"Just the usual one-damned-thing-after-another. So, what's up?"
"Drug bust."
"Fastow, again?"
Sharpe shook his head. "Nope. She's either scared straight or lucky. This is some bright boys in Mr. Diego's division."
"Dealers or users?"
"Maybe both. I'm going to contact the local special agents to see if they can help run down where our boys are getting their stuff. Commander Kwan told me to 'keep you informed' since you're the legal officer." Sharpe rendered a rigidly correct salute. "I hereby inform you, sir."
Paul casually returned the salute. "Thanks."
"My pleasure, sir. Anything to make your days brighter and more interesting."
"I've had a bit too much of that, lately. How are you at making them darker and duller?"
"Hi." Jen knocked on the hatch to Paul's stateroom. "Hello, Sheriff."
Sharpe inclined his head and touched his brow. "Nice to see you, ma'am."
"Likewise. What're you two plotting?"
"Mr. Sinclair was just complaining he hasn't had enough legal stuff to keep him busy lately."
Paul snorted derisively. "That tells you what a judge of character Sheriff Sharpe is. See you later, Sheriff."
Sharpe moved to leave, but Jen raised a hand to forestall him. "Can you hang around a minute? Something kind of funny happened that you might help me with."
Sharpe nodded. "Of course, ma'am."
"Have you worked with special agents much? The guys in the Naval Criminal Investigative Service?"
Sharpe frowned, but nodded again. "Yes, ma'am. Mr. Sinclair and I were just talking about that, as a matter of fact. I'm a cop, they're cops."
"I just had a long meeting with some of them. About the Maury."
"Your ship?" Sharpe eyed her. "They interviewed you about that?"
"They didn't call it an interview. They just said they wanted to meet with me. But . . . it was weird." Paul noticed Sharpe's expression grow more intent as Jen continued. "First they made a lot of small talk. Then they finally gave me something to sign before we really talked about the Maury. They said it was all routine and no big deal. I told them I was an engineer and I didn't sign anything without reading it."
"What'd it say?"
She glanced from Paul to Sharpe. "The part I really focused on was where it talked about waiving my rights to counsel. I asked them what that was about and they said it was all routine. Then they started asking why I thought I needed a lawyer." Sharpe began frowning. "I don't like that kind of pressure. I gave them back their form and told them I wouldn't sign it. They didn't get upset, seemed not to care, but they started asking a bunch of questions."
"What kind of questions, ma'am?" Petty Officer Sharpe seemed more concerned every time Paul looked at him.
Jen shrugged, her expression aggravated. "Why I'd gone aft before the explosion. I told them I'd been ordered to do that. Then they asked who ordered me and I said the chief engineer. I told them it was all in the official statements I'd provided. Then they wanted to know if I had any witnesses to that. Witnesses! Of course not. Everyone who witnessed it is dead."
She shook her head. "They asked why I'd gone aft, and I told them about the power coupling acting up. They asked about records on that, and I pointed out they'd have been in the engineering logs which were destroyed by the accident."
Paul let his puzzlement show. "But all they'd have to do is examine the power coupling. That'd show what was wrong with it."
"No, it wouldn't." Jen bit her lip. "It showed . . . shows . . . what is wrong with it. After the shock of the explosions that ripped through the Maury. I never got to the coupling before that happened. I don't know if what's wrong now is what was wrong then."
Sharpe seemed to be chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Anything else, ma'am?"
"Just a lot of unconnected stuff. How was my relationship with my father, was work on the Maury really stressful, how things were going with my boyfriend." She glared at Sharpe. "Like I was going to talk about things like that with them! Then they asked if I had any ideas how someone could've caused an explosion like that if they'd wanted to—"
"Did you answer that one, ma'am?"
Jen frowned, then shook her head at Sharpe's question. "No. I just said it would've taken a tremendous amount of overloads to cause that strong an explosion."
"And they asked you about your love life, ma'am?"
"Yes. I told you they did. And I told them it was none of their business."
Paul looked over at Sharpe. "Sheriff, why were they asking Ms. Shen questions like that? What are they driving at? You seem to know."
Sharpe licked his lips, his face uncertain for the first time Paul could remember. "Yes, sir, I know what they're driving at. At least, I know what I'd be driving at if I asked questions like that, and tried to get my subject to waive rights to a lawyer."
"What?"
"Sir, I'd like some time to look into it."
Jen leaned toward him. "Sharpe, you've got some idea. Tell me."
"Ma'am, I'd really rather—"
"Tell me. What's up with those guys?"
"They think you were involved in some way. In the explosion."
Jen's face twisted in confusion. "Involved? What— ?" The confusion shifted, transforming into rage. "They think I caused it?"
"Maybe, ma'am." Sharpe took a step back, as if worried what Jen might do.
Paul shook his head, unable to believe what he'd heard. "Sheriff, why the hell would they believe that?"
