44
Sunday 31 March 2001, 1158hrs EDT, Battalion Headquarters, 29th Logistics Battalion, USMC, Camp Lejeune, NC, (311442ZMar01)
While Mac had been issuing orders over the 'phone, Loren had packed away their files, notes and Mac's laptop and was waiting by the door as Mac finally put the phone down and hurried towards her with a brief, "Thank you, Lance Corporal," thrown over her shoulder to the bemused marine.
Once again Loren was forced to clap her hand to her head in order to prevent her Garrison Cap flying off in the wind as once again Mac floored the gas pedal as she headed for the base hospital.
Sunday 31 March 2001, 1207hrs EDT, Base Medical Facility, Camp Lejeune, NC (311607ZMar01)
Slamming the brakes on Mac left burnt rubber on the surface of the parking lot just to one side of the main entrance and at a brisk walk, almost a trot, she led Loren through the hallways straight for the ICU department.
"Doctor Frazier, where's Doctor Frazier?" she demanded of a startled nurse, who at the two JAGs eruption onto the scene had nearly dropped the kidney dish of soiled dressings she was taking for disposal.
"Uh... I'm not sure, ma'am... she's around somewhere, but..." the nurse, a Lieutenant (JG) stammered.
"Find her, and ask her to meet me in Lieutenant Carpenter's room!" Mac directed as she continued on her headlong way.
"Aye, aye, ma'am... but who shall I tell her..."
"Tell her Colonel MacKenzie!" Loren paused briefly to tell the nurse before she hurried after Mac.
Mac and Loren slowed down, so not to alarm the Carpenter family if they were still at the Lieutenant's bedside, as they approached the door to the Lieutenant's room, Mac muttering a 'tsk!" almost under her breath as she noted that the MP she had demanded had not yet arrived.
So it was with mixed feelings that Mac saw that the two Carpenter children were away, leaving only Mrs Carpenter sitting, holding her daughter's hand.
Mrs Carpenter saw the look that Mac had cast at the two empty chairs. "I sent them to get some lunch and a breath of fresh air," she explained with the ghost of a smile.
"I see..." uncharacteristically Mac hesitated, she didn't want the Carpenters upset more than they were already, but there could be no hiding the presence of a guard at the door to the injured woman's room.
Her hesitation caught Mrs Carpenter's attention, and looking at Mac with fearful eyes, she said quietly, "But you didn't come back just to ask where my children were, did you, Colonel?"
"No, ma'am, we didn't," Loren stepped in, "Look, we don't want to alarm you, and we are looking at Peter Warrender, but the Colonel and I are more certain than ever before that the attack on your daughter is connected to her duties here at Lejeune. Whoever did this to your daughter, showed a lot of hate... and it is possible that now news is out there that she survived the attack, that they might try to get in here and make sure that when she does wake, they'll to make sure she doesn't wake and be able to identify her attackers."
"You said 'when' she wakes, Lieutenant, are you sure of that?" A flicker of hope shone briefly in Mrs Carpenter's eyes as she reached for the one shred of comfort in Loren's words, but was as quickly extinguished when Loren shook her head, but also as if she didn't recognise the threat of danger that Loren had just tried to explain.
"No, I am not sure; like yourself, I can only hope and pray, but I am certain of God's mercy," she said regretfully, ignoring the look of surprise that Mac gave her.
"Thank you for you honesty, Lieutenant," Mrs Carpenter said dully, her eyes dropping once more to her daughter's face.
"So..." Mac resumed, after another curious glance at Loren, "Because we are concerned for your daughter's safety, we've organised for a guard..."
"Have you?" asked a cool, unimpressed voice from the doorway.
Mac and Loren both turned to see Doctor Frazier eyeing them dispassionately, "A word if I may, Colonel?"
"Of course, Commander," Mac replied, and turned briefly back to Loren, "This shouldn't take too long!"
Mac joined Doctor Frazier in the hallway, and the latter indicated that they should move away from the door. Mac didn't argue, she felt the need to set the boundaries in the care and treatment of Lieutenant Carpenter, and she didn't want any hint of controversy reaching the family's ears. Accordingly she waited until they had moved a dozen or so paces away from the entrance to Lieutenant Carpenter's room, before she stopped at looked down into the hot eyes of Doctor Frazier. "I take it you heard what I said to Mrs Carpenter about having the Lieutenant's room posted?"
"Yes, Colonel, I did!"
"And I take it from your tone and expression and that you dislike, or even disagree with the idea?"
"I do! A hospital, never mind an ICU, is no location to have guards stationed all over the place! Apart from which I, as Chief of Section, and probably Captain Ewart, the Chief of Medicine, should have been consulted!"
"In an ideal world, Lieutenant Commander Frazier, you would have been consulted!" Mac deliberately pulled rank on the other officer to remind her that this was not a strictly medical matter, and that the doctor had no reasonable professional grounds for querying a superior officer's orders, "Believe me I did not request a guard be placed on the room out of some capricious whim or other. This is not a medical matter and is outside your remit, and time did not allow for consultation; it is less than thirty minutes ago that I received information that the persons responsible for the attack on Lieutenant Carpenter are likely to make an attempt to finish off the job they started the other night, and that attempt was imminent! Now, I have every respect for your medical judgement, but I too have a responsibility towards the Lieutenant, and if in light of the information I had received, I had failed to have her room posted and some further injury or even her death was to occur, then my superiors would quite properly hold me to account for being derelict in my duty. This time around it is my call!"
Mac took a breath, and then continued in a slightly more conciliatory manner, "Besides which, Doctor, the guard will be for the protection of yourself and your staff quite as much as for the protection of Lieutenant Carpenter. We have seen the results of a vicious attack on the Lieutenant, what do you think would be the outcome if one of your nurses, Corpsmen, or even yourself you disturbed an intruder while he was attempting to finish the work he'd started. Doctor, you must know better than anyone how little time it would take to kill a helpless person, and have it look like an accident, so even without the risk to yourself or your staff, surely you can see that Lieutenant Carpenter is completely vulnerable?"
Doctor Frazier drew a deep breath as if about to refute Mac's contentions, but then as her initial flare of anger died down, she allowed the sense of Mac's words penetrate her mind, and let that breath out in a long, slow, even exhalation. Mac waited patiently for the doctor's reply as she saw that her message had gotten through.
"All right, ma'am, I'll accept that I over-reacted and that you had the best interests of my patient and my staff – and even myself – at heart!" the doctor admitted still somewhat uncomfortably, "But I still don't like the thought of guards on my ward!"
