Darkside (34 page)

Jim thanked them again and headed for the surface, forcing himself to walk through the tunnel at a normal pace. When he reached the Stribling Walk access doors, he could hear rain streaming down the steps. There was a more pronounced gurgle under the steel deck plates out in the middle of the tunnel floor. He decided to wait it out.

So what had he learned? That he was scared of underground chambers. Okay. But why had there been scratches on the lock, and why had they been covered up? His runner take a tour one night and have the same reaction? He should have gone down that other tunnel while it was open. He knew they wouldn't open it again anytime soon. But there was just no way. When that huge damned door moved, it had taken all his self-control not to drop that air hose and just bolt.

A small tingle at the back of his brain told him he was missing something here. He tried to think. Shit. He realized he should go back down there right now and explore that second tunnel. He wouldn't get another chance unless some really hard evidence precipitated opening up and gas-freeing the complex again.

Another clap of thunder blasted seemingly right above his head, rattling the steel door and the gratings above. He felt the pressure in his ears and thought he saw the overhead lights sway.

Go back down there? Screw that noise.

 

Branner called Jim after lunch and asked if he could come up to the NCIS office to meet someone. There had been a staff meeting called for 1400, which Jim was more than pleased to skip, so he said he'd be right over. There was still intense media pressure relating to the Dell case, and the commandant was all over the Public Affairs office to control the spin. The Yard police had caught a television crew from CBS national news hawking the Nimitz Library steps, trying for interviews with midshipmen. The mids had turned them in immediately.

“Mr. Hall, this is Mr. Harry Chang,” Branner said, making introductions in the conference room. “Mr. Chang, this is Mr. Jim Hall, Naval Academy security officer.”

Jim almost did a double take. Harry Chang appeared to be a clone of Mao Tse-tung. The same broad, round face, thickset body, thinning grayish black hair, and black eyes gleaming with wily intelligence. He grinned when he saw the look on Jim's face. “Scary, isn't it?” he said, shaking hands.

“Mr. Chairman” was all Jim could manage, and Chang laughed out loud. “See?” he said to Branner. Then to Jim: “I understand you were a Marine?”

“Yes, that's right,” he said, wondering if he was going to get another query about what he was doing here in the security officer job.

“I was, too,” Chang said, gesturing for everyone to sit down. “Enlisted. Intel specialist. Four years. Saw some interesting times in Nam. But that was thirty years ago or thereabouts. I joined up with NCIS when it was still called NIS.”

“Mr. Chang is from headquarters,” Branner said. “He's a homicide specialist. Actually, I should say he is
the
homicide specialist.”

“Actually, I happened to be
the
homicide specialist who zigged instead of zagged when Agent Branner called in yesterday,” Chang said with an easy smile. “Our senior directing staff told me to butt in.”

“I briefed him on what we've done up to now,” Branner said. Jim noted her choice of “we” and wondered how that sat with the senior NCIS people.

“She said you proposed an interesting theory of the case, Mr. Hall,” Chang said. “Could I hear it in your own words?”

Apparently, his participation in the NCIS investigation didn't bother their headquarters people. Jim nodded and went through it again, saying that maybe what had happened to Dell was incidental to something aimed at Midshipman Markham. Chang stared at him the whole time he was talking. His expression revealed absolutely nothing.

“As Agent Branner here observed,” Jim concluded, “that would mean we might be dealing with a sociopath, if not a psychopath. A midshipman, in all probability.”

“A psychopath at the Naval Academy,” Chang said. “That raises all sorts of interesting problems, does it not?”

“Got that right,” Jim said. “The Dell case. The system here. The admissions process. If I'm right, it's not going to be a very popular theory.”

Chang nodded emphatically. “Our brief,” he said, “is to pull the string on the possibility that what happened to Midshipman Brian Dell was a homicide. The emphasis coming from our overseers is to
dis
prove homicide. Then maybe the current media circus can be damped down somewhat.”

“That's coming from the supe?”

“That's coming from the SecNav. Or so I've been told.”

