1400 (Military Time): 2:00 p.m. (Local Time)
Same Day
District Attorney's Office
New York City, New York
"So do we call the Navy Judge Advocate General or what?" Abby was leaning back in her chair looking at Jack standing in her doorway.
"I guess we're going to have to." He shook himself, remembering the confrontation with Commander Rabb earlier.
A thought struck Abby. "Wait a minute. What's the command structure there?"
"Huh?"
"Well, think about it. Navy Judge Advocate General—God! No wonder they call it 'JAG'—easier on the tongue—isn't he the 'top of the line' for military lawyers?"
"What are you getting at, Abby?" Jack looked down at her, a look of confusion crossing his rugged face.
"Well, if he's the top of the line, maybe Nora should be the one calling him." She looked straight at him and waited for him to process that little thought. Jack's right hand went up to his head and "combed" his hair, thinking. Abruptly, he turned and headed back to his office. Abby caught up with him just in time to hear him ask his secretary to call Adam to see if he had a couple of minutes and, oh, by the way, get the telephone number of the Navy's Judge Advocate General in Washington D.C. She thought, "Oh, boy. The shit's going to hit the fan on this one!"
Just then, Jack turned out almost colliding with Abby. She saw his dazzling grin and accepted his thanks. "I really didn't want to talk to the military directly. Thank you for finding an 'out'."
They waited in Nora's office, while the call was being placed.
"Do you guys have anything on these two, other than a time line discrepancy?" Nora waited patiently. Jack was pacing up and down restlessly.
"No. As a matter of fact, they were instrumental in helping keeping the chaos down to a minimum." He couldn't help remembering the commander making a reference to "do your DI thing, Mac"—was that military-speak for what followed? He shook his head: he had very little to do with anything military. Just then, Nora's secretary advised her the call had gone through.
"Good afternoon. Am I speaking to Admiral Cheg—," her tongue tripped over the name but continued. "Chegwidden?" There was a pause.
"My name is Nora Croft, District Attorney for the county of New York in New York State." Jack had to grin internally. He would have been more provincial in forgetting there was more to this country than New York City and left off the "state" in the opening salvo.
"I need some information from you about two of your people." She looked down at a piece of paper she was holding in her hand. "A Commander Harmon Rabb Jr. and a Colonel Sarah MacKenzie."
There was another pause. She was waiting for his response. Jack—and Abby who was lingering in the background—could hear nothing of the other side of the conversation.
"We're still investigating the bombing at the Marriott Hotel a while ago—" Jack was waving a piece of paper in his hand with a date written on it trying to get her attention; she looked at it just briefly. "You know, the Judicial Conference held in May, and we've come across a discrepancy in their statements we'd like to clear up."
Another pause.
"Just this, sir." Even over the phone, Jack perceived, the military bearing had a way of making even seasoned politicians come to attention. It irritated the former anti-war protester just a bit, although he couldn't say why for sure. "Colonel McKenzie says they were out for a bit of 'fresh air' and Commander Rabb says they were in the elevator when the bomb went off. There's no way they could have been in the elevator—or even outside for 'fresh air'--and gotten back to the crime scene so quickly since the bomb disrupted elevator service."
The more Jack thought about the seemingly slight discrepancies in the two statements, the more the whole thing bothered him and the more significant the discrepancies got. Of course, he admitted—and would admit to no one else—it could be his anti-military bias might be exaggerating the whole thing. Just then, Nora snapped her fingers to get this attention and she asked Jack, "How long were they gone from the ballroom?"
Jack responded immediately, "We don't know for sure. We don't have any one who could tell us when precisely they left -- and I know they were 'on site' almost immediately after the bomb went off." Nora turned back to the phone.
"We don't know, sir." Another pause. "Fine. We'll look forward to hearing from you." She gave her phone number to the other party on the other end and hung up. She looked up at Jack. "He'll be getting back to us with those answers. Meanwhile see if you can't try to pin that absence down a little firmer. I can't believe no one noticed military uniforms, especially if they were the only military there, leaving the ballroom."
"Okay." Jack and Abby left Nora's office, more than just a little unsatisfied. Nora overheard Abby comment to Jack, "His was the only uniform there, remember? I would think it would be kind of hard to miss that white uniform." Nora didn't hear Jack's response. Never mind that both Jack and Abby had also been present and neither had seen them leave, either. Of course, there were lots of people there, but still. . .
1650 (Military Time): 4:30 p.m. (Local Time)
Same Day
District Attorney's Office
New York City, New York
Jack was stretching back in his chair and was about ready to call it good for the day. It had been a very long week and he was looking forward to taking the weekend off to ride up to the mountains on his motorcycle. He couldn't wait to feel the wind through his hair—it was his way of "relieving the stress" of the office—when the phone rang and he groaned. He picked it up. "What now," he thought.
