Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.
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Episode: Guilt
- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia
Leaving the ladies' room and checking her watch Loren quickened her steps. The recess would be over in a few minutes and she didn't intend to be late. Her mind was already playing with the different possibilities of questioning Harriet Sims. The Lieutenant had been a good witness for the prosecution and turning her testimony wouldn't be easy.
"Ma'am? Lieutenant Singer!"
Loren looked up and around. "Petty Officer Westland. I don't have time now."
"I'm sure you'd be interested in what I have to say, Ma'am." And something in Westland's expression made Loren stop dead in her tracks. All alarm bells went off in her head. She narrowed her eyes.
"Would I?"
"Certainly, Ma'am." Westland moved backwards and indicated her with his body language to follow. Loren hesitated for a split second then stepped up to him. The Petty Officer seemed so ... confident. More than he had in the last couple of weeks. A shiver ran down her spine but she kept her face perfectly calm. Tilting her head a bit she waited for him to continue.
"You've expressed some concerns about your career since our friend in Norfolk has ... gotten himself into trouble." Westland was watching her closely. She didn't answer. "I figured you'd be relieved that your prospects may be even better now."
Loren suppressed the urgent need to swallow hard and cleared her throat. Nevertheless her voice sounded slightly strangled. "How so?"
She got a meaningful smirk. "Let's just say: You're not the only one dissatisfied with the Navy's promotion boards. But you can help one another."
"That doesn't give me much," she bluffed despite the bad taste in her mouth, "Last time you told me just the same and where did it get me? Nowhere."
"This time is different."
"Oh, really? Why?"
Westland's smirk grew. "You'll see."
He started to turn away. A wave of panic washed over Loren. She reached out and grabbed his arm, going into his face.
"You think that's enough?" She kept her voice a low hiss. "I've stuck my neck out for you and your friends remember? Whoever they may be. You give me something now or we're through - understood?!"
Westland looked her straight in the eye. Still this disturbing smirk was spread over his face. "High up, Singer."
She stared. He picked her hand off his arm. "Really high up. You'll make Lieutenant Commander in no time."
She tried to think but her mind had gone blank. "Wait, what do you mean? You want to tell me you've got connections into the Pentagon?"
"Lieutenant!" Commander Rabb's voice cut in. Startled she looked over her shoulder and saw him standing at the courtroom door.
"Don't keep the Commander waiting," Westland suggested grinning. Again he started turning away and again Loren grabbed his arm.
"Just a second! I'm not saying I'm interested but let's talk about it during lunch break!"
"Singer!" Loren waved vaguely to keep Rabb at bay.
Westland chuckled. He obviously enjoyed the situation. "Sorry, but I'm off for the rest of the day. You'll have to wait until tomorrow."
"But-"
Rabb's voice, becoming increasingly angry, interrupted her once more. "Lieutenant!"
"See you tomorrow, Ma'am."
Loren watched helplessly as he strolled down the corridor. Reluctantly she took a few steps towards the courtroom. A million thoughts tumbled through her head. No one had expected anything like that. On the contrary, just a few days ago they had decided that Westland was of no use any more. The FBI had trailed every move he'd made over the last months in order to find the best possibility to nail him. Treachery was no option - not without losing Singer at the same time and she was needed to tie loose ends. So drugs it had to be. Ironically that wasn't easy without catching Foxhound accidentally in the same trap. But it seemed they had figured out a way. She didn't know when exactly it was supposed to happen - but Webb had prepared her that it would be within the next days. Again she felt panic welling up in her.
'Think, Loren, think!' She clenched her fists. 'I have to contact Webb! I have to tell him! But how? How?!'
"Lieutenant Singer, do you need an extra invitation?!" Rabb's sarcastic voice disturbed her thoughts. She murmured an excuse, stepped into the courtroom.
She had to get out of here. What if it was planned for today? Had Westland taken his leave spontaneously or had it been know beforehand? Her eyes darted back and forth. A simple I've got to go to the ladies' room wouldn't do. Playing sick? No, Westland would learn of the incident and maybe draw some unfortunate conclusions. Another recess, she needed another recess! But they had just had one for Lieutenant Sims so it was very unlikely the judge would announce another till noon. What if it was too late then? Loren felt her fingernails dig into her flesh. Could she provoke a recess? The only ones to ask for it where first chair of prosecution and defense and neither Turner nor Rabb had an interest in doing so...
'Damn it, Loren! THINK!'
