And another thing—didn’t she give this Santini guy some instructions before you left Philly?”
“Yes, she did. I wanted the entire Shop Seventy-two rigger force interviewed. She told him it was a matter of first priority.”
“So call the Shop Seventy-two people; see if the NIS has been around.
It’s been a couple of days. You can do this right now. See if Santini is sloughing it off or actually doing it. Let me know what you find, and maybe we’ll go see Oh-six B or the EA, give him a data dump on the progress of our little alliance with the NIS.”
After Summerfield had gone back in his office, Dan hesitated. He really did not want to go checking on Grace Snow, especially behind her back like this. He certainly could not call over to the police headquarters and talk to this Vann guy until she had completed her mission over there. But if the captain was right … He decided he would pull the string on the Shop 72 interviews. He got the shipyard operator on the phone and asked for the Shop 72 foreman’s office. The foreman was not available. He asked the secretary if the local NIS office had come in with a request to interview the people in Shop 72 in the matter of the Hardin case.
“Hardin case?”
“You know, the guy they found in the battleship.”
“Oh yeah, I heard about that. The dead guy. The riggers are all freaked -about it. Ghosts and stuff in the battleship. But there’s been nobody interviewing anybody here.”
He thanked her and hung up. He was once again tempted to call Santini himself, then decided against it.
Grace had to do that. If the NIS headquarters weenies were stonewalling things, let Grace unearth that fact; then he’d see what she did with it.
She seemed to be too sincere to be part of it, no matter what Summerfield thought. And, he decided suddenly, he did not want to make an enemy of Grace Snow, no matter what game the mandarins wanted to play. Hell, he liked her.
after having to take a number and wait in line for nearly an hour, Grace finally managed to get a copy of the Hardin file. She had called Vann’s office before leaving 614, but the secretary had said the captain was not available. But as she was leaving the building with the report, she ran into Vann as he was headed back into the Municipal Center. He stopped short when he caught sight of her coming out of the building.
“Miss. Snow,” he said. “Back already?”
“I tried to call you, Captain,” she said. She indicated the folder under her arm. “I forgot to take a copy of the Hardin report back to the Pentagon with me. But I did want to ask you something.”
“What’s that, Miss. Snow?” he said, looking around at the four o’clock crowd on the steps. “And should we go inside?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Captain. We need to speak to Mrs.
Hardin, formally. We wondered if you could help us with that?”
“You got a mouse in your pocket, Miss. Snow? Who’s this ‘we’?”
“I told you. NIS and Opnav—that’s the Navy headquarters staff—are cooperating on this investigation.
“We’ means Commander Collins and I.”
“Hold it, Miss. Snow. I guess I wasn’t paying attention about how this deal is set up. In my experience, the feds don’t usually team up to work a homicide investigation with another agency. Homicide cops don’t share, Miss. Snow—they either work it or shop it.”
Grace thought for a moment. “How about this, then: Let me set up a meeting with you and Commander Col lins and myself, at the Pentagon.
We’ll brief you on the arrangements and what we have so far, which admittedly isn’t much. But I think you’ll see why we need to go back to Mrs. Hardin.”
Vann shrugged. “Okay, talk to my secretary.” Grace thanked him and then said she had to hurry to catch the Metro; she walked off before he could change his mind.
When she looked back toward the Municipal Center, he was nowhere in sight.
When she arrived back at the 614 office, she nearly ran into Snapper, who was standing just inside the door, by the yeoman’s desk.
“Miss. Snow,” he announced. “You’re just in time to go up to the front office. I’ll show you where it is. You can leave that folder if you want. I’ve gotta double-lock the door—the safes are still open and I’m the last guy out. The Commies, you know.”
He waited for her to step back out of the office, and then he disabled the cipher lock and key-locked the door. He filled her in on the way up the hall.
