Chapter 15

A constant stream of military personnel passed through the busy lobby, most carrying briefcases or files. The atmosphere seemed somber. Hushed tones of distant voices drifted up the numerous hallways; occasionally, Fay heard one of many doors squeak and close. Brisk footsteps echoed from the highly polished floors.

Several Army sergeants came into the lobby, looking as if they were searching for someone; none were Wu.

Finally, an Army sergeant entered. He immediately spotted her, smiling as he approached her. “Lieutenant Commander Green?” he asked with a steady gaze, never losing his smile.

She smiled and extended her hand. “Sergeant Wu, I’m honored to meet you.”

“Likewise, ma’am,” Wu said.

Fay tried to conceal her preconceptions. “An office has been set aside for our use. Let’s make ourselves comfortable,” she suggested.

A yeoman escorted them to a well-appointed office, including a massive cherry wood desk with an oversized leather stuffed chair located behind it. Two matching leather chairs faced the desk. The walls were decorated with photographs of various naval vessels. The nameplate slot next to the door was vacant.

Fay chose to sit in one of the two chairs facing the desk, rather than placing herself behind it. She would conduct her interview, but she would not do it from a superior position. She offered the chair behind the desk to Wu.

“This’ll be fine,” he said, taking the other chair next to hers. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not.”

Sergeant Wu was obviously not her idea of the rigid, prototypical Marine. Fay had expected the high and tight haircut and the thousand-yard stare typical of a seasoned combat veteran, similar to the gaze she had noticed in James Rayzon and Simon Linn’s eyes. Wu’s long black hair was gathered back into a ponytail and stuffed down the collar of his shirt. Along with the constant smile, there was a warm sparkle in his dark eyes. She presumed Wu to be of Chinese-Hawaiian ancestry. He was hardly the dark and sinister operator she had expected—although her common sense told her differently. The proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing was her guess.

“Your excellent tan tells me you might be from the Islands,” Fay began.

“Yes, Miss Green.” Wu’s eyes seemed to reflect happy thoughts of home. “I was born and raised on the Big Island. I’d say, judging from your accent, you’re from the South?”

“Northern Florida, near Pensacola.”

“Once again, I’m pleased to meet you, Lieutenant Commander Green. What can I do for JAG Corps?” 

“You are very perceptive, Sergeant. I am investigating a sailor’s death—a man named Paul Charma. Sergeant Wu, I would like to ask you some questions—off the record, so I won’t need to advise you of your Article thirty-one rights. Is that all right?”

“Go ahead, ma’am,” he replied.

“If you change your mind during this interview and wish to invoke your rights, as allowed by the UCMJ, let me know.” Fay smiled and continued, “I understand you were with Simon Linn the night he was arrested.”

The smile drained from Wu’s face. “I was with Simon that night. Although I will say I know the man well enough to know he wouldn’t kill unless he were defending himself or his country.”

Fay paused, referred to her notes, and then continued. “How long have you known Sergeant Linn?”

“I’d say almost three years, ma’am.”

“You’ve known Simon Linn for three years.”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever seen him angry? Or seen him lose his temper?” Fay questioned.

“Simon is like all of us. He gets angry, frustrated, disappointed. But where most of us in those situations will lash out or retaliate, Simon will hesitate before he responds.”

“How’s that?” she asked.

“You may know Simon was born and raised in the South,” Wu explained. “He called it the ‘Jim Crow South.’ I have tried to understand. But what did touch me was something his mother taught him.”

“And what was that, Sergeant?”

“She told him to refuse haters and to refuse blanket judgments. Simon is a good man, ma’am.”

Fay removed a handkerchief from her pocket, dabbed at the corners of her eyes, sniffed, and then made a note. “I understand a third man joined you and Sergeant Linn at Jillian’s that evening.”

“Sergeant Philip De Vinsone,” Wu confirmed.

“Did you know Paul Charma?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see Sergeant Linn talking with a man that night?”

“I did,” he replied.

“It would then be Paul Charma. Were they arguing?” Fay pressed.

“I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“What is your present duty assignment?”

Sergeant Wu offered an apologetic smile and said, “I’m sorry, that’s classified.”

She wrinkled her brow. “Can you tell me anything about your duty assignment?”

“I’m on training status.”

“Do you know Marine Major W. Irving?”

Wu brought his right hand to his chin. He stroked his chin thoughtfully and said, “Can’t say I do.”

Fay was not learning much. Further questioning seemed pointless. “I have one more question, Sergeant, then we’ll wrap this up. Do you know why someone would want to kill Paul Charma?”

Wu shifted slightly in his chair. The movement was slight, but to an astute lawyer, body language spoke volumes. “No,” he said, “I’ve no idea why anyone would want to kill the man.”

Fay sensed he did know why. “Thanks, Sergeant. You’re dismissed.”

The warm smile returned to Wu’s face. “By the way, my friends call me ‘Kimo,’” he offered.

“My pleasure, Kimo.”

Wu paused momentarily, then asked, “Do you have a nickname, Fay?”

She briefly considered his odd question before she responded. “When I was a child, my parents called me ‘Spider.’ According to my father, I was all arms and legs. To this day, my sister still calls me ‘Spider,’ although she’s the only one who does.”

“Is Simon going to be okay, ma’am?”

“Simon will be fine.”

A pleased look came to Wu’s warm brown eyes. “Semper Fi, Lieutenant Commander,” he said.

“Always faithful, Kimo,” she responded, translating Wu’s Latin words into English. “Sergeant Wu,” Fay said as she stood, signaling the end of their meeting. “I’m happy to have met you.”

“My pleasure.”