by Zoe Dawson
The prominent bridge was situated to starboard, which Sia learned early on in her career was the right side of a ship.
Once on board, they were directed to the NCIS agent a-float, Clarissa Weston.
“Ahoy,” she called out as they entered her office. “Chris! It’s good to see you. I got word you and Commander Soto were coming aboard to investigate this tragedy. My office stands ready to provide whatever support you need.”
“Thanks, Clarissa. It’s good to see you again. What do you have so far?”
“Since I’m sure you’ll want to do your own investigations, Chris, all I’ve done is make sure no one has left the ship. That went over big. Most of these people have been cooped up on this vessel for three months, but this port stop isn’t for fun. It’s to get repairs to the flight deck Lieutenant Washington tore up when he crash-landed.” She turned to Sia. “It’s good to see you again, ma’am. Wow, that’s a nasty shiner. I sure hope you’re healing okay.”
“I’m doing fine, Clarissa. Thank you for asking.”
“The legal office is also at your disposal, Chris, ma’am. Commander Stryker is expecting you.”
“Thank you,” Chris said.
“The captain asked that you report to him as soon as you were aboard. He’s at Pri-Fly, the Primary Flight Control center. I’ll take you to him now.”
Sia was now familiar with the carrier after spending time on the ship during her initial investigation. They headed toward what was called the “island”—the command center for flight-deck operations as well as the ship as a whole. The island was about one hundred and fifty feet tall, but only twenty feet wide, so it wouldn’t take up too much space on the flight deck.
The top of the island sported an array of radar and communications antennas, which kept tabs on surrounding ships and picked up satellite phone and TV signals. Below that was their destination, Pri-Fly. At the next level was the bridge, where the captain directed the helmsman who actually steered the carrier.
Sia clumsily navigated several ladders due to her injured shoulder as Clarissa ushered them into the Pri-Fly main area, where Captain Thaddeus Maddox was looking through a set of binoculars at the damaged part of the deck.
Without turning around, he said, “Commander Soto. I can’t say I’m thrilled to have you back aboard my ship.”
“Good morning, sir. Under the circumstances, I can’t say I’m thrilled to be back.” He was an intimidating man, with a strong, iron-hard jaw and salt-and-pepper hair. His posture was ramrod straight and he commanded the very air around him.
The captain set down the binoculars and turned around. He walked forward and nodded to Clarissa. “Thank you, Agent Weston.”
Clarissa nodded and took her leave.
Chris reached out his hand. “Special Agent Chris Vargas, sir.”
The captain shook his hand, but only briefly met Chris’s eyes. He returned his gaze to Sia, and she stood at attention until the captain said, “At ease.”
He turned to a stocky blond man standing next to him. “This is my XO, Commander Seth Tate. If I’m not available, you can speak to him.”
He then addressed Sia. “Your report put the death of Lieutenant Malcolm Saunders directly on the master chief’s shoulders. How do you explain what has happened to Lieutenant Washington?”
“I’ve only arrived, sir, and haven’t had a chance to even review preliminary information.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I expect you will have answers for me, Commander Soto. I have another dead aviator, lost another expensive aircraft and have a damaged ship. I’m not happy.”
“With all due respect, Skipper,” Chris said, “I have read Commander Soto’s report and I would have drawn the same conclusions. She did a thorough investigation and on top of it almost lost her life. It was clear to her at the time she had the right suspect.”
“I concede the investigation was thorough, Special Agent Vargas. I will give her that, and she did put her life at risk. But if this investigation into the senator’s son’s death turns up that he was murdered, then it’s obvious there was something more to the story than was evident at the time.”
She wasn’t supposed to go all warm inside when Chris stuck up for her. “Agreed, sir,” Sia said. “But Special Agent Vargas is in charge. I answer to him.”
“Noted,” the captain said. “Stow your gear and get to work. We’ll be leaving port in about a day or two. The needed repairs weren’t major.”
“Aye, sir,” Sia said, coming to attention. She executed a perfect turn and left Pri-Fly with Chris following behind.
Back at Agent Weston’s office, Clarissa volunteered to show Chris to his stateroom. Sia had been assigned the same stateroom as on her last visit and it was at the opposite end of the corridor. This time though, her roommate had been transferred to another billet, which left Sia enjoying the stateroom all to herself. She only meant to lie down for a moment, but she fell asleep. When she woke up, she saw she’d been asleep a couple of hours. After freshening and changing her uniform, she was free to visit the legal office.
Commander William Stryker greeted her as she entered. “Hello, Sia. Sorry you had to come back here so soon.”
“Me, too, Billy. What do you have so far?”
“Not much. I’ve done some preliminary questioning of personnel and I’ve compiled that into this file.” He handed her a folder. “Agent Weston wanted me to pass the autopsy report for Lieutenant Saunders to you.”
Sia opened it and quickly skimmed the contents. “Thanks. I’ll read this later,” she said and tucked it into her briefcase.
“I’ve also compiled a list of people who were directly responsible for the two jets and any other personnel who may have witnessed the accident.” He handed her a sheaf of papers and Sia went to tuck them into the folder.
