starting her car. "Let's roll," he said.
Gibbs watched her car pull out of the driveway and head past them up the street. "Hang on. Let's get some separation," he cautioned.
*xxviii*
Abby was caught up in the moment as she watched the speeding green image pulling away from Gibbs' car. "She's leaving the base. She's turning onto Highway Sixty Four going south."
Gibbs turned over the engine and put the car in drive. "Okay, Lieutenant. Let's see where you're going…."
"I hope she's not popping out for a Big Mac," Tony said trying to break the tension. That got a half smile from both Kate and Gibbs.
*xxviii*
"Where are you guys?" Abby said a little too stringently into her mic.
*xxviii*
Momentary irritation crossed the face of the Head of the MCRT before he replied. "Hanging back. A mile behind her."
Tony was engrossed in watching the infrared satellite feed. "You know, we really should have our own satellite for surveillance." He meant it as joke, well, a partial joke.
Gibbs didn't find that funny. His scowl returned. "Yeah, okay, Tony. I'll take that up with the Director. Three hours of satellite time equals your yearly salary."
*xxviii*
Abby, glued to the MTAC monitor, felt like she was playing one of Tim's MMORPGs. "She's turning."
*xxviii*
This time Kate responded as Gibbs and Tony were busy keeping an eye on her car in the evening traffic. "We see it."
Suddenly the infrared image dissolved into green static. Tony like anyone faced with malfunctioning computer, tapped the screen. Kate exchanged a quick look with Gibbs. He didn't need to see the screen; he heard the static of the lost connection. "Abby?" he said with a little tension in his voice as he moved closer to Egan's car.
*xxviii*
Abby ran over to the MTAC technician who was checking his connections. "I think Houston has a problem." The tech looked at Abby and shook his head. It wasn't their equipment on the fritz. "Ash, what's going on?"
Up on the big Multiple Threat Assessment Center screen Ashton Kugel appeared big as life looking a little harried. "Lost the signal. Give me a second."
*xxviii*
Gibbs swore under his breath and stepped a little harder on the accelerator. He hated these company cars and their lousy pickup speed. Tony and Kate worked as a team to keep Lieutenant Egan in sight.
*xxviii*
Abby gave Ashton an impatient look. "The low-gain antenna has been intermittent. That's why it's off-line for maintenance," he explained as he continued tapping codes into his workstation.
*xxviii*
"We're losing her," Tony announced as Gibbs increased his speed a little more, cutting around a nighttime 'Sunday driver'.
*xxviii*
"You're the man, Ash," Abby said trying encourage the wunderkind computer tech as he continued tapping in codes. Beads of sweat were starting to show on his brow.
*xxviii*
"Ash is the man if he gets our target back," Gibbs said tersely as he cut off another car. This one angrily sounded his horn. But the silver haired agent didn't care. Egan's car was at least seven car lengths ahead and the distance was still growing.
*xxviii*
"I'm looking for it," Ashton said a little too stridently as his fingers flew across his keyboard. Abby silently wished Tim were here now. C'mon Ash!
*xxviii*
Tony's surveillance-trained eyes spotted Egan's sedan making a sharp right turn off the highway. "Take that right there," he said pointing.
*xxviii*
Gibbs hated this. Once they took this turn, Egan was bound to see them approach. "We gotta take it. She did." Gibbs knew this area. There were several turnoffs where Lieutenant Egan could have buried the Side-Scan prototype. Perfect for foiling any surveillance, but without the high tech satellite helping them, they were back to gumshoe sleuthing. And prayer.
Kate had one hand on her earphone, praying that Abby's techno-geek got the satellite image back soon. "Then what, Abby?"
*xxviii*
Ashton typed in a final sequence. "All right, I think that's it," he announced sounding noticeably winded.
Abby gave him an incredulous look. "You think?"
*xxviii*
Kate mirrored her disgust long distance. "It better be."
