She gathered her purse and headed down the corridor to Sherman’s office.
“Good morning, Admiral,” she said, waiting to see what had precipitated his request for her to come down., “Developments,” he began, after they had exchanged greetings. “OP-03 himself, Vice Admiral Kensington, apparently wants to see me. His deputy just called down ten minutes ago. l suspect it has to do with this Fairfax police visit. I’d like you to go with me.”
“My, my,” she said. “Word gets-around.”
He smiled ruefully. “Indeed it does. That flag-protection network people are always talking about. Sometimes it works too well. I found out earlier that Admiral Kensington had sent down for my bio. Do you know Kensington?”
“No, sir. Other than who he is.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a surface nuke. His full name is Vice Admiral Richard Millard Kensington. No nickname, except the occasional play on Millard.
Spend about five minutes with him and you’ll see why. Archetypical nuclear-trained officer. All business, all the time. Whenever he talks to the division directors, he speaks from a collection of three-by-five index cards.”
Sherman’s yeoman knocked and stuck his head in the doorway. “Admiral Vannoyt’s office called down, Admiral. 03’s available, sir.”
“Available. I love it. I guess it beats yelling down the passageway for me to get my bucket up there,” Sherman said, getting up and reaching for his jacket. “Rear Admiral Vannoyt is Kensington’s deputy,” he told Karen as he opened the door for her. “When the summons from Kensington comes down formally through Vannoyt, it means this is not going to be a social call. Which is why I wanted someone from JAG in the lion’s den with me.
That okay with you?”
She smiled bravely. “Wouldn’t miss it, Admiral.”
“You lie ‘well, Commander. What is it the Army guys say?”We’re behind you, Major. Way behind you, if we can manage it.’ Vice Admiral Kensington’s E-ring office was comfortably appointed, as befitted a senior three-star. A window wall gave a fine view of the Pentagon heliport four floors below, beyond which sprawled the marble-dotted hillsides of Arlington Cemetery, visible in the middle distance across Washington Boulevard. The view reminded Karen of that poignant sixties poster, an aerial view showing the Pentagon in the foreground and Arlington cemetery in perspective, under which were the words THE PENTACON AND ITS, PROD UCT. There were two couches, several leather armchairs, and a large mahogany conference table. At the end away from the windows Was a very large mahogany desk, behind which sat the austere figure of Vice Admiral Kensington. He was wearing his jacket fully buttoned, an affectation that had to be very uncomfortable. He was obviously a tall man, and he had a humorless, stony face that reminded Karen of a cardinal she had seen once in a Shakespearean movie.
Admiral Vannoyt remained standing and announced Sherman’s presence.
Kensington was concentrating on a staffing folder and did not look up for several seconds. Karen, standing to one side of Admiral Sherman, watched the interplay among the three flag officers. Vannoyt focused at a point somewhere behind and over Kensington’s head, his face expressionless, his physical position indicating a clear distance between himself and Sherman. Then Kensington looked up, first at Vannoyt and then at Sherman. He ignored Karen completely. He had piercing gray eyes and he stared directly at Sherman with the unblinking gaze of a fire-control radar.
“Admiral,” Kensington said in a dry, nasal voice. “Are you in some kind of difficulty?”
“I’m not entirely sure, Admiral,” Sherman replied, which surprised Karen. His answer sounded evasive.
“Sure enough to be working with counsel from the JAG’s office, Admiral,”
Kensington replied, flicking a glance at Karen. “I have two questions: What’s it all about? And why am I finding out about it from my executive assistant and not from you?”
Good questions, Karen thought. She saw Vannoyt move over to a chair and sit down, bringing Sherman’s little joke about being behind you, way behind you, to mind.
