Hostage

by Don Brown

  As they crossed the famed old bridge, the vista of Washington unfurled before them, the Lincoln Memorial to their right, Foggy Bottom and the quaint shops of Georgetown along the riverbank in the distance. Diane turned to look over her shoulder at the soil of her native Virginia.

  Her home.

  She gazed at the green rolling hills behind her with thousands of white crosses planted almost like stars in a green Milky Way. Arlington Cemetery. Beneath a solitary cross, somewhere among the others, lay the body of Vice Admiral Bobby Colcernian, United States Navy.

  If he could see me now, his only daughter, about to meet the president of the United States.

  "Diane?" Zack caught her staring over her shoulder.

  She flicked a tear from her eye.

  Zack pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. "You gonna be okay?" He smiled and gently took her hand as the Crown Vic and the Taurus crossed over the bridge into the District of Columbia. The cars pulled to the curb at the base of Constitution Avenue, just in front of the Lincoln Memorial, where three Metropolitan Police Department squad cars waited.

  She smiled at Zack as the makeshift motorcade began rolling up Constitution Avenue toward the Washington Monument. "I've just been thinking about Daddy. How I wish he could have been here for this." She handed him back the handkerchief. "And I've also been thinking about that poor girl in North Carolina." She looked out the window to her right. A few dozen people milled about in front of the Vietnam Memorial. Some touching it, others dropping flowers at its base.

  She studied Zack for a moment, glad for the strength of his hand around hers, for the understanding in his eyes. The cars stopped in traffic, then slowly started rolling again. "Here we are, about to meet the president of the United States. Probably hailed as heroes, while in North Carolina, there's a grieving family whose daughter was murdered by a bullet that was meant for me."

  Zack stopped and pulled her around to face him. "Hey. Don't do this to yourself." She met his gaze, unable to look away from the compassion she saw there. "That bullet wasn't just meant for you. I was a target too. You had no control over this, Diane. Don't feel guilty. Okay?"

  She didn't answer.

  "Okay?" Zack raised his eyebrows expectantly, then gave her his handkerchief again.

  "Okay." She attempted a smile. Something about his reassuring tone made her feel better.

  "Besides, if anybody's at fault, it's me. I'm the one who insisted that we go to the game."

  "Zack, you didn't know -- "

  He cut her off. "Look, we're getting ready to meet the president. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Cameras will be there. Terrorists around the world will see the images. We need to show our strength. Our resolve." Though his eyes were warm, his expression was dead serious. "I know we're both feeling a lot of things right now, but we've got to put on our best game face. The navy expects it. The nation expects it." He paused and gave her arm a squeeze. "Understand?"

  In that instant, he reminded her of her father. The greater the pressure, the greater his strength. She drew in a deep breath. Her father would expect no less of her. Neither did Zack. "I understand."

  When the car reached the Washington Monument, the driver, an enlisted legalman from the JAG's staff, turned left onto 17th Street NW, skirting the outside perimeter of the South Lawn of the White House.

  "Two blocks to the White House," Zack said.

  "Can you believe this is happening, Zack? We're actually going to the Oval Office."

  "After what we've been through with this court-martial" -- he released her hand -- "I can believe anything. Besides, once you spread your charm and that million-dollar smile around the Oval Office, it will never be the same."

  "Right thing to say, Lieutenant Silver Tongue." She smiled at him, then glanced out the right rear window at the green lawn of the Ellipse behind a wrought-iron black fence. The car turned right and halted for the small contingent of marines and uniformed Secret Service personnel carrying M16s.

  A marine first lieutenant, wearing a crisply starched dress blue uniform, white gloves, and white cap, rendered a sharp salute at the car bearing the judge advocate general of the navy; then he approached the Taurus, shooting another salute as the driver lowered the windows.

  "Good morning, sir and ma'am," the marine said. "I'm Lieutenant MacGregor, White House Security Detail."

  "Morning, Lieutenant," Zack said.

  "If the two of you could please step out of the car for a moment for some standard security clearances, we'll have you on your way for your appointment with the president."

  "By all means, Lieutenant," Zack said.

  Diane exited the car behind him, then realized she was standing on the South Lawn of the White House. Am I really here?

