by Don Brown
“Hopefully the replacement gets the message that it ain’t a good idea to say there’s anything okay with this contract,” Phil said.
“You mean like these bozos in our own warehouse get the message?” Sal asked. “You bop off one, and another does the same stupid thing.”
“That may be true, Sal, but our idiots stand to profit a lot more from being stupid than some JAG officer. They get away with it, and they make more in one haul than a JAG officer makes in a year.”
Sal took a draw from a big, fat cigar. “That’s true. We need to make sure the Navy stays in line.”
“We will, Sal.”
“But we also need to make sure our handpicked senator stays in line.”
“Like I said, Sal, we’ve been working on him.”
The godfather looked at him. “Well, working him ain’t good enough. I want guarantees this bill never sees the light of day.”
Phil flicked his cigarette out into the East River. The wind lit into it and blew it over the water, out to the right toward the United Nations Building, before it splashed down. “A guarantee is a big thing, Sal. What do you want me to do?”
“Here’s what I want you to do.” Sal’s voice grew resolute. “I want you to get the good senator and that congressman friend of his . . . What’s his name? Milkey Mack or somethin’ like that—”
“I know who you’re talking about. Mackey Milk, I think they call him. Definitely light in the loafers.”
“Whatever. Anyway, I want you to get ’em both and bring ’em right up here to the warehouse, and I want to have a chat. They’ve gotta understand. Either they kill the bill, or it ain’t gonna be pretty. And by the time I’m done with ’em, I don’t think we’ll have anything to worry about. Ya got that, Phil?”
“Got it, Sal.”
CHAPTER 25
LIEUTENANT COMMANDER CAROLINE MCCORMICK’S TOWNHOUSE
NEAR THE INTERSECTION OF HUNTSMAN AND SYDENSTRICKER ROADS
OXFORD HUNT
WEST SPRINGFIELD, VIRGINIA
MONDAY MORNING
Caroline stepped through her front door, dead-bolted it behind her, and then walked over to her front window. The black Taurus off to her left, parked twenty yards or so away from the corner, was NCIS, and two armed agents sat inside. Two more armed agents were sitting in a blue Chevrolet right around the corner and out of her view.
Mark Romanov had wasted no time in pouncing on her idea, despite Paul’s objections on grounds of chivalry, and she appreciated Mark’s cooperation and his fast action in getting NCIS protection for her. The guy was on the ball. Victoria may have had the hots for P.J.—who wouldn’t?—but if it worked out for them, Mark would be an outstanding catch.
Of course, again, he could not compare to P.J. Who could?
Her mind raced to another thought.
Why, with NCIS protection watching her twenty-four hours a day for the foreseeable future, did she feel so vulnerable?
Was she crazy to have volunteered for this?
Of course she was crazy—crazy in love with P.J.
Why couldn’t they have just gotten married and stayed in California? They had talked about pooling their money and buying a small bungalow up on Mount Helix.
But the Navy.
The Navy!
Like P.J. had, she both loved it and hated it. She loved the adventure. She loved the sense of service. She loved the call of duty. And she served for the love of country.
But she also hated it. She hated the way it separated families. She hated the long hours of loneliness it caused.
But as it had with P.J., her love for the Navy won out over her hatred for it. The Navy was all she knew. It was the only thing he knew. No job in any private law firm, regardless of big salaries and fat bonuses, could ever compare.
P.J. gave his life in service to his country, and if necessary, she would do the same.
She turned, walked over to her sofa, and sat. She felt herself beginning to tremble. A moment later, the tears started again.
Thank God for the privacy of her four walls. Thank God no one could see her in such an emotional state, for a commander in the Navy could never show such vulnerable emotions in public.
“Why, God? Why me?”
She got up, walked over and got a tissue, dabbed her eyes, and looked out the window again at the NCIS car down below.
Why had God put her here? Why had he allowed her to endure such passionate love and then such passionate loss? And now, why was he placing her in the line of fire?
Actually, perhaps it wasn’t God who was putting her in the line of fire. After all, she had volunteered to make herself a target to trap P.J.’s killer.
But then again, maybe he was putting her in the line of fire after all.
Her mind wandered back to a Bible study she had attended as an undergraduate at the University of North Carolina. Something they had discussed from the book of Romans. She remembered the chapter, but not the specific verse.
Was God trying to tell her something?
She walked into her bedroom and found the Bible sitting on her nightstand. When she picked it up, somehow the feel of the leather binding against her palms made her realize she needed to pick it up more often. Something, or Someone, told her, in a voice that was silent yet clear in her mind and heart, that she needed to call out to God for protection, especially now.
She sat on the side of the bed, opened the old Bible to the book of Romans, and found chapter 8.
“Now, where was it?” she asked aloud, and then, seeing it, she said, “There!”
At first she read it silently.
But again a thought entered her mind from out of the blue. There is power in the spoken word.
She decided to read aloud, starting with verse 28.
“ ‘And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified. What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?’ ”
She closed the Bible, and when she did, a sudden calmness overcame her.
She looked at the wall clock. It was time.