Sharpe eyed Jen with concern as he spoke. "Meaning no disrespect to Ms. Shen, sir, and not implying I believe this is right, but what it sounds like is they think maybe someone caused the explosion, because if I've heard right they're ruling out other causes? So I'm guessing what they're thinking is that maybe somehow someone caused the explosion. Since Ms. Shen reached safety just before it blew, they're looking at her. From what Ms. Shen says they were asking her it looks like they're also trying to find a motive."
"Why would they reach that kind of conclusion? That's insane!" Paul felt anger flaring within him and fought it down, knowing he'd have to keep Jen from blowing her own top.
Sharpe bit his lip. "Some guesses, sir. If they can't find a mechanical or software reason for the explosion, they'll look for a human agent. Something must have caused it. If they think they've ruled out hardware, that means they'll look for a sailor. Someone who deliberately or accidentally screwed up. And anyone who escaped while everyone else bought it." He looked straight at Jen. "Ms. Shen, it does sound to me like they're investigating whether you did it."
Instead of erupting into further anger, Jen sat still, her red face growing pale. "OhmyGod. Paul? How can they?"
Paul grabbed her shoulder. "They can't and they won't. Sheriff, can you talk any sense into those guys?"
"They won't be doing this on their own, sir. They'll be following the lead of someone higher up."
"It's ridiculous! No one who knows Ms. Shen could ever believe it."
Sharpe nodded. "Yes, sir. I agree with you, sir. Ms. Shen would've had to have gone totally insane to do something like that, and she sure looks to me like she's always looked. I'll talk to them. No guarantees, you understand. They don't work for me, and some special agents look on masters-at-arms like me as uniformed Deputy Dawgs. But I'll try. Even if they don't listen to me, I'm sure whatever they're finding out will show them they're barking up the wrong tree this time." He paused. "I'm real sorry, Ms. Shen. I know how this must feel to you. They're trying to do their jobs. They've got to check out all the angles. Sometimes cops just go off on the wrong tangent."
"Why would they pick this tangent?"
"Like I said, sir, they've looked at possible causes for the explosion and come up empty-handed so far. Now they're looking at other possible causes."
"This isn't a possible cause. It's impossible."
"I agree, sir. I'll talk to them." Sharpe paused on his way out of the hatch. "By the way, Ms. Shen, you di
d right not signing that paper. Don't sign anything else without a lawyer checking it."
Jen stared at him, looking like she had when Paul had first seen her after the explosion on the Maury. "I won't."
"Get them to shut this down, Sheriff. I can't believe they're doing this to her."
"I'll try, sir. No promises, but like I said, I'm sure when they've looked into it a bit they'll realize Ms. Shen couldn't have done something like that."
* * *
Fogarty's felt oddly subdued for a hail and farewell party. Lieutenant Sindh moved among the officers of the Michaelson's wardroom, chatting politely. With Jen standing duty at the barracks where the Maury's crew had been billeted, Paul sat alone in a corner and mostly watched. Kris Denaldo's on duty on the ship, and I don't really feel like getting happy drunk with anybody else, and I don't feel like getting morose drunk at all. And Sonya, God bless her, isn't the partying type. I think she's only having this hail and farewell because it's traditional.
Sindh stopped by. "I probably won't see you when I leave tomorrow, Paul. I need to get off the ship early to catch my shuttle, so I'll depart during morning quarters."
"I'm sorry to hear that. You deserve a proper send-off."
She laughed. "All the officers lined up at the quarterdeck saluting as I march grandly off to a bright, shiny new future? That's not really my speed, Paul."
He didn't know whether or not it was the drink he'd had, but Paul blurted out his thoughts. "You were always there for everyone else, Sonya. I'm glad I got to serve with you."
"And I with you." Sindh made a small smile. "There was a song, long ago. Part of it says 'hello, hello; good-bye, good-bye; that's all there is.' We meet, we go on. Say my fondest farewells to Jen."
"I will."
Sindh made to go, then looked down at Paul with a mischievous smile. "I expect to be invited to the wedding."
"If there is one, you'll be there."
Another smile, this time seeming reassuring, and she went on to talk with a gaggle of ensigns. Paul had another drink, watching her and thinking of the other officers who'd already come and gone since he'd joined the Michaelson. I'm becoming a veteran of the crew. Why do I still feel inside like I'm the new guy?
Someone plopped down next to him. Paul looked over, startled, at Val Isakov.
Isakov hoisted her own drink. "You look lonely."
She obviously favored outfits off-duty that showed off what she had to offer, which in Isakov's case was quite a bit. Paul felt a curious mix of attraction and repulsion as he looked back at her. "Not really."
"Are you dating your invisible friend?"
"No. Jen's on duty tonight."
"Ah, too bad. No one to warm your bunk." Isakov's hand snaked out under the table and she drew one finger across Paul's leg. "Must be hard."
His lower spine liked the sensation, but Paul's brain didn't. He twitched his leg away. "I'm happy."
"Did I say you weren't?" She laughed and took a drink. "Lighten up. It's a party."