Jim considered this news. If the SecNav's office was involved in this case, then the stakes were considerably higher than he had thought. “Hell, it's just a theory,” he said.

“And now you're feeling like the messenger who's set himself up for a shooting,” Chang replied.

“My Marine experience showing,” Jim said. “But now that you're here, maybe the two of you can develop an alternate theory. I'll be more than happy to butt out, if that's what you want.”

Chang was smiling again. “You said he was smart, Agent Branner. But actually,” he said, turning to Jim, “I'd like you to stay connected, if you can. I should say
we'd
like you to stay connected. My boss's bottom line is that a midshipman's dead; go find out what happened.”

“That's pretty straightforward,” Jim said.

“And having you involved on an informal basis has one other advantage, Mr. Hall. Can I assume you are back-briefing the commandant on what NCIS is doing?”

Jim colored. They'd known all along? Branner was studying the edge of the table, not looking at him. “Yes, of course,” he admitted. “We have to protect the NCIS investigation from any charges of command influence, which is probably why he chose me.”

“Exactly,” Chang said. “Thanks for not bullshitting me. And that suits us, too. We have to strike a balance here. We'll focus on finding out what happened to Brian Dell. The Academy will focus on mitigating any damage to the institution, the system, as everyone seems to call it, from what comes out of our investigation. Tell me, you find this investigation interesting, Mr. Hall?”

Jim was somewhat thrown off balance by Chang's quick shifts in directions. “I do,” he replied.

“Okay. Here's our deal: You stay involved. According to Agent Branner here, you've been very helpful, in terms of insight into the midshipman culture. You can tell your bosses whatever you want to about what we're doing. We ask for only one thing: If you sense that
they
are going to get
in the way of finding out the truth of what happened here, you give us warning.”

Jim sat back in his chair. Mr. Harry Chang was being extraordinarily straight with him. And this was what Liz had been talking about, too. But where did his own loyalties lie? Branner's request for his help had made it possible for him to do what the dant had asked him to do, and he'd pocketed the advantage. He could still do that. As to their one condition—he would not want to be part of anything that smacked of cover-up or a railroading. He'd had enough of that crap in the Corps. It had cost him any chance at a career. But then he remembered what else Liz DeWinter had said.

“Okay,” he said. “With the proviso that if
I
think I'm being used by NCIS, I back out and we part as friends.”

“‘Used by NCIS'?” Chang asked. “How?”

“Let's say, NCIS headquarters and the superintendent strike some kind of deal to produce the required right answer, with me being inside the investigation so that later I could corroborate that it all looked like the real deal to me.”

“Wow,” Chang said. “You overestimate NCIS headquarters. Nobody up there is that clever.”

“There are some folks down here who are,” Jim said, thinking of the dant, although he actually didn't think Admiral McDonald would play a game like that.

“Fine,” Chang said. “That's okay by us. We could always flood the problem with a special team brought in from a larger NCIS office, but that would hurt Agent Branner's feelings. And none of us wants to be on her shit list.” He was smiling as he said it, but the expression on Branner's face was not one of amusement.

“Back to your theory of the case,” Branner said. “Have you thought of a way to explore that?”

“Possibly,” Jim said. “During the interview with Markham, I got the impression she's hiding something. Not something she did, but something she knows. I've also spoken with her lawyer, who came to see me last night, by the way.”

“She
did
?” Branner looked truly surprised.

“Yeah, I meant to tell you. She'd learned that I was there again for the Markham interview. She just dropped by at the marina to ask why. I tried to do a little soft-shoe routine, but she brought up the business of command influence.”

Chang frowned and glanced over at Branner. “How'd you answer that?” she asked.

“I told her I was there to interpret midshipmanspeak for Agent Branner here. She seemed to buy that. Anyway, I asked her if she thought her client was telling her the whole truth and nothing but. She gave me the impression that the answer was no.”

“Is Markham being deceptive, or just a mid dealing with a civilian?” Branner asked.

