January 19, 2004
USNAVFOREUR – London, England
0659 Greenwich/ 0159 Eastern
Retired Admiral AJ Chegwidden stepped from a taxi, holding a suit bag in his left hand as he paid the driver. Closing the door, he turned toward the building and set his shoulders. He'd arrived in London late yesterday and gone straight to his hotel. After a room service dinner, he'd gone down to the hotel gym and worked out for an hour before turning in for the evening.
Walking through the front door, he stopped at the security desk and presented his ID card. The young Marine behind the desk took a quick glance before starting to hand it back. Yet, reflex brought him to his feet as the rank hit him. Retired or not, an Admiral was still an Admiral.
"At ease, Sergeant," Chegwidden said as he signed in. "Can you direct me to the FJA offices, please?"
"Actually, Sergeant, I'll show him," came a familiar voice from behind him. "Good to see you again, Sir."
"Petty Officer Coates," Chegwidden said as he turned.
"Here, Sir. Let me take that," she said, taking the bag from his hands before heading towards the elevators. "What brings you to London, Sir?"
"A Commander Alexander got in touch with me about testifying in a court-martial she's prosecuting."
"Oh, then you want to go to the Conference Room, Sir, not the main office. That's where the officers assigned to Captain Krennick's court-martial have been working out of."
Getting off the elevator, Coates led Chegwidden away from the FJA's office and down to the conference room. Opening the door for him, she stepped aside as he entered, reclaiming his bag as he passed her. She let the door close behind him, before making her own way to the FJA office and her desk there.
Inside the conference room, Chegwidden was a little surprised to see it occupied by only one person. Watching the man stand, he smiled a little. Approaching, the two men shook hands.
"Hello, Stiles," AJ said.
"AJ, good to see you again. What brings you to London?" Morris asked, although he had his suspicions.
"Commander Alexander called me on Friday, asking questions about an old case. Then she said that she needed me to testify, but she never said exactly what about."
"Well, that's going to be on hold for a while," Morris told him, a grave look coming to his face. "Saturday evening, Commander Alexander was the victim of an attempted murder."
"What the hell?!" AJ asked, stunned.
"Oh, it gets better, AJ. Whoever shot her also set a fire in her room. After NCIS was done with the scene, I went through with one of their agents. All of Commander Alexander's case files for this court-martial are gone. Judging from the amount of ashes on the desk, I'm almost willing to bet the planned funeral pyre was started with them."
"You don't think…."
"AJ, I'm not thinking anything. I'm not suggesting anything. I'm merely looking at the evidence and saying everything that Commander Alexander had relating to this case is gone," Morris said.
"Well, who was sitting second chair for her?" AJ asked.
"Nobody. We got sent over on a rush by General Creswell and there wasn't time to get another set of JAGs to act as second chairs and who didn't know either Rabb or Krennick."
The sound of the conference room door opening behind them ended the two men's conversation. AJ turned to face the door, keeping any warmth from coming to his features as Alison walked into the room. For his part, Morris just watched the two of them. When he'd first come to JAG, Krennick had been an aide to Chegwidden. At the time, he had sensed a closeness between the pair that had made him slightly uncomfortable.
"AJ, it's good to see you again," Alison said in a low purr of a voice.
"You too, Alison," was AJ's slightly cool response, his mind still turning over the information Admiral Morris had just told him.
"What brings you here?"
"Commander Alexander asked me on Friday to come testify. However, Admiral Morris here just informed me that something's happened to delay that."
"Oh? What?" Alison asked, as she seemed to notice for the first time that Commander Alexander wasn't there.
"Commander Alexander was the victim of a murder attempt on Saturday evening. She's currently in a medically induced coma at Guy's Hospital here in London," Morris told her, doing his best to watch her face without watching, wanting to catch her genuine reaction.
Alison, for her part, could feel the blood drain from her face. The two shocks, back to back, were almost more than she could take. The only reason that she could think of for AJ being called to London was that Alexander had made the damned connection. The only question now was whether she had told anyone else. Alison's mind raced as she tried to plan how to deal with this new development.
"That's terrible," Alison finally said after a moment. "Hopefully, she'll recover soon."
"It's doubtful. See, NCIS told me she was shot in the back of the head, execution style. So, I wouldn't count on our having the services of the Commander for some time to come. This afternoon, I'll be calling General Creswell with an update on the situation and request he get another couple of JAGs here, ASAP. AJ, I'm sorry but I'll have to ask you to cool your heels here until they can get here and get up to speed on the case."
