Darkside (50 page)

“His roommate, maybe,” Julie said. “Unless Dell kept it from him. But you know how it is with roommates.”

“But NCIS knows,” Hays pointed out. It was the first time Tommy had said anything about the case, and Ev nodded his acknowledgment. The waiter brought a large bowl of steaming pasta and some sauces and cheese. He put it on a lazy Susan in the middle of the table and then set out bowls. They stopped talking and attended to the food, which Ev discovered was better than he'd expected. When they were finished, Tommy excused himself, saying he had to get back for study hours. He told Julie to call him on his cell once she got back into Mother B. She said she would. He offered to chip in for dinner, but Liz waved him off. He thanked her and left.

“What should I do if they call me in when I sign back in?” Julie asked Liz. Ever since Ev had made his remark about her deception, Julie wouldn't look at him.

“Who?” Liz asked.

“The commandant. Or Captain Rogers.”

“You respectfully comply. But you tell them nothing about your interaction with Dell. You tell them that, on advice of counsel, you won't discuss the Dell case. But if what Mr. Hall said is correct, I wouldn't expect any summonses.”

“Unless that Branner woman sits down with the dant and spills everything,” she said.

“Agent Branner has other fish to fry right now. Specifically, Midshipman Dyle Booth.”

Julie glanced around the restaurant, as if half-expecting to see Booth peering in through a window. “If Dyle's gotten wind of anything, he's going to come to see me,” she said.

“If you'd like,” Ev said, “we can stop screwing around and go see the commandant. Or the supe. Tonight. Right now. Tell him everything that's been revealed tonight. Let him get ahold of Booth. I still think that's the way to go.”

“Your lawyer disagrees most emphatically,” Liz said. The waiter came and cleared away the dishes, then poured Liz and Ev some more wine. Julie took the opportunity to visit the ladies' room. Liz waited until the waiter left them alone. “Ev, what the hell are you doing?”

“She did lie, damn it. She knows better. Four years of the Academy and she
lies
? Shit. She ought to march in there, tell the whole truth, and take the consequences.”

“You guys amaze me,” she said, looking around to make sure Julie wasn't walking back to the table. She leaned toward him. “She's been wanting to do the same dumb thing. Look, Julie's brushing right up against a homicide investigation. Under those circumstances, you don't tell anyone
anything
until you know you're going to get something in return. A deal, a break, some consideration. In case you've forgotten, Ev, ours is an adversarial legal system.”

“Legal, schmegal,” he muttered, indicating with his eyes that Julie was returning. “The honor code demands it.”

Liz bit her lip and did not reply. Julie slid into her chair and looked from Ev's face to Liz's. “You two look like an old married couple having an argument,” she said.

“Your father's just a wee bit frustrated,” Liz said, giving Ev another warning look.

“Why, because you can't do something about all this?” Julie asked Ev, her face guarded.

Joanne used to get that look, he thought. “Partly,” he said. “And partly because nobody over there's behaving like they should.”

Julie stared at him. He felt a tingle of fear in his belly, because she obviously understood exactly what he was saying. He could almost see her withdrawing from them. The Navy part of him was fiercely proud. The parent part was suddenly apprehensive.

Liz cleared her throat. “Julie,” she said. “Your father here is having an attack of the stupids, I'm afraid. The very best thing you can do right now is nothing. Go back and get ready for exams. Keep your mouth shut, and await developments. Let's not go snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.”

“No, he's not,” Julie said in a low voice. She hesitated and then stood up, carefully arranging her chair at the table. “Having an attack of the stupids, I mean. Thanks for dinner, Liz. And don't worry—I'll give it a night's rest before I do or say anything.” She reached under the chair, where her midshipman's hat was perched on the rungs. “You two look good together,” she said, turning the hat in her hands. “I'm glad for you both. And I mean that.” Then she walked out of the restaurant, her back stiff.

Ev stared at the front door after she'd closed it. The waiter zipped by and asked about coffee. They both said yes at the same time.

“Every time I think I understand Julie,” Liz said, “she surprises me. You know her tones of voice—was that sarcasm?”

“No, I don't think so. But it sounded a lot like good-bye.”

“Special Agent Branner and Jim Hall, security officer, to see Admiral McDonald about the Dell matter,” Jim said.

The steward asked them to step in and wait in the anteroom. Two minutes later, he reappeared and asked them to follow him upstairs. He escorted them into the admiral's study, then closed the paneled doors and left. Admiral McDonald got up to greet them. His service jacket with its one big gold stripe and a smaller one just above it hung on the back of an upholstered chair. There was a half-full martini glass sitting on the side table next to his chair.

“Mr. Hall,” the supe said, offering his hand. “And you are Special Agent Branner, as I recall. Please sit down. I understand this concerns the Dell matter.”

“Yes, sir, it does.”

“You're aware the Dell matter has been decided?”

“Yes, sir,” Branner said. “But we have new information.”

The admiral frowned and looked at his watch. “I can give you ten minutes. Then I have a reception to go to.”

Jim launched into an explanation of why they had come to see him. The supe heard him out, asking no questions, just listening. Only once did he glance at his watch. When Jim was finished, the admiral got up and began to pace the room.

“And you feel this Midshipman Booth was involved in Dell's fall?”

“Yes, sir,” Branner said. “One way or another.”

“Do you have any evidence of this, other than what Markham and Hays told you?”

“Not yet, sir.”