"No more do I, Doctor," Mac lapsed back into a less formal mode of address, "But I like even less the thought of Mrs Carpenter being handed a folded flag if there was anything I could do to prevent that!"
Doctor Frazier nodded, her face solemn, "I can accept that, Colonel... but it's a hell of a world we live in!"
"Ain't that the truth!" Mac agreed, and then with a conciliatory half grin, "Shall we?" and she indicated the direction from which they'd come.
"Yes, ma'am," the doctor replied.
Their arrival almost coincided with the arrival of two Marine MPs, their covers still on their heads to indicate that they were under arms, and Mac noted that both wore holstered pistols on web belts over their Alpha Dress uniforms.
Both came to attention as Mac and Doctor Frazier approached; the stockier of the two marines snapped, "Corporal Ruiz and Lance Corporal Todd reporting for duty as ordered, ma'am!"
"At ease, Marines!" Mac ordered and waited until the two assumed the position of parade rest, "What are your orders for this post, Corporal?"
"We have no formal orders, ma'am. All the orders we have received were verbal, and that we were to post this room and allow no-one but authorised personnel access. We were to be under arms at all times and that we were authorised to use deadly force in the execution of our duties." He took a breath, "I also assume ma'am, that the normal orders for guards and sentries apply: We may not eat, drink, sleep or smoke at our post. We may not quit our post unless and until properly relieved. We may only speak with other personnel in the performance of our duties, ma'am!"
Mac pursed her lips and nodded judiciously, "Good. Very good. You've just about hit the nail just about on the head, Corporal. The only thing that worries me is: do you know who access authorised personnel are?"
"No ma'am. Not yet. We anticipate you giving us a list, ma'am!"
"Good answer, Corporal!" Mac allowed a hint of a grin to cross her face, "So I'd best get busy and get one printed out for you!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Mac turned to Doctor Frazier, "Have you got a computer with a printer that I can borrow for ten minutes, and it would help if you could furnish me with a roster for the ICU?"
"Certainly, Colonel... if you'll follow me?"
Sunday 31 March 2001, 1303hrs EDT, Mess Hall, 29th Logistics Battalion, USMC, Camp Lejeune, NC (311703ZMar01)
"Hardly a pot-roast is it?" Mac remarked glumly as she looked at the handful of fries and two hot-dogs on her plate, both items partially covered by a ladle-full of Sloppy Joe.
"That's what happens when you're late to the mess hall table on Sunday lunch," Loren remarked with spurious sympathy as she gave a nod of approval to her omelette and salad.
"Huh, it's all right for those actually like rabbit food!" Mac sniffed as she dug into one of the hot dogs with the side of her fork and then conveyed the morsel to her mouth, chewed and swallowed, "Oh! well... actually it's not too bad!" she remarked in surprise.
They ate in silence for the few minutes it took to consume their scanty lunch, until Mac pushed her plate away, having wiped up the remnant of the Sloppy Joe with a torn open bread roll while Loren got to her feet and headed for the coffee dispenser.
Mac nodded her appreciation as Loren put a cup of coffee at her elbow. Having loaded it with creamer and sugar Mac stirred the resulting concoction and looking across the table at Loren said, "OK before we get down to some serious analysis, I was wondering about what you said back in the Lieutenant' room, to her mother, about trusting in God. I never figured you for a churchgoer."
"Well, you never figured me right, I'm not," Loren replied, arching an eyebrow as she took a sip of her coffee.
"But... why the God speak?"
"Because I figured Mrs Carpenter was a regular attendee at church. Maybe you didn't notice, but while she was holding the Lieutenant's hand, both of their hands were resting on a Bible. So I figured that a reference to her faith would help her."
In truth, Mac hadn't noticed the Bible on the bed and although she was quite impressed with Loren's eye for detail – an eye which was invaluable to an investigator – she passed the incident over with a brief, "Well spotted!"
Taking another mouthful of her coffee, she swallowed and then frowned. "I don't think that chasing this ex-fiancé will be productive, but we should do it anyway, just to cover all the bases."
Loren nodded, "Yeah, that warning we got more screams that the attack had something to do with her being at Camp Lejeune, and wasn't the work of a jilted boyfriend."
Mac had already reached the same conclusion, but taking another sip of her coffee she merely asked, "How do you figure that?"
"Because the warning came to us."
"Go on
"That has to mean that whomever called knows who we are and why we are here," Loren paused, "and even more significantly knew exactly where we were when he made the call."
Mac nodded her agreement. She wasn't quite sure how she felt at the moment. On the one hand she was pleased, as any mentor would be, with the quickness of her trainee, but on the other hand there was a degree of resentment that Loren seemed to be picking points that either, she Mac, had missed – the Carpenters' Bible being one such point – and that she seemed to be taking to investigation like a duck to water.
Something of her feelings must have shown in her face as Loren looked across the table at her. "It's nothing much... I'm just trying to make up for missing the obvious link between the missing vehicle parts and the assault in the first place."
Mac nodded again, "OK, what have we got? A tenuous link between two apparently separate investigations. What does that suggest to you?"
"That Lieutenant Carpenter got too close for comfort to the person or persons who were stealing those vehicle parts?"
"H'mm... person or persons... I think we can go for more than one person," Mac said, more thinking out loud than anything else, "If there had been just one attacker, then Carpenter could have and probably would have called for help..."
Mac unclasped her brief-case and pulled out the case-file, and flipped to the medical report, "H'mm... no sign of defensive wounds on her hands, and her arms are too badly bruised to indicate what caused the bruises... still, she could have been held immobile, and that would definitely point to more than one attacker."
"Unless she was surprised and knocked out with the first blow..." Loren said uneasily, eyeing Mac significantly as she did so, "After all that's what happened..."
"To me?" Mac asked evenly. "Don't sweat it, I know what happened when Brumby hit me... I remember seeing a blaze of white light and then... nothing..." Mac fell silent and to Loren it seemed that she had drifted off into some sort of reverie.
"Colonel?" No answer
"Colonel?" Loren repeated, and then "Mac? Ma'am?" she stretched out a hand and gently shook the non-responsive marine's wrist.
Mac jumped, "Huh? Oh... sorry, I was just thinking... I don't want to alarm you, but if we've been identified by a gang who have no compunction about attacking female officers, then it might be as well if we were to go armed."
Loren' eyes widened, "You think?" she asked.
