"Not that way…" Do I really want to bilge Commander Moraine this way? But if she's doing what they say… is she doing that? I personally watched Jen get court-martialed and almost convicted on evidence that didn't prove anything. Is this that same sort of thing? How can I know? Paul became aware the special agents were watching him, waiting for the rest of the sentence. "Commander Moraine is usually pretty nervous. But," something made him add, "I've had some pretty experienced people say that's just because she's worried about her job, about not messing up."
"Do you work with Commander Moraine?"
"She's my department head. My immediate superior."
"Does she mess up a lot?"
Paul almost laughed at the question, but once again saw it had been asked seriously. "It's hard to tell. I've only been working for her a few days. I can say I've had worse superiors based on what I've seen so far."
"What about Pullman? Does he seem unusually nervous?"
"No, he-" He's so confident about everything. Brad never seems fazed by anything. "Not at all," Paul concluded.
The special agents exchanged a glance that Paul couldn't interpret, then Connally spoke with exaggerated care. "Paul, we'd like your help in investigating this."
"I'm answering your questions as best I can."
"Yes. You are. What I mean is that we need to take some steps to try to identify whether Pullman or Moraine is our guy. Steps on the ship itself."
"Herself," Paul corrected automatically.
Connally looked amused. "Herself. What I'm saying is we need you to actively help the investigation from the inside of the wardroom."
"Actively?" Paul eyed her warily, not liking what he was hearing.
"Yes." Connally leaned forward again. "What we'd like you to do is wear a wire. A tap, you know? And get into a conversation with Moraine and one with Pullman and bring up some subjects we'll provide you with. That may give us the answers we need to focus the investigation tightly on a single suspect."
Paul suddenly became aware he was holding his breath. They want me to spy on my fellow officers. Good God, how can I do that? He stared at the two special agents, knowing they could see his feelings clearly in his expression. "I can't do that."
"It's important."
" I can't do that. Those guys trust me. We work together. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for months on end. How can I go in there and spy on them? It'd be a… betrayal of trust. Their trust in me."
Special Agent Connally nodded in acknowledgement of Paul's words, her own expression understanding. "We know it's very difficult. But you have to consider what's happening."
"What you think is happening."
"No, Paul. We know, for certain, that espionage is taking place. I can show you the evidence for that if you swear not to reveal it, as well as the sort of material that's been compromised. Things like the capabilities of your weapons, your sensor arrays, your ship's internal layout, and contingency plans for open warfare in space if that erupts. You talked about betraying trust. Someone is selling you, and every other officer and sailor on your ship and every other ship, down the river. Literally selling you. We know money has changed hands."
Paul sat silently for a moment. "If you know money has been paid, then you must know who got it."
"No. We wish we could trace that. But international currency transfers have gotten very good at laundering money. If we can get enough specific information to get the right warrants, we can dig in the right places and find what we need to know. But if we try to dig now, we risk alerting the object of the investigation. Money launderers are very sophisticated. Lots of big-time criminals and assorted dictators need those kinds of services."
Paul nodded, then looked challengingly at the special agents. "I've heard our own intelligence services make use of that, too."
Connally shrugged and Gonzales made a noncommittal gesture as he answered. "I wouldn't know, Lieutenant."
"You're just a cop."
"Right."
"We have a cop on the Michaelson. A real good one. Ivan Sharpe."
This time Gonzalez nodded. "I met him when our team searched Lieutenant Silver's stateroom."
"I didn't know you were in on that."
"We lead busy professional lives, too," he responded dryly. "Your master-at-arms seemed very capable. But he's not in on this."
"Why not?"
"It's above his level. So far."
Quiet fell in the small room, Paul sitting silently and the two special agents watching him as if waiting for his next question. Why me? Haven't I given enough blood to the Navy already? Am I the only officer on the Michaelson who could possibly do this? He finally spoke again, openly stating his question. "Why me?"
Connally looked at Gonzales, who reached into one pocket as he replied. "The short answer is we called you because your commanding officer said you were the best one for the job. He told us you could be counted on." The agent held out an actual envelope to Paul. "This is for you."
Paul opened the envelope, fumbling at the unfamiliar task and ripping the envelope almost in half. Inside was a single sheet of paper, which Paul saw was on the same letterhead as the innumerable official e-letters he'd seen generated by the Michaelson 's systems. Instead of a computer font, though, the paper held a few lines of handwriting. Paul. I know this is asking a lot. It's a lousy job. I can't order you to cooperate. But I am asking you to do so. This is very important. I know I can count on you to do what needs to be done and do it right. The signature was Captain Hayes's. Paul read the brief note through twice, then blew out a long breath and gazed at the two special agents. "Do you know what this says?"
Gonzales shook his head. "Your commanding officer said to give it to you if you expressed serious reservations."
Paul turned the paper over in his hands several times. "I need to talk to someone else."
"We'd really prefer you didn't."
The tone made Paul smile. "Meaning I can't?"
"Basically, yes."
"I still need to think it over."
"Understood. Just please don't take too long. This guy, whether it's Pullman or Moraine, is doing damage every day they're free."
"Are you so certain it's one of them?"