She walked into her living room, turned on the flat screen, and switched to Fox News.
It had all been arranged.
Fox would televise the Pentagon’s daily press briefing on the topic of the safety of U.S. military personnel in the DC region.
The trap would be set.
On the screen, the familiar visage of longtime Fox anchor Tom Miller appeared.
Caroline sat back down on her sofa and upped the volume.
“This is Tom Miller in New York, where we are about to join the daily Pentagon press briefing, live, where we expect Rear Admiral Bill Cameron to address a number of topics.
“But the topic that seems to be on everyone’s mind at the moment is the murder of two U.S. Navy JAG officers, Lieutenant Commander P.J. MacDonald and Lieutenant Ross Simmons, both of whom were assigned to the Navy’s secretive and prestigious Code 13, which is part of the Office of the Judge Advocate General at the Pentagon.
“Not only have condolences been pouring in from all across the country, but now we’ve had members of Congress raising concerns about the Pentagon’s ability to protect its own officers.
“Still others are asking whether this could be terror-related, or even somehow related to a proposed drone project the officers were working on.
“And as we await the briefing from Rear Admiral Cameron, we bring in Fox News military analyst, retired U.S. Marine Colonel Sam Beckett.
“Colonel, welcome to you.”
“Good to be here, Tom.”
“So what’s going on here, and what do we expect to hear from Admiral Cameron?”
“Tom, that’s a good
question. What we know is this: We have two dead U.S. Navy JAG officers who, as you pointed out, were both assigned to the same division of the Navy’s Office of the Judge Advocate General at the Pentagon.
“The division they were assigned to is a secretive, selective division of the JAG, that is, Code 13, which bears the rather innocuous title of the Administrative Law Division. And up until now, no one would have heard of it unless they were involved at the top levels of the government and the upper echelons at the Pentagon. And that was by design.
“Now, I’m not NCIS and I’m not law enforcement, but the fact that we have two JAG officers assassinated just days apart, both working at a selective, secretive division of the Pentagon, suggests that these terror attacks against our Navy personnel are not coincidental but were, for whatever reason, coordinated.
“The question is, why target two officers from a small and heretofore unknown and secretive JAG division in the Pentagon?
“Well, no one can say for sure, and I’ll be interested in hearing what Admiral Cameron has to say. But as you know, I have a few contacts in the Pentagon, and here’s what I’ve been hearing.
“Both officers were doing work on a proposed military acquisitions project known as Project Blue Jay. Now, that project is for a large drone purchase the Navy may be placing before Congress. At this point I don’t know all the details, but there is yet another common element between these two officers.”
“Colonel,” Miller said, “what about rumors circulating that these killings are terror-related?”
“Good question, Tom. Well, certainly these are acts of terror, in one way or another. But if by terror-related we are talking about Muslim-Islamic terror, which is the biggest threat to international peace in the world, my sources haven’t been able to confirm that. Frankly, I’m not convinced Islamic fascism is involved. It’s more likely domestic terror.”
The screen cut back to Tom Miller. “Thank you, Colonel. Sorry to cut you off, but we see that Rear Admiral Bill Cameron is entering the Pentagon press briefing room. And this is a surprise. It looks like Admiral Cameron is being accompanied by another flag officer. Who’s that?”
Colonel Beckett interjected, “That’s Vice Admiral Zack Brewer, Judge Advocate General of the Navy.”
Caroline smiled at the sight of Zack Brewer on the screen.
“Yes, of course,” Miller said. “How could I have not recognized him? Admiral Brewer is one of the most recognizable figures in the U.S. Navy. But seeing him in an unusual setting threw me off. And now, let’s listen in as Admiral Cameron steps to the microphone.”
The camera zoomed in on the two-star U.S. Navy Admiral, wearing a summer white uniform with black-and-gold shoulder boards and with a bevy of colorful medals and service ribbons above the pocket on his left chest.
On the bottom of the screen flashed the caption “RADM Bill Cameron, Pentagon Spokesman.”
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. As you know, I am Rear Admiral Bill Cameron, currently serving as Pentagon press secretary. I’m honored to have with me today Vice Admiral Zack Brewer, who, as many of you know, is the Judge Advocate General of the Navy.
“Admiral Brewer will make a brief statement, and then I will also make a brief statement and follow up with your questions.” Cameron looked at Brewer. “Admiral?”
The Judge Advocate General stepped behind the podium, nodding and sporting a confident smile. He was a hero to the JAG community, and even before he spoke a word, his very presence brought a sense of comfort to Caroline.
“Good morning,” Brewer said. “As Admiral Cameron said, I will be brief. As many of you know, the U.S. Navy JAG Corps has, within the last few days, lost two of its best and brightest officers to senseless and inexcusable acts of murder. We don’t know the details of who, what, or why. At least not yet. I’m confident that we will know, however, and I’ll leave that to Admiral Cameron to discuss.
“But I just wanted to say a few words in tribute to these officers, because the nation needs to know who they were. Lieutenant Commander P.J. MacDonald was the best of the brightest. He served his country and he served the Navy with honor and distinction. I wish we had a thousand others like him, but he was one of a kind.”