  "May I examine your identification cards, please?" The naval officers complied; then the marine lieutenant said, "And now, gentlemen, if you could follow me."

  The marine led the JAG, his aide, Zack, and Diane to a small, high-tech security station on the perimeter of the South Lawn, where they stepped into an X-ray booth. Two uniformed Secret Service agents nodded their heads at the marine lieutenant, who motioned for the four naval officers to step out of the security shack and back onto the lawn.

  "Admiral, if you and your party would follow me, please." The marine officer, resplendent in dress blues, was trim and well built. His voice was almost robotic.

  "By all means, Lieutenant." The judge advocate general motioned for his aide, Zack, and Diane to follow him. With the marine leading, the JAG officers walked toward a small door near the hedgerows on the west side of the White House, where they were met by a navy captain, heavy gold cording hanging over his shoulder.

  The marine lieutenant saluted, then said, "Sir, presenting Rear Admiral Stumbaugh and his party."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant." The navy captain returned the junior officer's salute. "I've had the pleasure of meeting the admiral and the commander on a previous visit to the White House. I'll take it from here, Lieutenant. You are dismissed."

  "Aye, sir." The marine captain clicked his heels, pivoted 180 degrees, and marched away as the navy captain flashed a smart salute to the judge advocate general.

  "Captain Hancock, we meet again," the JAG said to the captain.

  "A pleasure as always, sir." The captain then turned to Diane and Zack. "Good morning, Lieutenants. I'm Captain Jay Hancock, naval attache to the president."

  Diane's eyes caught Zack's.

  "A pleasure to meet you, sir," Zack said, shaking the captain's hand.

  "A pleasure, sir." Diane extended her hand.

  "What's our itinerary, Captain?" Admiral Stumbaugh asked.

  "If you'll follow me, I'll explain as we walk to the Oval Office," Hancock said.

  The Oval Office.

  "Lead the way, Captain," the admiral said.

  Diane and Zack followed the attache through an interior corridor, then along a covered walkway adjacent to the West Wing.

  "As usual," the attache said as they walked, "the president is running a tight schedule. This morning he will meet with Lieutenants Brewer and Colcernian privately in the Oval Office, and then we will all move out to the Rose Garden for a brief ceremony."

  "Did you say he wants to meet with the lieutenants privately, Captain?" Admiral Stumbaugh's voice projected a tinge of disappointment.

  "My apologies for a poor choice of words, sir. Both you and Lieutenant Commander Foster are also invited into the Oval Office. By privately, I meant no press will be in the Oval Office meeting. Of course, the president wants all four of you at his side both in the Oval Office and in the Rose Garden."

  The attache checked his watch as the group approached a reception area. "We're right on time." A gray-haired woman sat behind a desk. Four muscular men with shifting eyes and icy looks flanked an ornate door behind her. The men wore dark business suits, closely cropped haircuts, and small earpieces with wires reaching to their suits. Two stood guard to the left of th
e door; the other two, hands clasped, stood to the right.

  "Hello, Captain Hancock." The woman's eyes twinkled. "I'm Gale Staff, the president's appointments secretary. And you must be Lieutenants Colcernian and Brewer. I recognize you from television."

  "And this is Admiral Stumbaugh and his aide, Lieutenant Commander Foster," Hancock added quickly, as if to ensure that the navy's senior JAG officer wasn't totally overshadowed by two lowly, albeit widely recognized lieutenants. Hancock turned to Stumbaugh. "Admiral, you remember Mrs. Staff?"

  "Ma'am." Stumbaugh gave a gentlemanly nod.

  "Yes, I remember the admiral too. Good to see you again, sir," Gale Staff said with a smile. "You are right on time, and if you'll wait for a moment, I'll see if he's ready."

  The secretary picked up her telephone. "Sir, Admiral Stumbaugh, Lieutenant Brewer, Lieutenant Foster, and Lieutenant Colcernian are here." A brief pause. "Yes, sir." She looked at the attache. "Captain, the president is ready."

  Diane's heart jumped. I'm not really here.