“I didn’t come tell you about it because I have very few facts, Admiral,” Sherman replied. “You’ve stressed the importance of facts many times. But, basically, a woman with whom I had a relationship for a few years was found dead in her home last Friday. The police investigated, made a preliminary determination that her death was accidental, but then they learned that she had named me as the beneficiary in a life-insurance policy. They came calling via Admiral Carpenter’s office Tuesday morning to talk about it. To my knowledge, that’s it. I’m going to meet with them again tonight to make sure there are no more questions. Commander Lawrence here is from Navy JAG, and she is acting as liaison with the police.”
“Then why do you need a lawyer, Admiral?”
“Commander Lawrence isn’t acting as my lawyer, Admiral. She works for Admiral Carpenter.”
Kensington finally looked directly at Karen for a-second, giving her the feeling she was being exposed momentarily to dangerous radiation. He then trained back on Sherman.
“Commander Lawrence is not a trial lawyer,” he said. “She is an expert in investigations review. Why her?”
Whoa, Karen thought. Not many secrets left in this little box.
Kensington’s EA had been doing some homework.
“She was Admiral Carpenter’s choice, Admiral.’ And I suspect it’s because if there’s anything going on right now, it’s a low-level investigation. The police are not talking about a crime. As I said, we’re meeting with them tonight.
If they decide otherwise, and if they name me as a suspect, then I’ll probably go hire a civilian attorney. Commander Lawrence is sort of a neutral adviser at the moment. I don’t think I need any more help than that. For what it’s worth, I was still here in the office at the time when they think this happened.”
Kensington looked down at his desk for a moment. Karen wondered if he had one of his three-by-five cards there with his questions on it. But then he looked back over at Sherman, locking on again with those glittering gray eyes.
“Any interaction between a flag officer on the Navy staff and homicide police is a matter of concern. To me, to the CNO. Please make sure I am apprised of how this matter is resolved, Admiral. On your initiative, please, and not mine.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Sherman replied, hesitating just long enough to make it clear he didn’t like the way he was being treated. But Kensington had already refocused on the staffing folder. Vannot was tipping his head in the direction of the door. They followed him out.
“Commander, if you will excuse us for a moment,” Vannoyt said pointedly.
Karen said, “Of course,” and went out into the E-ring corridor. Vannoyt took Sherman into his-office and closed the door. She noticed that the yeomen were all concentrating very hard on their paperwork, and then she remembered that Kensington’s door had been open through a of that. A minute later, Sherman came back out and joined her. As they walked back toward the OP-32 office in silence, Sherman’s face was grim. She resisted an impulse to put a finger in her collar and unstick it from her neck.
The brief session with Kensington had made her appreciate the congenial atmosphere of IR, and she had not even been in the line of fire. She wondered if Vannoyt’s last-minute discussion had been about taking her into Kensington’s office. The three-star had generally ignored her, as if to show the one-star that she should not have been there in the first place. Sherman didn’t say anything -until they reached his office.
“Okay. Six o’clock at my house in Mclean. It’s in that cluster of town houses off Old Dominion just before you reach Mclean. Number nineteen on Cheshire Street, second left after you come in the main entrance. The numbers are visible.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be there.”
He paused, and then his face relaxed a bit. “Curious?”
She smiled. “A little. I’m guessing he was not pleased to see me in there.
“Correct. Vannoyt reminded me that flag officers never indu
lge in antagonistic interpersonal relations. And when they do, the help waits outside, thank you very much. More along that line.”
I’ll in surprised he didn’t just tell me to wait outside.”
It was his turn to smile. “The fact that’they didn’t was intended as a message to me. By all means, if you’re in trouble; bring your lawyer in.
That’s really what Vannoyt wanted to make sure I understood.” His expression grew serious. “We need to reach some kind of resolution with these people tonight if we can. That whole little scene was a political warning shot across my bow.”
“Yes, sir, I could see that. But resolution will depend on how forthcoming the police want to be.”
“Forthcoming homicide cops. Well.” He looked less than hopeful. Then she remembered Train.
“Oh, and I’ve asked Mr. von Rensel to be there tonight.”
“Why? I want to limit disclosure, not expand it.”
“You said we would probably need some NIS help with the Galantz problem.
