A/N: Please reread Chapter 18, as a change was made that affects this chapter.
January 22, 2004
Courtroom, NAVFOREUR – London, England
0854 Greenwich / 0354 Eastern
Major McBurney sat at the prosecution table waiting for court to begin for the day. The bombshell that Agent Weber had handed over late last night was more than enough to blow things wide open. Looking over at Captain Krennick, he was struck by how subdued she was this morning. The two Marine bailiffs flanking her from behind might have contributed to that, he thought.
"All rise," came a call from the front of the courtroom as Admiral Morris entered.
"Be seated," Admiral Morris called once he was settled in. "Are both sides ready to proceed?"
"The prosecution is," McBurney called.
"As is the defense," came a quieter call from Alison.
"Very well. The government may proceed, then."
"Your honor, in light of recent events and new evidence that was collected over the last few days, the government requests that certain additional charges be added to those already being tried."
"Objection, your honor. The trial is already underway. It's a little late to be adding charges."
"Not if those charges arise from events that took place after the trial began, Captain," McBurney said.
"Major, you'll address me, not opposing counsel. What are the nature of these new charges?" Morris asked.
"Violating Article 118, attempted Murder. Article 126, arson. And Article 108, destruction of military property. That on or about January 17, 2004, Captain Alison Krennick did attempt to murder Commander Lyn Alexander in the Commander's room in the VOQ at RAF West Ruislip. That, in an attempt to cover up the crime, Captain Krennick did set fire to the room and thereby destroyed certain property of the United States Navy, parts of the aforementioned VOQ."
"And I presume you have evidence to support these new charges?"
"Indeed we do, Your Honor. The murder weapon has been recovered by NCIS. Forensic examination recovered Captain Krennick's blood beneath the slide of the weapon. NCIS Agent Weber, while questioning the Captain, noticed a cut on the web of the Captain's hand that was consistent with the weapon having 'bitten' her during firing," McBurney said.
"Captain Krennick, does the defense have anything that they wish to say with regards to these charges?" Admiral Morris asked.
"No, Your Honor," Alison responded. She'd spent much of the night trying to think of a way out of this mess. Yet she was always stopped by the blood. If not for that, she could have easily thrown General Gordon under the bus. After all, he had just as much of a potential motive for the crime as she did. But the blood pointed to her as the shooter, given where it was found.
Now she simply sat there, defeated in every sense of the word. Her defense strategy was in a heap before her, while her own actions in an attempt to protect herself had only served to add to the problems confronting her.
"Captain Krennick, how do you plead to these charges?"
"Guilty."
Both Admiral Morris and Major McBurney looked at Alison in shock. Neither of them had been prepared for that, rather than a prolonged fight.
"You are entirely certain that is the plea you wish to enter, Captain?" Morris asked, making certain.
"Yes, Your Honor," Alison said quietly, not even looking up from her hands.
"Very well. Captain Alison Krennick, United States Navy. This court-martial finds you guilty of violating Articles 108, 118 and 126. Given the nature of the most serious of charges, the attempted murder of opposing counsel, I have no choice but to sentence you to the maximum term allowed. As well, the condition of Commander Alexander is still potentially life threatening and that must be taken into account. Therefore, on the Article 108 charge, I hereby sentence you to 10 years confinement, forfeiture of all pay and allowances and a dishonorable discharge. On the Article 118 charge, I hereby sentence you to life imprisonment with the possibility of parole, forfeiture of all pay and allowances and a dishonorable discharge. On the Article 126 charge, I hereby sentence you to 20 years confinement, forfeiture of all pay and allowances and a dishonorable discharge. You will be taken into custody immediately and transported to Naval Consolidated Brig, Miramar, to begin serving your sentences, which I am directing shall be consecutively."