And suddenly she knew a possibility.
Loren darted out of Commander Rabb's office, a dangerous expression on her face. Luckily Rabb had denied her permission to speak freely for she'd have had some well chosen words ready to slap them into his face. Like Don't hide behind this case - if you're so concerned about it why have you been such a coward and haven't questioned Lieutenant Sims yourself in the first place? or You've always used me as the bully in cross-examination and kept your hands clean - what the heck did you expect? maybe even Why did it take you so DARN long to stop me?!. She couldn't believe to what lengths she had been forced to go before they'd stopped her. She couldn't believe to what lengths she had been willing to go.
'It was necessary. Necessary! It was the only way.'
But in her head she heard her own voice confronting Harriet Sims again with the death of her baby, pushing her mercilessly, tearing her apart...
'It was necessary!' she screamed at herself. She snatched up her cell phone.
'How will I ever be able to live with myself after that?'
Loren stormed towards the next conference room. There was no time. Not now. She had to keep going. She had to do her job. Some prices were higher. She had Webb's number punched in before the door was completely shut.
'Come on, come on, pick up the damn phone!' The ringing seemed to go on forever.
"Webb."
"Firefighter. Mister Webb-"
"I'll call back." Loren heard voices in the background.
"It's important!"
"I'll call back," Webb repeated and hung up on her. Loren stamped her foot in frustration.
She paced nervously up and down, glancing at her watch. The minutes seemed to race past. Precious seconds ticked by. The time of her hard achieved recess was running out fast. She closed her eyes, willing Webb to call, to call now... Her cell rang.
"Yes?!"
"Is there Miss-"
"Yes - firefighter - I'm here," Loren cut him short, violating all procedures for contact at one stroke. "Listen, Westland's dropped a bombshell: He practically promised me a promotion to Lieutenant Commander and he was very, very confident. He said they've got now somebody high up - really high up."
"What?! When?!" For the first time she heard Webb actually scream in the phone.
"About an hour ago. I was stuck in court, it was impossible to get out without blowing my cover. Webb, Westland is on leave for the rest of the day, I have no possibility to find out more! But the way he chose his words, emphasizing the benefits to my - Singer's career... I guess it's someone in the Pentagon, maybe even in the SecNav's own staff!"
The last thing she heard, just before Webb hang up on her the second time, was a rude curse.
- Parking lot of JAG Headquarters
Were no news good news in this case or not? Loren sighed deeply and unlocked her car. What a day. This trial, Harriet Sims, Commander Rabb - and Colonel Mackenzie and Gunnery Sergeant Galindez missing. Oh, not to forget Bud Roberts' dirty looks. Sure enough she had lost any credit she had gotten for their deal concerning the Master Chief who had enjoyed cursing too much. The thought brought a brief smile to her lips. But atmosphere at JAG was going to be rather chilly for a while. Well, it wasn't a popularity contest, now was it?
She reached for the ignition as her cell phone rang. Her hand grabbed it in a flash.
"Yes?"
"Is there Miss F. R. Maine?" Webb's voice.
"Firefighter," answered Loren immediately, indicating that she was able to speak freely. Then she held her breath.
"We've got problems. Meet me at the usual point in an hour from now on."
The air left her lungs in a rush. So it had been the day. And it looked like Webb hadn't been able to stop the hit in time.
"What did happen?"
She didn't expect Webb to answer and first there was silence but then she heard him sigh.
"Foxhound informed us of a meeting. A nice little tactical discussion how to increase the amount of drugs sold to Navy personnel - that's why Westland participated. A perfect opportunity to arrest him but they screwed up. It ended in a shoot-out." Webb paused and sighed again. "Westland is dead."
Loren closed her eyes. Dead. And all his knowledge had died with him. 'If I had only been a little bit faster. If I had only thrown caution to the wind and called Webb earlier.'
"I called as fast as I could," she whispered defeated. "I really..."
"No one is blaming you, Loren. If anyone I'm blaming myself. There was a lot of bad luck in here. Ill timing, phones turned off, the necessary people not available, a fire alarm-"
"Excuse me?"
"Don't ask. Anyway we can't change what has happened. See you in an hour."
"I'll be there." Loren ended the call and rested her arms on the steering wheel. Her brain refused to accept in full the consequences of the day but one thing was crystal clear: There was another leak, probably more dangerous than Westland had ever been. And they had to figure out a way to plug it. Fast.