by Don Brown
“His friend?” Paul exchanged glances with Jefferies.
“I wanted to keep a tight lid on this, sir.”
“Me too,” Paul said. “I wasn’t expecting a foursome.”
“Would you like me to take you to them?”
“Sure.” Paul turned to Jefferies. “I can always pull the plug on this if we need to.”
“He’s in the back. Right this way.”
“Very well. Lead the way, miss.”
The hostess led Paul and Jefferies to the back of the bar, where Mark Romanov sat in a booth with his back to the front of the bar. An attractive redheaded woman sat next to him.
“We’re fine, John,” Paul said. “She’s a JAG officer. She’s okay.”
“Your guests are here, Agent Romanov.”
Romanov turned and stood. “Good evening, Captain.”
“Evening, Mark. Meet Commander John Jefferies, my XO at Drone Command and OIC at Pax River when I’m not around. I brought John because he knows how to run the computers, and I don’t have time to get up to speed.”
“A pleasure, Commander.”
“You too, Agent Romanov.”
“And, John,” Paul said, looking at Jefferies, “I’d like you to meet Lieutenant Commander Victoria Fladager. She’s at Code 13 along with Caroline McCormick. Victoria knows what’s going on.”
“Evening, sir,” Victoria said.
“Commander.” John nodded.
“Have a seat,” Mark said. “You said it was urgent and you didn’t want to go into detail over the phone.”
“I think we have a break in the case.”
“A break?” Romanov raised an eyebrow. “I’m all ears.”
“Remember I told you that on the day of P.J. MacDonald’s funeral, which was the same day as Ross Simmons’s shooting, I had a drone in the air over the funeral?”
“Of course,” Romanov said.
Paul glanced at Jefferies. “Well, we kept that drone in the air a little longer than the funeral. I was worried about Commander McCormick, and we kept the bird in the air and followed her all the way to Lieutenant Simmons’s house.”
A pause. “You have my attention, Captain.”
“John,” Paul said, “start the laptop. I want Romanov to see this.”
“Aye, sir.” Jefferies pulled out the laptop and positioned it so Mark and Victoria could both see it.
“Okay, Mark,” Paul said. “We’re going to start with an aerial clip of the last two minutes or so when Caroline was driving on Fort Hunt Road, toward Simmons’s neighborhood. Pull the still shot up, John.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Okay, see? This is her car.” Paul pointed to the screen. “But down here, in the lower left, is Simmons’s condo. Now keep an eye on what happens.”
“Okay.”
“Roll it, John.”
“Aye, Captain.”
The car started moving south.
“Freeze it!” Paul said. “Look! See that guy coming out the back of Simmons’s place?”
“Whoa,” Mark said. “How’d you miss this before?”
“Because we were using a tighter angle and were only focusing on following Caroline’s car. Now watch what he does. Roll it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, look!”
“He’s making a run for it,” Mark said. “What’s he got?”
“The missing computer, I think,” Paul said.
“Of course,” Mark said. “Makes sense.”
“Yep. Now watch what he does.”
“He’s headed to that red car,” Mark said.
“Oh my gosh!” Paul said.
“What, Captain?”
“Freeze it, John.”
“What?”
“Why didn’t it hit me before?” Paul said.
“What, Captain?” Mark asked.
“That red Mercedes! I’m sure I’ve seen it before.”
“Where?”
“In the parking lot!”
“What parking lot?”
“At la Madeleine. Sunday morning when we met there. Why didn’t I put two and two together?”
“You saw the Mercedes in the parking lot?”
“I’m sure of it,” Paul said. “I pulled into the parking lot, then got out of the car to get the door for Caroline. The Mercedes pulled in right beside us.”
“Are you sure it’s the same Mercedes, sir?”
Paul looked away. “Let me think.” He gazed over at the large photograph of John Thompson. “Yes. An E-class. 350. I couldn’t swear to it, but I know it in my gut.”
The men looked at each other.