“There’s a genuine flap in the making. Apparently, the Hardin case is going to be featured on the national network news tonight, and the EAs severally want to know, What’s happening’ now, comma, baby? Young Commander Collins, the famous detective and Communist sympathizer, awaits your presence.”
“I can hardly wait,” Grace said. She followed Snapper up the E-ring hallway. He was humming the Marine Corps hymn and marching to the beat of an inaudible drummer. Grace had to hurry to keep up. They arrived at the front office to find a cluster of captains in the reception area. Snapper handed Grace over to Dan, who introduced her to the executive assistants, Captains Manning and Randall, who greeted her cooly. Summer field was there, as well as another captain from CHINFO. She noticed that the two EAs, distinctive in the gold aiguillettes draped over their left shoulders, stood apart from the others and indulged in a subdued conversation. Summerfield stood next to Dan, who was asking her if she had obtained the report.
“Yes, I “did,” she replied. “And I saw Captain Vann.
Goodness, so many captains.”
“He agreed to help us?” Dan was keeping an eye on Admiral Carson’s door.
“Not exactly. He wants a meeting.”
“Why?” asked Summerfield, speaking for the first time.
“He doesn’t understand why NIS and Opnav are doing a joint investigation. And I think he wants to be put into the picture. He knows the Hardin family personally, and he’s probably the only way we’re going to be able to get anywhere near the mother, Angela Hardin.”
Dan was about to say something when Admiral Carson’s door opened and a tall, distinguished-looking officer stepped out. He was wearing service dress blues, with the single broad stripe with two gold stripes above that of a three-star admiral on each sleeve. Grace had never seen so much gold on one uniform; the admiral who ran NIS was a one-star. She detected a sudden squeeze of tension clamp down over the room. All the clerical staff shot to their feet and the officers went silent in midsentence as the DCNO looked around, nodded absently to everyone in general, and went into his office, closing the door behind him. Grace felt the officers in the room relaxing slightly. They acted as if they were a bunch of small-town parish priests admitted momentarily to the presence of a cardinal of the Roman Curia.
“That was Vice Admiral Layman, the DCNO Plans and Policy,” Dan whispered. “Exceedingly large Kahuna.”
“Why are we whispering?” Grace asked innocently.
Summerfield chuckled as Dan groped for an answer, but then Admiral Carson, in his shirtsleeves, appeared in his doorway, waving everyone into his office. The two EAs went first, followed by Summerfield and the CHINFO captain. Dan brought Grace in with him and introduced her to Admiral Carson, who gave her a friendly handshake and then asked everyone to sit down. The admiral returned to his desk.
“Okay, everybody,” he said. “Subject is the escalation of press interest in the Hardin case. Captain Smythe here from CHINFO will bring us up to date.”
Smythe opened his folder and announced that CBS News was going to feature the story at the national level this evening. To Smythe’s knowledge, the story had been reported already, but not featured. CHINFO assumed the other two networks would follow suit.
“What’s been released?” interrupted Randall, speaking out loud for the first time. Grace realized that it was a measure of the EA’s power that he could question peremptorily the CHINFO briefer when an admiral had established that he was running the meeting. Smythe looked over at Randall and went into his spokesperso
n routine.
“The Navy Department is conducting an investigation into the matter; the Navy Department does not ordinarily comment on investigations in progress. We can confirm that a body was discovered in the engineering spaces of USS Wisconsin, that the victim has been identified as It. (jg) Wesley Hardin, formerly of Washington, D. C., and that the Navy Department is treating the matter as a homicide. That’s it.”
“Did you have to say he was from Washington?”
Randall persisted.
“Yes. You have to understand, Captain Randall, our statements at this level are often determined by what the media already knows. They had Hardin’s name, the fact that he was from Washington, D. C., and even that his body was found in a mummified state. If they already have it, we often give it back to them in our own statement; makes us look more forthcoming.”
“Okay,” said Admiral Carson. “Commander Collins, any ideas of where their information is coming from?”
“Several possible sources, Admiral,” Dan replied.