“Well, there you go,” Jim said. “I guess that's what I'm here for—to make that interpretation. As someone who's lived through the Bancroft Hall experience,
I
think she was acting out of character for a midshipman the other afternoon.”

“And what's that got to do with your theory?” Chang asked.

“Let's say Dell's death was not an accident. I have to ask myself, What could Markham have done that would make another mid kill Brian Dell and then try to pin it on her?”

“She's a good-looking young woman,” Branner said. “She turned somebody down?”

“The boy-girl thing down here that intense?” Chang asked. “I mean, would a normal guy go to these lengths to get back at someone for that?”

“I'm thinking this isn't a normal guy,” Jim said. He could see from Chang's expression that he seemed to be having trouble with this logic. And Jim suddenly had the feeling he was missing something crucial, as well. “I know,” he said. “This is a reach. It's entirely out of character for the Naval Academy and the kind of people who want to come here. But I've met Markham a couple times now, and I simply can't feature her throwing Brian Dell off the roof, if that indeed is what happened.”

“Well, that's something you could help us with, Harry,” Branner said. “Get the forensics people to sharpen up the focus of their report. One way or another. I think we're both struggling with the concept of murder at the Naval Academy.”

“And even more so with the idea that somebody did this to Dell simply to destroy Markham,” Jim said. “I could just be all wrong, you know.”

“I sure as hell hope so, Mr. Hall,” Chang said. “But from what Agent Branner here tells me of the clothes evidence, it does seem a little too pat for my tastes. Could a psychopath get into the Academy? And if he got in, wouldn't they catch him?”

“We've talked about this,” Jim said. “If he got through the admissions process, he'd have to lead a totally double life. Look like one thing but think and do shit totally out of character for a midshipman.” Then it hit him: a double life—like running the tunnels at night, dressing up like a vampire, hanging out with the Goth crowd, and beating the shit out of drunks out in town. And almost beating an NCIS agent to death. The thought struck him like a bucket of water in the face. Branner saw it.

“What?” she asked.

Jim hesitated. If he told Chang what he'd just thought of, NCIS would absolutely bring an army down, if only because of Bagger. And he, Jim Hall, would then be the proximate cause of doubling the scandal already whirling around the Dell matter. No way, José. He decided to run it by Branner, but only after Chang left.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “I had a thought, but it's too outlandish. But I did have an idea of how we might test my theory. I think we need to invoke the Academy's honor system. The part about knowledge, as opposed to conduct.”

“Meaning what, specifically?”

“If someone is caught lying, cheating, or stealing, he or she is down for an honor offense. Punishment can range from dismissal to lots and lots of demerits. But let's suppose a mid goes back to his room and finds his roommate looking
at a copy of tomorrow's final math exam, which someone else has filched and put on the intranet. He goes, ‘What the hell?' The roomie says, ‘Hey, dude, you don't want a look at this? Go get a Coke somewhere. I'm failing math and I need this Gouge.' By the code, that mid is expected to go down to the batt office and drop a dime to the math department. They immediately ask, ‘How do you know the exam's loose?' The mid says, ‘I saw my roommate going through it on his PC.' The roommate goes down in flames, and an investigation is launched to see who else got a look.”

“And what happens to the first guy?” Chang asked.

“Well, there you are. He played by the rules. The guilty roomie, however, is probably gonna tell everyone else who goes down that it was
his
roommate who dropped the dime. He's managed to bilge a hundred of his classmates, and chances are he will experience what the Brits used to call ‘Coventry.'”

“He'll be ostracized.”

“Yeah, I think so. Or maybe worse. But the thing is, that's an example of
knowledge
of a potential honor offense. You swear not to lie, cheat, or steal. That mid's got a tough decision to make.”

“So what would really happen?” Branner asked.

“That really happens,” Jim said. “Or at least it did once. But the other way is for the mid to make an anonymous phone call or send an E-mail to the math department, letting them know the exam has been blown. That way, the opportunity to cheat is excised, and supposedly no one will get directly burned.”