Chapter 20

Heavy traffic delayed the trio’s arrival at Gimpo International Airport for a 17:00 hours flight to Chinhae. The South Korean Army staff car drove up to the waiting, unmarked C-40A Clipper U.S. military personnel jet. The sonic whir emitting from the jet’s twin turbine engines, the flashing red lights atop and beneath the jet’s fuselage, and the smell of kerosene made Fay realize had she been one minute later, they might have left without her and her companions.

The trio boarded through the forward passenger door, noting three other passengers—two admirals and a captain - seated near the aircraft’s rear. Fay offered an apologetic grin in their direction. She heard the passenger door thump shut as she hastily made her way to a nearby seat and sat down.

Within moments, the jet rolled forward. Fay watched through the small window while they taxied to a nearby runway, then paused as an Aeroflot crossed in front of them. Shortly after, the jet moved forward again and quickly turned onto the runway. The jet’s twin engines roared to life. The plane’s rapid acceleration pressed her back into her seat. The plane lifted from the ground and screamed into the evening twilight at a steep angle. Not long after, it banked sharply to the right. She found herself looking through the window, straight down at the ground.

The twisting and turning motion, combined with her not having a reference point, left her disoriented. It felt as if they were slipping back toward the ground. Fay clamped her hands around the armrests. “Mercy!” she whispered to Winslow, sitting next to her, who appeared to be asleep. “You prayin’ or sleeping, Mister Winslow?”

A slight smile formed on his lips. “I’m savoring the moment, ma’am?”

The jet continued to bank for what seemed to be a three hundred sixty-degree turn on its wingtip before the pilot snapped the plane back to level flight.

Once the plane regained its stability, Fay felt compelled to introduce herself to the other passengers and apologize for her late arrival. She took a deep breath, pried her fingers from the armrests, muttered, “Well, here goes nothing,” unbuckled her seat belt, and emerged from her seat with a gracious smile on her face. She assertively made her way to the back of the plane to greet her fellow passengers.

The two admirals were seated next to one another, chatting. “Good evening, sirs,” Fay said, crisply extending her hand toward the admiral nearest her. “I’m Faydra Green.” A genuine smile and a beautiful set of white teeth worked wonders in awkward situations such as these. “I wish to apologize to you for our late arrival. The traffic was terrible. We—”

“No need to apologize, Lieutenant Commander,” one of the men assured her. “I’m Quentin Morton, and this is Brandon May.” Morton smiled and extended his hand. May did likewise. Fay shook each man’s hand, and then Admiral Morton spoke, “I think we can forgive a late arrival here and there, Lieutenant Commander. We’re all busy people who run late from time to time.”

“Enjoy the flight, Miss Green,” May said. “Glad to have you aboard.”

“Why, thank you, kind sir. It has been a pleasure meeting you.” She smiled then proceeded along the aisle to greet the captain. Once again, she extended her hand. “Good evenin’, Captain,” she said. “I’m Faydra Green, JAG Corps.”

He smiled. As he shook her hand, he said, “I’m Matt Nevada.”

Surprise number two! First the mysterious Admiral May, now the Jonathan Carr’s captain, Matt Nevada.

Following a brief but lively chat with Captain Nevada, Fay returned to her seat. “The handsome four-striper is Matthew Nevada,” she whispered to Pearce. “The admiral near the window is Admiral May.”

“You’re kiddin’ me?” Pearce turned to peek over the top of her seat. “Goodness, Nevada is yummy.”

This talk attracted Winslow’s attention. He, too, peered over his seat back and said, “I recall seeing the flag in Admiral Wallace’s office the other day.”

“Which one?”

“The one on the right,” Pearce confirmed. “I saw him too.”

“May?” Fay asked.

“Yeah,” Pearce replied.

Fay lightly jabbed Pearce in her ribs with her elbow. “And you guys didn’t tell me?”

Pearce whispered, “To see a flag officer in a flag officer’s office is commonplace.” Pearce paused for a moment. “Did what I just say make sense?” She shrugged her shoulders and continued, “I didn’t know who it was until just now.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just surprised, that’s all.” Fay glanced back at the admirals. “May looks awfully young to be an admiral.”

Forty minutes later, the jet touched down on a tiny airstrip at Chinhae and quickly taxied to a tarmac near several gray hangers. Fay could see two white Navy sedans waiting. Their engines were running, evident by the wisps of exhaust wafting up from the vehicles’ tailpipes.

The trio respectfully waited while the senior officers deplaned. As each man passed by Fay and her team, each officer wished them goodnight. May added, “We’ll see you tomorrow at the inquiry.”