"Not got quite the right amount of scepticism and sarcasm in that!" she commented as she gathered the wreckage of her meal and got to her feet.
"That's because I wasn't being sceptical or sarcastic!" Loren said with a twisted grin as she followed Mac's example. "Where are we headed now?"
"The Provost Marshal's office to see the Officer of the Day – again!" Mac sighed. "He's about the only man on the place who can get us weapons today!" A thought struck her, "You can shoot, can't you?"
"Oh yeah, farmer's daughter!" Loren said, surprising herself at the sudden surge of bitterness that she felt. "I'm not saying we went supper-less to bed if we didn't bring supper home with us, but we were definitely encouraged to hit what we aimed at and not waste expensive ammunition!" Even as she said it, Loren couldn't help a shudder as the memory of her father's method of 'encouragement' surfaced.
Mac gave her an odd look. Whatever the blonde recalled, it obviously wasn't pleasant, but of more significance was the fact that Loren Singer, notoriously reticent and with a reputation for jealously guarding her privacy, had actually mentioned her background.
Sunday 31 March 2001, 1453hrs EDT, Female VOQs, Camp Lejeune, NC, (311853ZMar01)
Mac threw her pistol belt down on her bed with a curse, "Of all the pig-headed, chauvinistic, stubborn, unreasonable, obstinate... cavemen I have ever had the misfortune to meet, that one takes the top prize!" And then remembering that she had a witness to her outburst, she turned to Loren and said, "And you did not just hear me criticise, out loud, a senior officer!"
"Didn't hear a thing ma'am," Loren said obediently as she unbuckled her own belt.
The two officers stared at each other and Loren started to grin. Mac resisted as long as she could but her own face split into a grin and she uttered a sound that she hastily cut off by ramming her knuckles into her mouth.
Loren stared at the Lieutenant Colonel of Marines in utter disbelief. "Did... did... you... just giggle?" she demanded incredulously.
"No, of course not!" Mac denied hotly, "Marines laugh, chuckle, chortle, guffaw even but they do not giggle – ever!" and then promptly giggled again.
"I don't blame you, ma'am," Loren offered, "the way he acted was like a bad impersonation of John Wayne!"
"Oh I know," Mac agreed as she sat on the edge of her bed and waved Loren to take a seat in the only chair in the room. "Thank God we were of an equal rank, otherwise what I said to him could – and probably would – have landed me smack in the brig!"
"Well, you probably shouldn't have called him a wooden-headed, fossilised dinosaur..." Loren started to say but was interrupted by Mac.
"No, I should have known better." She sat in silence for a few seconds and then added, "As a palaeontologist I know that dinosaur fossils don't have wooden heads!"
"Maybe so," Loren replied straight-faced, "I wouldn't know, but he should have known better than to call you 'little lady'!"
"Oh, God, don't remind me! You'll start me off again!"
Both lapsed into silence, Mac still half fuming at the treatment she and Loren had received at the Provost Marshal's Office. The Officer of the Day had felt unable to authorise issuing side-arms to the two visiting attorneys, and had politely but firmly declined to do so until he had spoken to his CO.
The CO had turned out to be a deeply tanned, silver haired Lieutenant Colonel, who wore two hats. Firstly as the CO of the resident MP battalion and secondly as Camp Lejeune's provost marshal. He had been slightly older than usual for his rank, and resistant even after all the years that women had been accepted into the Corps, to the idea that female officers could be armed and could look after themselves.
He had, at first point-blank refused to entertain the idea that Mac and Loren should be issued weapons, and had scoffed at the idea that they were in any danger. He had backed down in the face of the evidence of the attack on Lieutenant Carpenter and had attempted a compromise whereby he would provide the pair with armed escorts.
Mac had patiently explained that there were certain activities that could not be performed in the presence of an escort, male or female, and that she and Loren need instant access to the means to defend themselves every minute of every twenty-four hours they spent on the base.
It was at that point that Lieutenant Colonel Baxter had attempted to calm down the increasingly irritated Mac and had made the mistake of addressing her as 'little lady'.
Mac had nearly erupted in public, but had remembered almost too late the circumstances, and it was with a major effort she had turned to Loren and the MP Officer of the Day and in icy tones had asked them to quit the room.
The two junior officers had waited outside, and although the decibel level of the conversation inside had risen markedly, they had been unable to distinguish exactly who had said what to whom.
The upshot however was that Colonel Baxter had flung out of the room in a raging temper, and snapped to his subordinate, "Damn it! Give them the damned side-arms! With any luck they'll manage to shoot themselves!"
Remembering the MP Officer's exit and the still angry but somehow smug look on Mac's face as she'd followed him to the outer office, Loren asked curiously, "What did you say to him to make him change his mind, ma'am?"
"Well... we had a free and frank exchange of our opinions as to each others parentage, intelligence, attitudes, competence... oh... all the usual compliments, and then I told him that he was headed for a charge of sexual discrimination!"
Loren winced.
"Yeah, he didn't like that, and tried to give me chapter and verse on Marine Corps regulations, and I had to remind him that I was a JAG and knew the regulations probably better than he did." Mac shrugged, "He caved at just about that point!"
"We're not making many friends down here, ma'am!" Loren commented, thinking back to their reception by the 29th Battalion's CO.
"No... we're not." Mac agreed, "Notes to selves: Never come on an investigation without a side-arm!"
Loren thought for a few seconds and then replied, "Sounds like a plan. But it could be tough selling it to the Admiral."
Mac nodded, "Yeah... I'll have to work out how to get him to buy-in to the idea."
"You... uh... realise what these mean?" Loren indicated the bundle of belt and holster which lay on her lap.
"Well... I've a pretty good idea in general," Mac replied.
"Means we can't go off base to eat this evening ma'am, and after lunch, I'm really not too keen on eating my Sunday evening dinner in the mess hall."
"No... you're right..." A sudden spark of humour flared in Mac's eyes, "But there is a Domino's pizza on base!"
"It would be easy just to order in..." Loren said dreamily.