*xxviii*
All at once the infrared image reappeared on the screen. The Goth Forensic Specialist quickly got her bearings. "Right there Gibbs! Gibbs?!"
*xxviii*
But Gibbs, Tony, and Kate were already out of the car and walking up to an overlook above Lieutenant Egan's car. The Lieutenant was already to the back of her car having popped the release on the trunk, she quickly pulled out a shovel. Egan quickly walked over to a base of a tree and began digging. In a few moments she pulled a bag out of the ground. For some reason, she opened it to verify she had the handheld sonar gun prototype.
That was all that Gibbs needed. "Do you need a hand?" he called out as all three looked down at her. Lieutenant Egan looked up momentarily stunned and then sagged against the tree cradling the prototype in her arms.
Major Case Response Team [MCRT] Bullpen
NCIS Headquarters
Washington, DC
Tony looked over at his phone which had just stopped ringing. "She'll get the message." He said confidently of the not- so-hot polar sunbather.
As if on cue, his phone began ringing again. Kate gave him a smirk about his predictive skills. "Apparently not."
Gibbs gave Tony a threatening look. "Well, she'd better get the message soon or you're going to be getting one on a pink slip."
Tony blanched at that comment. "You can't fire me for something I have no control over!"
Kate gave Tony a stern sisterly look. "Talk to her."
"She'll get the message!" Tony shot back not liking her sisterly attitude one bit.
The former Secret Service agent sighed and looked over at Gibbs with a sly smile. "You know, I'll bet this is why number two came after you with a nine iron, wasn't it? You just refused to sit down and talk things through." Kate said referring to Gibbs' 'marriage disaster number two'.
The Head of the Major Case Response Team seemed to think about the question for a moment. "Actually, that wasn't it at all." He finally replied.
Kate was intrigued. Maybe she was getting through to at least one of these two. "Oh. So what was it then?"
Gibbs smiled that boyish grin of his. "Seven iron," he replied drily.
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Gibbs was taking a second sip from the brew he had gotten from his favorite diner. The waitress there had always indulged him and put it in the Starbucks cup he carried around with him, never asking him why. Guess she figured everyone was entitled to their eccentricities.
He was about to type up his final report on Lieutenant Egan when his phone rang. He absently picked it up. Before he could say anything, a prim voice spoke on the other end of the line.
'Is this Special Agent L. Jethro Gibbs?'
The Head of the DC-MCRT didn't have time for games. "Speaking, who's this?"
'Forgive me. I'm Deputy Director Henrietta Lange, NCIS, Los Angeles Branch.'
If Gibbs was fazed by a NCIS deputy director calling him at this hour, he didn't let it show in his voice. "What can do for you, Deputy Director Lange?"
'You worked with Special Agent Callen during the Moscow undercover operation back in the 1990's, correct?'
"Operation Moscow Honey," Gibbs replied as bittersweet memories of that time floated through his mind. "Yes, madam deputy director, he was a big help to us."
'And you consider him a friend?'
"What is this about, madam deputy director?" Gibbs said in his blunt no-nonsense manner.
'Special Agent Callen says that you're a good friend to him and that he trusts you. When Agent Callen tells me he trusts someone, I tend to trust that person as well. You know that Special Agent Callen is working on Operation Firebird and the case's connection to JAG Corps and NCIS?'
"Yes, madam deputy director."
'Please give me a brief overview of JAG Corps' involvement in this case, if you would, please.'
"JAG Corps became involved in Operation Firebird when JAGC attorney Lieutenant Loren Singer learned of al Qaeda's efforts from a botched honeypot effort by Muhannad Treshchenko's cell."
Hetty Lange seemed to think about this for moment. 'I see. Did Admiral Chegwidden know about this?'
Gibbs wondered why she was so curious about this operation, but figured the Los Angeles branch likely was getting roped into this as well. Probably a good idea to bring her up to speed especially since she is a Deputy Director. "Not until after Lieutenant Singer's death. He's assigned JAGC attorneys Commander Harmon Rabb and Colonel Sarah MacKenzie to continue where Lieutenant Singer left off…tracking down Lieutenant Singer's leads in an effort to neutralize Treshchenko's cell."