"As to the other charges, given the plea entered today, they are being referred back to the convening authority with a note of the sentence imposed today for the additional crimes and my recommendation that they be dismissed due to the unlikelihood of your ever being released from prison. I am also inserting a recommendation into your record that I believe no parole should be given. You were a sworn officer of the court, duty bound to see justice done. Yet, when a trial wasn't going your way, rather than accept that fact you choose to attack opposing counsel, believing that their death was a just price for your freedom. Your actions speak to a planned, cold-blooded and deliberate decision, one that I must fear you would do again. The simple fact that Commander Alexander survived is a miracle and if not for that, you would be facing a sentence of death. Bailiffs, you may take the prisoner."
Major McBurney watched as the two Marines behind former Captain Krennick proceeded to take her by the arms and then escort her from the courtroom, while Admiral Morris exited the rear of the courtroom. The remaining bailiff was calling down to alert the driver of the transport van that the prisoner was on her way. Just as he was hanging up the telephone, a shot rang out from the hallway. Both McBurney and the bailiff ran to the door and out into the hall, keeping low. They were just in time to catch a glimpse of Krennick entering the FJA office, as well as seeing one of the Marines down. The other was facing the doorway through which Krennick had gone, but holding his fire as several people came out of the office.
The bailiff joined the other Marine facing the doorway and spoke quietly to the man, which McBurney checked on the wounded man. The shot was to his abdomen, so McBurney removed his handkerchief and pressed it to the entrance wound. Looking up, he saw Admiral Morris looking out the courtroom door. Motioning him over, he had the Admiral take over for him while he joined the other two Marines.
"What's the situation, Sergeant?" McBurney asked.
"Unknown, Sir. We were almost to the elevators when the prisoner tripped. As she went down, she managed to grab Staff Sergeant Harper's sidearm, Sir. The Staff Sergeant tried to grab it back when she shot him. As this was happening, I reached for my weapon but by the time I had it un-holstered, she was at the doorway to that office and I couldn't fire without the possibility of hitting someone other than the prisoner," the Sergeant said, the anger and frustration evident on his face as he recounted the events.
For his part, McBurney wondered why Krennick hadn't been cuffed in the courtroom. She'd just pled guilty to attempted murder and been sentenced to life. Ego had to have played a role here, as had Krennick's subdued demeanor. The two Marine had to have thought they could easily handle the middle-aged naval officer and had gotten the surprise of their young lives when she had decided to try to escape.
The door to the stairwell opened and several Marines came through it. All were armed and in full combat gear. The first man came over to McBurney, while the rest took up positions around the doorway to the FJA's office.
"What do we have, Sir?" the Gunnery Sergeant asked politely.
"Former Captain Alison Krennick, just sentenced to life with parole. Blonde hair, about 5 foot 6 and 125 pounds, in her late 40s. Escaped while in transit to the prisoner van downstairs. Armed with an M9 pistol, which has expended one round at this time. Unknown number of personnel in the office as potential hostages, the prisoner's location within the office is also unknown at this time," McBurney told him.
"So, it could get messy if we go in after her and some good people could get hurt. Understood, Sir. Thanks for handing me this wonderful mess."
"Well, when I was in basic school, one of the instructors told me that if I ever had a problem, I should always go to my gunny."
"Give me his name and I promise to have a chat with him," the Gunny said with a smile that said he was only joking. "Alright, Marines, listen up. Here's the situation, we have one target. Female Navy Captain, blonde, late 40s. We are going to try to talk her out first, but we also need to figure out who is still in there. So, Martinez, grab a couple of the people who got out and talk to them. The rest of you, secure perimeter. I want a team on the rear entrance now."
With that, the team broke up. Four Marines headed off down the hall and around the corner, making for the rear entrance. The Gunny could only hope that the suspect hadn't already escaped that way and was loose somewhere else in the building. If he could contain things here, he would greatly prefer to do so. A moment later, the second team reported in that they were on station at the rear.
"Captain Krennick, Gunnery Sergeant Oltman, Ma'am. Ma'am, we need you to put down the weapon and step out of the office with your hands above your head," the Gunny called out.
There was no response to the call, so that the Gunny repeated it a little louder and from nearer the doorway. Still getting no response, he looked through the doorway and saw nobody in the office. Motioning for the other Marines to stay back, he moved to the inner office door of the FJA. Stopping there, he could hear voices from the other side of the door.