"Now who's corrupting whom?" Mac laughed
Sunday 31 March 2001, 1520hrs MST, Skywest Flight Number 5392, Yuma International Airport, Yuma, AZ (312120ZMar01)
Meg Austin gritted her teeth and briefly closed her eyes as she leaned back against the head rest of her seat. She had, by dint of many 'phone calls managed to get seats on flights that would get her to Dulles in time to make Staff Call tomorrow morning, but it was going to be a brute of a flight, or flights, she bitterly reminded herself. She opened her eyes and pulled the ticket wallet out of the inside pocket of her casual jacket and checked her flight details for the millionth time, as if the re-reading of them would change them, or make the facts any more palatable. The first leg was on this twin-engine turboprop Brasilia 120, a thirty passenger commuter plane heading to Los Angeles, the second leg from Los Angeles to JFK, New York would be a Boeing seven fifty seven, but there she would have to suffer a more than a five hour lay-over before the final leg to Dulles, where she would arrive at zero six fifteen EDT on a Canadair BRJ jet.
Ah well, mom had told her there were going to be days like this, she tried to comfort herself.
Still, it had all been worth it, even if the cost of getting back to DC had put a dent in her bank balance. She had gotten to spend time, precious time, quality time with Victor. The nurse had been very accommodating and once she'd found out that Meg would be flying back to the East Coast, she had smilingly drawn the blinds to Gunny's room, and said, "Now, I should be throwing you out honey, visiting hours are past and gone, but if you stay as quiet as a church mouse, I'll make sure that no-one comes to disturb you until I bring his afternoon meds in. But you both behave yourselves, do you hear there?"
Meg had nearly betrayed herself at that point, but Victor stepped in quickly enough to cover any error she might have made with a crisp, "Aye, aye, ma'am... and thank you!"
As a result Meg had managed to stay at Victor's bedside until the end of evening visiting hours, when she had reluctantly torn herself away, and returned to her hotel room where after indulging in a burst of tears she started the process of mentally preparing herself for a return to Washington, where the last two days had to remain a memory, and a closely guarded one at that.
Monday 1 April 2001, 0511hrs EDT, Loren Singer and Harmon Rabb's Apartment, 1054 Canal Street NW, Georgetown, Washington DC (010911ZApr01)
Harm blinked his way to semi-consciousness and stretched out his hand flailing for the alarm clock before his sleep-fuddled mind correctly interpreted the message from his ears, and groaning he turned on to his side and groped for the insistently ringing cell phone, "H'lo?" he mumbled into the mouthpiece
"Harm... I'm sorry to wake you so early..."
"Huh? Meg?" Harm sat up in bed, "Wassamatter, is Gunny..."
"No, no, calm down a minute. Gunny's fine – well as fine as can be expected. No I need a favour. I need picking up at the airport, I'm at JFK and..."
"JFK? That's New York, that's a four, maybe five hour trip each way..."
"Harm! Will you please shut up... uh... will you please let me finish what I'm trying to say, please?"
"Huh! OK, I can do that I suppose!" Harm huffed, "But telling someone to shut up is a damned funny way of asking for a favour!"
"It is, and I'm sorry for for that, but I don't have much time... I'm waiting at JFK for a connection to Dulles. My ETA at Dulles is zero six fifteen hours, that's just over an hour away... Can you pick me up and give me a ride home, please?"
Harm was about to make a snappy come back when he heard the fatigue in Meg's voice. "OK, Meg, I'll be there. What are your flight details, and what terminal are you due to arrive at?"
Meg gave him the required information and then with a little break in her voice she said, "Thanks, Harm, thanks for everything this weekend, not just for the ride from the airport. I don't know what..."
"Hey, no big deal!" Harm protested swinging his feet on to the floor. I'll see you at Dulles, OK?"
"Yeah. Oh... I've got to go, they're calling my flight!"
Harm heard the click as the line went dead, and with a rueful grin he tossed the phone onto the bed and headed for the shower
Monday 1 April 2001, 0748hrs EDT, Mess Hall, 29th Logistics Battalion, USMC, Camp Lejeune, NC (011148ZApr01)
"Ma'am, the... uh... CO would appreciate you calling in to see him... as soon as you've finished eating, that is... ma'am."
Mac looked up in surprise and hastily closed the file she had been re-reading, the cause of the nervous Lieutenant's ability to approach undetected.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Mac said coolly enough, although she was mentally flaying herself for letting herself be taken unawares. OK, it was perfectly harmless this time; on another occasion, particularly when she had already decided that there was a threat, she might not be so lucky.
"What was that all about, ma'am?" Loren said as she returned to the table carrying two cups of coffee.
"Colonel McMahon wants to see us as soon as we've finished breakfast," Mac replied. That young man's got to be his dog robber for the day!"
"Any idea why, ma'am?"
"Well it might just have something to do with the e-mail I sent him last night after we ate. I gave him a broad-brush picture of what we had done, what we had found out, and what we think happened, so far."
"But we've got time for our coffee, right, ma'am?" Loren grinned as she noted that Mac had made no attempt to return the file to her briefcase and was idly stirring the sugar into her cup.
"Huh? Oh... yeah... we'll drink our coffee and then we can trot over to Battalion HQ and make nice with the Colonel!"
"Sounds like a plan," Loren agreed, and she took a sip of her coffee, "But do we have to finish our coffee?" she asked plaintively as she pulled a face at the taste of the brew, "This is almost as bad as Pop Walchowski's purple poison!"
Mac grimaced and nodded as she tasted her own drink, "Yep... pretty bad! So maybe we don't have to drink it, but I reckon we can still sit here for another five minutes or so!"
Monday 1 April 2001, 0802hrs EDT, Meg Austin's Apartment, Cul de Sac off 4th Street NE, Washington, DC (011202ZApr01)
Meg almost stumbled out of the passenger door of the Lexus, "Thanks Harm! I can take it from here!"
"Are you sure Meg? I mean, are you fit to drive? 'Cos you look like hell!"
"Aw, gee, thanks Harm! You certainly know how to boost a girl's ego! G'wan, git. I'm going to be late, but there's no call for you to be late too!
"If you're sure...? I can wait for you... call in and let the Admiral know..."
"And raise all sorts of questions which we don't really want asked, and the answers to which would mean we would have to lie? I don't think so! Now, stop worrying about me, and get your six back to Falls Church!"
Harm shook his head but surrendered, "OK, I'll get going once I see that you are safe inside!"
Meg almost succumbed to the temptation to stamp her foot, but by biting her lip she managed to confine her reaction to a frustrated, "Ohhh! You... you... you... man! You!"
Abandoning an attempt to glare at Harm she spun on her heel, and with garment bag in one hand and sea-bag slung over her shoulder, she stalked towards the old warehouse building's door.