"Sure."
Isakov leaned over, her breast pushing against Paul's arm, and held the position for a moment. "See you around," she whispered. Then she pulled away, laughed again, and walked over to another group of officers.
Paul stared after her. He put down his drink, stood up, found Sonya and said farewell again, then left and walked back to the Michaelson.
Kris Denaldo was sitting in the wardroom, eating popcorn and watching a movie on the big display. "Hey, early night."
"I didn't really feel like partying." Paul grabbed some coffee and sat down on the other side of the wardroom.
Denaldo eyed him. "I don't bite. At least, that's what I'm told. And if I tried biting you, Jen'd come charging in here and throw me halfway to the Ort Cloud."
Paul grinned. "It's not you."
"Crazy Ivana?"
"You mean Isakov? How'd you know?"
"Just a guess." Kris shook her head. "Women know."
"Well, whatever the hell Isakov is up to, I don't want any part of it."
"Good boy. Truth to tell, I'm not sure myself, yet. But I wouldn't fix my brother up with her."
"And I'm going to be stuck working with her for more than a year. Great. I already miss Sonya."
"I missed Sonya before you did." Denaldo took another bite of popcorn and chewed for a moment. "Just keep Crazy Ivana at arm's length. Literally, if necessary. We'll invite Jen over for dinner some night so Isakov can see what she's messing with."
"I'm not sure that'd scare her off. Isakov keeps talking about loving excitement and stuff."
Kris grinned. "Messing with Jen's boyfriend would be way too much excitement for me to risk! How's Jen doing, by the way? I didn't get a chance to talk to her when she stopped by yesterday."
"Okay, I guess." Paul tossed his empty drink container into the recycling bin. "She's really haunted by what happened."
"I'm not surprised. I bet I'd be an emotional basket-case in her place."
"And she's having some funny problems with investigators. People looking into what happened to the Maury." Even with Kris, he didn't want to discuss the full details. It was just too outrageous, too sick to think Jen had played any role in what had happened to her ship.
"Really? Engineers?"
"No, uh, Navy cops, I guess you could say."
"Did you talk to that lawyer of yours about it?"
"Lawyer?" Paul looked at her with real puzzlement. "I have a lawyer?"
"Yeah, that hottie who helped nail Silver. What was her name?"
"Carr. Alex Carr. Commander Alex Carr. Why do you and Jen keep trying to imply there's something going on between her and me?"
Kris grinned. "Because Jen's a bit jealous and I'm trying to cause trouble."
"You and Isakov?"
"Whoa! Low blow. I'm not going to go Crazy Ivana on you. But, seriously, if there's something you don't understand about what the cops are asking Jen, why not ask Carr? Can't hurt."
"Good, idea, Kris. I'll skip lunch tomorrow and stop by her office." Maybe a full-bore JAG commander can get those special agents to back off.
* * *
Paul paused in front of the door with A. Carr, CDR, USN, JAGC stenciled on it. After Silver's court-martial, Commander Carr said if I ever needed legal help, I should check with her. This sure seems to fit. He knocked, annoyed at his own nervousness.
Alex Carr looked up as Paul entered. "Lieutenant Sinclair."
"Yes, ma'am. Commander, I need some advice and maybe some assistance." Why does she seem reserved? Maybe I just caught her at a bad time.
"Something on your ship?"
"Uh, no, ma'am. It's about the Maury, about—"
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you, ma'am, but—"
"No." Carr gestured decisively. "I'm sorry I can't help you. I can't even talk about it."
Paul stared at her, puzzled. "Ma'am, I just wanted you to know some NCIS agents have been talking to a friend of mine—"
"Lieutenant Shen." Carr looked away, the quick smiles Paul remembered as being characteristic of her completely absent now. "I know. Paul, I can't discuss it."
He felt a chill inside. "But . . . ma'am? What's going on?"
She covered her forehead and face with one hand, her elbow resting on the desk. "I can't discuss matters in litigation. I can't discuss cases I'm involved with."
Litigation? Cases? "I don't . . . Commander Carr, please."
She lowered the hand and looked straight at him. "You'll know within a few hours."
"I want to know now! Dammit, I'm as dedicated as any officer in the Navy and I've proven it! I went on the Maury and helped patch her together and got pieces of what was left of her crew on my hands! What's going on, Commander?"
Commander Carr stood up, looking steadily at Paul. "A military magistrate has ordered the arrest and confinement of Lieutenant Junior Grade Jen on charges pertaining to the deaths of sixty-one crewmembers and extensive physical damage to the USS Maury. Happy, Mr. Sinclair?"
<
br /> He knew his jaw had fallen open. He knew he was just staring back at her. But he couldn't say anything.
"Mr. Sinclair. Sit down."
He sat automatically, barely noticing the concern on her face.
"I'm very sorry. I'm already involved in the case. I can't discuss it with you."
Paul finally found his voice. "Ma'am, it's impossible."
"That'll be for the court to determine."
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