"Alison, you need to think about what you are doing," Harm said as he looked into the barrel of the pistol. This was a side of Krennick he had never seen before, a crushed shell of her former self lashing out at a cruel world.
"Don't patronize me, Harm. You're responsible for all of this, you know. Commander Alexander's injuries, that Marine out there, it's all on you," Krennick said.
"On me?"
"Yes. If you'd only once, just once, let me love you, none of this would have ever happened. I could have made you happy, you know I could have. I still can."
"Alison," Harm said, aware that he was treading into dangerous waters and knowing he would need to choose his next words very carefully. "It wouldn't have worked between us, you have to have seen that. You wanted to control me and I'm uncontrollable. I would have only ended up disappointing you."
"I could have taught you to enjoy my controlling you, Harm. That weekend at Chegwidden's beach house was only meant as a sample of what I could do to you, for you," Krennick said as she moved closer.
"But that's in the past, where it should stay. Now, I've got a wife and a daughter."
"Oh, so I wasn't good enough, but that little witch is!"
"Alison, love isn't a competition. I never felt for you what I feel for Beth. She completes me, you would have consumed me if I had let you," Harm said, looking her in the eye and feeling fear for the first time. The return look was filled with hatred.
"Well, if I can't have you, I'll make sure she doesn't either," Krennick said, taking careful aim with her pistol.
What neither of them had noticed was the slow opening of the office door. The Gunny had been immediately concerned with the first words he heard and realized that he might need to take action. So, he'd motioned his team up, while turning the nob on the door. Making sure to keep pressure on the nob to keep any possible movement and noise down, he heard a soft click and knew the door was open.
Carefully, he eased it a fraction open before releasing the knob. Drawing his weapon, he got ready and then eased the door further open. That was when he heard the last words Krennick spoke. At that moment, he shoved the door fully open and took aim. Harm, who was facing the door, saw the Marine burst through and dropped. Alison started to lower her aim to follow him down.
"Drop the weapon, Ma'am," the Gunny shouted as his aim settled. Seeing it still moving, he fired.
Harm watched in horror at the shot took Alison in the back. A second shot followed the first and dropped her to the floor. The two Marines behind the Gunny grabbed Harm and pulled him to his feet before hustling him out of the office. The final two conducted a quick search, while a corpsman came in to aid Krennick. She was followed by an ambulance team, which quickly loaded Krennick onto a gurney and raced out of the office.
Grove End Road – London, England
1811 Greenwich/ 1311 Eastern
Beth came through the door and entered the living room. There she found Harm sitting in the chair, a bottle of scotch open on the coffee table and a full glass in his hand. Judging by the level of the bottle, she assumed he'd already had a couple of glasses before she'd arrived. She was well aware that something had happened at NAVFOREUR that morning. The Embassy had gone on lockdown for over an hour, while reports of shots fired had circulated amongst the staff.
She had tried to call Harm all day, but had never been able to reach him. At lunch, she had gone down to see First Sergeant Galindez and he'd called in a couple of favors, reaching out to the guard force at NAVFOREUR. The shootings had involved a Marine Sergeant and Captain Krennick and when she heard the second name, her blood had frozen. Still, the First Sergeant had been able to tell her that Harm was alright. But, seeing this, she wasn't so sure if that was an accurate assessment of his condition.
What Beth didn't know was that Harm wasn't thinking about Krennick, but rather himself. At how close he'd come to potentially losing his life. At what would have happened to Beth and Mattie if Krennick had killed him. All the times he'd faced death in the past, he'd never had this much to lose and the thought of losing his family scared him in ways he'd never thought possible.
A feel of a pair of hands on his shoulders caused Harm to briefly jump before he caught the fragrance of Beth's perfume. Relaxing into her touch, Harm closed his eyes and leaned back.
"I love you, Elizabeth," Harm said softly.