"I understand perfectly," AJ told him.
"How long of a delay are you proposing?" Alison asked.
"As long as is necessary, Captain! Somebody tried to kill one of my officers! They shot her in the back of the head and then set fire to her rooms!" Morris bellowed.
"Admiral, you're not…."
"I'm not suggesting anything, Captain, and I appreciate your right to a speedy trial. However, the fact remains that opposing counsel is not available. Because of this, and considering the alleged victim in this matter is the FJA and that his staff is not available for this case because of that, I need a new prosecutor sent from elsewhere. So, they need time to fly here, as well as time to get acquainted with the evidence as well as the testimony given so far. The only other choice I have is to declare a mistrial and we can start this whole thing all over again from the very beginning. Your choice, Captain."
Alison thought about that. A mistrial at this point would be bad for her, especially given how well she'd done in discrediting Rabb's testimony. Yet, the ticking time bomb that still lay in those flight manifests was out there. She could only hope that, in the rush to prepare for taking over for Commander Alexander, whoever came over would miss that. If they did, she could easily see herself winning the case.
AJ, on the other hand, had been growing steadily curious given the muted reaction from Alison. She'd just been told that a colleague had been brutally shot and left for dead, yet her only concern seemed to be how this would affect her trial. Certainly, back when he'd known her, Alison could be harsh, but she'd never struck him as entirely uncaring. Like the time when Lieutenant Austin had been shot. He'd known the hours that both Alison and Rabb had put in trying to track down the shooter, plus going to the hospital to visit. AJ found himself wondering if Alison had been the shooter and if so, what had changed in her.
"Very well, Admiral. Given that we won't be proceeding today, there is really nothing keeping me here. Please let me know as soon as we'll be able to resume the trial," Alison said.
"Of course, Captain," was Morris' cool reply, as he waited for her to leave the conference room. Once she did, he sat down in his chair and began to massage his temples. His head was throbbing and his mild tirade at Captain Krennick was only a small portion of the rage he was currently feeling. In over twenty years in the Navy and as a JAG, he'd never before had an officer working with him injured like this. Such an attack was, in his mind, an attack on the entire justice system. This was like something out of a movie or novel, not the real world. Yet, it had happened and now he had to deal with the consequences.
AJ watched Morris for a while and could easily read the expression on the man's face. The difference in the two of them was that one was a combat veteran and the other wasn't. Morris had spent all of his career in the JAG Corps. He'd never had to send men into a firefight, never commanded a ship at sea where men risked being swept overboard and other hazards. Even at JAG, AJ had sent his people into dangerous situations many times over the years and while it couldn't be said he did it without batting an eye, he also did it without too many reservations. Yes, this was different in as much as, almost every time he'd done so, his people had been aware of the dangers. Commander Alexander, more than likely, had not been, given that she was in a friendly country. Without knowing full details of the case, AJ could only speculate on how dangerous it truly might have been.
JAG Headquarters – Falls Church, Virginia
1213 Greenwich/ 0713 Eastern
General Gordon Creswell put down the telephone was a slam, his anger barely contained. Taking a moment to calm down, he turned to the computer terminal he'd had put on the desk and logged on. Initiating an immediate search of all JAG officers of O-4 rank or higher, he sat back and waited. Once that was completed, he started going through their records. What he was looking for was someone who was not only an excellent lawyer, but also someone who could take care of themselves if the necessary.
After a few moments, he had found the person he wanted. Picking up the telephone, Creswell dialed a number and waited.
"Major McBurney, Sir," came the crisp response.
"Hello, Jack."
"General Creswell, good to hear your voice. And congratulations on the stars, Sir."
"Thanks, Jack. Anything hot happening down at Quantico at the moment?" Creswell asked.
"No, Sir. The boys and girls seem to be behaving themselves at the moment," McBurney said.
"So, Colonel Harris won't have too many problems if I steal you for a few weeks?"
"Shouldn't, Sir. Why?"
Creswell smiled at the tone, part anticipation and part dread.
"Well, I thought you might like a chance to travel. See new sights, meet interesting people and put them behind bars," Creswell said with a grin.
"And what aren't you telling me, Sir?" McBurney asked.
