The next three weeks passed in a blur for Gill, she was more than fully occupied with signing off on the four audits her team had carried out, and then on top of her routine duties she had been busy with the handover/takeover of her duties as Battery Captain, but at last there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and this weekend she could start packing for her move to London.
And that had been problematical, not the move itself, but where she was going to move to. Oh, the office was easy enough, MS6 – the Military Secretary's Office at the Ministry of Defence that regulated Gunner officers' postings, promotions and career paths. No the problem had been where to live.
Gill strolled into the Mess ante-room and then through to the bar, "Good evening Miller," she greeted the Gunner who acted as Mess Barman.
"Good evening, ma'am… the usual?"
"No… not this evening Miller, I'll have a vodka and tonic please, with ice and a twist… oh, and make it a long one, please."
"Coming right up, ma'am…. Celebrating, ma'am?"
Gill chuckled, feeling the tension easing away, "Yes… sort of… most of my hassles are done with, I just need to get on with my packing now… thank you, Miller," she finished as he placed her drink in front of her.
"We'll be sorry to see you go, ma'am," Miller told her earnestly.
Miller's obvious sincerity brought a lump to Gill's throat, and she took a quick sip of her drink before, and in a calculated display of cheerfulness, she answered lightly, "Cheer up, Miller! It's only for two years. I'll be back before you know it!"
Miller grinned, "I'll drink to that ma'am! Or I will, once I'm off-duty!"
Gill smiled, Miller was now HQ Battery but he had been a Gun Number before the prem that killed half of his detachment and injured the others. Miller had had his leg flensed by a shard of red hot metal, and should have been medically discharged, but Colonel James, and then Colonel Mike, had fought tooth and nail to keep him in the army so that he could complete his twenty two and get an immediate pension on discharge.
Gill smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of Miller's quip and tasking her drink, she headed for an armchair in the ante room and a quick scan of the day's newspapers. She had skimmed the headlines earlier, of course, and there were one or two items she wanted to take a closer look at. Settling herself into the depths of one of the chairs, she scooped up a copy of 'The Telegraph' and of 'The Guardian', both of which she knew would carry the stories in which she was interested, but would interpret the facts from opposing ends of the political spectrum.
Gill had immersed herself so thoroughly in her reading that she was unaware that she had company until she heard Sue Marshall's quizzical comment, "Hey Gill… is anybody home?"
Gill looked up from her paper looking slightly bewildered as she returned to her surroundings, "Oh, hello, Sue… I didn't notice you come in…"
Sue laughed, "Gill, you were so absorbed in the papers, that you wouldn't have noticed the massed bands of the Brigade of Guards!"
"Oh, I'm sure I would have!" Gill laughingly protested, "At least once the pipes started up!"
"God, yes! Awful things," Sue replied. "Did you know that back in the eighteenth century they were banned as weapons of war?"
"Oh, Lord," Gill groaned despairingly, "Another piece of useless in formation to clog up my brain cells!" She paused for a moment, biting her lip as a memory stirred, and then grinned mischievously, "Anyway you can't think they're all that bad! I distinctly remember you tripping the light fantastic on Burns' Night!"
"That wasn't the music, darling," Sue adopted a theatrical drawl, "It was the dancing partner!"
"Ah, so that's why you're all togged up!"" Gill grinned, "New dress?"
"Yes… I thought I'd give it an airing."
"For Hamish?" Gill teased her friend.
"Who? Oh… no… not if you mean that chap from Burns' Night, his name was Alexander!" Sue said with great dignity, and then spoiled the effect by giggling and adding "Anyway he's long gone… ancient history!"
"Then who…?"
"This evening, no-one, Gill!" Sue pouted a little, "That's why I decided on a little retail therapy… just to cheer myself up; there seems to be a dearth of good looking, eligible men around at the moment." She suddenly looked slyly at her friend, "Talking of eligible, good looking men… have you spoken to your dishy Yankee sailor yet?"