“Good work. That’s what I’m looking for,” Sia said.
Chris’s deep, resonant voice stopped the action she was about to perform. “Don’t you mean that’s what we’re looking for?”
She turned to find Chris standing in the doorway. “Commander William Stryker, this is the lead investigator, Special Agent Chris Vargas.”
Billy nodded, eyeing Chris.
Chris came up to her and looked over her shoulder at the list in her hand. “Let’s take the first name and make our way down the list.”
Sia nodded.
Billy looked at the name at the top of the list. “AC2 Trudy Schover. I’ll get her in here for you.”
It wasn’t long before the woman was sitting across the same table where Sia had interrogated the master chief.
“Tell me where you were and what happened when Lieutenant Washington’s F/A-18 crashed into the deck,” Sia asked the young, dark-haired woman. Her hands were clasped together in front of her and she was wringing them.
“I was in Pri-Fly handling the communications between the planes.” She looked at Chris. “I’m an AC, an air traffic controller.”
“It’s okay, Airman, I was a pilot.”
She acknowledged that with a nod of her head.
“Did you know Lieutenant Washington?” Chris continued, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest.
Trudy shook her head, her eyes sincere. “No, sir. I didn’t.”
“Continue,” Chris said.
“Everything went routinely, and that night was clear as glass, no clouds in the sky. Lieutenants Washington and Monroe took off. About three minutes into the flight, Lieutenant Monroe yelled for Lieutenant Washington to get his nose up.”
“Did Lieutenant Washington respond?” Chris leaned forward, his eyes intent.
“Yes, he said that he was having problems with radar.”
“His radar?” Chris asked as he set his hands on the table and concentrated on the airman’s words.
“Yes, sir. He said it was malfunctioning.” Her voice strained, Trudy stopped talking, her eyes going unfocused. She was trying to remember.
“In what way?”
&n
bsp; “Total failure. No instruments,” she said solemnly.
“But he was trained to land without them, correct?” Sia asked. With each word, her throat got tighter. She’d read the report about her brother’s accident years after his death, and as Trudy related the incident, Sia became more alarmed.
“Yes, ma’am. I tried to initiate communication just before the crash. He had his nose down. Lieutenant Monroe was yelling at him to bring his nose up and the flight crew handling the meatball were waving him off, but it was too late. He hit the deck hard, skidded across the platform and right off the end of the carrier, exploding as he dropped into the sea.” Her voice broke and held a note of the shock she still seemed to be experiencing, her eyes moist.
“He didn’t even attempt to eject?” Chris asked.
“No, sir.”
“Meatball?” Sia asked looking at the airman for an explanation.
“It’s a series of lights that are calibrated to the horizon. It serves as a safeguard when pilots are landing on the carrier. If a pilot sees green, safe to land, if red, they need to break off and circle around to land again. The circles of light look like meatballs, so that’s how it got its name.”
“Any other observations, AC2 Schover?” Chris asked.
“Only that he was one of the finest pilots I’ve ever worked with,” she said emphatically. “I didn’t know him personally, but I knew him as a pilot. I was shocked to see his nose down like that. It was worse than a rookie mistake, malfunction or not.”
“Thank you, Airman,” Chris said.
Trudy nodded, but before she left, she turned back, tear tracks down her cheeks. “I hope you clear him of any blame. He doesn’t deserve to have his record marred this way.”
All Sia could offer her was a quick nod, her emotions in turmoil and thoughts of her brother foremost in her thoughts.
When the door closed behind Airman Schover, Chris turned to Sia. “Sounds like he could have made a mistake with the radar off. But he would have noticed if the meatball lights were red.”
“Maybe he was impaired. He could have been too short on oxygen, or some other explanation.”
Chris took a deep breath and then released it slowly. “That’s exactly how it went down when Rafael died, only my plane was still in the air and I ejected.”
Silence filled the compartment, the kind that wove around the heart and squeezed tight.
Chapter Four
Just the mention of her brother’s name made Sia remember him and the day he’d died. She’d been figuring out the best way to tell her father she wasn’t going to New York. She wasn’t going to take a job that was too far away from Chris.
She had answered the door when the Navy had come knocking to break the news about her brother. At first, she thought they had come to tell her Chris was dead and her heart had throbbed painfully in her chest. But when they’d told her it was her brother, the guilt only mixed in with the terrible grief and relief it hadn’t been Chris.
She could tell by looking at Chris he was remembering that day, too. His beard-shadowed jaw hardened, and his eyes went distant.
“Do you think we’re dealing with more than pilot error in all these incidents?” she asked him, watching as his eyes focused again, but the pain and the grief lingered in their depths.
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but my gut is telling me something. I don’t usually ignore it.”
She turned away from the emotions that darkened his eyes and set his mouth in a grim line. “What is your gut telling you?” The lack of sleep, the quick trip to Pearl and her injuries were beginning to take a toll. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her tired face.
Chris didn’t miss the movement and his intense eyes studied her. “That somehow, some way, the two incidents might be connected.”
