Chapter 13
Admiral May seemed stern. He said, “Captain Fletcher, five days ago, the frigate U.S.S. Jonathan Carr was sunk in North Korean provincial waters.” May sipped at a cup of hot chocolate. “I don’t have a lot of details, Hurricane, but I need your help.”
A puzzled look crossed Fletcher’s face. “I’ll do whatever I can, Admiral. Strange, I hadn’t heard about this.” He looked at Vern Towsley, who was sitting at his desk, facing the two officers.
May replied, “North Korea and the United States have managed to keep a lid on it, so far.”
“We’re not at war?”
“Not yet. We’re not ready to go public on the incident.”
Fletcher sensed the Admiral had something to tell him but was waiting.
May sipped at his hot chocolate and then said, “I have been given permission to brief you and Vern on this, Hurricane.” He paused to loosen his necktie. “Five weeks ago, Defense Minister Park Seung He, North Korea’s number one man, defected to South Korea. Park arrived with the aid of a secret American commando team assigned to my department.”
“A counter-proliferation team?” Towsley asked.
“That’s right,” May confirmed.
“Was the Carr off course?” asked Fletcher.
“No,” Admiral May replied. “She had the North Koreans’ permission to be there.”
“Odd. Then why did the North Koreans sink her?” Fletcher asked.
May shrugged his shoulders. “It remains a mystery. I suppose the captain of the Carr knows why, along with our President and the North Korean government. I do know I need your help. President Ross has ordered my operators to Chinhae.” He frowned. He took a deep breath and said, “Nalon Vet has been dispatched to Chinhae as well. She left port the day following your arrival in Bremerton.”
“This comes as a shock, Admiral,” Fletcher said. “Do we have any other details?”
“We’re still sorting this thing out. We know Captain Matthew Nevada was given thirty minutes to abandon his ship before it was torpedoed and sunk. One life was lost.”
“I…” Fletcher paused.
“I know you are the one man I can count on, Hurricane.”
“What can I do, sir?”
“I’ve put together a team made up of much the same men who extracted the defense minister from North Korea,” Admiral May explained. “If you agree, we will meet tomorrow at zero-eight hundred in the Tac/Log Center briefing room at Joint Base Lewis-McChord.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good,” Admiral May said and then turned toward Towsley. “I’d like you to be there, Vern. I can use your help as well.”
“Of course, Admiral,” Towsley replied.
As Egan Fletcher walked toward the JAG office’s foyer, he passed the office of Lieutenant Commander Green. He could see Petty Officer Pearce through the window in the door. He entered the office. She seemed startled to see him, lurching to the required position of attention before greeting him.
Egan said, “Good morning, Miss Pearce. At ease.”
Pearce relaxed. “Mornin’, sir. Lieutenant Commander Green isn’t here.” She pointed over her shoulder, indicating the conference room’s general direction. “She’s in the conference room.”
“Thanks, but I wasn’t looking for Lieutenant Commander Green. I happened to see you through the window and stopped by to say hello. Anyway, I don’t want to disturb you. Carry on.”
“Thank you, sir. Y’all weren’t disturbin’ me. I wasn’t doin’ nothin’. Well…I mean, I was doin’ somethin’, but—.” Pearce blushed and seemed to be at a loss for words. “Can I help you with somethin’, sir?”
“No, no. Carry on.”
Fletcher’s route toward the building’s exit took him past the conference room. Through the door, left ajar, he could see Fay sitting alone at the end of a long conference table. He eased his head just inside the doorway and said, “Hello, Faydra.”
She looked up from her work, quickly removed her reading glasses, smiled, and said, “Oh…hello, sir!” With a motion of her right hand, she said, “Please, join me.”
Egan entered the room. “I just wanted to say hello.”
She stood and pulled a chair away from the table. “Please, have a seat, Captain. Is your meeting with Captain Towsley over?”
He sat down. “We just finished up.” He sat motionlessly.
She asked, “Is something wrong, sir?”
“No…nothing wrong. I was heading home, saw you through the doorway, and thought I’d pay my respects.”
“I am delighted you did, sir.”
Pearce entered the conference room with a large manila envelope tucked under her arm. “Excuse me, ma’am. This arrived for y’all via mail carrier.” She laid the envelope on the table in front of Fay, smiled at Fletcher, and left the room.
Fletcher’s eyes followed Pearce from the room. “She’s a very charming woman,” he observed.
“Do you live near Bremerton?” Fay asked.
“I live on a small farm east of Seattle. Near the city of Maple Valley.”
“Does your son tend to the animals while you are at sea?”