"Oh, for God's sake, Sue!" Gill exclaimed in exasperation, "Firstly, he's not 'my' sailor; secondly, I've already told you that I don't find him particularly dishy, as you put it! And thirdly why on earth would I want to speak to him?"
"Um… the fact that according to the US Navy Times, he's single, he's only been in the UK for five minutes so probably doesn't know anyone here yet, and the poor thing probably has no idea how to get from Town to here! Least of all if he's got to make an RV with you at some ungodly hour of the morning in time to get to Larkhill for the opening fire mission!"
"Sue! He's a Captain in the American Navy! If he can navigate his way around the world's oceans, surely to God he must be capable of finding the road between London and Tidworth!"
Sue caught the warning note in Gill's tone, and although smiling inwardly, while saying to herself 'Methinks the lady doth protest too much!" and smoothly changed the subject.
"Actually, Gill, talking about London, have you managed to sort out your accommodation there yet?"
Gill threw her newspaper onto the table, and leaned back in her chair, "Yes, thank God! But it's been a hassle! You know before they moved everything down to Larkhill, it would have been so simple. I would have been accommodated in 17 Regiment's Mess, but since they closed The Shop, that's not an option anymore, and there's no way I could afford anything but some grotty student bed-sit." Gill grimaced, "For a couple of weeks it looked like I was going to have to move back home with Mummy and Daddy…"
"Would that have been so bad?" Sue asked in some surprise.
"What? Oh, no. Not in that way. It would have been nice to have been spoiled by Mummy and Granny, but it would have meant an hour and a half commute each day into central London and the same back in the evening. Oh, I know it's doable, after all, thousands of people make that journey each day, but I must admit I wasn't looking forward to the prospect!"
"Ouch, no! I wouldn't think so either!"
Gill looked at her friend in some scepticism, "You know, Sue, I have a feeling that you would have been far better suited to this posting that I!"
"Oh… yes…" Sue sighed dreamily, "Just think all those fabulous, young, sophisticated, rich bachelors that infest Town!"
"Sue Marshall – you are incorrigible!"
"Oh, I know, I know… Actually, everybody knows that!" Sue admitted cheerfully, "But if you're not commuting what have you fixed up?"
"I haven't fixed anything, Sue. It was all Colonel Mike. He got on to the BC at the Troop, and I shall be living in their Mess at St John's Wood!"
"Oh... even better!" Sue sighed again, "Not just dishy men, but all those horses too! Absolute heaven for a vicar's daughter, I should think!"
Gill spluttered, but whatever she might have to say was interrupted by the chiming of the dinner bell.
Sue got to her feet, "You are dining in this evening, Gill?"
Gill swallowed the last mouthful of her drink as she too stood and said, "Yes, I am, shall we go in?"
"Um… let's hang back a moment or two…" Sue said.
"Oh why?"
"It looks like Marie Westwood's dining in tonight too, and I'd rather wait until she's seated so I can find somewhere as far away from her as possible!"
"You really don't like her, do you?" Gill grinned.
"God, no! I hate the bitch!"
"Now, now, remember the aim of the mess is to provide an atmosphere of tranquillity where the members may indulge in amicable social intercourse," Gill mock scolded her friend.
"I shall be as social and as tranquil to whatever extent you might wish, to anyone in the world" Sue said loftily, "Except that bitch!"
"You really must tell me what you've got against her, one day!" Gill chuckled as she nudged Sue in the direction of the dining room.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Harm put down his pen and picked up his 'phone, seeing as he did so that it was a call from Martinez' extension.
"Yes?" he almost growled.
"Sir, I have Miss Coates calling from Blacksburg on Line Two."
Harm glanced at his watch, it was only ten forty hours, that meant it was zero five forty hours in Blacksburg, 'Oh God, why was Coates calling so early?' "Put her through!" he snapped, once again the cold hand of fear clutching at his stomach.
