“Then why do you need a lawyer, Admiral?”
“Commander Lawrence isn’t acting as my lawyer, Admiral. She works for Admiral Carpenter.”
Kensington finally looked directly at Karen for a-second, giving her the feeling she was being exposed momentarily to dangerous radiation. He then trained back on Sherman.
“Commander Lawrence is not a trial lawyer,” he said. “She is an expert in investigations review. Why her?”
Whoa, Karen thought. Not many secrets left in this little box.
Kensington’s EA had been doing some homework.
“She was Admiral Carpenter’s choice, Admiral.’ And I suspect it’s because if there’s anything going on right now, it’s a low-level investigation. The police are not talking about a crime. As I said, we’re meeting with them tonight.
If they decide otherwise, and if they name me as a suspect, then I’ll probably go hire a civilian attorney. Commander Lawrence is sort of a neutral adviser at the moment. I don’t think I need any more help than that. For what it’s worth, I was still here in the office at the time when they think this happened.”
Kensington looked down at his desk for a moment. Karen wondered if he had one of his three-by-five cards there with his questions on it. But then he looked back over at Sherman, locking on again with those glittering gray eyes.
“Any interaction between a flag officer on the Navy staff and homicide police is a matter of concern. To me, to the CNO. Please make sure I am apprised of how this matter is resolved, Admiral. On your initiative, please, and not mine.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Sherman replied, hesitating just long enough to make it clear he didn’t like the way he was being treated. But Kensington had already refocused on the staffing folder. Vannot was tipping his head in the direction of the door. They followed him out.
“Commander, if you will excuse us for a moment,” Vannoyt said pointedly.
Karen said, “Of course,” and went out into the E-ring corridor. Vannoyt took Sherman into his-office and closed the door. She noticed that the yeomen were all concentrating very hard on their paperwork, and then she remembered that Kensington’s door had been open through a of that. A minute later, Sherman came back out and joined her. As they walked back toward the OP-32 office in silence, Sherman’s face was grim. She resisted an impulse to put a finger in her collar and unstick it from her neck.
The brief session with Kensington had made her appreciate the congenial atmosphere of IR, and she had not even been in the line of fire. She wondered if Vannoyt’s last-minute discussion had been about taking her into Kensington’s office. The three-star had generally ignored her, as if to show the one-star that she should not have been there in the first place. Sherman didn’t say anything -until they reached his office.
“Okay. Six o’clock at my house in Mclean. It’s in that cluster of town houses off Old Dominion just before you reach Mclean. Number nineteen on Cheshire Street, second left after you come in the main entrance. The numbers are visible.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be there.”
He paused, and then his face relaxed a bit. “Curious?”
She smiled. “A little. I’m guessing he was not pleased to see me in there.
“Correct. Vannoyt reminded me that flag officers never indulge in antagonistic interpersonal relations. And when they do, the help waits outside, thank you very much. More along that line.”
I’ll in surprised he didn’t just tell me to wait outside.”
It was his turn to smile. “The fact that’they didn’t was intended as a message to me. By all means, if you’re in trouble; bring your lawyer in.
That’s really what Vannoyt wanted to make sure I understood.” His expression grew serious. “We need to reach some kind of resolution with these people tonight if we can. That whole little scene was a political warning shot across my bow.”
“Yes, sir, I could see that. But resolution will depend on how forthcoming the police want to be.”
“Forthcoming homicide cops. Well.” He looked less than hopeful. Then she remembered Train.
“Oh, and I’ve asked Mr. von Rensel to be there tonight.”
“Why? I want to limit disclosure, not expand it.”
“You said we would probably need some NIS help with the Galantz problem.
He’s a senior investigator with the NIS, working directly for the JAG.”
“I see.” He paused, staring at nothing for a moment. “I guess we’ll have to. It’s just that this adds yet another person in the loop. Oh ‘ well, I’ll see you this evening, I guess.”
As she walked back toward her office, she wondered if he understood that he, too, would have to be a little more forthcoming about what had happened in Vietnam. She was also wondering where he really stood with his bosses. Presumed innocent or presumed suspect? He had been concerned right from the beginning about this story getting out in flag circles before the issue was properly defined, and now she had had a taste of why he was worried. She would have to fill Train in on what had happened in Kensington’s office and alert him to the fact that Sherman had been reluctant about folding NIS into this picture.
Karen and Train arrived at Sherman’s house nearly twenty minutes-later than she had planned, thanks to an overturned pickup truck and trailer at the north end of the GW Parkway.
He had followed her to Mclean in his car, a large fireengine-red Suburban, which he parked behind her in front of Sherman’s town house.
There did not seem to be any lights on in the town house, so once again she found herself waiting outside a strange front door. After her excursion to OP-03’s office, she had spent the rest of the morning harassing the Bureau about getting the records on Galantz. Train von Rensel had not returned until just before she left the Pentagon to make the meeting at Sherman’s house. She had not had time to back brief him on the meeting with Kensington before they had to get on the road..
Von Rensel’s open skepticism about the admiral’s story of the disappearing letter irritated her. She resented the inference that she would be getting way out of her depth if the mysterious SEAL really did exist. She also wondered if von Rensel’s reaction to the admiral’s story had anything to do with simple male competitiveness. She was getting the feeling that the big man was interested in her, although she couldn’t put her finger on why she felt that way. She had seen men do this before, getting competitive just because she was involved. Train wasn’t really . y her type, if there was such a thing, but still, he was interesting in some indefinably exotic sense. Sherman was an extremely handsome, smooth, and obviously very successful naval officer; Train, a great bear of a man whose watchful demeanor did not seem to quite square with his physical size. She smiled in the dark at her silly mental meandering. She had always been interested in men, but now, in her newfound widowhood, she had turned inward, unwilling to expend the energy required for a new relationship. The disturbing possibility that Frank might have been meeting another woman in that hotel, however much she suppressed it, had unsettled her selfconfidence. She had been ruthless about tamping down that subject every time her subconscious mind wanted to surface it. But she really did wonder every once in a while what she had done, or failed to do, that would have led Frank to seek out another woman’s companionship. Maybe I just got lazy, she thought. Or at least complacent. But then her independent self would react angrily: Why should I assume it was my fault if Frank was unfaithful?
Headlights appeared in her mirror as Sherman showed up in a big Ford sedan. She got out of her car as von Rensel got out of the Suburban.