  "Admiral, Lieutenants, follow me, please." Hancock stepped to the large ornate door, opened it, and announced, "Mr. President, Admiral Stumbaugh, Lieutenant Brewer, Lieutenant Foster, and Lieutenant Colcernian."

  Diane followed the Admiral and Zack into the spacious Oval Office. The tanned, silver-haired man she had seen on television a thousand times rose from behind his huge mahogany desk. Two other men stood with him.

  "Admiral, Lieutenants, please come in," President Mack Williams said in his native Kansas twang. Then, smiling, he crossed the room to meet the officers just inside the doorway. He wore a dark pinstriped suit and red tie, looking every bit as powerful and charismatic as he did on TV.

  As the president shook the admiral's hand, Diane noticed two more burly men in dark suits, arms crossed in front, flanking the inside door.

  "And you must be Lieutenant Colcernian," the president said, turning to Diane.

  "Yes, Mr. President." His handshake was firm. Yet undeniable warmth radiated from the man.

  "Thank you for coming," he said, as if she'd had a choice when summoned to the White House by the president himself.

  "It's an honor, Mr. President."

  "Admiral, Lieutenants, I'd like you to meet Secretary of Defense Erwin Lopez." The president gestured to a middle-aged Hispanic man standing a few feet to his left. The secretary of defense shook hands with all the officers.

  "And this," the president announced, "is our White House chief of staff, Mr. Wally Walsh."

  A balding man who, like the president and the secretary of defense, was also a fixture on national television, stepped forward and offered his hand.

  So this is Wally Walsh? The mastermind behind the president's political fortunes. Diane flashed her trademark modeling smile at the almost sloppy-looking man with the reputation for being a political genius.

  "Everyone, please have a seat." The president gestured toward a group of chairs facing his desk. When they were seated, he lowered himself to his seat, then continued. "I invited you here to personally thank you for your service to our country. I know this was a challenging court-martial, but your performance and the verdict were a victory for America in the war on terrorism."

  "Thank you, Mr. President," Zack and Diane said, almost in unison.

  "You know" -- the president's eyes met Diane's -- "there was initially a heated debate in this very office over who should prosecute this case." Looking amused, the president scanned all the officers' faces. "My attorney general felt the justice department should prosecute. He meant well, but he thought our JAG officers were too inexperienced." The president exchanged raised eyebrows with the secretary of defense. "But Secretary Lopez here felt that the military should prosecute. And Admiral Stumbaugh assured me that he could find the right officers to do the job." He grinned. "And he did."

  "Thank you, sir." Diane said. "But in all honesty, Lieutenant Brewer deserves the credit. His performance was outstanding. I'm just honored to have been on the team."

  The president leaned back in his chair, smiled, crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow at Zack.

  "Mr. President," Zack said, "Lieutenant Colcernian is naturally modest, which is one of the many qualities I admire about her. In all honesty, I doubt we could have won without her. And I have to credit Admiral Stumbaugh for detailing her to the prosecution team."

  The president burst out laughing. "Okay, okay," he said, holding up his palms. "I can see the navy is still the same kiss-up society it was when I was a Navy JAG officer."

  That brought obligatory chuckles from everyone in the room, except for the two Secret Service agents, whose hard faces did not flinch.

  "I'd like for you to know, Lieutenant Colcernian," the president continued, "I agree with Lieutenant Brewer. I watched you on television. Your opening statement was magnificent."

  Diane felt herself blushing. "Thank you, sir."

  "And you, Lieutenant Brewer" -- the president's gaze shifted to Zack -- "your reputation as a crackerjack trial lawyer preceded you."

  "Thank you, Mr. President," Zack said.

  The president took a sip of coffee, exposing a cuff link bearing the presidential seal. "I understand that you're the only JAG officer in history to get a defense verdict at the Newcomb murder trial at the Naval Justice School."

  Diane grinned as Zack's gaze dropped to the floor. Here it comes.

  "I got lucky," he said, looking back at the president.

  "Son, there's nothing lucky about that. That's the toughest moot court assignment I've ever been exposed to." The president took another sip of coffee, then leaned forward. "My apologies. Anybody care for coffee or anything to drink?" He lifted his mug emblazoned with a "Fighting Jayhawk" logo.