He’s a senior investigator with the NIS, working directly for the JAG.”
“I see.” He paused, staring at nothing for a moment. “I guess we’ll have to. It’s just that this adds yet another person in the loop. Oh ‘ well, I’ll see you this evening, I guess.”
As she walked back toward her office, she wondered if he understood that he, too, would have to be a little more forthcoming about what had happened in Vietnam. She was also wondering where he really stood with his bosses. Presumed innocent or presumed suspect? He had been concerned right from the beginning about this story getting out in flag circles before the issue was properly defined, and now she had had a taste of why he was worried. She would have to fill Train in on what had happened in Kensington’s office and alert him to the fact that Sherman had been reluctant about folding NIS into this picture.
Karen and Train arrived at Sherman’s house nearly twenty minutes-later than she had planned, thanks to an overturned pickup truck and trailer at the north end of the GW Parkway.
He had followed her to Mclean in his car, a large fireengine-red Suburban, which he parked behind her in front of Sherman’s town house.
There did not seem to be any lights on in the town house, so once again she found herself waiting outside a strange front door. After her excursion to OP-03’s office, she had spent the rest of the morning harassing the Bureau about getting the records on Galantz. Train von Rensel had not returned until just before she left the Pentagon to make the meeting at Sherman’s house. She had not had time to back brief him on the meeting with Kensington before they had to get on the road..
Von Rensel’s open skepticism about the admiral’s story of the disappearing letter irritated her. She resented the inference that she would be getting way out of her depth if the mysterious SEAL really did exist. She also wondered if von Rensel’s reaction to the admiral’s story had anything to do with simple male competitiveness. She was getting the feeling that the big man was interested in her, although she couldn’t put her finger on why she felt that way. She had seen men do this before, getting competitive just because she was involved. Train wasn’t really . y her type, if there was such a thing, but still, he was interesting in some indefinably exotic sense. Sherman was an extremely handsome, smooth, and obviously very successful naval officer; Train, a great bear of a man whose watchful demeanor did not seem to quite square with his physical size. She smiled in the dark at her silly mental meandering. She had always been interested in men, but now, in her newfound widowhood, she had turned inward, unwilling to expend the energy required for a new relationship. The disturbing possibility that Frank might have been meeting another woman in that hotel, however much she suppressed it, had unsettled her selfconfidence. She had been ruthless about tamping down that subject every time her subconscious mind wanted to surface it. But she really did wonder every once in a while what she had done, or failed to do, that would have led Frank to seek out another woman’s companionship. Maybe I just got lazy, she thought. Or at least complacent. But then her independent self would react angrily: Why should I assume it was my fault if Frank was unfaithful?
Headlights appeared in her mirror as Sherman showed up in a big Ford sedan. She got out of her car as von Rensel got out of the Suburban.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, locking his own car. “There was a last-minute flap.”
“At least we didn’t keep the detective waiting,” she said.
“Admiral, this is Mr. von Rensel of the NIS. You were introduced at the first meeting, I think.”
The two men shook hands, visibly sizing each other up.
“Mr. von Rensel, thank you for joining us,” Sherman said.
“If we’re going to need NIS, it’d be good for you to be in on this from the beginning.”
“Hope we can help, Admiral,” Train replied, but he left it at that.
Sherman nodded, looking around, and they walked across the street to the front steps of his house, which was a large and fairly elegant three-story affair. Once inside and settled in the living room, Sherman looked at his watch. “Mcnair should be here in just a few minutes. We’re agreed I should tell him about the SEAL, as little of the history as I can get away with, and what happened the other night, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Karen said. “And then I think we should try to find out what they’re really doing. Is this a homicide? Is there an investigation?
Like that. In the spirit of your telling them everything, Mcnair should be a little more forthcoming.’ “And you’ve briefed Mr. von Rensel here.
“Yes, sir. And I’ve called for the records on Galantz.”
“They’ll want to see those.”
“Yes. Another opportunity for a quid pro quo.”