“Every bit of what the captain just said could have come from the ambulance crew, except maybe the bit about his being from Washington.”
“Excuse me, Admiral,” Randall interrupted again.
“Miss. Snow, you are the appointed operational liaison from NIS?”
Startled, Grace looked over at the EA. “Yes, Captain, I am.”
“Admiral, I request that Miss. Snow be excused from the meeting at this time.”
Grace was stunned. Admiral Carson’s eyebrows shot up. She could see that he was perplexed, but this was the vice chiefs EA speaking.
“Miss. Snow,” Carson said. “I’m sorry, but if you would be so kind …”
Grace tried to control the flush on her face. She got up and went to the door. She paused for a second, trying to think of a way to object, but then let herself out.
Dan felt acutely embarrassed, and he was on the verge of speaking up when Randall cut him off.
“Commander Collins, I’ve been informed that you believe this Miss. Snow is being fully cooperative in the course of this invesitgation.”
Been informed? By whom? he wondered. “Yes, sir, I do believe that,” he said. But the problem of the prior investigation, and what the secretary at Shop Seventy two had revealed about follow-up interviews, suddenly intruded on his mind. Randall caught his expression.
“Yes?” he said, his eyebrows raised.
“Well, sir, I’m pretty sure I can vouch for Miss. Snow, but not for the NIS. I found out today that there had been a prior investigation done on Hardin’s disappearance, by his own command, USS Luce, in cooperation with NISRA Philadelphia, something the NIS office in Philly did not choose to share with me. And Miss. Snow had directed NISRA Philadelphia to interview all the riggers, as a matter of first priority. I called the riggers shop today—there have been no interviews.”
“Surprise, surprise,” Randall said. “Frankly, I’m willing to bet that it’s NIS that’s been leaking to CBS.”
“Two can play that game,” Manning offered. “We can always leak the fact that Opnav is in it because we want to ensure that NIS doesn’t screw it up.”
“That’s a two-edged sword,” Admiral Carson countered. “We can make NIS look bad, but that in turn makes the Navy look bad.”
“I can fix that,”
Randall said. “My principal can call in NIS himself and share his thinking with him on the subject of leaks.”
“Let’s table that for an offline discussion, shall we,” Carson said, eyeing Dan. “Commander, where are you with the investigation?”
Dan had been expecting this question. If it had been Carson alone asking for his own information, he might have gone along with it. But it was obviously the VCNO’s EA who had called this meeting, and he owed Randall nothing. He hesitated, then made up his mind.
“Admiral, as the investigating officer, I can report that my investigation is not yet completed. I would prefer to withhold my report until such time as it is completed.
That way, there can be no possibility that anyone can infer that there was undue command influence on the course of the investigation.”
Randall sat up straight in his chair. “Don’t be an ass,” he snapped.
“This isn’t some ‘destroyer bumping the pier’ case we’re talking about here. This is a very serious matter that has the attention of the Vice Chief of Naval Operations himself.”
“I understand its importance, Captain. But I must insist.”
“You must whatl” Randall was almost shouting.
“Captain Randall,” the admiral interrupted, giving Dan a wry look.
“Commander Collins, we’ll of course respect your position. And excuse you now, if you please.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Dan said stiffly, and left the room. He closed Carson’s door carefully and found Grace sitting in the outer office in one of the wretched upholstered chairs, looking less than pleased.
“Well, I’ve been thrown out of better bars than that,” he announced. The chief yeoman looked up for a moment as Dan dropped into the other chair, but then he went back to his typing.
“You, too?” Grace asked.
“Yeah. I’m afraid I sassed the VCNO’s EA when I invoked the command-influence rule. They wanted to know what I had found so far.
When Randall started to get really pissed, Oh-sixb invited me to the egress.”
“Well, I’m not sure what I did.”
“You didn’t do anything. You’re one of them.”
“Oh. Right. So are we done here?”