Connally gave him a demanding look. "Lieutenant, if we wanted to railroad somebody, we wouldn't be going to you to help us generate evidence. Pro or con. Right? We wouldn't need you if we were certain who was guilty."
Paul looked away. "I'm getting married soon."
"Oh? Congratulations."
"To Lieutenant Jen Shen. Do you recognize the name?"
Connally had the grace to flinch, while Gonzales just nodded, his lips a thin line. "Yes. This isn't that kind of thing."
"How can I know?"
The special agents exchanged glances again. Gonzales finally answered. "All I can do is promise you it isn't. And point out that your commanding officer thinks it's real."
Paul nodded reluctantly. "That's true. But I need to think. I'll be in touch."
"Before long?"
"Before long."
The two special agents escorted Paul back to the entry area. "Ask for one of us when you come back," Connally advised.
Paul held up his data pad. "Why not just scan your cards into my pad so I have your contact info?"
"We don't want to do that. We don't know who might be looking at your pad besides you."
That took another moment to sink in. This spy, if he or she was in the Michaelson 's wardroom, might be going through Paul's own files. Paul's own data pad and personal files. Looking for things to sell. He felt a hot rush of anger at the idea, but just nodded abruptly to the two agents and left.
As he walked back toward the ship he remembered something. Earlier conversations in which he and other officers on the Michaelson had wondered how the SASALs could've been so confident at the asteroid that the American ship wouldn't actively move to stop them. As if the SASALs knew exactly what our rules of engagement were.
&nbs
p; Maybe they had known.
Chapter Five
He spent the rest of the day trying not to look distracted. Commander Moraine chewed him out for not having provided enough files to her and for wasting time on legal issues ashore instead of doing his primary job. Captain Hayes had apparently provided that as a cover story for Paul's absence from the ship. Paul refrained from telling Moraine that he'd gladly let someone else do the legal stuff if he could find anyone else naive enough to take the job. But he figured he was stuck with it until he transferred off of the Michaelson.
He also, hopefully, refrained from looking at Moraine as if she were a spy. Which he felt she had to be, if there was truly an officer on the Michaelson committing espionage.
In the late afternoon, he passed the captain in a passageway. Hayes nodded casually as Paul flattened himself against the bulkhead to let the captain pass. "How'd that business go this morning, Paul?"
"Fine, sir."
"Keep me informed."
"Yes, sir." Once I know what I'm going to do.
Thankfully, he had one more night before duty would keep him on the ship for twenty-four hours. He went back to Jen's quarters at the end of the day, his mind whirling but focusing on nothing.
Jen knew him perhaps better than anyone else by now. She took one look at his face and gestured to the couch/bed. " Now what?"
Paul sat gingerly, trying to sort out his feelings and trying to figure out how to broach the subject. "There's something I need to talk to you about."
She nodded slowly, her face a mask. Watching her, Paul realized Jen could be misreading his hesitation. "It's not about us. Not that way."
"Your orders? Mars?"
"No. That hasn't changed."
"Then what is it?"
He looked down at the deck, knowing he should maintain eye contact but not able to do so. "Jen, I've been asked to do something, a professional something, that really bothers me. I wouldn't even be considering it, except my CO wants me to do it and I trust him and… and, hell, I don't want to let him down."
Jen gave him an arch look. "Gosh, you're so noble, Lieutenant Sinclair. I'm gonna haveta marry your sorry hide to keep you out of trouble, ain't I?"
Paul managed a smile. "I'm not sure that'd work, but I'm more than willing to try." Speaking quickly, he outlined what he'd been told and what was being asked of him while Jen listened without interruption, her expression unreadable. "They told me not to talk to anyone. But I couldn't not talk to you about it."
"Damn straight." Jen's face flushed and her voice came out a little ragged. "They have the nerve to ask you to help them? After what they tried to do to me? After trying to railroad me into prison for what happened on the Maury?"
"They know I'm marrying you. I told them."
"You're lucky they didn't accuse you of being a spy as soon as they heard that! Tell me you're not actually thinking of going along with this."
"Jen, I don't want to! But Captain Hayes is a good officer and I really think a good man. He's personally asking me to help. And if those agents are right, if somebody's selling our secrets, then we're all being put at greater risk."
"You can't trust them!"
"Do I know that?"
"They want to use you, Paul. They think they can, but they don't know you."
"No, they…" Paul's voice trailed off. They know… just like the SASALs knew. Admit it. You think they had our rules of engagement. The SASALs knew they could shoot up that asteroid and we couldn't do anything against them.
Whoever gave them those rules of engagement helped cause the deaths of those settlers.
"Paul? Hello. Lieutenant Paul Sinclair, please report back to your brain."
Paul blinked, focusing back on Jen. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking of something."
"Obviously something important," she prodded.
"You know what happened last time my ship was out. And you know how the SASALs acted. Like they didn't need to worry about what we'd do. Maybe they knew they didn't need to worry."
Jen paused, her mouth twisting as she thought it over. "Possible," she finally conceded.
"We've been trying to understand how they'd take the risk of opening fire. But if they knew it wasn't a risk…"
"Okay. I agreed it was possible." Jen let aggravation show. "That makes it personal, doesn't it?"