"Hello, sir?" Coates voice came clearly over the line, despite the three thousand or so miles that separated them.
"Coates! What it is it? What's wrong?"
"Wrong, sir? Nothing's wrong, not with Mattie anyway! She's doing great sir… that's what I wanted to call you about. The doctors say she's almost ready to be released from hospital, and that if she continues to make progress the way she has been doing, she'll be fit enough to travel sometime around Labour Day. The Admiral called in yesterday afternoon, sir. He'll be representing you and Mattie at the adoption hearing, which is Monday next week… Can you get back for then, sir?" Harm could hear the plea in Coates' voice.
"I'm sorry, Coates, I don't think that kite will fly… I'm still reading myself in here… but I'm making plans to get back for July fourth. And, I suppose we'd better start making plans for how I'm going to look after Mattie between now and Labour Day…"
"Oh, no need, sir! Harriet… uh… I mean Lieutenant Sims and Commander Roberts have said they'll be looking after her until she's fit to travel…"
"Coates, that's not good enough… I won't have Harriet and Bud put to any trouble…"
"Um… with respect, sir, it's not up to you, really. Lieutenant Sims has made up the Commander's mind for him!"
Harm couldn't resist a crack of laughter, Coates had just repeated almost word for word Mac's comment about the domestic domination Harriet had achieved over Bud.
"Did I just say something, dumb, sir?" Coates queried anxiously.
"No… not at all, Coates! You just reminded of something somebody else once said. Now, was there anything else?"
"Oh… yes sir. Mattie hasn't got a passport, and we can't find her birth certificate anywhere…"
"That's OK Coates. I've got it. Send me her mug shots and I'll get her passport issued here at the embassy, it'll be easier for me to do it that way around, and besides I wouldn't want her birth certificate to go adrift in the mail!"
"But her passport, sir. You don't mind losing that?" Harm could hear the amusement in Coates' voice and could almost see her dimple-revealing grin.
"It won't go adrift Coates, because I won't send it through the mail, I'll bring it with me when I come over for the fourth!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
Harm was about to finish the conversation when he was reminded of the foreboding he'd felt when he'd realised how early Coates as calling him, "Coates, what was so urgent that you had to call me at zero dark hundred?"
"Oh… nothing much sir, It's just that I've been ordered to report to General Cresswell at JAG at zero seven thirty hours, sir."
"Why?"
"Uh… it seems that he's concerned that I might be in excess of leave, sir…"
"Coates, you may tell the General, from me, that you are not in excess of leave, and you may also remind him – respectfully – that you are my Yeoman, under my command, and that you are following my orders in being TAD to Blacksburg Hospital. Understood?"
"Aye, aye, Sir!"
"And, Coates… Thanks for calling. You've just about made my day!"
"Yes, sir."
The line went dead and Harm replaced the handset with a smile, the news that Mattie would soon bed out of hospital, although still in a wheelchair – that was a given – was good news, really good news, when he took into consideration that her initial prognosis was that she might never be able to move from her bed. Each time he received progress report she seemed to be getting better, and Harm had just recently allowed himself to envisage a future where she might be able to play volleyball and swim again.
But for the moment she still needed extra care, he would have to call Harriet later and go over certain arrangements with her, for example he would need to hire a hospital type bed for Mattie, and the Roberts would need to install a ramp up to their porch, unless they meant to keep Mats housebound. A mental image of Mattie being kept inside for twenty fours of the day, seven days a week flashed across his mind and brought a rueful grin to his face. Now, that was a kite that definitely wouldn't fly!
He pressed the call button on the intercom, "Martinez, how about a cup of coffee?"
"On it, sir!" Julia replied with an inward sigh of relief. The Captain had been almost surly these last few days and to hear his voice regain that cheerful note was blessed relief. Not that he ever took his bad mood, or temper, or whatever out on his staff, but when the Captain was down it had a sort of … well… suffocating effect on the staff.
