Loren Singer - a necessary lie, Chapter 1 - "A body found: a lie started".
A/N: AU. This is a fictional story, in a fictional Alternative Universe, about fictional characters who entertained us in a fictional TV series between 1995 and 2005. Mike. Characters borrowed with love and appreciation for the great team who brought us "JAG"; may your following careers blossom.
A/N: AU: "they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them - apart from any fictional character created by myself". See Phase One of this story for the whole disclaimer A/N. Feel free to PM me if you spot any typos - my goal is 100% error-free. Feedback and comments are also welcome; I see plenty of followers and visitors to this story. Your opinions, critiques (and requests as PMs) are always helpful - and welcomed.
A/N: AU: Just a twist on "ice Queen" and "Meltdown" from 2003. What if the whole "Loren Singer swim" scenario was part of a bigger plot involving "another Government agency"? Just an initial bit of free-writing fluff to gauge the reaction from the readership.
A/N: Allusion to canon: "Ice Queen" (S08Ep20), "Meltdown" (S08Ep21)
A/N: Publication date: 22-Aug-2019.
Characters from FFNET - L Singer: D Mallard; C Webb; H Rabb jr
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Chapter 01 of "Loren Singer - a necessary lie"
Friday 3rd January 2003 – 16:45hrs EST
JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA
Admiral Chegwidden reviewed the file and smiled at Lt Loren Singer over his glasses.
"Good luck with your maternity leave and please inform Tiner once you have your address sorted."
"Aye-aye sir and thanks for your support."
"OK Lieutenant, dismissed."
Loren Singer braced for the regulation two seconds before turning and leaving the Admiral's lair. She smiled to herself as she walked past Tiner's desk; she was going to miss this place, with its intrigues, small-minded people with their special-interest worries and the legal cases which had exercised her since she had been posted in, back in November of 1999.
She briefly wondered whether the heeled shoes were the best footwear for her next actions, but the time spent with Harmon Rabb had eaten into her contingency time and she had already packed away the loose items from her office the previous day. She sighed: sometimes, that man's obsession over her baby had been a real pain in the...….
She picked up the last of her possessions and headed for the car park, silently sliding out of JAG HQ for the last time in a while. The next part of her mission beckoned; in fairness, she had been surprised by how much the pregnancy had affected her energy levels. Her balance had also been affected; these heels were really not a good idea, but time was pressing and the timing of the mission was crucial on this snowy January evening.
She *had* to make the meeting, to maintain the mission, no matter how much she wanted to be relaxing in her apartment and anticipating the arrival of her daughter in May.
But that was the mission - and the mission came first.
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Tuesday 22nd April 2003, 16:37hrs EST
Autopsy bay, Basement, NCIS HQ, Washington DC
"Autopsy".
"Hello; is that Dr Mallard?"
"Speaking".
"Hello Dr Mallard; my name is Clayton Webb, special assistant to the undersecretary of state. I believe that you worked alongside my father back in the jungle."
"Yes indeed; he always spoke highly of you Clayton, although it was decades ago. I understand that you followed him into the family "firm". So how may I help Neville Webb's son after all these years?"
"Well; as you have spotted despite the job title, I followed my father and mother into the Agency - and that is the reason for my call today."
"Ducky" Mallard sighed; whenever "spooks" broke cover, there was usually pain involved for someone - and never (usually) the spooks!
"Go on, what's the scam today?"
Webb chose to ignore the dig – in all honesty, Ducky's response was mild compared to the usual derision from Harmon Rabb and Sarah Mackenzie. His nose still twitched whenever Admiral Chegwidden's name was mentioned!
"OK, in around one hour you will receive a sample by courier. It needs to be substituted as the DNA sample which you will submit to the Armed Forces DNA Registry to identify the deceased, pregnant, blonde female JAG officer who is currently lying on your table in autopsy."
"Hmm, this is most irregular; so tell me, dear Clayton, what ID will come back from this sample?"
"It will confirm that the recovered body in your morgue is that of JAG Lt Loren Marie Singer."
"Hmm - and the real Lt Singer?"