  A few responded, and two white-jacketed navy stewards poured steaming black coffee from porcelain pitchers. Diane and Zack declined.

  "Anyway," the president continued, "I remember that case vividly from my days there. I got stuck with the role of defense counsel and, like everyone else, got my rear end skewered." He chuckled. "I'll bet the prosecutor in your case must've felt pretty bad to be the only prosecutor to have lost." Another chuckle.

  Zack's gaze dropped again.

  Should I tell him that I was the prosecutor, the only prosecutor in the navy ever to lose that case, and that I hated Zack's guts for three years because I wanted to win that award for my dying father?

  "Thank you, sir." Zack blushed.

  I've got to bail him out.

  "Mr. President," Diane said, "I happened to have witnessed Lieutenant Brewer's performance in that case."

  The president caught her eyes and smiled.

  "It was truly magnificent," she said.

  "Well, I think you are both magnificent," the president said as Zack gave Diane a thank-you wink. "And if there's anything I can ever do for either of you, all you have to do is call my appointments secretary. I'll see to it that you get her private number."

  "Thank you, sir," Zack and Diane said, almost in unison.

  "I hate to interrupt, Mr. President," Wally Walsh said, "but we're all due in the Rose Garden in three minutes."

  "My trusty chief of staff makes sure I'm in front of the media at the appointed time." The president stood and motioned for his seated guests to rise. "If you all will follow me."

  "Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States." A voice boomed over the White House loudspeaker as two plain-clothed Secret Service agents pushed open the door leading outside into the Rose Garden.

  Applause and the clicking of several dozen cameras were heard as Diane and Zack followed the president to the Rose Garden. The late afternoon sunlight of early March bathed the floral panoply of daffodils, tulips, and a variety of red and yellow rosebuds in the world's most famous garden.

  The president stepped to the mahogany podium with the presidential seal on the front. Diane, Zack, and the others formed a straight line behind the president. The battery of television cameras and microphone-toting re
porters reminded Diane of the sharklike media circus that she and Zack had endured during the Olajuwon court-martial. A fleeting queasy feeling twisted her stomach.

  "Please be seated," the president said to the press.

  "Today, we mark the recognition of another significant victory in the war against terrorism." Diane squinted under the barrage of flashbulbs as the president continued. "The convictions rendered in the court-martial against navy chaplains Olajuwon, Reska, and Abdul-Sehen send the message that our country will root out and aggressively prosecute terrorists, no matter who they are and no matter where they are.

  "At this time, I'd like to ask Navy JAG officers Lieutenant Zack Brewer, Lieutenant Foster, and Lieutenant Diane Colcernian to step forward." The president turned and motioned for Zack and Diane, who walked forward and stood by the president, one on either side. Cameras clicked and flashed.

  "For their professionalism in waging this important legal battle on behalf of the government," the president said, "I am pleased to announce that these officers are today being awarded the Meritorious Service Medal."

  A round of polite applause followed from the press.

  "Normally this award is given by the secretary of the navy through the service member's commanding officer. But today I've gotten special permission from Secretary of the Navy Arthur Hardison and Captain Glen Rudy -- these officers' commanding officer -- to personally decorate Lieutenants Brewer and Colcernian for their professionalism in service to our country."

  A chuckle rose from the gathering -- as if the president had to get the secretary of the navy's permission to do anything.

  "At this time, I'd like to ask the secretary of defense to step forward."

  Erwin Lopez moved forward to stand beside Diane. He held an open black velvet box. Inside, two pink and white medals lay on the velvet. He handed the president a citation, which he began reading aloud:

  "Lieutenants Zack Brewer and Diane Colcernian, Judge Advocate General's Corps, United States Navy, for your outstanding professionalism in the performance of your duties to the naval service, in serving as trial counsel in the case of United States versus Lieutenant Commander Mohammed Olajuwon et al., a case of extreme importance not only to the naval service, but also to the United States in this country's continued battle against international terrorism" -- he paused -- "on behalf of the United States Navy, it is my honor to decorate each of you with the Meritorious Service Medal. On behalf of a grateful nation, please accept my congratulations."