"Do you know a Commander Lynn Alexander?"
"No, Sir."
"Well, she was prosecuting a trial in London. Two nights ago, she was found shot in her VOQ. She's currently in the hospital and we're waiting more information from her doctors. However, the trial she was prosecuting needs to continue. I want you to take over the prosecution. Admiral Morris is the judge and he's willing to give you a couple of days to get there and go over the evidence before he resumes the trial," Creswell told him.
"So, I could have a bull's-eye on my back, is what you're telling me," McBurney replied.
"Don't know, Jack. I'll admit this did enter into my thoughts when choosing her replacement, but I'm hoping I'm just worrying for no good reason."
"Well, General, you and I have spent enough time in Indian Country to know when to listen to that little voice, so I'll keep my eyes open. Get me my orders and itinerary and I'll go get packed, Sir."
"They'll be in your office in an hour, Major. Good luck," Creswell said before hanging up the phone. He and Jack McBurney went back a few years, to when they were stationed together, first at Camp Pendleton and then in Iraq. In Creswell's opinion, McBurney was a damned good attorney who was due for his silver leaf this year. If all went well, Creswell planned on having him transferred to JAG HQ and replacing Commander Turner as the Chief of Staff when that happened.
There was nothing necessarily wrong with Commander Turner, in Creswell's opinion. But that was very different from saying that he was a big fan of the naval officer either. Turner just struck him as being very rigid and tied to standard operating procedures, rules and instructions. Sometimes, it was necessary to think outside of those narrow paths and consider not just the good of the mission and the service, but also the men and women who served in it. Turner seemed to view the word "accident" as simply an excuse for someone's failure, rather than for simply being what it was: an accident.
With the types of cases that the officers at JAG HQ routinely handled, he needed someone who could see the shades of gray that existed outside of the rules as the Chief of Staff.
RAF West Ruislip – England
1646 Greenwich/ 1146 Eastern
Agents Weber and McCall were standing inside the vehicle maintenance garage, while the evidence specialists were carefully removing the gun that had been discovered that morning. They had already interviewed both the Petty Officer who had found the gun as well as the shop supervisor. The garage had been closed over the weekend and therefore should have been secured. However, the window on the rear personnel door was broken and had been for almost a week now, awaiting replacement by building services.
Finally, the weapon was out of the barrel and one of the techs motioned for the two men to approach.
"Well, good news is, this is definitely a .22. That matches, more or less, with the size of the slug removed from Commander Alexander. Unfortunately, the bath that it was subjected to removed any trace evidence that might have been useful," he told them.
"I still want that weapon field stripped and inspected. Check the magazine, the ammo, everything. I also want it test fired and matched with the evidence," Weber said.
"I thank you kindly for telling me how to do my job, Agent Weber."
The acidic tone penetrated and Weber bit back on his response. It was only after a moment that he finally felt able to speak.
"I'm not really trying to tell you how to do your job. I'm just begging for a miracle, right now. Because if that is the weapon used on Commander Alexander, but there's nothing tying it to an owner, then it's just a paperweight as far as I'm concerned."
"I hear you," the man said with a nod of his head, before turning back to his work.
"Pops, why don't you go home? Get maybe six hours of sleep and come back," McCall said, not liking the look on the older man's face.
"I'll sleep when we catch this person," Weber replied.
"Pops, considering that we're not even close to catching him, that could be a long wait. And the less sleep you're working with, the more mistakes you're going to start making."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. Like assuming that the evidence guys wouldn't check the whole gun for clues. We've got some of the best people in NCIS here. They know what they're doing. So, why don't we let them process the evidence and rest up for the hunt," McCall said, keeping his tone even and reasonable.
"Well, I'm stopping by the hospital and checking on Commander Alexander. Maybe after that, I'll consider your advice," Weber said, before turning to leave the garage.
McCall watched him leave, breathing out a silent sigh. Pops really needed to find something other than the job that could matter in his life. Maybe a wife and family, although that hadn't worked out well for McCall which made him less than willing to recommend it as an idea for anyone. No, all his marriage had gotten him was an ex-wife who had been happy to take up with another man as soon as the paperwork was final and a son who couldn't stand the sight of his own father. On second thought, maybe Pops had the right idea after all.