"...is recovering from giving birth to her daughter yesterday, then will continue her deep-cover identity as part of a long-running Agency operation vital to the security of this nation."
Webb's voice dropped a half-octave: "Doctor Mallard - we need your help."
"Very well, but only in exchange for an honest answer to my next question. Who will identify the lady on my morgue truthfully and will she eventually be laid to rest under her true name?"
"Yes Doctor Mallard, absolutely; but for now, this is a necessary lie."
Mallard began his autopsy on the badly-decomposed body which lay on the gurney. She had clearly been frozen until recently, but the carrion birds had stripped away the flesh which had been exposed above the ice. The US Navy uniform stretched around her body gave a very good impression that a dead foetus was lying within her mother. Both of the bodies would, of course, be treated with respect.
Looking at her arms, Mallard recognised the signs of faded needle tracks. No way was this a serving Naval officer. Indeed, were it not for the pregnancy, the CIA could have been responsible for plucking a dead junkie off a street somewhere. He sighed, picking up his scalpel to begin the detailed examination.
Within ten minutes, he knew the game. Her hair had been styled into a military-compliant length and style but had been coloured – it was evident that she was not a natural blonde. Her fingernails had been supplemented with false nails – very good ones, but masking real nails which had not been cared for as a professional lawyer would have protected - and taken pride in - her appearance.
Her feet were one size larger than those recorded for Lt Loren Singer and somehow Ducky doubted that the real Lt Loren Singer would have faced the world with pierced nipples.
Mallard stood back and summarised his evidence.
This had all the hallmarks of a re-modelled dead junkie, dressed up to pass a cursory inspection and to provide a distraction from the whereabouts of the real Lt Loren Singer, latterly of the USN JAG Corps.
Reluctantly, he prepared two files; one in the persona of "Lt Loren Singer" which he filled up with the details from the corpse. He vaguely recognised the CIA operative who was escorted into his lab by the NCIS security detail. He signed for the package and made the fateful exchange into the ID bag which would be sent off to the Armed Forces DNA registry.
Samples of the real body were filed away under "Janine Doe" for now. He prepared to bury her deep, pending the day when "part two" of the scheme could be put into effect.
Damn the CIA and their spook games!
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Monday 14th February 2005, 10:38hrs EST
Office of Cdr Harmon Rabb, jr, USN JAGC
JAG HQ Falls Church VA
"Commander Rabb, the General would like to see you at your earliest convenience please."
"OK Jenn, I am on my way".
Since his return to JAG in October 2003, Harm had kept his head down and had, once more, attained the status of senior attorney in Falls Church. The arrival of the new JAG had given him opportunities to knuckle down and expunge the bad feeling of previous escapades.
"Come in, Commander."
As he walked into General Cresswell's office, Harm became vaguely aware, in passing, of a dark-blonde-haired lady sitting in one of the Admiral's wing-back chairs. A tan briefcase was grounded on the carpet alongside. She was dressed in civilian attire - an expensive-looking wine-coloured skirt-suit which complimented her hair and the red silk scarf tied at her throat.
He barely gave her a second glance until, as he stood in front of the Generals' desk, a whiff of a long-familiar perfume caught his nostrils.
He hadn't smelt that scent since a bad-tempered, irritable conversation in Benzingers on a cold January night some two years earlier, when he was arguing with a spiky, shrewish, beer-swilling - and quite-pregnant - fellow JAG officer called...….
"Loren Singer!"
She stood, turning to face him, slightly taller than he remembered in non-regulation spiked heels which complimented the colours of her civilian suit. The dark-blonde hair colouring, the long bobbed hairstyle and the rimless spectacles were a major distraction, but the unusual warmth of her smile gave away the fact that there was a different personality at play today, two years on from their last meeting, which had (apparently) been rapidly followed by her mystery dive into the icy waters of the Potomac.
She held her hand out in greeting, displaying immaculately shaped and painted fingernails as she continued to smile warmly:
"Hello Harm."
** END of "Loren Singer - a necessary lie" - Ch 01 – "A body found: a lie started"
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Next Chapter - ? Depends on reactions/reviews.