“Yes, he was, Admiral.” Caroline wiped a tear from her eye.
Brewer continued, “Lieutenant Ross Simmons was a bright rising star in the JAG Corps. Ross was one of the top officers in his Justice School class, and he won the prestigious New York City Bar Association Trial Advocacy Award, which is given to the winner of the Navy Justice School’s trial advocacy competition.
“Ross Simmons possessed unlimited potential, having just been deep selected for lieutenant commander ahead of many of his peers.
“I have expressed my deep condolences to the families of P.J. and Ross, and expressed our great sorrow for their loss. But today I am announcing that both Lieutenant Commander MacDonald and Lieutenant Simmons are being awarded posthumously the Meritorious Service Medal for outstanding meritorious service to the United States, to the U.S. Navy, and to the JAG Corps.
“I will be presenting the medals to the families of these officers in a more private and intimate setting in the near future. But today I wanted to take this opportunity to acknowledge their service before the nation and to thank them, and thank their families, for their service.”
Brewer looked at Rear Admiral Cameron. “Thank you, Admiral.”
Cameron stepped back to the podium as Brewer stepped down. “Thank you, Vice Admiral Brewer, for those comments,” he said. “And let me add that on behalf of the Chief of Naval Operations, the Secretary of the Navy, the Secretary of Defense, and of men and women in uniform in every branch serving this country all over the world, we are all grateful for and salute these two officers, Lieutenant Commander MacDonald and Lieutenant Simmons, and we offer our condolences to their families, with our assurances that they will not be forgotten.”
Cameron paused, slipping on a pair of reading glasses. “Now, I know a lot of questions have arisen concerning the deaths of these officers. The Secretary of Defense is aware that questions also have arisen concerning the safety of our sailors and troops.
“But we want to assure not only the American people but also our men and women in uniform, particularly those serving here in the National Capital Region, that their safety is of our utmost concern.
“As far as the attacks on these officers go, we have been working with NCIS every day, and of course the JAG Corps has been cooperating with NCIS and also local law enforcement, and we expect the killers to be apprehended.
“I have time for just a few questions.” The admiral paused, then pointed. “Yes. Karl.”
“Admiral, Karl Rogers, Associated Press. We’ve heard that both of these officers were working on the same contract. Could you comment on that?”
Cameron glanced at Brewer, then said, “Karl, that is accurate. Other questions?”
Multiple hands were raised.
“Yes. Lisa.”
“Admiral, Lisa Rogers, Reuters. Sir, we’ve heard these officers were both working on a legal opinion for that contract that might pave the way for a mammoth-sized drone acquisitions project for the U.S. Navy. Could you comment on this, and will the Navy now assign another officer to this project? And are you concerned about the safety of officers working on this project?”
“Wow, Lisa. That’s about ten questions wrapped into one.”
Laughter.
“Which one would you like me to answer first?”
“Whichever one you would like, Admiral.”
Cameron sipped from a glass of water. “Okay. Yes, your sources are correct. It’s no secret that the Navy has been considering an experimental rollout of a drone fleet to protect our coasts against potential adversaries and terror threats. Both officers were in fact working on a legal opinion for a drone project. So yes, they were working on the same project. Yes, we will assign the project to another officer, and while we are always concerned about the safety
of all our personnel, we’re confident in the ability of NCIS to keep our officers safe.”
Rumbling in the gallery. “Yes. Mary.”
“Mary Warren, Washington Post. Admiral, has the Pentagon issued any warning to U.S. personnel about terror threats in the wake of these attacks on the two officers?”
Another sip of water. “At this point, we have no evidence to suggest these attacks were coordinated terror attacks. So we want our people to be cautious and vigilant as always, but not to overreact. Bill?”
“Bill Scheiffer, CBS News. Admiral, you say you have no evidence to suggest these killings are terror-related. But don’t you find it beyond coincidental that we have two officers murdered from the same division working on the same project?”
Cameron nodded. “Bill, I see and share your concern. But no, at this point, we aren’t aware of any terror threat or coordinated attack.”
“Quick follow-up, sir,” Scheiffer said.
“Sure.”
“Are you at liberty to give the name of the JAG officer who will now be handling this project?”
Cameron hesitated. “Sure. Why not? The new JAG officer assigned to the project is Lieutenant Commander Caroline McCormick. And we expect that she will complete the JAG phase of the project and will do an excellent job.”
“Admiral . . .”
“Admiral . . .”
“Sir, just out of curiosity . . .”
Caroline cut off the television. She had heard all she needed to hear.
Her name had just been broadcast to millions of people all over the world. Soon, most of the world, perhaps even the killer, would know.
The question had been a plant and the answer deliberate.
The bait had been set on the trap.
And the idea had been hers.
She got up off the sofa and walked into the kitchen.
A lone bottle of pinot noir sat in a rack atop the fridge.
She reached for it, took it out, and brought it up to her face. Though she liked her red wines at room temperature, the wine bottles remained cool. The glassy exterior of the bottle, chilled by the air conditioner, felt refreshing rolled against her cheeks.