Harm waited until he saw that she was safely inside, and then with a satisfied smile he engaged the Lexus' gears and pulled out of the old alleyway. His smile changed subtly as he drove, reflecting an element of irony, he had thought that never again would he have to drive the well-remembered route from this neighbourhood of DC back to Falls Church at this time of day!
Monday 1 April 2001, 0807hrs EDT, Commanding Officer's Office, 29th Logistics Battalion, USMC, Camp Lejeune, NC (011207ZApr01)
"Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie and Lieutenant Singer, sir!" Captain Bailey, the Battalion S-1 announced Mac and Loren as he held open the door to the CO's office.
Lieutenant Colonel McMahon stood to receive his visitors, "Good morning Colonel, Lieutenant, take a seat, please."
Both women replied "Good morning, Colonel," before sitting. Colonel McMahon waited until his visitors were seated before he retook his own seat, "I see the report I that was waiting for me this morning was correct, as was the scuttlebutt I heard last night, but then again, scuttlebutt usually is!"
"Colonel?" Mac inquired.
"You are both under arms."
"Correct, Colonel." Mac replied flatly.
McMahon clasped his hands, rested his elbows on his desk and leaned forward slightly, "I don't know that I'm particularly happy about having two officers wander around my battalion area with pistols – and I assume they are loaded?"
"Not much use if they aren't, Colonel!" Mac answered.
McMahon managed a half-smile, "Work with me on this one please, Colonel. As I was saying, I'm not particularly happy with the idea, but you managed to persuade the Provost Marshal to issue you with side-arms, and from my knowledge of that officer, you must have had a pretty cogent argument. Would you oblige me by just going over the item headers in that argument?"
Mac exchanged a quick glance with Loren before looking back at McMahon. "Very well, Colonel. We would have asked to see you to present a progress report a bit later in the day anyway... "
Mac then recounted all that she and Loren had discovered, including the probable link to the on-going NCIS investigation into the missing Humvee parts and most significantly the warning message they had received, together with its implication that she and Loren were under surveillance – at least some of the time – by unfriendly eyes.
McMahon heard them out in silence, nodding as he took on board each point made and when Mac had finished her report he grunted in satisfaction, stood and turned to look out of his window, his hands behind his back, in so similar a fashion to the pose so often adopted by Admiral Chegwidden that both Mac and Lorn were hard put to restrain their grins.
"All right, Colonel, I'll accept that you have grounds to be concerned for your safety to the extent that you feel that being armed is a necessary precaution. You are a Marine and therefore I will assume you are pistol qualified, but..." he spun suddenly fixing Loren with a penetrating stare, "How about you, Lieutenant?"
"I can shoot, sir!" Loren replied.
"That wasn't the question, Lieutenant." McMahon reminded her.
Loren nodded, "I qualified Sharpshooter on my last quals," she admitted.
McMahon nodded again. "OK, so we'll assume that with the ability to shoot comes the ability to know when and when not to shoot. So, keep your side-arms, but don't let me down on this, please!"
"I don't believe that decision lies within your purview, Colonel." Mac remarked coolly.
"That's where you're wrong, Colonel," McMahon contradicted her politely. "This is my battalion, and my battalion area, everything that happens within that area is not only within my purview, but is my responsibility. If anything, God forbid, should happen, within my area of responsibility, to you or that requires you to draw and use your weapons, then I will undoubtedly be held responsible."
Mac nodded, "Fair point,Colonel!"
"Thank you. I'll let the Provost Marshal, and the Commanding General know that your being armed has my support."
"The Commanding General?" Mac queried.
"Yeah... it seems that our Provost Marshall also copied his report to the General." He paused and looked down at the report on his desk blotter while he considered how best to articulate in a diplomatic manner his concerns, but eventually looked up at Mac once again, "The General is... how shall I put it... of the older generation of military men."
Mac nodded. She understood perfectly that McMahon meant that the General Commanding Camp Lejeune was one of the older officers who opposed the idea of women in his Corps, or in any of the services probably. She winced inwardly, a common term for such officers, who in her opinion should have been retired long ago, was 'dinosaur' and recalling that she had used that self-same term to the Provost Marshall's face, she could only hope that he hadn't included it in his report.
"I see you take my meaning, Colonel!"
"Yes, I do. And now unless we need to discuss anything more, I'd like to get on with trying to find who attacked Lieutenant Carpenter."
McMahon nodded, "Understandable, and I wish you a speedy success! But, Colonel, purely to satisfy my curiosity, unless and until Lieutenant Carpenter recovers consciousness, what exactly are you planning to do?"
"From here on in? Go down to Bravo Company's area, and starting with the Company Commander, interview every marine in the company and see if we can't find anyone who might be able to point us in the right direction."
McMahon pulled a face, "That's going to take some time, Colonel."
"Yes it is, but the NCIS agents are working their way through the motor pool detachment, and hopefully we'll be able to cross-fertilise each others investigation."
"Well, good luck, Colonel. I'll call Captain Harriman and let him know you're on his way!"
"Thank you," Mac said, mildly surprised by McMahon's apparent shift to a more helpful frame of mind.
"Nothing to thank me for Colonel. I will not interfere with, and I will not let anyone in my command interfere with or obstruct your investigation. I want whoever is responsible for the attack on Marion Carpenter behind bars! All I ask is that you keep me in the loop!"
"I'll do that!" Mac agreed, and turning to Loren said, "Lieutenant, let's go!"
Loren waited until they had left the building and had settled themselves into the Humvee before she turned to Mac, "A bit of a change in attitude there ma'am?"
Mac thought for a moment before she replied, "No... I don't think so. I'll admit it took me by surprise, considering our reception when we first got here. But he was right then. We were barely fit to be seen in public. But even then he was helpful, he had Carpenter's SRB to hand and he said back then that he wanted the perps caught. Maybe we took away the wrong impression because he gigged us slightly about our presentation."
Loren thought and then nodded as Mac turned the key in the ignition, "Yes, ma'am, could be."
In his office, Lieutenant Colonel McMahon called "Enter!" in response to a double tap at his door, and then looked up and grinned at his visitor, "Well, Sergeant Major?"
"The Colonel looks like a switched-on Marine, sir! I made some calls to buddies at Quantico and Pendleton. Intel has it that she's a damn good attorney, and a good investigator who sometimes goes off half-cocked but she does get results." The Sergeant Major paused to add slight emphasis to his next words, "In either role she has a habit of rubbing folk up the wrong way."
"I can handle that Sergeant Major, as long as she comes up with the goods!"