"Yeah."
"But… what does Sheriff Sharpe think?"
"He's not involved. He's leaving the ship real soon anyway."
"One more reason not to play, if you ask me. You are asking me, right? This isn't some roundabout way of trying to get me to think you've heard me out so you can go off and do whatever you've already decided to do, is it?"
He glared at her. "Jen, I don't deserve that. I've always been straight with you."
She sat still for a long moment, then nodded. "You're right. Do I have final say?"
Paul thought about that. "No."
"You're too damned honest for your own good, Sinclair."
"I can't let someone else decide this for me. But I can't make that decision without the input of a woman I not only care very deeply about but also admire as an officer."
Jen quirked an eyebrow at him. "Who is she?"
"Jen…"
"Herdez?"
"Yeah, right. Me and my old XO."
" Our old XO." Jen made a face, staring into a corner. "I wonder what she would think."
"She'd tell me to help NCIS, Jen. You know that."
"Yeah. All professional, all the time. Make sure you're looking out for…" Jen paused, her head down, then looked up and over at Paul. "You know what? Thinking about Herdez and all cleared things up for me. I want you to cooperate with them."
Paul was sure his amazement showed. "Cooperate with the NCIS agents? You mean that? Why?"
"Because of that trust thing. You know how Herdez worked. If she trusted you, she'd keep giving you more to do. Because she knew you'd do it right. Well, I trust you. I trust you to be involved with this. Because I know if they try to do to someone else what someone tried to do to me, you won't play along. You'll make sure the truth comes out."
Paul looked away, shaking his head. "I'm not perfect, Jen." And I'm tired of being the guy other people count on to do the right thing. Why can't somebody else do that? Especially when the right thing isn't so obvious. "What about the guys I work with? I guess just about all of the ones you knew are gone, now. But, still, we're talking about me spying on my fellow officers."
"Two of them, from what you told me."
"Yeah, just two. But it's the act, not how many people are directly affected by it. Would you ever trust another officer if you knew they'd spied on other officers in their wardroom?"
She came close and knelt to look into Paul's eyes. "That'd depend on who and why. Really. Two things, Paul. First, make sure you're protected. Even if you do this, your role doesn't have to be known. Confidential informant, isn't that what they call them? And if all this stuff does is point them at the right target, they won't need you to nail that target. Second thing, I've lost a lot of shipmates. Don't flinch. I'm the one who saw the Maury 's crew gutted. They died because someone played games with them. Some bureaucrat who wanted to score points by moving a program forward and didn't care what might happen to the sailors on the Maury or any other ship. I hate that guy, whoever he or she is. And if there really is somebody selling important classified info to the other side, then they're playing the same kind of games and I want them stopped. Just like you do, because their little game might've caused the deaths of those settlers, and could cause the deaths of others. Including you or me."
"Yeah, exactly that had already occurred to me. But even if there's a chance the one who's accused might be innocent?"
" You get in there and you make sure their rights are protected, and then if the evidence you help find points that way, we'll know. We'll also know if it doesn't."
" Why do I have to do it?"
Jen eyed him for a long moment, her fac
e close to his, then suddenly grinned. "You big dope. I told you this would happen when you stood up for that idiot Wakeman. I told you everybody would start counting on you to 'do what's right.' You didn't believe me. I was right, wasn't I? Admit it."
"Jen-"
"Admit it."
"Jen-"
"I was right and you were wrong," Jen declared in a mocking sing-song voice.
He wanted to stay mad, wanted to stay frustrated, but started laughing. "Am I ever going to get to be right?"
"I'll think about it." She leaned forward and kissed him, letting the gesture linger. "Too bad you have to get back to your ship in the morning. I could do with a full day of you."
He held her shoulders lightly, smiling back at her. "Having tonight isn't anything to complain about."
"Yeah." She leaned back, letting his hands drop. "First we need to eat."
"Fogarty's?"
"No. Let's just grab some sandwiches from a take-out."
"Okay." Paul paused as they walked toward the nearest take-out, looking at Jen. "Why does this stuff always seem to be my responsibility?"
"Because you keep volunteering."
"I could say no."
Jen shook her head, looking rueful now. "No, you couldn't. Not you."
"You could tell me not to."
This time she cocked her head and regarded him for a moment. "Could I?"
"If anyone could, you could."
"But I won't. Because every time you've taken a stand, Paul Sinclair, you've been right."
He gave her a rueful look back and walked on silently for a while, thinking that the paths of duty shouldn't lead to an assignment on Mars without Jen.
Special Agent Connally smiled encouragingly. "You made the right decision."
"Yeah. What do I have to do?" Paul felt uncomfortable in the sealed room, as if he were plotting against his friends outside their knowledge. He'd managed to get another officer to cover his duty on the ship for a few hours because he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. Of course, he'd had to lie about why he needed to be off of the ship, but his fellow officer hadn't noticed. Apparently Paul was a better liar than he'd thought.
"You have to do two things." Connally leaned back and pressed her fingertips together. "First, stay alert for unusual activities by either person of interest. Unusual for you people on the ship, that is."
Against All Enemies ps-4 Page 10