17
"Good morning Yeoman Two!" Harm grinned as he bounded down the steps of his house towards the waiting car, "How was the second half of your weekend?"
Julia blinked, "It was just great, thank you, sir!" and resisted the temptation to ask 'how was yours'. Captain Rabb might have said he was getting used to her insubordination, but asking him a question like that would probably see her set to scraping barnacles off a garbage scow somewhere in Alaska. With a wry grin at that thought, Julia waited until the Captain had settled in to his seat before scurrying around to the driver's side.
"Straight to the office, sir?" Julia asked, as she did every morning.
"Yep, 'fraid so," Harm replied, "Although it looks like too fine a day to be cooped up indoors!"
Julia cast a quick glance at him, and then up into the rear view mirror where she could clearly see the reflection of dark clouds forming to the west, "Uh, the forecast is for heavy rain today, sir." she replied with a touch of question in her tone.
"Whatever," Harm replied expansively.
Julia was dumbfounded for a few seconds and then the penny dropped. The Captain had had a good weekend! And almost instantly came the thought, 'I got to tell Johnny 'bout this. He was so convinced there wasn't anything happening between our two officers!'
Harm's good mood lasted well into the morning and infected most of the staff in the office, the two notable exceptions being Lieutenants Tierney and Sullivan, both of whom looked distinctly unhappy and whose expressions froze into a scowl each time they looked at each other.
Perhaps it was Harm's own sunny mood that made him sensitive to the atmosphere between the two, and he frowned as he picked up on their mood, turning away from Julia's desk and moving to the door of the outer office to his suite, "Lieutenants, when you have a moment, please?"
It may have been phrased as a request, but everyone hearing it knew that he meant, 'My office – now!'
Harm preceded them into his inner sanctum and ignored them until he was comfortably seated, and then when he did look across the desk at the, his expression was bleak. The two officers were stood at attention, but there was something about both their expressions that screamed hurt and confused innocence, as if they hadn't any idea that they had done something wrong.
Harm kept his eyes on them as he said, "I warned the pair of you what would happen if you couldn't keep your personal life and concerns out of the office!"
Sullivan and Tierney were both taken so aback at Harm's words that they broke protocol and exchanged a stunned glance.
It was Tierney who wrenched his eyes around to face front first, "Oh, no, sir! Nothing like that! Things couldn't be better between Theresa and I!"
"No, sir!" Sullivan added, "We've never been happier!"
Harm sat with a thunderstruck expression on his face and his mouth hanging open for few seconds before he gathered his wits in the face of what seemed an improbable declaration. "If you're so damned happy with each, what's all this tension in the office about?" he demanded once he regained some of his normal composure.
The two lieutenants shared another look, a guilty one this time, "Uh... it's the McLaren case, sir, the misappropriation of private property..."
"Yes, I remember the case, the PO who borrowed a bicycle to get back to his ship before he missed movement. Where's the problem?"
"It's the owner of the bicycle, sir. He's the PO's brother in law, and apparently they don't get on well. PO McLaren claims he asked his sister, the owner's wife, if he could borrow the bicycle, the wife agreed against a guarantee that the bicycle would be shipped back to their address."
"Was it?"
"Yes, sir. Six days later by cab."
"Why the delay?"
"The cabby decided to wait until the cheque McLaren paid him with cleared."
"But the bicycle got back to it's owner? We can all agree, at least, on that?"
"Yes, sir!"
"So... the bicycle was borrowed with the consent of the owner's wife, and was returned, albeit a few days later. Still in serviceable condition?"!
"Yes, sir" the two lieutenants answered in chorus again.
"So... what's the problem?"
"The brother in law sir, his position is that his wife didn't have the authority to loan the bicycle to her brother," Theresa Sullivan answered this time.
"And?" Harm queried.
"It's my position, sir, that the bicycle is common property of the marriage, and that the wife saying her brother could borrow it vacates the charge of improper appropriation, sir," Brian Tierney replied.
"The Brother in law is adamant, on the other hand," Theresa Sullivan rebutted Tierney's argument, "In that the bicycle is his, paid for with his own money, and not a penny of that purchase cost was contributed by his wife. And therefore she had no right to loan it out without his say-so."
