Girl Takes The Oath

by Jacques Antoine

  And before he could prevent it, the girls skidded up to the doorway, Kiki peeking around his bathrobe, Haru standing boldly just inside the room, hands on hips and exceedingly pleased with herself. “Dad, this is my friend, Michiko.”

  Tomoko stepped through a second later, and stood staring at an apparition—tall, strong, pretty in an exotic sort of way, with short black hair framing a face not quite fully Japanese in cast and shape, and not quite not; is this how her daughters would turn out?—until it occurred to her to ask the girl’s name: “Hajimemashite. O-namae wa nan desu ka?”

  “Watashi wa Tenno Michiko to moshimasu,” Emily said with a little bow.

  “It is very good to meet you, Tenno-san,” she replied in English, returning the courtesy. “My daughters do not speak Japanese, I am sorry to say. What an interesting name you have.”

  “I told you she’s way cool,” Haru whispered.

  “C’mon everybody,” Ed growled, and tried to usher them out, without letting go of the doorframe. “I need a moment alone with Miss Tenno.” Once Tomoko had managed to direct the girls down the hall, he took an uncertain step into the room. “Help me get into the chair.”

  “You look weaker than I expected, Ed,” she said, with one arm around his waist

  “It’s just the stitches. I’ll be fine in a day or two. But never mind about that. I wanted to tell you… remember that extradition order?” Emily nodded. “You don’t have to admit anything, but there’s no way it’s not you they’re after, not after this last episode.”

  She didn’t say anything, not that anything she said would make a difference.

  “It’s just that I’ve been thinking about this past month, and it doesn’t make sense.”

  “My life has never made much sense,” she said, “at least, not to me.”

  “That’s harsh, but it’s not what I’m thinking. I mean, the Chinese are clearly interested in you, but… you know, first they’re trying to extradite you, then they chase you through town, but no weapons. Next, it’s a gang of thugs who attack you with clubs and knives, and then this, a full-on assault team. Either they can’t make up their minds what they want from you…”

  “Or it’s different groups.”

  “At least two,” Braswell said. “I think you know what at least one of them wants, don’t you?” He couldn’t help but see the wheels turning behind her eyes. And yet, the strange thing was that she didn’t seem shaken by the reflection going on in her heart. Her eyes grew hard and dark—could they get any darker than they already were? Too dark for a co-conspirator, much darker than that. “And a coordinated attack, that can’t have been by chance. You know what that means.”

  “They had inside information.”

  “Someone at the Japanese embassy would be my guess.”

  “Or at DSS. Did you call in our location?”

  Before Braswell could follow her line of thought any further, a tap at the door behind him got his attention: two NCIS investigators flipping open badges, which they hardly needed, since he recognized them from a meeting in the Commandant’s office at the Academy a few weeks earlier, and she must have, too—agents Horton and Everett.

  “Captain Crichton said you’d be here,” Everett said. “We have a few questions. If you’ll excuse us, Agent Braswell, we’ll step out into the hall.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Emily said. “Just let me make a stop at the Nurses’ station. He’s gonna need a ride back to his room, I think.”

  “You read my statement on the incident?” Braswell asked. “Because neither of us would be alive if it weren’t for her. You realize that, right?”

  “It’s okay, Agent Braswell,” Emily said, in a more formal tone than he was used to hearing from her. “I don’t need protecting,” she added in a low voice.

  “We are aware of your statement,” Everett said. “It doesn’t concern our present inquiry.”

  Horton and Everett waited impatiently as Emily arranged for a wheelchair and helped settle him into it. Since she had committed no crime on that bridge, Braswell figured the only interest NCIS could have in her was some sort of loyalty check. Even if she wasn’t a mole, the US Navy wasn’t in the habit of putting an officer on the path to running one of their warships without knowing exactly who she was loyal to. And there was no denying that Michiko Tenno’s recent history contained enough of the unexpected to set off any number of alarms.