Mind, she remembered with a little frisson, he had certainly laid into Lieutenants Tierney and Sullivan yesterday. Not that she blamed him. Those two would be enough to make the Blessed Virgin swear! They just couldn't get on together. They were both good lawyers, or so she'd been led to believe, and their win/lose ratio was way better than the other three attorneys in the office, and when they worked together as a team, they were very good, almost unbeatable, but even then they couldn't stop sniping at each other, but when they were on opposing sides in a case… then wowee!
Of course, the real problem was that they were at least half-way in love with each other, and totally in denial about! What they really needed, in Martinez's humble opinion, was for them to jump each other's bones and get the sexual tension out of their systems, and then either start looking for the suburban house with the white picket fence or just get the hell out of each other's life!
Unknown to Yeoman Two Martinez, the same thought was at that very moment crossing Captain Harmon Rabb's mind as he read through a semi-official complaint from Commander Moseley, the judge for their current case. It appeared that the verbal fireworks between the two Fighting Irish has risen to a crescendo, and they had completed ignored Moseley's demands for order as they stood face to face in the courtroom aisle exchanging 'compliments' as Moseley had expressed it, and only returning to some sense of civilised behaviour when Moseley had instructed one the bailiffs to step between them while he warned them that any more outbursts of the kind in which they had just indulged would certainly see them written up for contempt of court. Temporarily pushing all thoughts of Mattie Grace to the back of his mind Harm drew a breath and decided on just how he was going to deal with his other two, problem, children
He waited until Martinez delivered his coffee to him and then asked, "Pass the word for Lieutenants Tierney and Sullivan, please Yeoman."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
A bare three minutes passed before a sharp double tap on the office doorframe announced the arrival of his visitors, "Enter!" he snapped.
The two errant officers marched the few steps across the carpet to his desk and halted with drill field precision in front of it.
Sullivan, as the slightly senior of the two spoke up, "Lieutenants Tierney and Sullivan, reporting as ordered, sir!" she barked.
Harm sat back in his chair, carefully keeping his face an expressionless mask as he studied the two Lieutenants; both wore the summer whites of Lieutenants in the US Navy, but there all and any similarities in appearance ceased. Theresa Sullivan was not particularly tall for a woman, about five seven, Harm guesstimated, but her slender figure made her seem a bit taller, just about the same height as her companion. Brian Tierney was of the Red Irish, squarely and solidly built, with a pale skin that always seemed to burn and never to tan, rusty red hair and green eyes that under normal circumstances twinkled with good humour, while Sullivan was of that rarest of Irish types, her flawless ivory complexion set off by her jet black hair and deep, deep blue eyes, that again usually held the gleam of amusement.
Harm shook his head, "After I spoke to you yesterday, I had hoped that my words might bear fruit, but today I have received yet another written complaint about your behaviour towards each other," he said sternly. "And this time, I am going to make copies of it and place a copy in each of your jackets. Commander Moseley tells me that he has warned you that if there are any further occurrences of this kind of behaviour he will cite the pair of you as being in contempt. If he feels that it is necessary to do so, rest assured that he will have my full support, and the two of you will then spend seventy hours in confinement on bread and water." He raised a hand to forestall the protests he could see forming on their lips, "Or I will charge you with conduct unbecoming, and convene an article thirty two hearing for each of you."
"Sir!" Sullivan began
"Captain Rabb…" Tierney started
"Lock it up Lieutenants! You are at attention, and I did not give you permission to speak!" Harm barked
The two miscreants fell into silence. Harm looked at them again, each in turn, "Then I will stamp both your jackets, 'not for promotion' send one of you to Keflavik and the other to Adak for the rest of what remains of your miserable careers. Do I make myself clear?"
Harm was displeased by their mumbled replies, "Do I make myself clear!" he yelled at the pair.
This time their chorused, "Sir, yessir!"" rang out loud and clear.
"Good! Now, the first thing that will happen when court reconvenes is that you will both stand up and make a formal apology to Judge Moseley, to the panel and to the court in general. Clear?"