"OK... this is probably an unanswerable question... but, why didn't PO McLaren just ask the brother in law if he might borrow the bicycle?"
"Well, sir, apart from the fact that the two haven't exchanged a civil word in over three years, the brother in law was away from home."
"At sea," Sullivan added.
"At sea?" Harm queried, "He's navy?"
"Yes, sir... but not one of ours, he's Royal Navy," Sullivan answered.
"A complicating factor, maybe," Harm agreed, "but what's the argument between you two?"
"I think the charge should be dismissed. The bicycle was borrowed with the consent of the owner's wife, and that consent vacates the charge, sir."
"I disagree, sir. I wouldn't be doing my job if I wasn't!" Sullivan flashed a warning glare at Tierney, "The bicycle was taken without the owner's consent, it's return or otherwise is immaterial. It was wrongfully appropriated!"
Harm buried his face in hands for a few seconds, and although he could quite clearly see the humorous aspect of the whole affair, he was still annoyed with his juniors. "Had it occurred to either of you, that if you can't reach agreement, the simplest thing to do is to proceed to an article thirty-two hearing and let the judge do the job for which he is paid? Instead of the two of you trying to second-guess the whole military justice system! I warn you now, you haven't heard the last of this! And anyway, what are the two of you doing on the same case, didn't I tell you that I wouldn't allow that?
"Yes, sir!" They both said, again in perfect timing.
"So how did this happ..." Harm let his voice trail away. It had to have been Judge Moseley who had allocated the case, and he hadn't been alert enough on his return from DC to pick up on it.
"All right... dismissed!"
The two lieutenant, both now with red faces, once again answered in chorus "Aye, aye, sir" before their almost precipitous retreat. Harm gave them ten seconds' grace before he pressed the call button on his intercom, "Yeoman Two?"
"Yes, sir?"
"I could really do with a cup of coffee and an aspirin, please!"
"Sir... we're out of aspirin, sir!"
"Damn! If you're going out for lunch, get hold of a bottle please, and don't forget to bring back the receipt!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
Five minutes later the anticipated knock at his door announced the arrival of Julia, the coffee and two aspirin." "I though you said we were out of aspirin, Yeoman Two?" Harm asked as he gratefully accepted them
"We are sir, but Legalman One Coates has an emergency supply stashed at the bottom of her purse!"
Harm cocked an inquisitive eye at his Yeoman, and Julia blushed under his scrutiny, "I'll make sure we don't run short again, sir!"
Harm shrugged, "It happens!"
"Never again! Not on my watch!" Julia affirmed.
"All right then, let that be an end to it," Harm suggested.
"Aye, aye, sir!"
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Harm returned to his office after lunch, and sat back in his chair. The hour he'd been away from his desk had been spent in the Embassy gardens, sipping on a container of hot coffee and chewing thoughtfully on a bagel. He had cudgelled his brains, seeking for some idea of how to entertain Gill on Friday evening. Eventually he gave a wry grin, London might not be New York or DC, but it was a major city, surely there must be something, somewhere to take a date.
Getting up from his chair he strode across the expanse of carpet between his desk and the door. The desk might not be as grand as the JAG's desk in Falls Church, nor the expanse of carpet quite so vast, but it still took four strides to reach and open the door. As he did so, both Jen and Julia jumped to their feet.
Harm blinked, this was an unforeseen consequence of his unannounced appearance in their office, and while on one level it was quite gratifying, on another level it wasn't quite so much... For one thing it disturbed his two aides from whatever work they were doing, imposing unnecessary breaks in their concentration and delaying their work. It looked like he'd have to draw up some ground rules.
"At ease, please, as you were..." He thought for a moment, "While it is flattering to have you both jumping up down like marionettes, I think we maybe tend to carry this a little too far. I am quite prepared to quit my office and get my own coffee, or raid the supply closet for pencils or legal pads, or even just to take a turn around the floor to stretch my legs. And I neither expect nor want you two to stop working and jump and down like... like..."
"Marionettes, sir?" Jen supplied helpfully, but with a twinkle in her eye.
"Didn't General Cresswell cure you of that habit, Legalman One?" Harm growled.
"He did try, sir, he did try," Jen admitted unabashedly.