  “We gather that while you were in DC you visited the Japanese Embassy,” Horton said.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, loudly enough for Braswell to hear from his perch in a wheelchair at the nurses’ station. He could pretend to wait for a nurse to roll him back to his room for a moment or two.

  “What was your business there?”

  “Personal business, sir,” she said. “A family matter.”

  “An officer in the US Navy doesn’t have personal business in a foreign embassy, Miss Tenno. Who did you see there?”

  Braswell waited to hear what she would say. The other day in the car, in a carefully orchestrated conversation, she managed to make a preposterous story seem oddly plausible. But here, without the benefit of a sympathetic audience, how would she respond? In the event, she said nothing, merely reaching into her pocket to produce the same ornate card she’d showed him and Padgett.

  “What’s this supposed to be?” Everett asked. “We can’t read it.”

  “It’s an invitation, ma’am, from the Crown Princess.”

  “From the who?” Everett said.

  “What would the Crown Princess want to see you about, Miss Tenno?” Horton asked.

  “Like I said, sir, it was a family matter.”

  “Are you trying to tell us you’re a member of the Imperial Family?”

  “Here it comes,” Braswell thought.

  “The Princess likes to think of me as a distant cousin, sir.”

  “And are you?” Everett asked.

  “No, ma’am, not that I know of.”

  A little chuckle escaped his mouth, not perhaps loud enough for the NCIS agents to hear, but almost impossible to suppress completely, since it was hard not to admire the artfulness of her responses. She’d gotten them to elicit the information she wanted them to have, without committing herself to the truth of any of it. And the bind she’d put them in was delicious. Obviously, they wanted to force some sort of admission from her, but no longer knew how hard they could press someone with the connections to wangle a private audience with a distinguished personage. In the end, they had to let her go about her business.

  “Where will you be for the holidays?” Horton asked.

  “I report to Quantico tomorrow for two weeks of Professional Training, sir, and then Charlottesville to visit my family.”