“He’s a full-time student at the University of Washington. Ronda watches the place while I’m away.” Egan drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair.
“Is Ronda your wife, sir?”
“I suppose I would marry her if she would wait for me.” He chuckled and relaxed for a moment.
“How so?”
“Ronda is my seventy-year-old housekeeper. I’ve told her many times if she would hold at seventy until I caught up, I’d sweep her off of her feet.”
Fay laughed. “Captain, pardon me for asking, but how is it there is no Mrs. Fletcher?”
“My wife died eight years ago.”
“I am so sorry I asked. Forgive me for the asking.”
“I’m fine. Life has been good to me. I have a great son and a fine career.” He sat back. “When the time is right… You were married at one time, weren’t you?”
“Briefly, a long time ago,” Fay replied. “Anyway. In the end, the entire mess did not amount to more than a hill of beans.”
“A hill of beans,” Fletcher said thoughtfully.
“It’s a Southern thing, sir. You know, why I reckon if I had my druthers and was fixin’ to get hitched again, I’d have to be livin’ in the high cotton,” she said.
Fay had said it so matter of factly, Egan laughed. “You will remind me if I ever travel to the South to take a translator with me.”
“Sho’ nufff,” Fay said with a giggle.
Egan glanced at the assortment of papers scattered across the table. “It looks like the law business is booming.”
Fay surveyed the table, shook her head, and sighed. “I’m investigating a homicide.”
“A homicide?”
“Yes, it is out of the ordinary. Normally I defend, prosecute, or investigate the inconsequential, such as petty theft, sexual harassment, absent without leave, and various misconduct cases. Until now, the Navy has not assigned me to a homicide case.”
“How’s the investigation going?” Fletcher asked.
“Off the record… it’s quite unusual for many reasons. Someone far up the food chain sprung the prime suspect, an operator. A Marine major kidnapped the corpse, and the deceased’s service records have disappeared.”
“I don’t know much about the inner workings of the military justice system, Fay,” he offered, “but I would imagine this would be somewhat disconcerting for you.”
“Not really, sir.”
The conference room’s natural light emphasized Fay’s almond-shaped sea-green eyes, eyes of enormous depth and directness, which gave her face an undeniable allure. Fletcher studied her for a moment but remained silent.
A sly grin formed on Fay’s full, sensuous lips, and her expression changed to one of mock anger. “But I must admit I’m starting to get up into a hissy fit.”
Egan chuckled.
She sighed. “Time for lunch. It’s Miss Pearce’s birthday.”
“Really.” He smiled to himself. “Miss Pearce’s birthday?”
“I am taking her out for lunch.”
****
Several hours later, a flower delivery arrived: six huge, lavender roses. When she spotted the flowers, Pearce said, “Those would be for Lieutenant Commander Green. I’ll take them for her.”
“I’m sorry, Miss,” the deliveryman said, and handed the flowers to her. “I know little about the Navy, but I do know the difference between an officer and a petty officer. I think these are for you. That’s if you’re J. Pearce?”
“Huh…who, me? Who sent them?”
“Check the card,” he suggested.
Pearce thanked him and hurriedly tore open the envelope. How thoughtful of Fay to buy her lunch; the flowers were unexpected.
Happy birthday! The card read. Please enjoy your special day! The card was signed by Egan Fletcher.
Pearce was stunned. Running to Fay’s office, flowers in hand and a broad smile on her face, she exclaimed, “Zowie!” She held up the bouquet for Fay to see. “They’re birthday flowers for me from Captain Fletcher!”
“That is a zowie, alright!” Fay shrieked. “How very nice of him!”
“I guess Captain Fletcher don’t worry so much about protocol and regs.”
“Oh… I’m sure Captain Fletcher does,” Fay replied. “At least the important ones anyway. But just so’s ya know, Mr. Fletcher does not come in a pair.”
“Then I can keep ’em?”
Fay winked at her. “Of course.” She smiled. “Seems you may have an admirer!”
Looking down at the top of Fay’s desk, Pearce said, “Ma’am, not to change the subject. I notice the envelope I gave to you this mornin’ is still layin’ here on your desk, unopened. Wasn’t it important?”
“Mercy! In all the excitement, I forgot about it.” Fay snatched the envelope off her desk and opened it. Although it had been addressed to her, there was no return address. Immediately, she realized what she was reviewing. As she paged through the contents, a tendril of hair fell in front of her left eye. With a quick puff from the corner of her mouth, the tendril returned to its proper location.
Speaking barely above a whisper, Fay said, “Charma’s service records, his wallet, and a pack of cigarettes.” She again thumbed through the records. “His records, sans page thirteen.”