Harm gave her a stern look and then turned to Julia, "It's OK to learn from Legalman One Coates how to keep a survival stash of aspirin, but don't bother learning to be any more insubordinate than you already are!"
"No, sir!" Julia agreed, fighting to keep a straight face.
"Very well. You may come to attention on my first appearance in the morning, other than that all I want or need is an acknowledgement of my presence. Legalman One Coates, have that typed up into a general notice, have it displayed on the office notice board and make sure that all of the enlisted know and understand its contents. We'll give it a month's trial, and then I'll review the situation – with your input, of course!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"Now, what I came out for was to ask if the Brits have anything like the Yellow Pages?"
Julia bent over and pulled open the lower drawer on her desk, and then straightened up, "You mean like this, sir?" she asked, holding out a massive yellow-covered book.
"Yes, just like that, thank you Yeoman Two!" Harm, grinned, slightly embarrassed that once again Martinez had caught him out for being ignorant of his host country's ways. He took the book and disappeared back into his own office.
Taking his seat behind the big desk, Harm wondered not for the first, and almost certainly not for the last, whether he had made a mistake in having Coates and Martinez working in such close proximity. Well, if he had, he had no one to blame but himself. With wry grin he opened the big yellow book and started flicking through the pages, searching for listings for florists.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
The next couple of days passed peacefully enough, even the tension between Tierney and Sullivan seemed to have evaporated, and it was noticeable that they both arrived for duty and departed at the end of the day, together. Had they been in DC, Harm was almost certain that the two of them would be car pooling, which of course argued that they were spending their nights together or were living in very close proximity. Both, he had noted had opted to live off-base and draw Overseas Housing Allowance, so unless they moved in together, and both continued to claim, he couldn't care less whether they co-habited or not.
Wednesday had brought another round in the constant fight to have his Chief of Staff position filled. Although not officially gapped, the refusal of the position by Bud Roberts, or more accurately by Harriet, had caught Harm, Mac and Cresswell flat-footed. Of course, with things they now were with Mattie, he was thankful that Bud had opted to stay at Fall's Church, but he still needed a Chief of Staff, the mess with Tierney and Sullivan on the same case was something that couldn't have happened with a competent Chief of Staff with his finger on the office pulse. Moseley, as a judge had to keep his distance from the attorneys and couldn't have been expected to know of the two lieutenants' change of status. Peter Moseley had done a good job of standing in for him on his short absence, but he had enough on his plate as the senior of the three Navy and Marine Corps judges on station. And that was another thing Harm was slightly less than happy about. When the London office was first established its jurisdiction was limited to the British Isles, now with the War Against Terrorism and the vastly increased presence of US Navy ships and shore establishments in Europe, particularly in the Mediterranean, Harm felt that JAG Naval Forces Europe merited a couple of more judges to ease some of the pressure the judiciary was feeling. A mere glance at the daily court docket, and the number of cases piling up waiting to be heard was ammunition ready to hand. But that pressure also adversely affected his office, with three courts sitting on an almost permanent basis, that meant six attorneys tied up in court at all times, leaving him only one attorney at any given time available for TADs and investigations. He also urgently need two or three more experienced attorneys, preferably O-4s or 0-5s to ease the strain before the office did implode. All he had to do was convince General Cresswell, and with that officer's dislike of him seeming to be growing, whether he would manage to attain his goals was a good question.
But it was a question that failed to receive a good answer. During their telephone conversation Cresswell had been curt, almost dismissive. The core of his argument was that since Roberts had refused the post, the budget allocated to that position had been re-assigned, and as for extra judges, forget it. The funds were just not available for the current year, the same for the additional attorneys, although Cresswell might be able to send him one, or possibly two lieutenants. Maybe next year if Cresswell could get approval for the extra funding. In the meantime, Rabb would just have to suck it up.
Harm put the phone down with a feeling of disquiet, as much as he hated the thought, he was beginning to wonder if Cresswell wasn't deliberately setting him up to fail. But of so, he couldn't think of any reason why that should be the case. Cresswell had come onto the scene after he had started caring for Mattie and had started on a slightly more sedate path, so there couldn't be anything in his performance of his duties to spark off the senior officer's hostility. He shook his head sadly in bemusement and with a sigh reached for the next folder in his in tray. His hand had just about reached the folder when he stopped, leaving it hover in mid-air, as AJ's words of caution came back to mind, "Remember with officers like him, CYA!"