"She has that reputation, Colonel!"
"Thank you, Sergeant Major!"
Monday 1 April 2001, 0857hrs EDT, Conference Room, JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA (011257ZApr01)
Harm grinned in relief as Meg opened the door and slipped into an empty chair beside him. His grin broadened and he made a gesture of wiping sweat from his brow as she returned the smile. She still looked tired but freshening up and a change of clothes into a clean fresh uniform helped.
"You still don't look top-line," he whispered to her, "But you do look a hell of a lot better than you did an hour or so ago. And at least you made it on time – just!"
Meg looked sideways at him, grinned and then let a short-lived gurgle of laughter escape her.
Sturgis Turner, sitting opposite Harm in Mac's usual; place raised an eyebrow, "Something you'd like to share, Commanders?"
Meg shook her head, "No I don't think so."
"Aw, come on Meg, if we don't tell Sturgis, with his preacher's sons suspicions," Harm ignored the glare that Sturgis sent across the table at him, "he'll only put two and two together and come up short."
"Yeah, you may be right. Sturgis, I had to catch a later flight back than I'd hoped and it was routed via JFK. And then the connecting flight was delayed. I didn't get into Dulles until gone seven and then I had to call Harm to come and pick me up. That's all... oh except that when he did he had no compunction about telling me I looked like crap!"
"Ah... OK... and, I'm sorry, how's your mom?"
"Oh it was a bit of a false alarm. She had a touch of bronchitis is all. I gave her hell for scaring me like that!"
Sturgis frowned slightly, there was something that just didn't sit right with what he was hearing and Meg's body language. He was too experienced an attorney not to sense when he wasn't hearing the whole truth, but what if anything he was about to say was lost and forgotten in the bustle and scrape as everyone rose to their feet as Tiner threw the door open and called out "Attention on deck!"
Admiral Chegwidden strode into the conference room and glowered at the lack of faces. "Where the hell is everybody?" he demanded.
"Colonel MacKenzie and Lieutenant Singer are still at Lejeune, Commander Imes and Lieutenant Barlow are still tied up with the Court Martial at Twenty Nine Palms and Lieutenant Roberts has a meeting with the DoN forensic accountants at the Pentagon." Harm replied, but mentally taking note of the Admiral's expression and the way he was holding himself. He was still pale under his tan and he still looked tired. If anything he looked worse than Meg.
"H'mph! Looks like I shall have to have another meeting with the SecNav! I haven't yet had a chance to look over your budget proposal Commander, did you ask for funding for an additional couple of attorneys?"
"No sir, but I could..."
"Good! On my desk by twelve hundred today!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
A J scanned the faces left and then fastened on Meg, "Are you fit for duty Commander? You look like hell! I warned all of you what would happen if you turned to unfit for duty because of recreational pursuits!"
"I'm fine sir, just a little tired from travelling. It was pretty rough flight, sir!"
Chegwidden glared at her for a long moment, and then switched his gaze to Sturgis Turner. "The flight doesn't have seemed to have affected Commander Turner all that much!"
"No sir," Meg agreed docilely.
"Fine! Let's get on with it! Commander Rabb now you're out of the big chair it's time you did some legal work!" Chegwidden said, acknowledging, at least to Harm's mind, that the JAG spent very little time on bread and butter legal affairs.
"Yes, sir," Harm acknowledged, but thinking that with the now required amendment to the budget proposal he was going to be a very busy sailor.
"I'm glad you agree Commander. Tiner?"
The yeoman handed Rabb a hefty pink file folder, which to his surprise was marked with the DoN Seal and not with that of JAG, "Sir?" he queried.
Chegwidden smiled grimly, "Fourteen years ago Captain Abel Richardson, a key member of the then Pentagon Strategic Planning Group was convicted of espionage on behalf of a foreign power. He was sentenced to life without parole. The key piece of evidence against him was a series of pictures showing him in a series of meetings with a woman of Asiatic appearance. In some of those photographs Richardson and the woman can be seen exchanging unmarked brown envelopes.
The ONI who were running the investigation asserted that the envelopes handed to the woman by Richardson contained classified information concerning US defence policy, particularly those policies concerning Taiwan should China launch an attack on that state." Chegwidden paused and again smiled in a grim fashion, "Sound familiar, Commander?"
"Yes, sir. It does," Harm replied intercepting a concerned look from Meg as he did so.
"The ONI also assert that the envelopes passed from the woman to Richardson contained cash in payment for his information. Substantial amounts of cash.
Richardson always claimed that he had merely been helping the woman, whom he understood to be of mixed American and Korean blood to track down her father. An individual that her mother had told her was a US Navy Officer.
"The ONI produced further evidence that Richardson held an account in an off-shore, tax-free shelter, and despite not being able to gain access to the bank records, and despite Richardson's claims that he had never opened such an account, the evidence was deemed admissible. On the strength of that evidence, and particularly because Richardson's counsel couldn't produce the woman, he was found guilty.
"His conviction and sentence were upheld through all appeals procedure. Right up to the Supreme Court."
"If that is the case, sir, why has it come back to us after all this time?"
"During the original court martial, defence counsel challenged the ONI to produce in court the woman in the photographs, who ONI claimed was a Chinese agent. ONI replied that as best as they could figure out, she had been whisked out of the country by the Chinese Embassy under the guise of routine staff rotation, and when asked about her the Embassy denied ever having seen or known about her. On Friday evening, NCIS got a telephone call from GW hospital, a woman of Asian appearance had been admitted to the ER after having been involved in a vehicle/pedestrian collision. She was in a bad way, but kept demanding to speak to and I quote, 'A Navy investigator'. An NCIS agent was duly sent to interview her and recorded what proved to be a death-bed admission. It's pretty hesitant and halting, but she claims to be the woman in the case and not to have been employed by the Chinese embassy, but was half-Korean and an illegal alien part-coerced and part-bribed by the ONI to subvert Captain Richardson, and that the only documents she received from him were de-classified portions of the records of US Navy personnel who had served in Korea or in Korean waters in the two years before her birth, and the only envelopes she gave Richardson were the envelopes containing those same documents that she returned to him per his request. A story that coincides with Richardson's testimony on the stand during his court martial."
"It seems simple enough sir, and I don't understand why it's come to us. It should be easy enough to identify the ONI operative responsible for what looks like entrapment at least, and possibly perjury and false indictment, and get the original verdict and sentence overturned."