Again the chorus, "Yessir!"!
"Good! Now get out of here!"
Harm watched them carefully as they left, noting the baleful glare they gave each other as Tierney held the door open for Sullivan to precede him.
Sadly he shook his head, there was so much sexual tension between the two that they if they could convert it to electricity, they could probably generate enough power to light the whole of Washington for a week!
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Yeoman Petty Officer Second Class Julia Martinez watched the two lieutenants leave the office and head out across the bull-pen, their body language screaming that neither of them was happy. She shook her head, both officers were normally quietly spoken and pleasant, considerate of the enlisted personnel with whom they worked, and seemed to get on well with everyone – except each other!
Sighing at what seemed to be their wilful blindness, and regretting that there was no such charge in the UCMJ with which to hit them, Julia turned back to her computer and started to enter the last month's court hours onto the spread sheet displayed on her monitor only to be distracted as the 'phone rang.
"Navy Force JAG's office, Yeoman Two Martinez, sir…"
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
"Bom,"
"Yes, ma'am?" Johnny Walker put down his mug of coffee and turned his full attention on Captain Shephard, grateful for a chance to get a break from filing the mass of paper that RHQ seemed to think essential for the smooth administration of the regiment. Most of it in his considered opinion could go straight into the waste bag for incineration at a later date.
"Have you got the Larkhill Day file handy?"
"Yes, ma'am, right here… if you'll wait thirty seconds, I just need to file the latest programme update.
Gill waited while the battery clerk carried out his arcane mysteries and then handed her the file, "Oh, and Bom?"
"Yes ma'am?"
"A brew would be good right about now…"
"Yes, ma'am. Do want to wait for five minutes until Lucas gets back from RHQ, or do you want me to make it?"
Gill looked suspiciously at Walker's mug, "Are you still making that industrial grade toxic waste?"
"Yes, ma'am, it's the only way I know how to make it!" Walker said as his eyebrows rose in surprise that she should ask.
Gill visibly shuddered, "I'll wait for Lucas to get back, thanks Bom."
Walker smiled as she left the office, 'Yes! Result!' he silently exulted. He'd saved so many hours of making tea and coffee for officers over the years by the simple expedient of making it so badly that none of them, with the exception of the current BSM would touch it.
Mind you, he reflected, Sergeant Major Mallory was a nutter. A former member of 29 Regiment, he'd once spent some months on detachment with the Yankee Marines and had come to like their version of coffee, which he was forever telling his clerk and his driver was the only way to drink it.
With a look of intense dislike thrown at the stack of paper that remained on his desk Bombardier Walker returned to the much detested task of filing. He was still at it five minutes later when Gunner Lucas entered the office.
Walker looked up at the day's battery runner and noted his empty hands, "Nothing in the pigeon hole, Farmer?' he asked in mild surprise, RHQ had generally pumped out enough bumf, even this early in the day that a trip to the regimental office ought to have yielded some paperwork.
"Dunno, Bom," Farmer Lucas replied in his slow, heavy West Yorkshire accent, "Tha'd said nowt about bringing owt back. I jest took what tha tellt me an' give it to the Chief Clerk."
Johnny Walker closed his eyes in despair, Farmer Lucas was a damn good soldier in the field, but a royal pain the arse in barracks. He was so dense that even the simplest instructions seemed to confuse him. Johnny had almost come to the belief that Lucas' stupidity was a front so that Officers and NCOs would leave him alone, except that the solitary figure of Lucas, sat in the NAAFI Bar with a pint pot looking a shot glass in his massive paw and looking totally bewildered by the light hearted, quick-witted banter around him was a scene that was enacted night after night. Not that anybody made much of it, Lucas was OK sober, but became dangerously aggressive one he'd had a few pints, especially if he thought someone was taking the mickey.
"OK, Farmer, no real harm done. Just means you'll have more to carry on the next trip. Now, put on a brew for the BK, would you, NATO standard – that's milk and two sugars, OK?"