The three officers entered the first of the two cars and sped off into the night. Fay, Winslow, and Pearce deplaned and walked to the remaining vehicle. A driver was standing by the car’s open rear door and saluted as the three approached.

“Evenin’, ma’am,” she said.

Fay returned the salute, and all got into the car. The driver held the door open until they were seated and then closed it and took her place behind the steering wheel.

“Excuse me, Miss,” Fay said to the driver. “What are we waiting for?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the driver said, turning slightly toward Fay. “We’re waitin’ for the pilots.”

Fay glanced through the window toward the jet. “Seems like we needed another car.”

“Yes, ma’am. This car is more like a hotel limo, ma’am. But we can get cozy, ma’am,” the driver replied.

“I was just curious, that’s all.” Fay wondered what Admiral May was doing on their jet and in Korea. Might the U.S.S. Jonathan Carr and Paul Charma have an affinity?

“What are they doin’ here?” Pearce whispered and pointed past Fay toward a nearby hanger.

Fay’s line of sight followed Pearce’s pointing finger, and her gaze settled on what appeared to be a black twin-engine jet just disappearing into a darkened hangar. “What was that?”

“Looked like an AN-Seventy-Two, ma’am,” Winslow offered.

“An AN what?” Fay asked.

“A Russian military passenger jet, ma’am.”

“A Russian? Here? On an American military base?”

“Obviously somethin’ we didn’t see, ma’am.”

“See what?”

Fay’s train of thought was interrupted when the rear two passenger doors opened simultaneously. Pearce slid to the middle of her seat to make room, and the two pilots got into the sedan. Fay immediately recognized the man who sat at Pearce’s left. “Speak of the devil. Bart Hay!” Fay said.

“Howdy, Lieutenant Commander. Miss Pearce.” Hay smiled as he nodded in both women’s directions. “This is Ace Tag, our copilot. Ace, this is Commander Faydra Green and Miss Pearce. And a gentleman I do not know.”

“Petty Officer Winslow,” Fay said.

Ace smiled. “Pleased to meet you all.”

“Likewise, Mr. Tag,” Fay replied. “That was an exciting takeoff back there at Gimpo, Bart.”

“The air traffic control had us on a leash tonight.” Hay spoke with a Texas twang.

As the car moved away, Fay glanced back at the plane. “A jet from the Secret Service fleet, Bart?”

“Yup. We’ve been drivin’ Admiral May around for over a month now.”

“You were in Bremerton, and y’all didn’t call lil ol’ me, Mr. Hay?” Fay teased. “I’m disappointed.”

“Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t know.”

Bart Hay seemed the same jet-jockey she had remembered: cocky, arrogant, egotistical, and good-looking, in a cowboy sort of way. Everything she did not care for in a man. Yet, Fay found him charming. Because the Texan’s attire usually included a black cowboy hat with matching western boots, Pearce, at their last meeting, had dubbed him “Black Bart” in honor of a TV cowboy badman she recalled from her childhood.

For a good portion of the ride, Bart conversed with Pearce, who was obviously smitten.

The car came to a stop at a hotel near the navy base. Bart and Ace got out, said goodnight, and disappeared into the hotel.

Fay jabbed Pearce. “Y’all and Mr. Hay seem to have somethin’ to talk about,” she teased.

“Naw. Nothin’. Mr. Hay is aware of my Native American ancestry, so we have many inside jokes to catch up on. Nothing more.”

Ten minutes later, the trio arrived at their own hotel. After checking in and having a quiet dinner, they retired for the night.

****

07:55 hours, Chinhae, the next morning

Fay, Pearce, and Winslow marched into the inquiry conference room with purpose. All eyes were on the tall, well-tanned, blonde officer. Fay took little notice that she was the only junior officer in a room full of senior officers.

The inquiry, conducted by Admiral May, was routine and primarily dull, as the details of the sinking were tediously reviewed. Nothing unusual was discovered or uncovered. Captain Nevada had followed proper procedures. That was their conclusion. Fay’s was different. Perhaps it was her inquisitive mind nagging at her investigative soul, telling her there was more to the sinking than was revealed at the inquiry.

After the inquiry, Fay and her crew returned to their hotel rooms. They would spend the night in Chinhae and return to Seoul the following day. The quiet evening time gave her a chance to compile Admiral Wallace’s report.

****

The white jet glistened in the early morning sun while it stood waiting for Fay and her team. This time, Admirals Morton and May were the ones late in arriving. As she boarded the plane, the cockpit door stood open. “Mornin’, ma’am,” Bart Hay called from the cockpit.

