Chapter 9

It had rained again, although Fay could see a wall of dense fog rolling toward her from the west side of the parking lot. A deep breath of the fresh night air cleansed her smoke-filled lungs.

Through the gathering mist, she could just make out James lurking in the shadows. His presence gave her comfort; she began searching for Andrew Lawrence.

“I’m over here,” Andrew said.

With apprehension, she walked toward his voice. The sound of the parking-lot gravel crunched beneath her feet with each step she took. Sounds always seemed much crisper, much clearer in the fog. Her heart pounded against her chest, now audible enough for her to hear. Her imagination took over, bringing with it the thought of a foggy London night. Jack the Ripper lurked just around the next corner. That damn Towsley, she thought. Was Andrew Lawrence perhaps Paul’s killer?

Fay heard a car squeal its tires, startling her. She snapped her head toward the direction of the sound. Probably some military in a hurry to get back to base. As she turned back around, Andrew Lawrence appeared out of the fog, like an apparition, directly in front of her.

Fay brought her hand to her chest and gasped. “Mercy! You scared me!”

“I’m sorry.” Andrew looked around as if someone might be watching them. He looked back at her. “You’re shivering, ma’am.”

“I am?” She rubbed her arms briskly. “If I thought I could trust you, I’d invite you to sit in my car where it’s warmer.” According to James, she would be dead if Andrew were a mechanic.

Andrew held up his hands in an arresting manner. “You’re safe with me. I just need to talk to you.”

They walked toward her car. She had a flannel-lined raincoat in her vehicle; she put it on as they got into the roadster. “Okay, Mr. Lawrence,” she said, shaking off the chill. “What about Charma?”

“Paul was my buddy. We were members of the same team,” Andrew explained.

“So, Paul Charma is a real person. I was beginning to wonder if he really did exist.”

“He did exist, although my guess would be all trace of him has been erased by now.”

“What was Paul involved in?”

“Paul died for what he knew. For what we all know.”

“What did he know?”

“I’m not allowed to say, ma’am. If I told you, you’d be in danger.” Andrew Lawrence looked out of the car’s window. “We’re being watched.”

Fay felt a chill race up her arms. “Where?” He pointed in James’ direction. “Relax. That’s my backup. Now, about Paul Charma. Do you know who killed him?” She held her gaze where she thought James was hiding, but she could not see him. For that matter, neither could Andrew have seen him; he had merely sensed someone was there.

“I don’t know who killed Paul.” Andrew was visibly shaken.

“You really are frightened, aren’t you?” She instinctively put her hand on his shoulder.

“I can take care of myself, ma’am.” He turned his head away, again looking out the passenger window. He turned back toward her. “Look, I just wanted to warn you. You don’t want to know anything about Paul Charma.”

Without hesitation, Fay asked, “Will you talk to me tomorrow?”

“What time?”

“How about nine hundred hours?”

Andrew nodded. “Goodnight, ma’am.” Andrew shook her hand and opened the car door. She thought he smiled at her as he waved before disappearing into the fog.

She got out of the car when she saw James approaching. “Bingo,” she said. “I think we’re done here. I’ll fill you in later.”

A dry smile came to his face. “Drive safely, ma’am. The roads are dangerous tonight.”

“Thanks, James,” she said with a warm smile. She slid behind the steering wheel of the roadster. “Goodnight.”

Arriving at Pearce’s apartment, she knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” Pearce called from the other side of the door.

“It’s me. Your favorite sister.”

Pearce opened the door. “Come on in. And FYI, I have only one sister.”

Fay slipped through the doorway and immediately shed her raincoat. “Well, here is an FYI for you. It’s raining cats and dogs.”

Pearce’s apartment was small but immaculate. The furniture was new; everything was color coordinated in tangerines and grays. “Sweet baby Jesus!” Pearce exclaimed on seeing Fay’s dress. “Look at you, girlfriend! You probably need some kind of permit to wear that outfit in public. How’d it go?”

“Better than I’d hoped. I’m onto something.”

“Hey, I made coffee and tea.” Pearce motioned toward the kitchen counter. “I didn’t know which you’d be in the mood for.”

Fay kicked off her shoes, tucking her legs beneath her as she sat down on the couch. “The tea would be fine…as long as it’s chamomile.”

“Hungry?” Pearce called from the kitchen.

“No thanks. But I do have something to bounce off you.”

“Go ahead, bounce away.” Pearce returned from the kitchen and set a delicate English teacup in front of Fay. “I’m listenin’.”

“What do you think of this? Paul Charma stiffs Carney for money he owed him for drugs. They argue. Carney kills him,” Fay proposed.

Pearce dropped a large pillow on the floor and sat down on it. “I think it’s possible, but I’m more comfortable with my theory.”

“I met a SEAL at the Wog tonight who knew Charma,” Fay explained. “He said he knows why Charma died. Although he wouldn’t tell me why.”

“Y’all think Paul Charma and Howard Carney had some kind of drug deal goin’. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Fay replied. “I have a feeling Carney is involved in this somehow. Yet, the guy is a goof. So, I’m conflicted at the moment.”

“Dad use to tell me when I ran into a difference of opinion, I should consider a compromise.”

The look on Fay’s face changed suddenly from thoughtful to pained. She looked away from Pearce to some distant point. “I used to get the same advice,” she said. She turned her attention back to Pearce. “And how would you compromise on this?”

“Try this,” Pearce offered. “Another SEAL murders Charma. That’s my part of the equation. The motive: a drug deal gone sour. That’s your part of the equation.”

“It may explain why Andrew Lawrence, the SEAL I met tonight, seemed so frightened. He knows the killer is an operator.” Fay sat up and searched for her shoes. “You’re going to be at the office by seven-thirty tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“I always am.”

“Petty Officer Lawrence is coming in, and I have a Seaman…ah—?”

“Lewis.”

“Right. Lewis, coming in for assistance with his will. How about you take Lewis while I talk to Andrew Lawrence?”

“No problem. I’ll have Mr. Rayzon pick up some of my duties tomorrow,” Pearce replied.

“Having James’ help has been a blessing, hasn’t it?” Fay asked.

“He’s been great, ma’am. He’s a pecker, though.”

“A what?

“A pecker. James uses the hunt and peck method when he types.” Pearce appeared to reflect briefly. “I don’t know how he ever got to be a yeoman. You know, I don’t know why, but James strikes me as someone who could have been an officer or something rather than an administrative assistant.”

“I had not thought about it.” Fay found her shoes and slipped them on. She looked at Pearce as if she were admiring her. “Tell me, sweetheart, why aren’t you dating Davy? He’s such a sweet guy.”

“Fayzie, Davy Cane is a good guy, but in case you haven’t noticed, he’s none too bright. There should be at least one smart one in every relationship. It would concern me if I found myself in a relationship where I was the smart half.”

****

03:20 hours, U.S. Navy frigate Jonathan Carr, the Yellow Sea, Pacific Ocean

“Captain Nevada, the North Koreans have given us thirty minutes to abandon ship.”

“So be it, Mr. Kim,” Nevada said to his Korean interpreter. Nevada stared blankly into the coal-black night. He reconsidered his options. “I don’t see we have any other choice. Tell the North Koreans we will comply.”

Nevada sighed and turned to his X-O and said, “Give the order to all hands, Commander Nathan. Abandon ship.”