The admiral turned to face them. “So, on a factual basis, nothing has changed: You have no conclusive physical evidence of homicide. You have the unsworn testimony of two other midshipmen implicating Booth in illegal acts. But that's it?”

“We need to interview Booth,” Branner said. “If he is the same individual who's been acting out in the utility tunnels,
we can probably get evidence. But not if we can't even interview him.”

“And the dant said no?”

“That's correct, sir. He said SecNav has spoken and that's it.”

The admiral went back to his chair and stood there for a moment.

“The problem is, boys and girls, that the secretary of the entire Navy
has
spoken. Based in great part on what we've told him. And what your bosses basically corroborated, Ms. Branner. Now you're asking me to approach the throne and tell the SecNav that his findings and determinations are incorrect.”

“Yes, sir. At least temporarily, until we can complete this investigation.”

“Well, that's a real problem, Ms. Branner,” he said, sitting back down. “Look, you probably can't appreciate this fact, but the Academy has to practice defensive siege warfare on a pretty much continuous basis. We have enemies: the liberals in Congress, budgeteers within the Defense Department, the antimilitary element of the media, the perpetual peaceniks. At one end of the spectrum, people see us holding these kids to higher standards and accuse us of being elitist. At the other end, some of our own alumni rant and rave that we're caving in to some vast feminazi conspiracy aimed at emasculating the dreaded male warrior culture once and for all.”

“Sir, I—”

“Hear me out, please. When things go wrong here, as they inevitably do, the people who hate everything we stand for tend to pile on, with visible glee, I might add. And should we make accommodation, then the alumni pile on. I spend a whole lot of my time on damage control.”

“I'm not sure I understand the significance of the alumni, Admiral,” Jim said. “I'm an alumnus, for instance.”

“I'm talking about the alumni who wear three and four stars on their shoulders. Unlike the civilian university world, Mr. Hall, our alumni sit on our promotion boards.”

“So this is about turning two stars into three, Admiral?”

The admiral's face hardened. “That's a cheap shot, Mr. Hall. There are a couple hundred other officers here besides me. Being superintendent, I have to protect their careers.”

“We're taking dead Brian Dell's point of view, Admiral,” Branner said. “If what we've learned is true, the Academy let him down big-time.”

The admiral glared at her. “That's a big
if,
Ms. Branner,” he said. “And suppose you do interview this Booth and he just tells you to pound sand. What then?”

“We take him apart. We search his room. We interview his weird girlfriends over in town. We compare hair, fibers, blood, DNA, fingerprints, voiceprints, and E-mails with crime scene evidence from the muggings in town, Dell's room, Dell's body, Markham's person—in other words, we focus on a suspect and we investigate his ass.”

“The problem is, you have no
evidence
to justify reopening this investigation, Agent Branner. Plus, you are just about out of time, because very soon, the vice president of the United States is going to commission the entire class, and then they will be gone.”

“Not all of them, Admiral,” Jim said. “There'll be football players with ruined knees, at least a couple of academic holds, maybe somebody with appendicitis. You could always add Booth to that list. Just because he graduates doesn't make him immune from military justice.”

The admiral sighed and looked at his watch again.

“You know, Admiral,” Branner said, “slamming the lid on this thing doesn't exactly square very well with your new ethics and morality program, does it? I mean, you're always telling the mids that the proof of the program is when people practice what they preach. I've got an idea: Why not put the question to the midshipmen? See what they'd do with it. Exams are almost here; there's a super final exam question for you.”

The admiral gave her a pained look. “I've got to go. You've got to go. You have no evidence. All you have is a he
says/she says finger-pointing drill. That can go on forever. At this juncture, my job is damage control. I'm sorry.” He pushed a small button under the side table, and the steward appeared a moment later to show them out.

As they headed for the door, the admiral had a final question. “Mr. Hall, didn't the dant tell you to stand down from this matter? That we already had a SecNav determination?”

“Yes, sir, he did.”

“Does he know you're here?”

“No, sir. He does not.”

The admiral stared at him for a moment. “Correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Hall, but didn't you come to the Academy MarDet after an incident in the Bosnia campaign? A blue on blue, where they blamed you and then found out someone else was responsible?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, this time, I believe it
is
on you. It's been nice knowing you, Mr. Hall.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Jim and Agent Branner sat in one of the clam bars along the city dock, having a beer and some fish and chips. They ate in silence, digesting what had just been said in Buchanan House. The clam shack was almost empty, the tourists having gone back to their hotels or into one of the local restaurants. Jim wiped oil off his mouth and hands and crumpled up the cardboard container.

“I don't each much fried food,” he said, “but every once in awhile, this stuff hits the spot.”

“A spot that usually stays with me forever,” Branner said, patting her tummy. “So what now, Sherlock?”

“I'm conflicted, filled with self-doubt, suffering low personal esteem, and I'm probably a victim,” he replied with a straight face.

She grinned. “In other words, it beats the shit out of you, does it?”

“Something like that. I know what I
want
to do, but that augurs badly for what's left of my job security.”

“What job security? ‘It's been nice knowing you, Mr. Hall.' You're history.”

“I'm technically a civil serpent. I at least get a hearing. And I'm not sure they'd want to have any of this pop out in a civil service hearing.”

“Maybe. But what they'd do in Washington is create a new position for you, then forget to budget for it. And you'd get to find a new home somewhere.”

“Oh well, screw 'em if they can't take a joke. I loved it when you suggested the supe do the right thing—practice what they preach. That bit about asking the mids what
they
would do—that was medium brilliant.”