Dan grinned. “Not hardly. Or at least I’m not. I was excused, but not dismissed. Either Randall or Carson is going to come out of there and fang me before I get to slink back to Six-fourteen. I trampled on some serious EA toes in there. And I apologize for your being asked to leave like that. But there is something I need to tell you, relating to the NIS-Opnav food fight. I called on Shop Seventy-two’s foreman this morning; his secretary confirmed that nobody from Santini’s office had been around. Summerfield asked me to make the call.”
“Ah. So these people think NIS is trying to derail the investigation, and that I’m part of that program.”
“Some of them probably do; I can’t read Admiral Carson, but I would bet the EAs feel that way. Randall seems to be the point man on the antiNIS crusade.”
“And he’s the vice chiefs executive assistant?”
“Right. And a powerful guy hereabouts. Already selected for admiral, and not timid about throwing around Daddy’s four stars.”
“Have you made me an enemy?”
Dan laughed. “I’m not significant enough to become an enemy of a guy at that level. He’ll probably step on my neck, but that’s about it. Tell you what: If the vice chief wants to assign another boy investigator, he’s more than welcome to it.”
Grace was silent for a few minutes. Dan realized that they would have to have a heart-to-heart talk when they were able to get away from the front office and all the horse-holders. Then the door to Carson’s office opened, and the parade of captains appeared, in reverse order of their going in. The CHINFO captain, Summerfield, Manning, and Randall.
Summerfield walked right by Dan, shooting him a surreptitious wink as he left the office. The chief yeoman told Manning that Vice Admiral Layman wanted to see him, and Manning grabbed a notebook, knocked on the DCNO’s door, and went in.
Randall strolled over to where Dan, standing now, was waiting. He glanced at Grace dismissively before focusing on Dan.
“You like to live dangerously, Commander?”
“Did I do something wrong, Captain?”
“You did something worse than wrong; you did something dumb.”
“On instructions, Captain.”
“Oh, really? Whose, might I ask?”
“Admiral Carson. He specifically directed me to permit no intrusion into the investigation that could be construed as command influence. Sir.”
Randall smiled down at Dan. Dan concluded that
Randall smiling was not a pleasant sight.
“It was Carson who asked you the question, Commander.
Don’t play sea lawyer with me. You’re out of your league.”
Dan felt a flare of anger. “As a sea lawyer, Captain?”
The icy smile disappeared as Randall’s face tightened, and then he drew back and looked down at Dan the way a snake might inspect a frog.
“Dumber and dumber, Commander,” he said softly. “You had your command tour yet?”
Second time today he had been asked that question.
“No, sir.”
“Fancy that,” Randall said, and then walked around Dan into the E-ring corridor, turning left to go to the vice chiefs office.
“Sounds like an enemy to me,” Grace observed from her chair. “Really good resemblance, in fact.”
They went back down to 614, passing a series of now darkened offices.
For most of the Pentagon, the day was over. The rattling engine sounds of a propane tractor hauling a wagon train of office trash to the pulping rooms could be heard echoing through the corridors.
There was no light showing through the opaque windowpane in 614’s front door, but the door was unlocked.
When they went in, they walked into an aromatic cloud of pipe tobacco.
“Aha! Serious crimes and misdemeanors going down here,” Dan announced in a stage whisper.
“Shut the damn door before the tobacco police come around,” Summerfield said. Dan and Grace walked around the cluster of desks in the outer office and stood in Summerfield’s doorway. Summerfield was sitting in his chair, beneath a layer of blue smoke. The captain had only his desk light on, and on the desk was one of the captain’s many gun catalogs.
Dan saw that he had his windows open just in case.
“Well, Daniel, did you have a nice day?” Summer field asked innocently.
“It was a little rough around the edges, Captain,” Dan replied. “Grace here thinks that possibly I irritated the vice chiefs grand vizier.”
“If you’re gonna piss somebody off, you might as well do it to a four-star’s EA and flag selectee,” Summer field said. “More points that way.”
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