"I was worried about you, darling," Beth told him. "When I heard there was a shooting and then that Krennick was involved, I could only pray nothing had happened to you."
"She was in my office and she was going to shoot me, when one of the Marine guards burst in and shot her. I watched her fall right in front of me."
"Harm, she made her choice, just like we all do. None of this is your fault," Beth told him, knowing the way his mind worked.
"Maybe if I had just…." Harm started to say before Beth cut him off.
"Just what, Harm? Just slept with her? Just ignored her prying and harassment? Just been less than the man that you are," Beth said, coming around the chair to face him.
"I don't know, Beth. But there has to have been something I could have done differently."
"But there isn't, Harm. There just isn't."
"Beth, a man was shot today, he may be forced out of the Marine Corps because of the severity of the wound. A woman was shot twice today, right in front of me. The doctors think she'll live, but that she'll be paralyzed from the middle of the chest down because the second shot severed her spinal column. And that's not even mentioning Commander Alexander, who the doctors say will live but is still in a coma. I can't ignore the part that I played in all of this," Harm said, closing his eyes and sighing.
"Harm, you should be thinking about the part Alison Krennick played in all of this. She's the one responsible, not you," Beth said.
"I know, Beth, I know. It's just never easy watching someone get hurt."
"Someone you care about?"
"Just anyone, Beth," Harm said. "When it does get easy is when you cross a line, emotionally. Maybe you've seen too much or something, I don't know, but I never want to not feel something when someone I know gets hurt."
Beth thought about that for a moment and realized it was true. Even that jerk X-Man, if something had happened to him when they'd been squadron mates, she'd have felt something. Maybe not as much as Harm was about Krennick, but something. Perhaps it was the fact that he'd watched it happen that made it stronger or that Beth's only contacts with the woman had been all negative, but she thought the witch got what she deserved.
"Come on, you. You're not going to drink your dinner," Beth said getting up and pulling Harm with her. "We'll order in some Chinese and then watch a movie or something. Where Mattie?"
"She's upstairs doing homework. She saw me with a drink and went straight to her room."
"Well, I'll go get her order and then call it in."
Beth went upstairs and knocked on Mattie's door. Getting a call of enter, she pushed it open and smiled at the mess on the bed. Books and papers were all over the place.
"We're ordering Chinese tonight. What sound's good to you?" Beth asked.
"Almond Chicken with fried rice," Mattie said.
"Got it. Anything else?"
"No, that's it. Thanks, Beth."
"You alright, Mattie?" Beth asked.
"Why?" was Mattie's response.
"Harm said you saw him drinking and went straight to your room."
"I just wasn't comfortable."
"Let me guess. Something to do with your dad, right?" Beth said.
"Well, he is an alcoholic and his drinking led to my mother's death, so…" Mattie said, looking at Beth with a look that screamed "Duh!"
"You know that Harm and I don't drink much, right? And you know Harm isn't an alcoholic?"
"Yeah. It still just made me uncomfortable."
"See, Mattie, something bad happened at Harm's work today and some people got hurt, one of them right in from of him. And that's why he had a drink today," Beth said.
"But he wasn't hurt, right?" Mattie asked.
"No, Harm's fine. Or he will be in time."
"What do you mean by that, Beth?"
"Some hurts aren't physical, there mental and emotional. Sometimes those take longer to heal," Beth told the teen who nodded. Mattie know far too well about those kinds of hurts, still dealing with the loss of her mother.
With that, Beth left Mattie's bedroom and went to the master suite, where she picked up the extension and proceeded to call in the order for dinner. When she got back downstairs, she saw that Harm had either finished his drink or tossed it, because both the glass and bottle were gone. Instead, he was listening to a news program on the radio, leaning back in the chair with his eyes closed. Beth decided to leave him be while she set the table of dinner.
January 24, 2004
Victor Galindez's quarters – London, England
0854 Greenwich / 0354 Eastern
Victor checked his appearance in the mirror one last time before nodding. It had been some time since he'd been on a date and he found that he wanted to make a good impression on Emily when she arrived. She had called him last night to set a time and offered to drive over to pick him up. Victor had been grateful to accept the offer, as he still wasn't comfortable driving in London.