He looked at her, nodding thoughtfully. But she could tell his mind was elsewhere, probably on what he was going to say to the detective. The doorbell chimed., “Action stations,” he said, then got up to let him in.
Mcnair came in, shucking a trench coat. He looked a little like a prizefighter in a three-piece suit, she thought, and she noticed that he frowned across the room when he saw Train.
The admiral was making introductions.
Mcnair looked at Train again, as if acknowledging the presence of a fed.
When they were finally all situated in the living room, the admiral kicked it off. “First, I should tell you that Commander Lawrence and I have talked about the nature and extent of my cooperation with you.”-
“Is Commander Lawrence acting in the capacity of your lawyer, Admiral?”
Mcnair asked immediately. Karen was amused by the way they talked as if she were not even in the room.
“No. Commander Lawrence is officially acting on behalf of the JAG. At the moment, I have not sought counsel. One of my main objectives for this meeting is to find out if I should seek counsel.”
Mcnair nodded, as if this was the most. reasonable position in the world.
Sherman leaned forward. I haven’t requested counsel because you have indicated that I am not suspected of any crimes. As I said, I’ve kicked this around with Commander Lawrence here, and she has advised me to cooperate fully with your, um, inquiries. I have a new development to bring to your attention, which is the other reason I wanted this meeting. But first I’d also like to get confirmation that nothing’s changed as to where I stand in this thing.”
Karen watched with interest. She was sure that Mcnair would have expected to conduct the meeting. It was interesting to watch the admiral turn the situation around.
“Admiral Sherman,” he said, “we’ve been over the pathologist’s report with respect to the estimated time of death.
We’ve verified where you were during the most likely window of opportunity. We’re satisfied that you were where you said you were, and that you could not have been in Ms. Walsh’s house at the presumed time of death. You are not a suspect, per se.”
“Has a crime been committed?” Karen asked.
�
��Perhaps we can let the admiral tell me what he wants to tell me, .
Counselor,” Mcnair suggested. “Then we can talk about a crime.”
Karen was about to argue when she saw the admiral nodding. She deferred.
Train stood by a window, remaining silent.
“Fair enough,” the admiral said. “As I believe you know, 1-we, actually, Commander Lawrence and myselfwent to Elizabeth’s house Tuesday night. I wanted to call on Dottie Klein. She and Elizabeth were very close. I also wanted to see the house. Somehow, this whole thing wouldn’t be real unless I could go there. That probably sounds pretty strange.”
Mcnair listened attentively, his notebook open.
“So, anyway, as Commander Lawrence has told you, I noticed something odd about the scene, or the scenario, perhaps. Beyond the business about the laundry basket. The slippers. I gave her those slippers as a present, but the fact was, she detested them. One of those awkward things, a present that didn’t work., But the key point is, she never wore them.”
“Yes,” Mcnair said. “commander Lawrence mentioned them. But if she never wore them, why did she keep them?”
“I’m guessing because they had been a gift from me.
Who knows? Like I said, one of those awkward things. But I was very surprised to see them down there. Dottie said it looked as if she had been wearing them. Then, of course, there’s the problem of her taking a laundry basket of clothes to the basement level. I can’t think of a single reason for her to do that.”
“Yes, sir,” Mcnair said. Karen thought she heard a trace of impatience in his voice. I’ve heard all this. Cut to the chase, please: Sherman seemed to catch it.
“Okay. Before I went over there, I came home first to change. I found something in my mail that was pretty upsetting.” He went on to tell Mcnair about the letter, what it said, about later going over to see Galen Schmidt, only to come home and find that his front door was unlocked, and that when he had gone looking for the letter before going to bed, it was gone.
Mcnair made some notes. “The door was definitely locked when you left, Admiral?” , “Yes. It’s set to lock itself You can take a look if you’d like. I would have to make a special point of unlocking it, which of course I never do. This is Mclean, but hardly a crime-free area.”
Sweepers Page 9