“Mornin’, Mr. Hay,” Fay responded.

“I was feelin’ bad about not callin’ y’all when we were in Bremerton. Would ya like to join us in the cockpit this mornin’? There’s room in here for two more.”

She thought for a moment. “Tell you what, Mr. Hay. How about my Legalman sit in for me?” Winslow seemed elated to have the opportunity.

“Ma’am, this will be fun for you,” Pearce said. “You and Don go.”

The flight to Seoul gave Fay a chance to chat with Bart. “He wasn’t so bad once you got to know him,” she would later tell Pearce. The visit did allow her to get better acquainted with the Secret Service Casanova.

She learned Bart had been an Air Force major before taking his assignment as a pilot with the Treasury Department and Secret Service. His last duty assignment with the Air Force had been as pilot of the SR-71, a spy plane known as the Blackbird.

Major Kim was waiting at Gimpo to retrieve Fay and her team. He was not very talkative. Kim seems to have a lot on his mind, and well, Major Kim should, Fay reasoned. But he did ask if she would join him for coffee at the hotel. She felt tired and thought she should decline the offer, but it sounded important. On behalf of Winslow and Pearce, she agreed to join him.

After making themselves comfortable in the hotel coffee shop, Kim began, “Fay, I think you know this is not a social visit.”

“I knew that.”

Kim responded with a nervous chuckle. His voice turned somber. “We do have a problem. We need your help.”

“Another crisis, Mr. Kim? I’m sorry. My schedule is plum full.”

The waiter arrived ready to take their orders. Each person ordered, and Fay waited until the waiter left the table, then said, “Problem? I am getting used to the word. What is going on, Jangho? It has something to do with the Carr.”

“Something we learned at the inquiry.”

She was not aware Major Kim was connected to the Carr inquiry. “The inquiry was routine; Nevada followed procedure. One life was lost.” Fay picked up a spoon from off the table; unconsciously, she tapped it lightly on the table. “Unfortunate and tragic as it is, Mr. Kim, one life was lost.”

“That’s the problem. For a moment, recall Captain Nevada’s statement about the death.”

“Nevada said he was the last to leave the ship. He asked for a sweep of the ship and all hands were accounted for.” Fay paused for a moment as she recalled Nevada’s testimony. “And Nevada said he returned to his stateroom to retrieve sensitive documents from his safe. Once he was satisfied all hands had abandoned the ship, he left the ship.”

“Exactly,” Jangho said. “Last night, Nalon Vet returned to Chinhae from the wreck of the Carr.” He paused when the waiter returned to the table to refresh their glasses of iced tea. After the waiter left, he continued, “They returned with the missing man’s body.”

“I presume the body was found on the Carr?”

“Divers recovered the body from the passageway near Nevada’s stateroom.”

Fay played the scenario out in her mind. “If Nevada returned to his stateroom, as he claims, he would have to pass through the passageway on his way topside.”

“You’re on track,” Kim said.

“Nevada wouldn’t have missed seeing the sailor in the passageway.” The look on Kim’s face suggested to her she was right. “The Navy would like for me to investigate this death, which they believe to be accidental.”

He responded with a sarcastic grin.

“Mr. Kim, you believe otherwise, don’t you?” Fay asked.

He did not answer.

“The Carr inquiry determined,” she said, “a JAGMAN investigation was not required in the death of the sailor. The decision is consistent with JAGMAN directives regarding shipboard deaths resulting from enemy actions.”

“We’ve spoken to the JAG,” Jangho said. “He’s given his permission to have you and your team remain in Seoul to conduct a preliminary investigation. Three days maximum. If you agree, of course.”

“I agree,” Fay said hesitantly. “Mr. Kim, would you be available to us, should we need help?”

“I’m at your disposal. I’m sure you would find me to be invaluable.”

“That’s reassuring. I would be deeply honored to have your assistance. We look forward to working with you.”

Kim smiled. “And I with you, Fay. I was on the Carr. I’ll be able to provide any details necessary to your investigation.”

“Very well,” she said. “I will meet with you tomorrow morning. Will that be convenient for you?”

Kim nodded.

Nothing about his request sounded encouraging to her—except that Major Kim would be assisting her. Fay knew she had stepped from the Charma frying pan into the Carr fire, although a bit of help from the Korean CIA could prove advantageous.

The trio wished Major Kim goodnight and departed for their rooms. They not only had a new mystery to solve, but a report to finish for Admiral Wallace. Fay wondered when she would next sleep; she dialed room service to order an entire pot of coffee—strong and black.