When he had arrived, he had immediately started looking into transportation and accommodations. The apartment had been easier than the car, given the British drove on the other side of the road. Being on call, he decided to find something in town, rather than the base housing offered. With his housing allowance, Victor had found a nice, furnished 2 bedroom apartment near the Embassy. A nice benefit of this is that when the weather was nicer, he'd be able to walk the half mile to the Embassy. For now, however, he was catching a quick taxi back and forth.
The car was something he'd gotten last weekend. He still wasn't especially pleased with his choice, but he was convinced that a big truck wouldn't work in the narrow streets over here. Still, he needed something bigger than the Mini Coopers and such. So, he'd compromised and bought a Honda CR-V from a Major who was leaving the Defense Attaché staff. For the moment, it was simply taking up a space in the underground parking for his building, with the only time he'd driven it being the day he bought it.
The telephone rang, bringing Victor from his thoughts. The phone was connected to the building's porter and this was the only time it had rung since he moved in. For that reason, he was almost positive as to the reason.
"Galindez speaking," Victor answered.
"Mister Galindez, you have a visitor. A Miss Wallace, Sir," the porter said, something in his tone suggesting what he believed was the reason for the visit and his opinion of it.
"Thank you. Please inform Inspector Wallace that I will be down presently."
Victor hung up the phone and patted his pockets to be certain he had everything. Cell phone, keys and wallet were in place. With that, he put on his overcoat before he left his residence and crossed to the elevator. The wait was short and it was only a moment or two before his was crossing the lobby. Ignoring the porter, he crossed to where Emily stood and extended his hand.
"It's very nice of you to act as my tour guide, Detective Chief Inspector," Victor said with a smile.
"It's my pleasure, First Sergeant," Emily told him as she shook his hand, drawing a pleased smile from Victor that she had remembered his proper rank and not shorted it to simply Sergeant. Emily smiled in return, enjoying the fact that the man's eyes were still fixed on her face. She was also enjoying how handsome she thought he looked in his dark blue suit and crisp white shirt, with red tie. When she'd spoken to him last night, he had asked about attire and she'd said to dress nicely. In her turn, she was wearing a burgundy blouse, black slacks and flats under a tan trench coat.
"Shall we go?"
"Of course."
Victor held the door open for her and then followed her down the walk a short distance to where she had parked her car, which he noticed was a Mini Cooper. He shook his head as he went to what his mind told him was the driver's side and got into the passenger seat. Taking a moment, he moved the seat back a little to get comfortable, before looking over at Emily.
"Are you comfortable, Victor?" Emily asked.
"I will be once I get the seat adjusted," Victor told her.
"We're not going very far. Just over to the Tate gallery, thought you might like to look at some paintings."
The look that crossed Victor's face was simply too much for her to take and Emily started laughing, which clued Victor in that he was the subject of a joke.
"Actually, Victor, I thought you'd rather visit Parliament, so that's where we're going."
"That sounds much better, Emily."
On the drive over, the two of them started conversing like they had been friends for ever rather than the almost total strangers that they were. For Victor, that meant learning that Emily was something of a disappointment to her family, who were also doctors and barristers and had expected the same path out of their youngest. Unfortunately, she had been hooked on police dramas from a young age and nothing her family had said was able to shake her from that path.
For Emily, it was learning about the large family that Victor had back home, a family desperate for the son to get married and settle down. His older sisters had children of their own, supplying his mother with plenty of grandchildren, but still she wanted ones who would carry on the family name. She also learned of his love of the Corps, how it gave his life a meaning and purpose. She felt much the same about being a member of the Metropolitan Police.
"So, how does a Marine end up at the Embassy as one of the guards?" Emily asked as she drove.
"After 9/11, I was hot to get after Bin Laden. But after two years and countless operations, some of which were too close for comfort, I ended up getting wounded again. When I got out of the hospital, I requested assignment to the Marine Security Group," Victor told her.
