Suppose what Sherman was saying was the truth, that some badass had come back from the grave to get revenge. Was the syringe a warning? Or the next step? Have to talk to Mchale Johnson at the FBI, he reminded himself as he crossed the wide pedestrian overpass between North Parking and the Pentagon building.
As soon as Karen got back to her desk, she called the front office to get an appointment with Admiral Carpenter.
Twenty minutes, later, Captain Mccarty called back and asked why she s, she asked only that the front office confirm that she could call on Mr. von Rensel and the NIS regarding the Sherman case. Mccarty was obviously perplexed, and he asked why she was asking. As he remembered it, the JAG had already assigned the new guy from NIS to the Sherman case. Mentally holding her breath, she explained only that the police might need help in tracking down an exenlisted man in connection with the Sherman matter. She was careful not to allude to Navy Special Forces or to Vietnam. She left it at that, hoping that the EA would be sufficiently distracted by the press of business not to probe further. She knew she was taking something of a chance, but if and when the business with Galantz got out, she wanted to be able to say that she had asked about involving the NIS, especially if her bosses raised hell about not being informed right away. Mccarty said impatiently that he would look into it and get back to her. She hung up, hoping that it would stop with the EA.
She might sneak one past Mccarty, but Carpenter missed nothing.
She finished off her morning coffee, still feeling a bit nervous about the bureaucratic games she was playing with this case. She also wanted to talk to Train von Rensel some more, but she was a little bit miffed with him over his persisting suspicions about Sherman. And what had he meant by that crack about her readiness to defend Sherman? But five minutes later, Train came through the door, smiled and waved at her, and went to his own cubicle, carrying his gear bag and that big stick under his arm like a toy gun. His suit was obviously’t “or-made, but there was no disguising the fact that he was about the biggest man she had been around in a long time. Despite herself, she smiled back. Then her phone rang.
“Navy JAG, Commander Lawrence speaking, sir.”
“Commander. This is Detective Mcnair with the Fairfax Police Department.”
“Good morning, Detective.” This was fortuitous. She had been about to call him to see if he had been given the syringe. She looked to see if she could get Train on an extension, but he was already on another line.
“Not very, actually,” Mcnair was saying, which got her immediate attention. She could hear the sound of other voices in the background.
“I’m at the home of a retired Navy admiral in Mclean. Guy named Galen Schmidt. Name ring a bell?”
It certainly did. The old gentleman at the memorial service. Sherman’s sea daddy. “Yes, it does. What’s happened?”
“Sony to inform you, but he’s no longer with us. Looks like a heart attack. Housekeeper found him this morning.
She says he had a bad heart condition. His doctor’s here, along with a rep from the county medical examiner’s office.
Like I said, apparent heart attack, although they’re not done yet. “
“Oh dear. I’m sorry to hear that. But-“
“Why am I calling you? Well, see, we found a pad of paper on his desk with Admiral Sherman’s name on it. And Elizabeth Walsh’s. Something about a memorial service.
The word SEAL, with a circle around it. And a question: TELL THE CNO?
Looks like notes, maybe taken during a conversation, or afterward. Any thoughts?”
Karen thought for a moment. “I believe Admiral Schmidt was Sherman’s professional mentor before Sherman made flag. And he was at the memorial service for Elizabeth Walsh Wednesday night. From what I saw, they were very close. Damn, does Admiral Sherman know about this?”
“I hope not,”
Mcnair said pointedly.
Karen was taken aback by the detective’s inference. “I see,” she said, groping for words. “Okay, I guess I can be the bearer of bad tidings.”
She hesitated. “Detective, tell me something. Are there any indications, uh…”
Mcnair picked right up on it. “That this is anything other than a heart attack? No. We’re not doing a crime scene or anything, unless one of the docs comes up with something hinky. Any particular reason for asking?”
“I don’t know. It’s just this syringe business last night.”
There was a moment of silence on the phone. “And what syringe business is that, Commander?”
He didn’t know? “The police were supposed to forward some kind of incident report to you. You haven’t gotten it?”
“I’m drawing a blank, Commander. I am the police, remember? What’re you talking about?” Karen told him about the events of the previous night, following their meeting at Sherman’s house. Mcnair was silent for a moment.
“Okay, Commander,” he said at last. “That’s all very interesting. I’ll make sure I retrieve that incident report. Will you see if you can find out when Admiral Sherman was here last? At Schmidt’s house? The housekeeper confirms that they were close friends. But we’d like a precise time.”
“Yes, I will. I’ll go see him right now. Has the Navy been informed officially?”
“Not by us. Like I said, right now it’s a heart attack.
Housekeeper says there’s no immediate family.” He paused for a moment, and she heard pages in his notebook ruffling.
“Let’s see, wife died of cancer ten years ago. They had one son, who was lost in a submarine accident in the early sixties. It looks like there’s no family, so maybe Admiral Sherman is the next-closest person. I’m assuming Schmidt had a lawyer, so we’ll track him down and find out.”
“Well, you should probably notify the Bureau of Naval Personnel. Hang on a moment.” She grabbed a DOD phone book and looked up the number of the Casualty Assistance Calls Office and gave it to him. “He was prominent enough that the CNO and other people at that level are going to want to know. Especially if-“
“If what, Commander?”
She realized she had made a mistake.
“Nothing. They should just be informed. I can do it if-, I %
Mcnair interrupted her. “Especially if what, Commander?”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure. It’s just that this is the second person tied in some way to Admiral Sherman to die in a week’s time. I’m worried about what’s going on. Things happening out there in the fog.”
“So are we, Commander,” Mcnair said gently. “But this one does look pretty much like an old geezer with a heart condition fulfilling his destiny to flop and twitch in the night. We’ll hang around until his physician pronounces, and then we’ll be back in the office. Maybe that syringe report’ll be there by then.”
“Okay, I’ll go inform Admiral Sherman. Thanks for the heads-up, Detective. “
She hung up and sat back in her chair. “Flop and twitch.”
These cops! She kicked herself mentally for bringing up Sherman’s name in connection with her suggestion to inform the Navy. Right now, the admiral was supposedly operating in full-cooperation mode with the police. On the other hand, given Train von Rensel’s -lingering suspicions, she was beginning to wonder about what the hell she was dealing with here. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to be keeping things from Captain Mccarty and Admiral Carpenter. Then she remembered that she had promised to go tell Sherman about the admiral’s heart attack. She looked at her watch. It was going on 9:30. She put a call into OP-32’s front office and waved to Train, who was off the phone, to come over to her cubicle. He got his coffee mug and ambled over. He smiled at her.
Almost without thinking, she smiled back.
“Admiral’s at the athletic club, Commander,” the yeoman said when she got through. Karen thanked him, hung up, and told Train about Admiral Schmidt. Train’s good humor evaporated. “And he said heart attack? No more of those forensic ambiguities?”
“That “s what he said. Admiral Schmidt’s own doctor is there. I saw the admiral at the service Wednesday night.
Classic heart-condition appearance.”
Train nodded thoughtfully. “Want some company on your mission of bad news?”
“Let me call CHINFO first,” she said. “They’ll alert the the flags here in the building.”