Force Judge Advocate's Office – London, England
1715 Greenwich/ 1215 Eastern
Jason Tiner walked through the doors to the office, a visibly worn expression on his face. Still, he was very pleased with himself. He and Lieutenant Commander Hoiles had done a great job of getting the case on the Bunker Hill concluded without too much wasted time or expense. After reviewing all the relevant information, it had turned out that the OOW had not been responsible for the grounding. Rather, the helmsman had let the ship's course drift over the proceeding hour through inattention. This had been the matter that the OOW had rather forcefully brought to the Captain's attention and had resulted in the additional charges.
Once they had been able to conclusively establish that even if she had been on the bridge, the OOW would have been unlikely to have caught the error, the Captain had backed down. New charges, however, had been preferred against the helmsman for his actions and were slated for an Article 32 hearing in Naples within the next few days. Hoiles would be handling that, though, so Jason had flown back to London that morning on the Naples-to-London shuttle the Air Force was running. The ride into London had given him plenty of time to get most of the report typed out on his laptop, since he only stopped when the battery got too low for him to continue.
"Welcome back, Lieutenant," Harm said from the doorway to his office. He had just been ready to leave for the evening. The dinner he had arranged with Meg had been pushed from yesterday to today, given everything that had happened. Still, he did want to talk with Tiner for a moment or two about the case.
"Thank you, Sir," was Jason's response.
Motioning for the other man to follow, Harm went back into his office. Taking a seat perched on the edge of his desk, he waited while Jason sat down.
"I understand congratulations are in order. That was well done, getting that situation defused."
"I can't take all the credit for that, Sir. Lieutenant Commander Hoiles was a great partner. Once he'd looked at the initial reports, he suggested he talk to the Captain while I interviewed the OOW. Once she realized I wasn't there to crucify her, she really opened up. After that, we just had to confirm what she'd said and the rest was just a matter of the Commander using his people skills to eliminate the rest of the charges, Sir."
"And did you learn anything?" Harm asked.
"That being able to work with people is almost as much a part of our jobs as being lawyers," Jason said with a smile.
"That's true, Lieutenant. But the big thing I see here is that you and Hoiles didn't jump to any conclusions based on the initial reports and the charges, but went in with an open mind. Sometimes that's one of the hardest things for a person to do. Everyone has little biases that can trip them up in an investigation. If you can remember that and if you know what your biases are, it will help you a lot," Harm told him.
"And what are your biases, Captain?"
Harm didn't answer, just smiled cryptically for a moment.
"How soon can I expect your report?" Harm asked, changing the topic.
"I should have it done be tomorrow afternoon, Sir."
"Excellent. Let me have it soonest, so I can go over it with Admiral Kieso."
"Aye, aye, Sir," Jason said as he stood, sensing the meeting was over. So, he stood and braced.
"Dismissed," Harm said.
"Aye, aye, Sir."
Once Jason had left the office, Harm followed him out the door. He would only be a few minutes late, he hoped. Still, Mattie would be home and maybe Beth, too. He was certain the either or both of them were perfectly capable of entertaining the women from Texas until he arrived.
Grove End Road – London, England
1812 Greenwich/ 1312 Eastern
Harm entered the house to the sound of laughter coming from the living room. Coming inside, he found Beth and Meg sitting on the couch, while Mattie and Patty occupied two of the chairs. All four of the women turned to look at him before another round of laughter erupted, causing Harm's eyebrows to raise as he wondered what the joke was.
"Why do I have a feeling that getting you two together isn't going to end well for me?" Harm asked, a grin on his face to take away any sting the words might have had.
"Because you're a lawyer and suspicious by training?" Beth asked in turn.
"Hey, I'm a lawyer too," Meg put in, acting slightly hurt by the implications.
"Ah, but you're also a lady, Ms. Austin."
"Why, thank you, Mrs. Rabb."
"You've welcome. Now, why don't you get back to telling me all about the trip you and my husband made to Cuba," Beth said with a grin.
"Ah, Meg. That's classified," Harm said.
"Spoil sport," Meg told him. "Let me just say it was interesting, Beth. Satisfied, Harm?"
"Yeah."
"What ever happened to Commander Keeter, anyway? Still flying for the Navy?"
"Yeah. He made Captain last year and took over as CAG of CAW-1 on the Teddy Roosevelt," Harm told her.
"Still a womanizer, too," Beth put in. "Tried on French kiss me in the receiving line of our wedding."