"Sounds like it would be a little dull, compared to what you'd been doing."
"I could use a little dull, actually. I'm sure when I get done with my three years, I'll be sent off somewhere else probably just as dangerous. That's what Marines do."
"Ah, 'People sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf'," Emily said, obviously quoting someone.
"Something like that," Victor said.
Emily pulled into a parking garage and went looking for a spot. Finally finding one, she parked and then led the way to the nearest exit. Victor was happy to follow along, curious as to where they were going. Coming out onto the street, she turned and walked on for half a block when suddenly Victor realized where they were at. Looking up at the massive structure before them, he was in awe. The famous Palace of Westminster was a sight to behold, with the massive tower containing Big Ben what caught most tourists eyes.
"Come along, I've got us booked on a tour and after that, we'll get some lunch."
The tour took a little over an hour to complete, but was very interesting to Victor. While he might have little use for politicians as a species, he valued the concept of democracy and the people having a say in things. So, seeing something like this served as a reminder that the people were in charge, even if they kept electing such bad people to represent them. The most interesting aspect, as far as he was concerned was the chamber of the House of Commons. He'd had to smile when he heard the reason behind the extra wide space between the two sides, reflecting a vastly different time. It served as a reminder that the United States was a relatively new nation compared to most of Europe.
When the tour was over, Emily led the way outside and hailed a London taxi. Victor looked at her quizzically, wondering why they didn't go back to her car. She just smiled before giving the driver an address and settling back.
"Parking can be difficult on the weekends, so I thought a taxi might be a better idea, unless you'd like to ride one of the buses," Emily said.
"This suits me just fine," Victor told her.
A few minutes later, the taxi pulled up outside a nice building. Getting out, Victor held the door for Emily before following her inside. A man was waiting just inside the door, blocking entrance to the rest of the floor.
"Miss Wallace, a pleasure to see you again," he said, stepping aside. "Your grandfather saw that you had reservations and asked that you stop by his table."
"Thank you. We shall," Emily replied, leading the way through to the restaurant. Going inside, she paused and looked in the familiar corner of the room, smiling as she saw her grandfather seated by himself, a newspaper at his elbow and a bowl of French onion soup before him, unless his habits had changed. Walking across the restaurant, she waved her hand when she saw him start to stand to great her.
"Hello, grandfather."
"My dear child, so good to see you again. I missed you at Christmas, a case I presume?" the old man said, opening his arms to hug her.
"Unfortunately," Emily told him.
"And who is this handsome man you have with you? Dare one hope a new suitor?"
"It's too soon to say, grandfather. This is First Sergeant Victor Galindez, United States Marine Corps. Victor, this is my grandfather, Sir Alistair Wallace."
"A pleasure to meet you, Sir," Victor said, extending his hand. Alastair looked him in the eye as he took it, gripping it tightly.
"A Yank and a military man too. I don't envy to telling your father this one. Mind, he still hasn't gotten over you joining the police instead of attending law school. Tell me, First Sergeant, how long have you known my granddaughter?" Alistair asked.
"We only met a couple of days ago. She offered to show me around London and I gratefully accepted."
"And what do you think of my granddaughter?"
"I think I'd like to know her better, Sir. So far, we've only had lunch and seen the Houses of Parliament," Victor said, drawing a laugh from Alistair.
"A word of advice, lad. You take care of my granddaughter, she's the only one of my grandchildren I care about."
"Grandfather!" Emily exclaimed, drawing looks.
"Hush, child. Your brothers and sisters are what they are because of your parents and your father took my getting knighted too seriously, fancies himself something special. At least you know better, I think. You've followed your passion, rather than simply trying to please someone and that fills me with such joy," Alistair told her, momentarily ignoring the fact that Victor was at the table with them.
"But you are something special."
"The work I've done is why I was honored, but I'd trade it all for another year with your grandmother, my dear. When you find that someone special, you'll see what I mean."