  Everett grumbled something about keeping an eye on her and how she shouldn’t leave the area, which was little more than police throat-clearing. Braswell almost felt sorry for them, since he knew how frustrating dealing with someone as unflappable as her could be. They’d come to interrogate her, even though she hadn’t broken any rules, merely in the hopes of getting her to divulge something under pressure. In the end, she hoisted a pack onto her shoulder and stepped into the elevator.

  ~~~~~~~

  “CJ, you’re not even packed,” she heard her roommate say, and pulled the covers over her head, even though they grabbed at her socks. When she tried to roll over, her pants got tangled in the sheets. “You’ll make us miss our flights if you don’t put it into gear.”

  Even in the dim light, with the shades drawn, CJ could make out Stacie’s outline through the sheet, silhouetted in the open door. When news about the incident on the bridge first hit the Yard, Stacie led the charge of people who wanted to celebrate CJ’s courage—not surprising since no one was hungrier for what she called ‘action’ than Stacie. Seeing some action might even have been her main motive in coming to the academy in the first place. The girl was envious.

  At first, King Hall buzzed with informed opinion at each meal, everyone
claiming to know something no one else did, and CJ saying as little as possible. With each passing day, the buzz grew quieter, and the information less conflicted. Of course, Emily said nothing to anyone, her face inscrutable and forbidding, even to her friends, which is why Stacie pumped CJ for information, barely able to conceal her excitement. “I wish I’d been there,” she’d said on more than one occasion, until CJ finally responded: “No, Stacie, you don’t. Trust me.”

  Stacie rifled drawers for her, huffing about having to do everything, and stuffed some miscellaneous clothes into a carry-on bag. “Your laptop barely fits into the front pocket,” she groaned. “And I have no idea what books you want to bring.”

  CJ’s hands swept out from under the sheet and crumpled it into a ball, her feet kicking to get free. “Let go, damn it,” she howled and finally pulled herself up to a seated position on the edge of the bed.

  “At least you’re dressed, mostly. C’mon, CJ. Get up.”

  “Okay, fine,” she replied, and stood up next to her roommate. “I just want to be home, without having to see anyone in the Yard. Is that asking too much?” She twirled open the blinds and looked out over the roof of the galley.

  “It was really that bad?”

  “Worse.”

  “Because you killed that guy?”

  “Yeah, that sucked,” CJ admitted. “But I had to do it, or he might have gotten a line of fire on Em.”

  “You stood your ground, you know. There’s no shame in that.”

  “I know, Stacie. That’s not the problem. It’s just that…”

  “What?”

  “Em, you know… she killed those guys. What I mean is, she tore them apart. Can you understand that? I didn’t want to talk about it in front of the company, but it was nasty. Their bodies were mangled and broken, the ones she didn’t shoot. And the look in her eyes, like some sort of predator. Do you remember what she said that day out on Sherman Field, that nobody’s as evil as she is? That’s what I saw on that bridge.”

  Stacie’s eyes gleamed to hear it, like sad news you can’t quite process, and part of her didn’t want to let go of the idea that the thrill of fighting by her friend’s side would have been worth whatever might have been terrifying about it. CJ let out an angry breath and glowered at her.

  “Is any of this getting through?”

  “What?” Stacie said. “I get it. She was tough, she did what was necessary.”

  “No, Stace… I mean, yeah, she absolutely did. It’s just, you know, someone doesn’t do stuff like that without it leaving a scar. But Em, she’s just the same as ever, as if none of it affects her at all.”

  “What does that even mean, CJ? Are you saying she’s not your friend anymore?”

  “No, I guess not. I mean, I love her, but I’m not sure she really has friends.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “I saw what I saw, Stacie. It wasn’t just the fighting. It’s her eyes, you know, a gleam in them that’s not quite human. I had her back, before she realized I was there, and… three guys come around this corner, guns and all, and she kills ’em one after another, disarms them and… Those guys came to a bad end, and it was like effortless for her. You’ve never seen… I mean… I…”

  “Oh, CJ. I’m so sorry for you. I know fighting’s not your thing.”

  “That… what she did, that’s nobody’s thing. Trust me.”

  The noise at the door—a knock, a cleared throat—CJ didn’t know how long they’d been standing there, or what they might have heard. The lettering on their caps was off-putting. She knew they’d have more questions, and she’d been tight-lipped the last time they spoke to her. What did they want this time? And could she still play dumb, for her friend’s sake?

  “Can we have a word, Miss Tanahill?” Agent Everett said. “The Company Commander said you’d be here.”

  “We’re gonna miss our flights,” Stacie said. “Can’t it wait until after the holidays?”

  “Can you excuse us, Miss,” Agent Horton said, inserting himself between her and CJ. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “Are you asking permission to enter a midshipman’s room?” Stacie retorted, her chin jutting out.