"So it would be Commander, if the woman could have come up with a name other than 'Captain Smith', it will be your happy duty to liaise with ONI and find out the identity of this officer. If he is still serving, or within five years of resigning or retiring I want him court martialled and Richardson released from Leavenworth and reinstated. Good luck Commander!"
"Yes, sir. Thank you!" Harm replied, the slight edge to his answer bringing a hard look from the Admiral, who however declined to comment.
Instead, Chegwidden turned to Tiner, "Next one!"
Tiner pulled two of the more usual, blue file folders from his archive box and handed them to the Admiral. Chegwidden popped his reading glasses onto his nose and swiftly scanned the front page of one of the two slim files.
"Commander Turner, Commander Austin: Lieutenant Velasquez is charged with DDO, insubordination and fomenting a mutiny. He was watch officer on the USS Cumberland, an LA Class sub. While dived, he disobeyed an order from his Captain to take the boat down a further five hundred feet. He pointed out that the new depth was deeper than the boat's pressure hull was rated for and apparently told the skipper to 'court martial me on the surface'. The skipper relieved him of duty and confined him to his cabin, and then assumed the Watch Offer's duties. He then ordered the planesman to dive the boat, and when the planesman protested the order, he held an immediate Captain's mast and confined him for three days on bread and water. The replacement planesman did as he was ordered, and the dive was completed. However when the Cumberland returned to port and the log was submitted COMSUBPAC ordered an ultra sound scan of the hull. At which stage cracks were found in the pressure hull. It is my understanding that COMSUBPAC as convening authority is preferring charges of wilfully and needlessly hazarding his vessel against the skipper, but wants this trial completed before any proceedings are started against the skipper. So...you'll prosecute Commander Turner, Commander Austin, defence.
"Lieutenant Warren. How is your case-load?"
"Just one DDO pending sir, I have plea-bargains for the rest, all ready for you to sign off on them sir!"
"What's the hold up on the outstanding case? And which case is it?" Chegwidden demanded.
"Uh... It's the Corporal Bowen case, sir and I'm waiting for the defence counsel to come into the office top sign off on it sir. I only hammered it out with my client on Friday, and defence counsel is away from the office on an investigation, sir."
"H'mm... Lieutenant Fairchild, I presume?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Well, grab hold of him as soon as he sets foot in the building and get him to sign off, or come back at you with a counter offer ASAP!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"Commander Mattoni, how's your assault case going?"
"Log jam at the moment sir. No chance of a plea bargain, both sides are as obdurate as the other. Looks like this one is going all the way to trial. Sir. And sir, it's going to be a black eye for the Navy if it goes public."
"Oh? I thought it was a slam-dunk, a public assault on a senior officer?"
"Yes, sir. But the Lieutenant pleads gross provocation, in that she makes a counter claim that she was sexually assaulted by her CO, in the moment before she struck him."
"Oh for God's sake! Has she any proof or witnesses?"
"The Lieutenant has handed over to me a copy of a photograph she had a nurse at Portsmouth take of her left...uh... buttock, sir. It shows a bruise, but unfortunately the photograph wasn't taken until forty eight hours after the alleged assault, and while the colour and degree, according to medical opinion is consistent with the alleged age of the bruising, it is unfortunately too diffused to allow the medicos to form a firm opinion as to the cause of it."
"So... part from the dubious nature of the photograph, it's a case of he said, she said?"
"Not quite, sir!" Alan Mattoni looked gloomy, "There's still the matter of the public assault. There is no ambivalence about that, sir!"
Chegwidden closed his eyes momentarily, "Try and wrap this one up quickly and quietly Commander. The Navy does need another black eye!"
"No sir, but with respect sir, in the light of events at Colorado Springs, do you really want to risk being seen in the same light as the Air Force Academy leadership?"
Chegwidden glared at Mattoni for several long seconds while that officer sent his past career to pass in mental review. At length the Admiral growled, "No, of course not. If there was a sexual assault, then the officer concerned, whoever he is will face charges! Damn them! Have these people learned nothing over the last ten years! Tell me at least Mattoni, that he is not from the Aviation Community!"
"No sir, surface warfare – both accused and accuser!"
"Let us thank God for small mercies!" Chegwidden said.
Harm had been inclined to bristle at the admiral's mention of aviators, but then in fairness he had to admit that it was aviators that had given the navy not one, but two black eyes over the 1991 Tailhook convention. Harm had not attended that convention; he had been in hospital recovering from the effects of his ramp strike. All the same he felt a degree of relief that it wasn't anybody from naval aviation involved this time around.
He was roused from his reveries by the admiral's gruff, "That is all, dismissed!"
Harm joined the rest of the group on the scramble top their feet as Chegwidden, trailed by Tiner left the room.
Monday 1 April 2001, 1845hrs EDT, Female VOQs, Camp Lejeune, NC, (012245ZApr01)
Loren gratefully unbuckled her pistol belt and rubbing the welt it had left on the side of her waist, she slumped into the chair that Mac had waved her to.
Mac grinned as she noted Loren's hand rubbing at her side, "Chafed a bit, Lieutenant?"
"Yes ma'am, not too much, but enough that I'm happy enough to unstrap it!"
"You get used to!" Mac informed her, as she too unbuckled her pistol belt.
"Ma'am , with respect, if I'd wanted to get used to wearing a pistol, I'd have joined the Marines!" Loren almost snapped, remembering at the last second to power down, but obviously not far enough as Mac narrowed her eyes.
"Tone, Lieutenant!" she reminded her junior.
"Yes, ma'am, sorry ma'am!" Loren said although she was fuming inside at her own slip.
Mac waited until she judged that the blonde had simmered down a mite and the sitting on the end of her bed, she bent to unlace her boots.
"So... anything useful from your interviews? I got nothing from mine, nothing, zero, zilch, nada!"
"You could add nichts to that litany, ma'am," then Loren's forehead creased as she fought to recall something that had struck her as odd at the time she'd been told, "Although... there may be a beam of light peeping over the horizon..."
"Go on..."
"Well..." Loren opened her breast pocket to pull out a field note book, "Lance Corporal Feldman says that he thought that he recently saw Lieutenant Carpenter in conversation with Private Ormond. He said he was surprised because Ormond was a screw up who normally tried to stay out of the way of NCOs and practically ran and hid from officers. But on a couple of occasions he said that Ormond appeared quite active in the conversation instead of her usual practice of standing at attention and only saying 'yes, sir,' or 'no, sir' – or ma'am, as the case might be."