Emily looked at her grandfather and for the first time saw an old man before her. His tone was akin to saying farewell and she fought the tears that threatened. She knew he was in his early eighties and they'd lost her grandmother five years before, but she wasn't ready to lose him yet. Victor noticed the change and moved a little as if to get up, but Alistair motioned him down.
"Ah, lassie, no tears now. My journey is getting nearer its end every day, but I still plan on dancing at your wedding. So, hurry up and get on with it," Alistair said with a smile and wink, meant to show the pair that he was only teasing.
"We'll see what we can do, Sir, but I think I should know her a little better before I propose," Victor said, joining in the joke.
Emily and Alistair both laughed at that, which served to brighten the mood considerably. Soon a waitress came over and took their orders. She'd started to approach twice, but had seen that the trio were in conversation and demurred. Victor went with a bowl of the French onion soup and a salad, while Emily just had a bowl of the soup.
"So, Victor, how long have you been at the Embassy," Alistair asked.
"Since the beginning of December, Sir. I was posted here after I was released from NNMC," Victor said.
"And what is NNMC?"
"Sorry, Sir. That's the National Naval Medical Center near Washington, DC. I'd been wounded in Afghanistan and sent there for treatment."
"Washington is a nice city. I lived there for a few years in the 1970s," Alistair said. "I was assigned to the Embassy then."
"What were you doing at the Embassy, Sir?" Victor asked, while Emily sat back. She'd heard the stories before, but was pleased that Victor seemed genuinely interested.
"Oh, I was assigned to liaise with the Yanks on strategic arms limitations. Your country and the Soviets had just concluded the SALT I talks and signed an ABM Treaty. The next set of talks were beginning and my country wanted to have input into the discussions without opening them up to all nuclear powers, which would have been a much longer process and more likely to fail."
"You were in government, then?"
"He still is, don't let him tell you otherwise," Emily said. "He's supposedly retired, but he still keeps to a schedule, don't you grandfather?"
"Hush, child. I am retired, but after you've been doing something for fifty years, it's rather hard to simply stop doing it. Besides, they keep calling me in. 'What's your take on this' or 'You know him, will he tell you anything more than he's telling us'. And the brain hasn't stopped working yet. God help me when it does," Alistair said with a grimace.
At that moment, Emily's cell phone rang. Frowning, she removed the offending object from her purse and got up from the table. Silencing the ringer as she walked toward the front door of the club, she didn't say anything until she was outside.
"DCI Wallace," Emily said.
"Emily, Jack here. Sorry to do this to you, luv, but we've got a big one. Smash and grab, witnesses say it was a team, four guys and a car. Sound familiar?" Detective Inspector Jack Walsh asked.
"It most certainly does. That's the fifth time this month, if it's the same crew. These guys are going for some kind of record."
"The boss wants these guys found, quickly. The press is starting to get on the case and you know what that means as well as I do. How quickly can you get here?"
"I'll have to drop someone off first, so give me a little time to do that," Emily said, thinking.
"Ah, a date is it. Hope I didn't pull you away at the wrong moment," Jack teased her.
"No, someone I met the other day."
Jack chose to remain silent, waiting for her to continue for a moment before hearing a dial tone.
Alistair saw his granddaughter coming back into the building and could tell by the look on her face that it was bad news.
"A case?" he asked rhetorically.
"Unfortunately. A big one, according to Jack. Sorry, but we'll have to cut our day a little short," Emily said to Victor.
"I understand completely. I'll just catch a taxi back to my place, that way you can get over there. I did enjoy it, Emily," Victor told her.
"Well, we can always try again tomorrow if you're will to take the chance."
"How about 0900, um, 9 in the morning?"
"Smashing," Emily said. "Thank you."
With that she was gone. Alistair looked at Victor as he sat back down to finish his meal. Other suitors of his granddaughter had never been able to get past her career, yet Victor was a man who seemed to not only accept it but embrace it. There was more to this Yank than met the eye and Alistair was, by nature, curious. Perhaps a few calls, he thought as he sipped his tea. As he had said, Emily was the only member of his family that he truly cared for and he wouldn't see her hurt.