"Hello. My name is Commander Sturgis Turner. Can I speak to John McCoy?"
Jack closed his eyes and sighed. "Speaking. What can I do for you, Commander?" The very word "commander" brought back a very unpleasant memory. But for some reason, it also brought back a memory of the colonel in her evening gown before it was ruined by the bomb—and her sense of humor and perspective about the whole event. Inwardly, he figured that mitigated the unpleasant confrontation between the Commander and himself—although he didn't know why he should "associate" the colonel with the commander.
"It's more a case of what I can do for you, Mr. McCoy." The deep, melodious voice spoke with deliberation and an even speech pattern. "I represent Commander Harmon Rabb and Colonel Sarah McKenzie." Jack's eyes snapped open and he was fully alert. His free hand started scrambling for the files on Commander Rabb and Colonel McKenzie. The deep melodious voice went on. "I understand you have a 'problem' with their statements concerning the bombing of the Judicial Conference they attended a while back."
Jack took a deep breath. "Yeah."
"Believe me, sir, you shouldn't worry."
Jack's neck hairs started raising end on end. His anti-military suspicions started tingling, popping up all over his emotional radar screen. His mind screamed, "Protecting their own!"
The commander's voice continued. "I think we can clear this up for them from the civilian end, but I really don't want to discuss the discrepancies in their statements here. They could be in trouble at this end once the whole story comes out and I really would like to keep it relatively quite—at least as quiet as I can—at this end."
This left Jack's head spinning. "Huh?"
There was a small chuckled coming from the connection in Washington D.C. "Ever hear of something called 'fraternization'?"
Jack was even more confused. "Fraternization?"
"Yeah." There was a pause and Jack could sense the other party's wrestling with a decision. The deliberate speech pattern speeded up as Jack sense the other man had reached a decision. "Look, my girlfriend's booked at a nightclub there in New York and I was planning to come up anyway. Why don't we meet somewhere on Saturday and we'll clear this up from the civilian end, okay?"
Jack sighed. There went his weekend.
"Okay. Where do you want to meet?"
"Versasha is booked at the nightclub at the Hilton there in New York—I forget what the name of the club is—I can buy you drinks, clear this up for Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie, and have a good time anyway." There was a "cat that ate the canary" tone to his voice. Jack discovered his irritation at having his weekend plans go up in smoke dissipate just a bit and actually found himself looking forward to it.
"What time?"
"How bout 2100—oh, I forgot. How bout 9:00 in the lobby of the Hilton?"
"Okay."
Jack hung up the phone with mixed feelings. He was still irritated at having still another weekend of "fun" time go up in smoke, but on the other hand, if Commander Turner could provide information that would help in the investigation of the bombing, that would prove a time saver in the long run. He sighed and hurried to grab his suit jacket. He was bound and determined to get out of the office before the phone rang again.
Hilton Hotel Lobby
2100 (Military Time) 9:00 p.m. Civilian Time
Saturday Night
Jack stood in the hotel lobby at the end of the registration desk. He had no idea what Commander Sturgis looked like and he didn't have a clue as to whom he was waiting for. He was therefore surprised when a tall—Jack would estimate 5'10'—black man in a navy blue suit and light pastel pink walked up to him.
"John McCoy?" A dark hand was outstretched for a handshake. Jack took it and shook it as he introduced himself.
"Call me 'Jack'." He withdrew his hand and motioned to the hotel nightclub. "Shall we?"
Drinks were placed in front of the two men seated across from each other in a booth, both agreeing this would be a more discreet place to discuss whatever Commander Sturgis had to disclose. Jack took a sip from his bourbon and leaned back.
"Well, Commander. What is it you have to tell me?"
Sturdis likewise sipped his martini and leaned back. He started the conversation.
"What do you know about 'fraternization' in the military?"
"Hell, I'm not even sure I know what the term means."
Sturgis set his drink down slowly and leaned back again. "Basically, it means inappropriate conduct between two members of the military. Ordinarily and primarily, it means conduct between enlisted and officer personnel. But it also applies to officers serving under the same chain of command. The main purpose is to preserve 'good order and discipline'." He paused. "In civilian life, basically the same rules apply, except for two things: one, the rules aren't written down and spelled out specifically, and two, such 'socializing' within the civilian community isn't penalized by official punishments that can be recorded in a person's military record—which could or could not be a career-buster, depending on circumstances." He paused and looked at Jack to see if he caught the drift of where this could be going.