  CJ knew that look, the position of her feet, the set of her shoulders—her roommate was about to make a very bad decision. Always a fighter, CJ thought. Ordinarily, she’d have watched it unfold as if she were helpless to stop it, and then complain about it afterwards. For some reason, and in a way that seemed particularly unaccountable to her, she thought of Emily’s eyes and found something else in them besides the primal fear they inspired in that moment on the bridge.

  “Hey, guys, you know, we could use a ride to the airport. How about we talk in the car?”

  Back to top

  Chapter Fourteen

  Camp Leatherneck

  “Does she know what Theo has planned?” Andie asked over the seatback, somewhere past the exit for the Chancellorsville Battlefield Memorial. Li Li and Stone bounced up and down in their booster seats, as they had for the past thirty minutes, once they realized Emily would be waiting for them at the other end of the ride.

  “Not that I know of,” Yuki said, preoccupied with rearranging Li Li’s seatbelt.

  Ethan chuckled from behind the wheel. “The look on her face when she finds out… did we bring a camera? I think that’s one Connie’s gonna want to frame.”

  “How far to Fredericksburg?” Yuki asked.

  “Ten, fifteen minutes, and Quantico is only another thirty or so from there,” Ethan said.

  “You want to switch seats,” Andie asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe we can flag down the follow car and get Connie to take both our places.”

  “Passenger transfer,” Ethan spoke into the microphone concealed in his shirt cuff, and then pulled onto the shoulder.

  “I’m sorry to ask,” Yuki said to the much taller woman, the wind blowing their hair sideways. “But you seem to have a way with him.”

  “It’s not a problem, Mrs. K.,” Connie said. “I could use some quality time with the boy, and I think Anthony would like to be in Ethan’s car, too.”

  Some squawking ensued once it became clear Emily’s mother was no longer sitting next to them. The charms of their new companions, a teenage boy, grown newly tall like his father, he had been there when Emily came for them in Kamchatka, and Connie, now so closely associated in the children’s minds with Emily, soon brought a new calm. Perhaps it was her big hands, with long, limber fingers that amused them. Or her blond hair and blue eyes. Or maybe it was just how large she seemed in their eyes, a veritable giant… though, like everyone else, she seemed small standing anywhere in Ethan’s vicinity. Anthony squeezed in back between them, and a game of tickle and squeeze immediately ensued, while Connie sat in front with Ethan.

  Once the cars were back in motion, Ethan began to sing an Israeli song, really more of a dance number, which sounded suspiciously Greek to Connie. Since it had very few actual words—more grunts than words—the children had very little difficulty singing along.

  “What? They probably stole it from us. It’s only a short hop across the Mediterranean.”

  “Whatever. I don’t want to rain on your national pride.”

  “Yuki says she doesn’t know,” Ethan said, hiding a smirk as best he could.

  “She’s not gonna like it. I’m just telling you now.”

  “And she probably won’t see him until at least the second round. The SEALs get a bye, or something.”

  “Doesn’t know what?” Anthony inquired from the back seat as soon as he could direct enough of his attention to what the big people were saying. “That uncle Theo’s coming?” Connie nodded.

  “That’s his plan, then… to surprise her?” she asked.

  “Well, he was pretty pissed when he heard she’d wangled her way into the men’s division.”

  “Pissed?” Connie arched an eyebrow.

  “Okay, less than fully impressed by the wisd
om of her choices.”

  “I guess he’s gonna have to take it up with her in the ring,” Connie snorted.

  “And you’re sure you can get into the feed?”

  “It’s all arranged. A friend from the Manila days is working tech on the FBI end. He’s got it all wired.”

  “You had friends in those days?”

  “It’s sort of like friendship when someone admits they owe you a favor. Of course, owing a favor to someone else is much more friendly than having one owed to you.”

  “You owe someone a favor? Is it someone I should know about?”

  “It’s just the one… you know.”

  “Oh.”

  Another half an hour and they passed through heightened base security—mirrors under the vehicles, large dogs sniffing everything—Ethan showed a credential and both vehicles passed through without further attention.

  “Is all this for the SEALs?” Connie asked.

  “I haven’t a clue. Michael will know. You can ask him when he gets here. He’s flying in with a few dignitaries later.”

  “It always amuses me, those guys… I mean, sure, they’re tough as nails, but the fleet pampers them like they’re chinchillas or something. I think some of them could use a beat down from Emily… you know, an attitude adjustment.”

  Ethan cringed at the reminder of an ‘adjustment’ he’d received a few years back, embarrassing at the time, though he wouldn’t trade the experience now. Still, it smarted to think about it with Connie so near.

  “It’s okay, big guy. We’ve all been there.”

  With limited parking around Barber Physical Activity Center, where the tournament would take up most of the available floor space, traffic had to snake around to the lots by the athletic stadium, where it looked like some events had already taken place.

  “There they are,” Connie said. “In the back row, against the trees.”

  “Hard to miss that kid, you know, Melanie’s boyfriend,” Ethan said. “He’s like a tree.”

  “She’s not short either. First time I ever felt ‘not tall’ around another woman…”