"Well that's something we can look into tomorrow. Ormond's on your half of the roster isn't she?"
"Yeah, I've got her down as fifth on my list for the morning."
Mac considered, "Well, in the best interests of her safety we don't want to draw any undue hostile attention to her, so we need to carry on as we have done to-day. I wonder though, is there any way you can draw out those first four interviews until just short of lunch, telling you to take a break would give me a reasonable excuse for breaking on you, there are a couple of questions I'd like to put to Ormond myself!"
"Maybe, but I'm thinking that if she can tell us anything it will probably lead back to the missing parts."
"That would be something, after all, we haven't heard from NCIS all day! What's that grin for?"
"I was just remembering back at Falls Church, when the Admiral first assigned me to work with NCIS, he asked me if I had a problem with that, and I said no, no more than I would have of working with any other incompetent and the Admiral slapped me down PDQ!"
"And?" Mac prompted.
"And it looks like I might be having the last laugh after all!" Loren grinned.
After a thunderstruck moment, Mac couldn't help but join in Loren's amusement.
"But..." Loren sobered quickly, "I'm surprised at Gomez. He's ex Navy, and with his previous rate and rating – he's a former Master Chief Master at Arms – I would have thought he'd be more prepared to co-operate with us!"
"H'mm... curious... but isn't Adams the lead investigator? And does he strike you as the kind to co-operate fully, no matter what instructions he might have received?"
"Well... he did in DC... but..."
"But that was when you were checking paperwork. You weren't in the field involved in an investigation that impinges on his, were you?"
"No... but do you think he'd sabotage our investigation just to make himself look good?"
"I think, from what little I've seen of him, he is very capable of doing just that, particularly if it looks like he might be outshone by a pair of women!"
"You might be right, ma'am, but unless you've got an urgent need of me for anything else, I'm not going to even think about that until I've had a chance to take a shower and 'phone Harm before I even think about ordering in for tonight. It's my turn, so, burgers, pizza or Chine..."
Loren's sentence was cut off by a thunderous knocking at the door. Mac and Loren exchanged a look and without saying a word, both grabbed their side arms. Mac signalled for silence and slid off to one side of the room to where she could get a clear shot at anybody standing in the doorway. She called out, "Yes, who is it?" and gave Loren a three-count signal to open the door wide.
"Lieutenant Cartwright, ma'am, twenty-ninth Logistics Battalion Officer of the Day!"
As the Lieutenant finished speaking, Loren yanked the door open and a startled African American Lieutenant found himself facing the business end of a pair of nine millimetre pistols. He gulped convulsively and raised his hands to signal his pacifistic intentions.
"How may we help you, Lieutenant?" Mac asked, not lowering her guard or her weapon one inch.
"Uh... Colonel McMahon's compliments, ma'am and would you join him, directly, in the Battalion Ops Room, ma'am!"
"ID, Lieutenant!" Mac demanded
Mac carefully examined the proffered ID that Cartwright had gingerly, using only forefinger and thumb, extracted from the breast pocket of his Service Dress Alphas. Mac examined it equally carefully, looking particularly for any sign that the laminations had been tampered with. Satisfied that it was the real thing and had not been altered in any way she handed it back to the Lieutenant. "What's this all about Lieutenant?" Mac asked, applying the safety on her M-9. "Oh, and you can put your hands down!" she added
"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't tell you that!"
"Can't tell me because you don't know, or because you've been ordered not to tell me?"
"Yes, ma'am!" Cartwright replied unhelpfully, "I have a vehicle waiting outside ma'am," he offered as if that might compensate.
"No need, Lieutenant, we have our own vehicle and we know the way to Battalion HQ. Please return there, present my compliments to Colonel McMahon, and tell him we'll be with him as soon as I've pulled my boots back on!"
Cartwright looked down for the first time and noticed that Mac was in her socked feet.
"Yes, ma'am. Is that word for word ma'am?" he risked a slight smile.
Mac responded to his humour, "Hell, why not, Lieutenant? Now the sooner you get going, the quicker I can get my boots back on!"
"Yes, ma'am!" Cartwright saluted and turned making for the door at the end of the hall.
Loren sighed, made safe her pistol, and restoring it to its holster, slung the pistol belt around her waist once more.
Monday 1 April 2001, 1913hrs EDT, Battalion Operations Room, HQ 29th Logistics Battalion USMC,Camp Lejeune, NC, (012313ZApr01)
Mac and Loren were surprised to see that the Ops Room had been posted and even more so when the young, armed marine sentry politely asked for their IDs. He checked their names off against a list before he allowed them to pass, while Mac and Loren exchanged further inquiring looks.
"Good evening, Colonel, Lieutenant," Lieutenant Colonel McMahon stood in front of a display board on which had been pinned a map and as Mac drew closer she could see that it was a map of the Camp Lejeune military reservation, near the boundary of which had been placed a red map-pin.
"Thank you for coming so promptly," McMahon continues as he waved Mac and Loren to a seat.
"You know nearly everybody here..." he indicated the half a dozen or so others ion the room. Mac nodded, recognising two of them as Company Commanders, a third as the Battalion XO and then the Provost Marshall, Lieutenant Colonel Baxter, and finally a tough, seasoned looking man wearing the chevrons of a Sergeant Major
"I've asked you to attend because at secure this afternoon, a Humvee was reported missing. It was noted as having been signed out by Corporal Hunter and Private Schmidt, who had been detailed to assist NCIS agents Adams and Gomez in their investigations. Neither the two marines nor the NCIS agents answered their radio or their cell phones. A second vehicle sent to their supposed destination found no trace of the missing Humvee, either at the destination nor anywhere along the route leading to it. I called in a favour and asked the CO of MHA 214 to carry out an aerial sweep. The pilot spotted a Humvee right over at the reservation boundary, and I ordered the second vehicle to that location. The commander of that vehicle, Gunnery Sergeant Anderton, reported that the missing Humvee appeared to have been hit and disabled by an IED and that there were four bodies lying in and around it; my two missing Marines and the two NCIS agents. All seemed to have suffered blast and shrapnel injuries, but according to the Gunny, who has seen his share of fighting and wounds, all four had also received a close-range shot from a large calibre weapon to the base of the skull."
He stopped and breathed heavily. "That's not all. One of my marines seem to think that that particular vehicle had been fitted with an M-2 fifty calibre. It was not found with the vehicle. I am having an armoury inventory check carried out even as we speak"