"Aye, reet enough, Bom," Farm got to his feet and grabbed the kettle
While Lucas and the kettle were absent, the door opened to re-admit Gill Shephard, "Did I just hear Lucas?" she inquired.
"Yes, ma'am, he's gone to refill the kettle…"
"Oh, good…" Gill replied somewhat absently as she continued to read the file in her hand, "Bom… this letter with the programme, it's been copied to the US Naval Attaché, FAO this Captain Rabb… How long from London to here, do you think, by road?"
"Hour and a half, easy, maybe two hours, depending on traffic, ma'am," Walker replied, not even having to think about the answer.
"And another half hour to the RSA…"
"At least, ma'am."
"And if he comes by train?"
Best bet is either Basingstoke, or Salisbury, ma'am and then it's an hour … if the trains run on time, or there aren't any wet leaves on the tracks, plus another forty minutes from the station to Larkhill…"
"H'mm… when you got me that gen on him you spoke to his office didn't you?"
"Uh yes ma'am to his clerk… a Yeoman Martinez…"
Gill nodded thoughtfully, "Well… can you get hold of him again… and find out how Captain Rabb intends to travel?"
"Her, ma'am," Walker replied.
"Her?" Gill was slightly taken aback by Walker's seeming non-sequitur.
"Yes, ma'am, her. Martinez is a female, ma'am." Walker managed to keep a straight face. Of all the officers to fall into the trap of gender stereotyping, Captain Shephard would never have made it into the top half of his list.
"Well…" Gill felt the blood rise to her cheeks, "See if you can get hold of her again, please, Bom, and find out how Captain Rabb is planning to travel."
"Yes, ma'am!" Johnny Walker couldn't suppress his grin this time. He rather liked the idea of speaking to Julia Martinez again.
Gill left the file with Walker and headed back along the corridor towards her own office, only to be interrupted as Major Thornley, the BC, stepped through the outer door into the same corridor.
"Ah Gill! Good, saves me coming to look for you! Do you have a moment?"
A polite question it may have seemed to the uninitiated, but to those in the know that polite request was code for, "I want to speak to you, now!", and coming from a senior officer had all the weight of a formal order behind it.
Gill followed Peter Thornley into his office and stood waiting while he hung his beret on the peg on the back of the door. "Take a seat Gill," he invited her, Gill nodded her thanks ss she sat in one of the two so-called easy chairs.
Thornley took his own chair behind his desk and without preamble started, "You know I've been at this damn meeting all morning, about the new tri-service discipline act?" he paused for conformation.
"Yes, sir. I was aware of that."
"Good! Well, it looks like we're all going to have to learn new section numbers for all the old offences. It seems that Navy played their 'Senior Service' card, and the numbering system is going to come from their current Naval Discipline Act, so, with effect from next year no more Army Act! Still, it seems we keep QR's for the Army for a while anyway! Don't what the army's coming to… Anyway that was the bad news." Peter Thornley suddenly smiled, a smile of real pleasure, "But then Colonel Mike called me to one side just as we were leaving, and handed me the good news – mind you, Gill, this is not to leave this office until it's been officially announced!"
Gill's eyes danced, this was one of the BC's favourite games, teasing with tid bits of news; 'honestly, at times he could suddenly revert to being a little boy. Then again, can't they all?' she asked herself, but, "What can't, sir?" she asked lightly.
Thornley' smile threatened to become a broad grin, "Bombardier Walker's actions at Balad Majram have been officially recognised. Colonel Mike's recommendations have gone through, Bombardier Walker has been awarded the MC!"
Gill gasped, "That's wonderful news, sir! But we shouldn't be surprised, it's a well-deserved award!"
"That it is, Gill that it is. He certainly saved Sarn't Major Long's life, and the defence he and Gunners Jarvis and Corcoran put up until they could be extracted was superb…" And then his face fell, "It was a shame about young Cooke, though…"
Gill too rapidly sobered, "Yes…" she fought off the glums and asked, "Does Bombardier Walker know about this, sir?"