'And you're assigned to the case as well.'
"Yes ma'am, because of my involvement in the Singer murder case and finding subsequent evidence that lead to Operation Firebird."
'I see. Well, please keep me informed on yours' and JAG Corps' progress on your end of this case.'
"Yes, madam deputy director. Is there anything else that you need?"
She paused again. 'Yes Special Agent Gibbs, there is something else I needed to…never mind Special Agent Gibbs, I think I have my answer.'
The silver haired Head of the DC MCRT shook his head as he hung up his phone. "Well, if that wasn't the strangest call…."
1315 Local_1815 Zulu
Naval Amphibious Base
Little Creek Virginia
"I don't operate my command to please the damn paper-pushers and bean counters in the Pentagon," growled Commander Michael Rainer as he walked away from the JAGC lawyer.
But Bud wasn't about to be dismissed so lightly, so he worked to keep up with the Commander. "Well, with all due respect, sir, it's not paper or beans that you've been accused of stealing."
Rainer glanced at Bud dismissively as he continued walking down the corridor. "Lieutenant, I have a degree from the Academy, I speak three languages, and I have five years command experience. If I wanted money, I wouldn't steal it from the Navy. I'd retire from it."
Lieutenant Roberts wasn't fazed by the bluster. There were still questions that had to be answered. "The missing funds were traced to transactions under your control, sir. If you didn't steal the money, then who did?"
"No one, Lieutenant," Rainer said as he turned back to this one legged JAGC Lawyer. "It was used to buy smoke and flash bang grenades. We go through them like toilet paper here in CQB training." He then turned and started to climb up a simulated gangway taking the steps two at a time.
"Well, sir…" Bud looked up as Commander briskly climbed up the steps, realizing that he had to keep up with Rainer if he's going to make his point. "if you used the money for a legitimate training purposes-"
Rainer cut him off sharply as they continued walking. " -mix-up with supply, Lieutenant. The extra ordnance got put to use before I had a chance to enter it into inventory."
"Lieutenant, I have canceled checks, purchase orders, shipping receipts for everything I bought." The SEAL Commander, having reached his destination, stopped and picked up a set of headphones.
"Yeah, but they don't match the records produced by the company you claimed to have done business with," Bud countered.
Rainer shrugged. "Well, so it's their paperwork that's in error, not mine."
Bud was feeling like he had lost the fight before it had started. "Commander, we can't go into an Article 32 with it being-"
Again the SEAL Commander cut him off. "I'm not a forger. I'm not a thief. Here, you'd better put those on."
Both put on headphones. As soon as they did, a red light flashed and a buzzer sounded as several heavily armed SEALs wearing baklavas, night vision goggles, and NOMEX coveralls burst through the doors of a simulated control room of a ship and immediately picked their targets to take down with short controlled bursts of fire.
The team moved through the room as group, continuing to taking down any 'bad guys' while being careful not to hit any of the 'hostages'. After dispatching all the bad guys, they picked up the hostages in a fireman's carry and removed them from the room. Bud watched the entire action with a stunned look on his face. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
CLEAR ONE!
CLEAR TWO!
"EXERCISE COMPLETE! TWO HOSTAGES SECURED SIR!
Commander Rainer looked down at the SEAL unit leader and gave him a curt satisfied nod and a thumbs up. "Carry on, Chief."
AYE, AYE, SIR!
As he took off his headphones, Bud turned and looked at the SEAL Commander in amazement at what he had just witnessed. It wasn't the tactical exercise itself that had Bud so exercised. "Were you using real bullets, sir?"
Instead of being embarrassed, Commander Rainer gave the JAGC Lawyer a grin. "We train like we fight, Lieutenant. Which is why we spend more on live ammo in one day than most units do in a year."
"But, sir-" Bud was thinking it would be a real public relations nightmare if this training method became known.