H'mm... Harm let his hand drop back to the desk blotter, although he hated the idea, he had a feeling that he might indeed need to cover his ass, and if that were the case, then he need a clear statement of his understating of the current position in black and white. He pressed the call button on the intercom, "Yeoman Two, come in pleased, and bring your notepad..."
Julia entered within a few seconds, "Sir?"
"Take a seat, Yeoman, and prepare to take short-hand. Usual official letter heading, to Major General G Cresswell, USMC, Headquarters USN JAG Corps, Falls Church, Virginia. Heading: Manning of JAG Offices, US Naval Force Europe. Reference A, our telephone conversation of … today's date and time. Paragraph 1..."
Harm spoke for twenty minutes at the end of which time Julia was only too thankful to shake her wrist to get the cramps out of it.
"Type that up for me in draft format," Harm instructed her, "And then back to me, so I can feel how it reads before you edit for signature, OK?"
"Yes, sir! Will that be all, sir?"
"For the moment, Yeoman, yes, that's it!"
"Very well, sir!"
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Now, at sixteen thirty hours on Friday afternoon, he had one more, and he hoped enjoyable task on his 'to do' sheet for the day. Thumbing the intercom button, he waited for the crackle that told him the line was open and then said, "Legalman One, come in please!"
The door opened within a few seconds to allow Coates to enter the office. "Come on in Jennifer and take a seat," Harm smiled. Jennifer had only been in the office a week since finishing her driving course and most of that time she had divided between organising his legal load and imposing her ideas of good order and discipline on the denizen of the bull pen. She may not have worked with Victor Galindez, but that excellent NCO had left his mark on Jason Tiner, and Jen had learned from Tiner, and the bull pen was now, and noticeably, learning from Jen. But that was only the work side of her life...
"So... how's it going Jennifer?" Harm saw the momentary confusion on her eyes, "No... I don't mean here at the office. You've already made a significant contribution to the smoother and faster throughput of legal work, and I can also see signs of tightening up in the bull pen. And for both those, Bravo Zulu, and thank you. But that only tells me how LN One Coates is doing. It doesn't tell me how Jennifer is?"
"Uh... pretty well, thank you, sir." Jennifer replied. But there seemed to be some constraint in her voice.
"Only pretty well, Jennifer? What's got you chewing your lip?" he asked, mentioning her habit of doing so whenever she was perturbed, and which was a long-standing private joke between them. "You seem to be getting on OK with Martinez?"
"Oh, yes, sir, we seem to share the same sense of humour, she's good at her job, efficient, pleasant, has a nice smile. She's a good partner to work with. In short sir, there's nothing wrong with this place at all, as far as I can tell. It's a bit like old times in a way..."
"In what way, Jennifer?"
"Uh... I'd rather not say, sir," Jen's grin grew even broader.
"Humph!" Harm snorted. He noted Jennifer's grin and had the sneaky feeling that somehow he was the reason for her amusement, and rather than press on to their possible mutual discomfort, he reverted back to his question. So... what has got you chewing your lip?"
"Same old, same old, "Jennifer grinned, "Base housing."
"What's wrong with it?"
"Same as when I shared that apartment in DC, sir. It's small, dingy, and four Petty Officers all trying to get into the one bathroom at the same time in the morning. Like I said in DC, not a pretty sight, sir!"
"But no-one's broken your hair-dryer, yet?" Harm grinned, remembering clearly the run up to him making Jen the offer of moving in with Mattie.
"Yet!" Jen agreed ominously, although with a grin.
"So?" Harm asked, "Don't you think you ought to give 'em a chance? See if you can settle down?"
"It's a bit more complicated than that, sir."
"Go on," Harm encouraged her.