"He didn't go that far?" Harm asked, looking over at Beth. "Did he?"
Seeing the look on his wife's face, Harm knew that he had. Harm saw red for a moment then, before Beth laid a gentle hand on his and squeezed it.
"Hey, I can handle some pilot who thinks he's God's gift to women, Harm. Remember, I served on a carrier."
"Nice to know some things never change," Meg said.
A ding from the kitchen announced that the dinner Beth had put in the oven was ready. Getting up, she went and removed the two baking dishes. Each held a full lasagna, one with meat and one vegetarian. Beth figured that Meg, Patty and Mattie would easily finish off the one with meat, while she and Harm had the other.
Mattie and Harm had both followed her into the kitchen, where the teen set the table while Harm got out drinks. For the adults, he selected a bottle of wine, while the kids would have their choice of soft drinks and juice. Once the food was on the table, everyone sat down and dug in. Beth also had salads and bread sticks to go with the lasagnas. The conversation around the table was mainly on Harm and Meg catching up with each other.
After dinner, Mattie took Patty upstairs to watch a movie on her television, while the adults continued talking.
"I will say that I'm curious about something," Harm said finally. "Who is Patty's father, Meg?"
"I'm not sure I should tell you, Harm," Meg said as she looked at her hands.
"Meg, you weren't…."
"No, Harm. I wasn't assaulted, raped, or anything like that."
"Then why wouldn't you want to tell me," Harm said.
"Because it doesn't make me look good, Harm. I know when we were working together, you saw me as your kid sister and I don't want to destroy that image," Meg told them.
"Nothing you could possibly say would ever make me think less of you, Meg. We all do things we wish we could change, although I somehow don't think Patty is something you'd want to undo, is she?"
"Maybe the conception, but no, not what I got out of it. Patty is my angel and I love her more than I had ever thought possible."
"So," was all Harm said, as he looked over at Meg. Beth, for her part, was growing curious.
"You still know how to pressure someone into a confession, Harm," Meg said with a nervous chuckle. "Alright, if you promise not to tell. Patty doesn't even know. Just me, my mother and my lawyer, since I wanted something in my Will in case anything happened to me before she is of age."
Meg took a large sip from the glass of wine in front of her, still clearly uncertain about her revelation. She was also waiting for Harm to promise her that he'd stay silent, although she wondered if he'd be able to keep that promise once she told him.
"We promise," Harm said, joined by Beth a moment later.
"The father is Jack Keeter, Harm."
Harm looked truly stunned at the words. Jack Keeter and Meg Austin.
"Huh?"
"It was a one-night stand, Harm. We happened to run into each other in a bar, we had a couple of drinks and well," Meg said, flushing a little. "When I found out I was pregnant, I tried to contact him at Pax River, but he was off on an assignment. And after I thought about it for a while, I wondered how he would respond to a call out of the blue saying, 'Hey, Jack, remember that night we slept together. Guess what? I'm pregnant.'"
Beth smiled a little at that, picturing the look on Keeter's face at that. Somehow, she just didn't see him as Daddy material. Harm, on the other hand, thought Jack would have done the right thing by both Meg and Patty. But he could also see Meg's point-of-view as well. Her primary concern had to have been what was best for Patty. Besides, admitting that the baby was Jack's would have opened them both up to charges of fraternization, with the child being exhibit A for the prosecution.
The sound of Mattie and Patty coming down the stairs effectively ended the conversation. A look at the clock above the sink showed that it was almost 2100. Beth called for a taxi, while Harm and Meg made certain to exchange contact information. The two of them felt that, now that they had reconnected, they definitely wanted to remain in touch. One of the down sides of the military life was the constant moving from assignment to assignment, with friendships put on hold until you happened upon one another at another duty station. With Meg being tied to her ranch in Texas, it would be a little easier for them to keep in contact.
When the taxi arrived, Harm made sure to walk them down to the car and watched them leave before going back inside. Beth and Mattie were sitting on the couch, watching a movie on the television. Harm went into the kitchen and got to work on the clean-up from dinner. Once he had everything the way he wanted it, he fixed a glass of wine and sat down at the table. His mind was still racing over the bombshell that Meg had dropped, worrying it like a dog with a bone no matter how many times he tried telling himself to leave it be. Fortunately, it was doubtful that he would have to see Jack any time soon, because right now he doubted that he could and not say something.