"Lieutenant, I've sacrificed my health, two marriages, and three kids I hardly ever see for the Navy. This job's my life. Certainly wouldn't jeopardize that for $22,000 dollars."
Bud looked at him and realized what he was saying made sense. "I understand, sir."
Rainer gave him a hard piercing look. "Do you, Lieutenant?"
JAGC Conference Room
Bud and Sturgis sat on either side of the Navy auditor who sat the head of the conference table while Trista Wellson sat to the left of the former Bubblehead, taking notes of this meeting.
"I've been a supply officer for eight years, Commander. I've seen all sorts of scams," the navy Commander sniffed distastefully.
Sturgis looked down at his notes. "How would you rate this one?"
"If that's what it is…" Bud added while continuing to look at his notes. He didn't see the Bubblehead's stern expression at his comment.
The auditor gave the two JAGC Lawyers a self-satisfied grin. "Well, for efficiency, I'd give it an A+. I'd also give Commander Rainer high marks for subtlety and transparency, too."
Sturgis didn't smile. "Not so transparent that the matter didn't come to light."
That knocked the smug smile off his face. After all he was here to give a statement. "Well, true enough, Commander. The audit revealed inconsistencies between purchase orders for munitions and the actual firecrackers on the shelf."
This second attempt at levity fell flat.
"If Commander Rainer was responsible for the fraud, how'd he pull it off?" Sturgis said as he made another notation on his legal pad.
Sturgis and Bud could tell the auditor was trying his best to suppress his admiration of Commander Rainer's finesse. "He submitted false purchase orders to accounting for grenades and munitions. They cut him checks for the specified amounts, but instead of forwarding those checks to the vendors, Commander Rainer simply forged an endorsement and cashed them himself."
The former submariner had a hard time believing it was this simple. "And no one noticed? The banks never raised a red flag? The, uh, the vendor didn't ask questions?"
There was that look again. The auditor was trying to hide his admiration of the SEAL Commander's ingenuity. "The checks never bounced, Commander. We're talking Uncle Sam, and if the vendors never received the paperwork, who's to know?"
The Bubblehead had to concede that point. "Only Commander Rainer."
"And whoever made the call to the fraud hotline," the auditor said with a little too much smugness for Bud's liking.
The younger JAGC officer found himself subconsciously mimicking Harm. "You wouldn't have had anything to do with that would you have, Commander?" That earned him an annoyed look from the former Dolphin.
The auditor practically scoffed at the insinuation. "Calls to the hotline are anonymous. You know that, Lieutenant. Anyone in my office could've stumbled onto this. It just took a diligent review of the inventory records."
The response was more than enough for Bud to fire his next barb. "Or somebody with an axe to grind with Commander Rainer."
Sturgis admonished the junior officer. "I think we're straying from the subject, Lieutenant."
Still, Bud had brought up a valid point. "A SEAL team supply budget is considerable, Commander. How can you be certain this wasn't just another bookkeeping mistake?" Sturgis asked.
The auditor realized that, he too, needed to stay on topic. "We cross-checked the transactions with the vendors and the banks. This wasn't just sloppy bookkeeping, sir. It was fraud."
Sturgis was satisfied with the Commander's answers. That was all he needed. "Thank you, Commander."
But Bud wasn't. "Commander, do you have any direct evidence linking Commander Rainer to these questionable transactions?"
The auditor looked at Bud as if he were an errant student. "The transactions aren't questionable, Lieutenant. They're illegal," he said disdainfully.
The junior officer gave the auditor a stony look. "Thank you for pointing out my mistake, sir. Now, if you don't mind, could you answer *my* question?"
Bud had him. "We don't have any eyewitnesses, if that's what you mean," the auditor admitted somewhat reluctantly.
Bud applied the right amount of innocence to his next question. "Were you able to match any of the transactions to deposits in Commander Rainer's personal accounts, sir?"
The auditor snapped at the bait. "No."
"Any unusual purchases, sir?"