"Sir, I don't want you taking any action on this just because of my say-so... but the girls I'm sharing with... well, the only thing they ever seem to have in the fridge is beer. They say that because the RAF don't forbid Senior NCOs having beer in their quarters, and that the house is strictly speaking, RAF property, that USN regulations don't apply. Sir, you know I like a beer or a glass of wine as much as the next gal... but I'm not comfortable with having it around all the time, especially as the others seem to make a bee line for the fridge the moment they get in, and think nothing of having three or four beers before they even think of eating, or going out for the evening."
Harm looked concerned, he knew just how easy it was, especially for a younger person, to get into the habit of drinking a little too much and then finding that person had a dependency problem. "You don't share with anyone from this office, do you?" he demanded.
"No, sir, they're all Embassy staff."
"H'mm... I may have to take unofficial; action, Jennifer, maybe drop a word in the appropriate ear. They may even be right about the regulations that apply, although I doubt it, but even so, it does sound like too much alcohol is being consumed. Would a change of accommodation help?"
"It might sir, but even that's not all of the problem. Please don't think I regret being stationed here, I'm enjoying my work – it's good to get back to the legal stuff, and I like the added responsibility of being office manager, but I miss the independence I had in DC. I had a car, I lived off base, I was responsible for getting myself into work on time – although you did help when that heap of crap I called a car broke down!" Jen grinned again before she continued, "I know having a car here in London is pretty pointless, there just isn't the parking, and the daily congestion charge would pretty soon eat a hole in my bank balance, but I really hate having to wait for the bus to get here in the morning, and then having to secure precisely on time to get the bus back to the base..."
"So what;s your solution to the problem? You're right about a car not being a viable prospect as a means of getting to and from duty. You wouldn't get an official embassy parking slot – hell, even I don't rate one of those – and the daily parking charges on top of everything else would soon have you bankrupt!"
"No, sir, I was thinking of getting somewhere to live off base, on the outskirts of London, on a tube route. Bond Street is only a couple of minutes away in one direction, and Marble Arch about the same in the other, and I figure with OHA for my rate, and from the prices I've seen for rented accommodation out by Harrow or Stanmore that I could probably swing enough for a two-bed apartment, especially if I can find somebody to share it with me..."
"Stanmore... I've heard that name before..." Harm mused, and then shook his head, "All right, if that's the way you feel Jennifer, I'll sign off on the application for OHA – once I've seen the property, and made sure it's fit for my Legalman and Office Manager!" he finished with a grin.
"Oh... you don't have to do that, sir!" Jen protested, turning crimson.
"Uh... yes, I do." Harm contradicted her. "Mattie would have my hide if I didn't make sure you were OK."
"You do have a point there, sir!" Jen chuckled.
"Besides, were you thinking having Mattie visit with you?"
"You have another point there, sir!" Jen conceded.
"Yeah, I rather thought I did! So, deal?"
"Deal it is sir!"
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Harm peered suspiciously through the cab's window. "Are you sure this is the place?" he asked,
"It's the address you gave me, mate," the cabby, a solid-looking man about Harm's own age assured him, "So if it ain't the right place, it ain't my fault!"
"No, OK, then, thanks!" Harm looked at the meter, which was positioned so that the passenger could monitor it, slid his hand into his inside breast pocket and pulled out his wallet. Carefully checking the bill's denomination, he passed a ten pound note through the sliding glass panel, and with a smiling, "Keep the change," he let himself put of the cab.
For a moment he hesitated on the edge of the sidewalk, or pavement as he was learning to call it, before he crossed to the building and climbed the three steps to the front door. There was only a single bell-push and hoping to God he was at the right address, he pressed it.
It was answered in a few moment by a young man in dark green trousers and a white shirt, with a black bow tie and wearing what appeared to be a broad, light blue canvas sash with a thin yellow stripe running around it. Despite his civilian appearance – which Harm soon realised was not, he had that indefinable air that marked him as a serviceman.
"Good evening, sir. How may I help you?"
"Uh... Good evening, Captain Rabb, US Navy, for Captain Shephard," he introduced himself.
"Ah... yes, you are expected. Please follow me, sir!"
The young Gunner led Harm into a quiet, comfortably furnished side room, the walls of which were lined with bookshelves, alternating with hunting prints. Harm's eye was attracted by the colour of the prints and he soon realised that they were a humorous dig at the sport of hunting. They were wonderfully well executed, but had a cartoonish quality to them that was heightened by the variety of accidents that seemed to befall the various horsemen – and horsewomen!