“Captain,” Mark said, “you didn’t happen to have one of those drones in the air this morning over either Commander McCormick’s townhouse or the Pentagon, did you?”
Paul shook his head. “I wish I did. I was pushing it to justify an official training mission over Arlington the day of the funeral. And of course, as far as I’m concerned, it’s legitimate to protect a United States naval officer.”
Mark seemed to think. “Of course, you know if we turn this over to civilian law enforcement we run the risk of violating posse comitatus.”
“How ironic,” Paul mused. “The very issue these JAG officers like P.J. MacDonald were wrestling with, we may have already violated.”
Commander Jefferies spoke up. “You mean using the military for civilian law enforcement?”
“It’s a close line,” Mark said. “That’s the whole reason they want Homeland Security to operate these drones over civilian airspace. But right now, frankly, I’m more concerned about catching this monster than I am about posse comitatus.” He looked at Paul. “You know, I’m going to need her help again, and I’m going to need your help again.”
Paul’s stomach knotted. “Look, I’ll be happy to help all I can. I’ll even see about getting one of these drones up in the sky to support the operation, posse comitatus or no posse comitatus.” He looked Mark in the eye. “But can’t we leave her out of it?”
Mark shook his head. “Captain, I know she’s special to you. But if we don’t get this guy, he might get her first.”
Paul crossed his arms. “Look. Caroline’s a real trooper. She has the mind of a JAG and the bravado of a Navy SEAL. But the difference is the SEALs get weapons, and we’re asking her to put a target on her back like a sitting duck. There’s only so much anyone can take. She only survived by the grace of God. She’s so determined to trap this guy I’m just afraid she’s going to get herself killed. I just wish there was another way.”
Silence. “Maybe there is another way.” Victoria spoke up.
Romanov looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“Captain.” Victoria looked at Paul. “Can we keep Caroline in the hospital a few days?”
“Well, that’s a medical decision. But as of today, I don’t think Dr. Berman wants to cut her loose too soon because of that concussion, even tomorrow. She’s stubborn and wanted to leave as soon as possible, but I think I could persuade Captain Guy to order her to follow doctor’s orders.”
“Do you have the keys to her townhouse and to her car?”
“No. But I took her purse to the hospital, and I think I could get the keys.” Paul glanced at Mark, then at Victoria. “Why do you ask?”
Victoria grinned. Her green eyes sparkled. “You know, I wasn’t always a redhead.”
Mark responded, “I’m not sure I follow you.”
“You do know that I was once a blonde, don’t you?”
Mark raised his eyebrow. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“How about this?” Victoria glanced at Mark, then at Paul. “Mark, how about if we plant a press release that Caroline has been released from the hospital, that she’s safely home, and that she will be reporting for duty tomorrow morning. I can go home tonight . . . In fact, Captain, if you can get me into Caroline’s place tonight, I can come out her door as a blonde in the morning, and we can get that drone in the air and see if this mag
got falls for the bait.”
The men exchanged glances.
Mark spoke up. “You want to play the role of Caroline?”
“Caroline’s not in any kind of condition to be out there right now, and if she’s willing to put her neck on the line, then so am I. P.J. was my friend too. We all want to know who killed him, and Ross.” She looked straight into Mark’s eyes with a steely determination that reminded Paul of Caroline. “Can you make it happen, Mark?”
Mark stared at her for a second, his face expressionless. “You really want to do this, don’t you?”
She met his stare. “Mark, you know me. I’ve had two of my shipmates at Code 13 murdered, and a third who was almost killed.” She paused. “I’m a naval officer, and this is my duty. This is personal.”
Silence.
Paul spoke up. “I think she means it, Mark.”
“Of course she means it,” Mark said. “I’ve known her a long time. Okay. If it means that much to you, I can make it happen.” He looked at Paul. “Captain, if you can get over to the hospital and get Caroline’s keys and then get Victoria over to her townhouse tonight, I can get that story planted tonight. And of course we’ll need drones in the air in the morning.” He took a swig of beer. “We’ll need to coordinate real-time communication between me and Pax River. If that sucker takes the bait, NCIS will be ready.”