This was quickly turning against him. He had underestimated the young Lieutenant. "No but-"
Bud wasn't interested in hearing this man's excuses. "Were any experts able to match his handwriting to any of the allegedly forged endorsements?"
Sturgis secretly was proud of Bud for showing mettle, but perturbed at his method. It was a little too much like a certain naval aviator/lawyer that he knew.
The auditor now was clearly uncomfortable. "No."
Trista tried hard to focus on recording what was being said but couldn't help enjoying auditor blowhard's discomfort.
"So isn't it possible, sir, that Commander Rainer actually sent the checks to the vendor and somebody there stole the money?" the junior officer postulated.
Bud looked as if he had overplayed his hand. "Davenport Industries has no record of receiving the checks, nor of shipping the munitions, which Commander Rainer claims he received," the auditor replied.
But Bud had a method to his supposed sloppiness. "Still, it seems like a process of elimination that led you to Commander Rainer, not direct evidence."
Now the auditor realized what he was doing. "If you mean, do we have a videotape of him cashing the checks, the answer is no."
Bud didn't like his snotty reply, but he had his answer. "Thank you, sir,"
Sturgis glared at Bud, but the junior officer was busy making his own notes about the auditor's statements. The auditor, though, was not finished with this parvenu Lieutenant.
"Lieutenant, you have a dog, and you come home and find a yellow stain on your carpet...just because you didn't see him do it-"
But Bud was through listening to him and his 'lessons'. "Thank you, sir. Nothing further."
xxviiixxviiixxviiixxviiixxviiixxviiixxviiixxviii
Admiral Chegwidden opened his door while looking at some paperwork before handing it to Coates.
"Make sure this gets to the SECNAV's office before end of business today..."
Coates took the papers and nodded. "Yes, sir. And, sir, the stationery store called about the invitations."
AJ considered that for a moment. "Hm, I'll handle them."
The Legalman 2 pressed her point. "They need to know exactly how many-"
The JAG gave her a curt look. "I said, I'll handle it."
Jennifer didn't like being cut off like that. "Is something wrong, sir?"
Admiral put on his coat. "No!" he snapped.
Jennifer was stunned into silence.
AJ realized his emotions had gotten the better of him and he had barked at Coates when it really wasn't her fault. She was just trying to be her usual helpful self. "It's just that, um, well, I shouldn't put all this on you to begin with…."
Jennifer smiled at his paternal apology. "It-It's no problem, sir," she said to reassure him, wanting to let him know that she considered it an honor to be asked to do something like this.
But he wanted to make sure she understood things had changed. He'd take care of this now. "In any event, from now on, I'll be handling all my personal business well, uh, personally." It was his mess and he was going to clean it up.
"But sir, I-"
The JAG really didn't want to get into a long drawn out debate about this. "-I have a meeting on the Hill. If you need me, I have my cell," he said, deflecting her as he turned and headed through the bullpen area toward the elevators.
"But, sir-" His brisk stride took him to and through the glass double-doors before she could finish. "Yes, sir," Jennifer looked down forlornly at the list of duties she had typed out for the wedding.
Near Camp John Basilone
Bombardier Ryan Wheels Whelan was riding in the hatch next to Leftenant Stowels as their Alvis FV103 Spartan personnel carrier bumped and lurched its way toward Camp John Basilone's checkpoint.
"So have you have done this kind of work before, Bom?" The Spartan CDR asked his newest crewmember.
Wheels was unprepared for small talk. "Forward Observation, sir? Yes sir, back at Umm Qasr for the Yank Marines, and then for the 1st Armored when The Mobile Division surrounded Basra," he said stiffly, referring to the unofficial name for the British 1st Armored Division.
"There now, lad, no need to be so formal with me," Stowels chuckled, "you're a part of this team now."
"Yes—yes Leftenant," Ryan replied, unsure he was saying what the Spartan CDR wanted to hear.