For an instant, her heart stopped. Now it was racing. “Do you remember Master Chief Walker from the McCloud six years ago?”
Chris shook his head. “The people who serviced the planes were never really on my radar. I lived to fly, and my focus was always on that. When Rafael and I hit the cockpits, we flew for the Navy, but it was pure joy. It’s tragic enough to lose one pilot, but two in such a short span of time is…suspect.” His voice was reflective and sad. The sound of it squeezed her heart.
She was finding sympathy in all the tragedy. She was feeling some of the guilt that Chris must have felt when her brother’s plane had been destroyed. Although she had no emotional ties to Lieutenant Washington, she regretted any action that she hadn’t taken to ensure that no more deaths attributed to Master Chief Walker occurred. Then she realized the truth. It couldn’t have been Walker. He was dead. What did that mean?
“Oh, damn, there’s one flaw in our suspicions.” She folded her arms and tucked herself back into her seat, some of her doubts beginning to surface.
Chris held her gaze. “What is that?”
“Master Chief Walker died before Lieutenant Washington crash-landed his jet. There can be no way he was involved in the death.” Dammit, this was so puzzling. Why had the man tried to kill her? What did Washington and Saunders have in common that they were both targeted? Sia was convinced they both had been. The manner of their “accidents” was too similar and the same exact issue with the radar couldn’t have been a coincidence. The Navy was meticulous in maintaining their aircraft. Safety was about protecting their investment in the pilots who flew the sleek fighter jets and the amount of money that was tied up in each piece of high-tech machinery.
“There would be if he tampered with the plane before he died.”
She hadn’t considered that. But what was irking her was the incoherency of the pilot. “That’s a possibility, but why didn’t Lieutenant Washington correct the position of his plane before he landed? Any seasoned pilot would have. Lieutenant Washington has executed dozens of carrier landings. His behavior doesn’t jive with his training and skill. If a drug was administered, then the master chief would have had to be present in the wardroom before Washington took off.”
Chris considered her words, pressing his back to the bulkhead. “There is information we don’t have right now, like the autopsy and the condition of his plane. We’ll wait for those before we start building conspiracy theories.”
“Well, at the very least, the tie I was hoping existed between my brother’s death and Lieutenant Saunders’s accident could still be viable, but I’m not sure what it means that we have another similar accident within only a day of Lieutenant Saunders’s.”
Chris straightened. “You suspect Walker had something to do with sabotaging my fighter?”
“I think he had some beef against pilots. Who knows? Maybe he was a wannabe. But I believe he sabotaged your jet.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He told me so.”
Chris leaned on the small table, his eyes intent and a bit angry. “He told you? He said he sabotaged my plane? He is directly responsible for Rafe’s death? Why didn’t you tell me this information before?”
She shook her head, holding up her hand. “Wait. No, he didn’t exactly tell me that. He just hinted at information he had no intention of sharing with me—that your pilot error was the same as Lieutenant Saunders’s. That he somehow had something to do with it. The rest is my conjecture.”
“He could have been baiting you. We can’t jump to conclusions.”
Sia knew he was in charge and the yoke of that rankled. But she wasn’t going to shut up just because he thought her ideas were speculation. It was a way for her to work out her cases. Too bad if he didn’t like it. “It’s possible he could have tampered with your plane,” she insisted, getting satisfaction at the way his eyes snapped.
“It is possible. He was on the McCloud when Rafe and I were stationed here. But we have a lot more investigating to do before we come up with an answer.”
“I know that. I’m convinced it’s worth trying to get them to reopen the case.”
“It’s a tall order, Sia. The N
avy isn’t going to be thrilled to rehash an incident that’s already been ruled as pilot error. The report states I’m guilty of channelized attention and it substantially contributed to the mishap.”
There was a limit to her patience. Sia was well aware of Chris’s ruling. His attention had been so consumed with the radar problem it kept him from recognizing and correcting the airspeed and flight path errors and led to his crashing into her brother’s plane. Chris was able to eject to safety, but her brother had been unable to do so in time. They had found him in his plane, still strapped in the seat.
“They will if I have new evidence or a confession from the killer,” she snapped.
He noted her anger with a mocking glance, skepticism in his eyes. “That’s true, but you have to be prepared to accept the fact they made the correct ruling. I was examined by a doctor and he found nothing wrong with me physically. Both Rafe and I were guilty of pilot error. It cost Rafe his life. It cost me…everything.”
A wave of exhaustion hit her. She wanted him to see the possibility, but he was trapped in what the Navy had told him. Sia just wasn’t convinced. Her voice rose a fraction. “Nevertheless, even if there is a small possibility, I won’t rest until justice is served.”
Chris scrutinized her pose, her expression, the passion in her voice, and smiled wryly. “You were born to be a prosecutor, Sia.” His gaze intensified, sharpened, as if he had sensed something in her. Slowly he closed the gap between them until he was a little too close.
“You’ll help me get the evidence I need, won’t you, Chris?” Even though it was a question, Sia had no intention of accepting anything but his acquiescence.