"No, not yet. Colonel Mike intends to tell him personally. He'll let us know when. I'll tell the BSM, of course. And in the meantime Colonel Mike is trying to get the DRA to come down and present Walker with his gong on a formal parade. I'm pushing to have it before you're SOS, but if that doesn't happen, then I'll make sure you get an official invitation!"
"Yes, sir! Thank you. Is there anything else, sir? I'm trying to co-ordinate travel arrangements with the US Navy for the Firepower Demo…"
"Oh, Lord… yes. Gill, I'm so sorry, I tried to get you out of it… but with Live Firing coming up…"
"That's alright, sir." Gill grinned, "I've accepted my fate, and shall go an unwilling sacrifice to the God of Anglo American relations!"
Peter Thornley allowed himself a brief chuckle, "Go, out! Oh, I'm lunching in the Mess today; care to walk over with me?"
Gill paused on the threshold, "Yes, of course, sir!"
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
"Navy Force JAG's Office, Yeoman Two Martinez, sir."
"Hello again Yeoman, this is Johnny Walker here from Three Eight Regiment, RA. We spoke a couple of weeks ago about the Firepower Demo at Larkhill?"
'Oh it's that cute sounding Brit grunt!' Julia thought, "Yes, I remember you. How may I help you?"
"Well… have you received a letter for your Captain with the revised programme for the demo?"
"Uh… yes, it's on his desk right now…"
"Yeah, look, my BK is anxious about your man's travel arrangements, and wants to know what sort of arrangements she should make for his reception at this end. I mean, does anybody in your office know how to get to Tidworth, or from there to Larkhill? You're looking at a minimum of two hours, plus the delay at the other end for security. If the bad guys wanted to hurt us, the VIP stand is a prime, soft target."
"I'd have to confirm it with him… but I guess he'd be travelling by road. Can I call you back, in maybe an hour?"
"Sure, I'll be waiting. Here's the number…" Johnny Walker waited until Julia confirmed the number with him and then paused for a moment, "It was nice talking to you again. 'Bye, Julia."
Julia Martinez put the 'phone down with soft smile on her face, 'Damn, he really did sound cute! And a mild telephone flirtation wouldn't hurt. Hell, it might even make my day!'
Standing and smoothing her skirt over her thighs she knocked on Captain Rabb's door frame.
"Enter!"
"Sir, sorry to interrupt, but I've just had that Brit soldier, Walker, on the 'phone again. His officer was asking how you intended to travel down to their location for the Firepower thing at Larkhill. There's some sort question about security, sir…"
Harm looked mildly surprised for a moment and then relaxed, "Yes… of course there would be." He reflected a moment, "By car."
"Right sir… Walker said it's a minimum of two hours travelling time, plus extra to clear security…"
Harm nodded, "Thank you, Martinez, I'll bear that in mind when I plan the journey!"
"Yes, sir!"
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Gill looked up at the knock on her office door, "Come in!"
"Only me, ma'am," Walker grinned. "That Yankee Captain's Yeoman just called me back. He says he'll be travelling by road!"
"I see… thank you." Gill looked at her watch… not long now to lunchtime, still, she'd have to speak to the damned man at some time, "Have you got her number handy?"
"Yes, ma'am!" he handed her a sheet torn off a memo pad.
"Thank you, Bom."
"My pleasure ma'am!" Walker grinned and withdrew, closing the door behind him.
Gill tapped the sheet of paper with the end of her pen a few times, and then reaching for the telephone started to dial the number Walker had given her. She listened while the phone at the other end rang four times before it was picked up.
"Navy Force JAG's Office, Yeoman Two Martinez, sir."
"Good morning, this is Captain Shephard from Three Eight Regiment Royal Artillery, may I speak to Captain Harmon Rabb, please?"