"It's Reginald Stowels, Bom, but here when we're on our own like now, you can call me Reggie. Now what do they call you, besides Bom?"
"Wheels, Left—Reggie," Ryan said as he caught himself a second time.
The Leftenant smiled. "That's a good lad, Wheels. Okay, time to show the Yanks we aren't a threat." Reggie Stowels leaned down into his open hatch and shouted. "Lewis!"
"Yeah Reggie!" Driver Lewis 'Loonie' Basington called out above the ratcheting noise that the downshifting personnel carrier was making.
Reggie gave Wheels a sly smile. "Slow her up a bit, Loonie. We don't want the Yanks shooting us full of holes thinking we're some kind of Jihadi VBIED!"
"I'll go along with that, Reggie," piped up Radioman Archibald 'Archie' Cornvaile over the vehicle's intercom. "Daisy would bloody well haunt me if I got killed now!"
That elicited raucous laughter from all the crewmen except for Wheels who halfheartedly laughed at the gallows humor.
1137 Local_0837 Zulu
Camp John Basilone
Near Fallujah, Iraq
The 38th MEU's commander gave the Commander of Iraqi 1st Infantry Brigade, 304th Battalion a hearty handshake.
"It's good to see you again, Ahmad," Andrew said as the handshake turned into a friendly bear hug. Ahmad had told Andrew Baxter that after the battle at al-Khalim Farm with al Sahood's terrorist army and their subsequent combat actions to dismantle the terrorist infrastructure in and around Mirbullah, he considered the Marine Colonel more a brother than just a friend.
It was true. The 38th and the Major's/Ra'id's unit became nearly inseparable during the Marine's last tour and it was apparent those feelings had not changed.
"It's good to see you too, my friend. How is Colonel Briggs?"
Andrew's smile faltered a little. "As well as can be expected I guess."
Ahmad shook his head sadly in recognition of what he said. "What a fiendish disease. May Allah comfort him during this final earthly trial."
Andrew knew he meant it. Despite Ashton Briggs' erratic behavior during those last days of his command, Ahmad still remembered Ashton for the commander that he was, rather than for the man that he had become. Andrew nodded his appreciation. "Thank you, Ahmad."
The Ra'id smiled. "Well, let us get down to business. I know that is why you are here."
"It's my job to make sure General Khazan's division is properly trained. That includes your unit too, Ahmad."
The CO of the 1-304th shook his head disgustedly. "Andrew I welcome whatever training your unit has to offer us, but do not be fooled by General Khazan rushing to work with you. It is all an act."
"Ahmad, Khazan is your commanding officer," Andrew warned him. There was still the matter of political considerations that had to be kept in mind.
"He is a Baathist lackey and a worthless dog!" Azeri spat out, obviously not caring who heard him. "He will sell whatever weapons he can to the insurgents, while, ah, what is the American phrase? Ah yes, 'making nice with you'. You should be very careful in your dealings with him." the Iraqi officer warned his friend.
Andrew knew that Ahmad Azeri was a man that could be trusted and if he said the CO of the Iraqi 10th Division could not be relied upon that was something to keep in mind. But he also had to be wary of his own bosses, political and non-political, who had their own agendas.
He gave his friend a reassuring smile. "Ahmad…you know I trust your judgment…is there another trustworthy unit that your Brigade can work with? We're supposed to train a combined armor and infantry unit from your 10th Division to work with us."
"There is only one other commander I trust outside my own unit and that is the deputy commander of the 1-1-9 Battalion of the Desert Lions of the 9th Armored Brigade and that is Dabit Khalil As'sam," the Iraqi Colonel declared.
Andrew gave his counterpart a puzzled look. "Khalil? I thought he was just a Ra'is."
The Iraqi Major gave his American equivalent a cunning smile. "Iraq needs good army officers…good ones that will stand up to the insurgents, Colonel, and fortunately they saw that in Dabit As'sam. He is half way through officer training school. I can think of no one better I would want my men to have as the CO in charge of their armor support."
-TBC…