Jack sat there, fingering his drink, and thought this through. "Before I lay out what I'm thinking, I need to get clear on a couple of points. What does 'inappropriate conduct' include? And what kind of punishment are we talking about here, anyway?"
Sturgis sighed. "'Inappropriate conduct'—especially given the context here—could include any kind of sexual contact. As far as punishment is concerned, that depends on the circumstances. How far did it go, how does the CO regard such conduct, etc." He shrugged. Jack's eyelids squinted shut as he continued to process the new information. Then his eyes popped open and he stared at Sturgis.
"Are you saying the Commander and the Colonel . . ."
Sturgis replied quickly and forcefully. "I don't know. I haven't asked." He grimaced. That sounded too much like the disastrous "Don't Ask; Don't Tell" policy the military had for several years towards homosexuals. "There's a reason I haven't asked. I can't report what I don't know for sure. I have my suspicions and the inconsistency in the time lines you're wanting to know about hints at 'inappropriate conduct'. And, as an attorney, you should know it's better for me not to know for sure, at least not at this point in time."
He paused and turned the drinking glass on the table around and around before continuing. He looked back up at Jack and his eyebrows shot up. "At the moment, I'm more worried about the careers of both Commander Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie, given the mood of our CO." He raised his hand as he could see the gathering clouds of protest on Jack's face. "Before you say anything, let me add I know there's bigger issues involved than two rather distinguished—and spotted--" Jack heard the small chuckle and wondered what that was about. "careers. As far as I can see, in that perspective, two careers are a couple of grains of sand on the beach, so to speak. However, I see no reason to possibly ruin two people when there's 'bigger fish to fry'. Do you see what I mean?"
Jack had the feeling he was personally "on trial". He looked at the black man sitting across from him who was, to all outward appearances, pretty casual about the whole topic but was coiled up like a rattle snake ready to strike. ("Damn!" He was going to have to tell Abby about this—the analogy was something she, with her Texas plains background, would thoroughly appreciate.) He instantly decided to clarify a couple more points before deciding how to react emotionally. (Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard a small quiet chuckle at himself: "Deciding how to decide, Jack? He quickly shoved that thought out of the way. "Tell me your honest opinion: do you think they had anything—and I mean anything—to do with the bombing?" A vague thought clarified itself instantly: "And are you 'playing' me—trying to lose my focus on a possible two primary suspects when the third doesn't have the brain power to concoct a scheme like this?" Damn it, anyway. He really wanted to be irritated—the anti-military bias ran deeper than he realized until just this moment—but this man, sitting across from him, was military and also very personable. Jack discovered he really didn't want to be mean about all of this.
Strugis bit his lip and studied the man sitting across from him. After 30 seconds, he took his arm down from the back of the booth, leaned forward, put both hands around the thin stem of his martini glass, and leaned forward. "No. Absolutely, positively no way." He didn't want to think about the very remote possibility—although highly improbable—scenario involving Clayton Webb and the CIA. He hesitated, blinked, looked at Jack again, and sighed. "As for your second question," he decided honesty was the best policy in this case. "In a way, I guess I'm 'playing' you—trying to remind you going after two highly decorated officers is diversionary. I don't know what you have on the third suspect but what I am telling you is there is no need for this particular subject to go any further than this if you will accept my word—on my honor and oath as a military officer to defend this country AND officer of the court that they had nothing to do with organizing, planning and/or execution of the bombing."
Jack was impressed, despite himself. The sincerity of the man just practically oozed from every core of the man's body. He himself was surprised about his reluctance to "let go" of his suspicions of the military "couple". On the other hand, it's very possible Commander Turner had just saved New York City some bucks, both in terms of time and labor hours. He sighed. "So what you're telling me is the discrepancies in time in the two statements are due to an 'illegitimate' love tryst?"
Sturgis just nodded. Jack shook his head. "I guess I can believe that. That's the position I'll take—for right now." His voice turned a little grim. "However, if I have reason to believe there's more to this than that, I will come after them."
Sturgis finished his martini and moved to get up after glancing at his watch. "Fair enough. It's just about time for Varshasha's first set. I promised you a good evening. Let's go have a good time."
Jack followed Sturgis further into the nightclub, grabbing stage side seats at a table and place an order for a couple more drinks. He settled back to enjoy at least one good night of the weekend and found himself inordinately pleased that he got to accomplish at least one major goal in the investigation with relatively minor effort—that of eliminating a couple of suspects. He had no way of knowing Sturgis was chewing on the inside of his cheek, concern about the situation Harm and Mac inadvertently found themselves in, especially given the current environment at JAG HQ. Admiral Chegwidden was on the warpath. Would withholding this particular bit of information hurt or help Harm and Mac?