Paul nodded, grateful that Victoria had stepped up to the plate, and grateful that Caroline might be spared, at least for another day. “Sounds like we’ve got some work to do.”
“Gentlemen, there is one thing,” Victoria said.
“What is it?” Mark said.
“I hate to put any kind of a spoiler on this, but you know if this gets out, they may accuse us of violating posse comitatus, don’t you?”
They all looked at one another.
“Look, it’s okay if you change your mind,” Mark said. “We understand. This will be a dangerous operation. Nobody’s asking this of you.”
“You misread me, Mark. I want to do this. Bad. But I wanted to put that bug in your ear in case I don’t survive this mission. If they say we illegally used military assets for a civilian law enforcement exercise, your response has to be this: First, we didn’t get civilians involved. This was solely an operation between the Navy and NCIS. Tell them you were given an opinion . . . As a matter of fact, I’m going to record my advice to you right now just in case.” She pulled out her iPhone and began to speak into it.
“Therefore, I have advised these gentlemen that the operation planned is legally executable under posse comitatus solely as a military exercise to protect military personnel from attack, presumably by an enemy of the United States. It is not being executed as a civilian law enforcement exercise. Very respectfully, Victoria Fladager, Lieutenant, Judge Advocate General’s Corps, United States Naval Reserve.”
She stopped, punched a few buttons on her phone, and looked up. “There. I’ve emailed my recording to each one of you. If something goes wrong, take it to Captain Guy at Code 13.”
The men glanced at one another. “Your courage is amazing, Victoria,” Paul said.
“Thank you, sir, but it’s not a matter of courage.” Her dazzling green eyes flashed his way. “It’s a matter of doing the right thing. I have to do this.”
The pause gave Paul a second to reflect on the bravery shown by this young officer.
“Let’s make it happen,” Mark said. “Victoria, maybe you should go with the captain. I’ve got to contact Navy Public Affairs to get this press release out, and I need to coordinate with Captain Guy.”
“That okay, Captain?” Victoria asked.
“Glad to have you,” Paul said. “You are a courageous woman.”
MAIN PARKING LOT
WALTER REED NATIONAL MILITARY MEDICAL CENTER
BETHESDA, MARYLAND
Victoria sat alone in thought in the backseat of the staff car. Captain Kriete and Commander Jefferies had headed up to Caroline’s hospital room to try to get her keys.
She had declined to join them, on the theory that her presence in the room, if Caroline was awake, would slow them down even more. Time wasn’t something they could waste.
She ticked off the things she needed to do to prepare. If they could get Caroline’s keys, she would need to have the captain stop by her house to get her uniforms and other personal items. Then she would need to stop by Walgreens or Giant Food and purchase a box of hair color.
She had sworn to herself that she would never go blonde again. Mark had never seen her as a blonde, and it appeared now, if Caroline McCormick were any example, that P.J. preferred blondes.
A wave of guilt washed over her for even thinking the thought. Yes, she had experienced a foolish, silly, cat-like jealousy when Caroline arrived on the scene at Code 13. She had wanted to put her claws in the woman and scratch her face and stow her on the first plane back to California.
But truthfully, in just a few short days, she had come to admire the woman in ways never imagined. Her courage. Her commitment. Her patriotism. Her love for the Navy. The way she had carried herself with a serene sense of sublime dignity at P.J.’s funeral, even though deep down, Victoria knew, Caroline’s heart was being ripped out.
No wonder P.J. saw something in her.
But P.J. was gone, and in the bittersweet aftermath, a new and strong resolve had descended over the officers at Code 13.
In a strange way, Victoria and Caroline had already become friends, baptized in a sudden and unexpected fire of love, petty jealousy, death, sorrow, fear, anger, patriotism, and unwavering determination.
Why was Victoria’s life traveling at the speed of light?