He was busily engaged in chuckling at one particulate section of one print, which showed a portly and fearsomely mustachioed old gentleman with a bemused expression in his face, as from his sitting position he stared up at the highly amused expression on his horse's face, from where it stood on the opposite side of the hedge, when his amusement was interrupted, by a lightly spoken, "Harm?"
He spun on his heel, his face splitting in a grin of sheer pleasure. He had called Gill on Wednesday and advised her that she needed to be dressed for dancing, and she had taken him at his word. Her dress, with spaghetti straps was of a deep chocolate shade which set off her hair and eye, and altogether with a modest scooped neckline fitted petty snugly around her torso and then flared slightly into a skirt that fell to her knees. The low heeled pumps she wore were suitable for dancing or even walking, and her hair, which he had only ever seen twisted into a bun, or in a braid, fell in shining waves to her shoulders, and she carried a warp to cover shoulders.
"You look magnificent!" he breathed.
"Why, thank you kind sir!" she twinkled, "You don't look so bad yourself!"
And he didn't. He wore a light grey suit over a white dress shirt and a dark blue tie, held in place by a Naval Aviator Wings tie-clip. Gill nodded approvingly. It seemed that perhaps Sue was right after all, Harmon Rabb was rather dishy!
Harm crossed the room towards her, his smile growing even broader. He held both his hands out to her, which she took lightly in her own, and then raising herself on her toes she kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"Oh... what was that for?" Harm asked, too astonished at her action to be able to form any more coherent statement.
"Oh, well, if you're going to take that attitude, I won't do it again!" Gill said rather haughtily.
Harm was tongue-tied, his court room eloquence deserting him completely, and after tripping over his tongue a couple of times in attempt to apologise and to justify himself, he saw the brimming amusement in Gill's eyes, and felt a rush of relief as he realised that once again he had fallen victim to her teasing.
"OK," he grinned, "I'll accept that what I said was particularly graceless, but you took me surprise. So... if I may be allowed a reprise, please tell me Gill, what prompted you to say 'hello' in such a forward manner?" he asked.
"No more forward a manner than sending roses after a first – coerced – date!" she grinned, "and it wasn't to say hello, it was to say thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful!"
It was at this point that Harm noticed that she still had hold of his hands, and felt emboldened by that fact to try for a little humour on his part, "Aw, shucks, ma'am, it warn't nuthin'"
"Ah... Alabama, again, I take it?" Gill chuckled, finally releasing her hold.
"No ma'am, jest a ver' poor example of generic Dixie!"
"H'mm you do delight in catching me out!" Gill said.
"No more than you do me!" Harm argued.
"Well... I think I'll take the fifth on that!" Gill smiled, "I do have that correctly, don't I?"
"You do indeed, and that being so, I shall try not to ask any questions for the next five minutes!"
"Good, because I want to ask you one!"
"Go ahead," Harm invited her.
"Those roses... they are beautiful, but why yellow? I've looked up on the 'net for the meaning of flowers. So did you intend them to mean the British usage, or the American?"
"For the British usage, Gill." Harm said soberly.
Gill fell silent as she looked up into his eyes, and apparently satisfied with what she saw lurking there, she relaxed again and asked, "Did I hear, over the phone, somebody mentioning dinner and dancing?" she asked
"You did, why?"
"I'm starving!" Gill said simply.
"H'mm... are you sure you're not a marine?" Harm asked.
"Quite sure! But that's twice you've asked me that, there must be a story behind it!"
"There is... and I think it's time I told you. So we can do that over dinner!"
"Where are we going?" Gill asked as Harm helped her drape her wrap over her shoulders.
"A place called the 100 Club on Oxford Street. You don't mind travelling by tube, do you... If so I could always call a cab..."
"No... the tube's fine," Gill replied, "What sort of place is this 100 C lub?"
"I have no idea!" Harm said airily, "All I know is that the house music is supposed to be soft jazz, and the menu offers a reasonable vegetarian choice, even if they don't do butternut squash risotto," he ended on a crestfallen note.
"Barbarian!" Gill chuckled as he opened the door for her.