She heard two electronic beeps, saw the car’s headlights flash, then looked up and saw Captain Kriete and Commander Jefferies approaching.
The doors unlocked. The front doors opened.
“Any luck, sir?” she asked as each of the senior officers got into the front seat.
“Like taking candy from a baby,” Captain Kriete said. “She just nodded her head and pointed to her purse. The nurse said she was drugged up for pain, and Dr. Berman came in when we were leaving the room and said they’re going to hold her at least another day. So we’ve got a little bit of working room before she’s up and causing trouble for us.”
“But not much time,” Victoria said.
The captain started the car, and as he began to drive through the hospital parking lot, his cell phone rang.
“It’s Mark Romanov,” he said. “Hang on. I’ll put him on speaker.” The dial tone blared twice over the Bluetooth as Kriete hit the Answer button. “Mark, I’m with Jefferies and Lieutenant Fladager. What have you got?”
“It’s on, Captain.” Mark’s voice filled the inside of the car. “Navy Public Affairs just called me back. Starting at the top of the hour, Fox, CNN, and other outlets will be going with our press release.”
“Excellent,” Captain Kriete said. “We’re coming up on two minutes to the top of the hour right now. Let me flip on Fox Satellite Radio and see if they run it.”
“Good enough, Captain. Call me back if you don’t hear it.”
“Roger that.”
The click, click, click of the signal light broke the silence as the car came to a halt approaching Rockville Pike Road.
Captain Kriete turned on the satellite radio just as the car swung out onto the pike.
“And now, this is a breaking Fox News alert from Washington. The U.S. Navy has just issued a press release concerning the status of the naval officer who was the victim of an attempted shooting this morning at the Pentagon. According to Pentagon spokesman Rear Admiral Kirk Foster, the officer, Lieutenant Commander Caroline McCormick, sustained only minor injuries and was treated and released earlier today. Commander McCormick has returned home and is expected to return to her duties tomorrow.
“Still no word on the identity or the motive of the shooter, and the Department of Defense is cooperating with local law enforcement in an ongoin
g investigation. So good news from the Pentagon that the officer injured in a shooting attempt earlier has been released and is expected to report to her duty station tomorrow. And now back to our regular programming.”
Captain Kriete reached down and turned off the radio.
Silence followed as the car moved down the road.
“Well, I guess when Mark Romanov says he’s going to deliver, he delivers,” Captain Kriete said.
“Sounds like it’s game on, sir,” Jefferies said.
“Okay, Captain, if you can swing me by the drugstore to pick up some items, and then by my apartment to get my things, I’ll just borrow Caroline’s keys and become the next Caroline McCormick.”
“Sounds like a deal,” Paul said.
CHAPTER 36
LIEUTENANT COMMANDER CAROLINE MCCORMICK’S TOWNHOUSE
NEAR THE INTERSECTION OF HUNTSMAN AND SYDENSTRICKER ROADS
OXFORD HUNT
WEST SPRINGFIELD, VIRGINIA
TUESDAY EVENING
Victoria, her locks now having been transformed from auburn to blonde, sat alone on a simple sofa in a strange townhouse that she had never seen before.
It wasn’t that the townhouse looked strange in appearance. Nothing about the color scheme, artwork, or furniture selection proved odd. Under different circumstances the place might have seemed homey.
The strange sensation, rather, was driven by the surrealistic realization that she was in another officer’s home, without the officer’s knowledge or permission, on the very day the other officer had a brush with death from an assassin’s bullet. Now she was about to disguise herself as the other officer, possibly taking the assassin’s bullet herself, to try to trap the worthless animal who had declared open season on JAG officers.
The imminent danger she would soon face should have been at the forefront of her mind, considering what had happened to three of her colleagues at Code 13 over the past few days. Two had been murdered and a third shot.
She should have been shaking. She should want to puke. For tomorrow morning there loomed the strong possibility she would meet the same fate as P.J. MacDonald and Ross Simmons.
Still, all she could feel was numbness. Her numbness was driven by a strange irony.
