| Subject: ...For Meritorious Service, Chapter 24c, part one |
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TxJAG_b
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Date Posted: 20:11:11 02/19/08 Tue
In reply to:
TxJAG_b
's message, "...For Meritorious Service" on 09:04:26 05/08/07 Tue
2058 Local
CIA Headquarters
Langley, Virginia
Clayton Webb was reviewing the latest analysis of terrorist ‘chatter’ from the Counter-Terrorism Information Network [CTIN] office. The CIA Special Agent rubbed his eyes, trying to stave off the urge to sleep. Usually he didn’t have any problem with working through the evening, but last the two weeks had been particularly grueling.
He looked again at the report. There was definitely an increase in the ‘chatter’, that is, the communication between the various terrorist suspects that they had under surveillance. All the talk pointed to something ‘big’ that was going to happen…and soon.
He pushed his rolling chair back from his desk. He knew what the ‘something big’ was. Samir al-Sahood and Hammad Faoud al Harib had managed to spirit their chemical ‘cocktail’ out of the Darunta training camp in Afghanistan and as ‘Rancher’ had confirmed, they were in the process of attaching their warheads to missiles on board operational FROG and SCUD missile launchers…. Launchers that were hidden somewhere north of Mirbullah….
He swiveled around in his chair and looked at the physical relief map of southern and central Iraq tacked on his wall. Somewhere…. His eyes searched the geographic features around Mirbullah. But where? Where would be the best place to hide those missiles? All they had right now was vague report from a SEAL unit that a BMD personnel carrier had been spotted in the hills north Mirbullah at a place called Amariya….
He didn’t hear Laurie June, his executive assistant, walk into his office.
“Um, Mr. Webb?” she said softly. She really hated disturbing him when he was like this.
Clay didn’t move. He was lost in his study of the map.
“Mr.Webb?” she gently tapped his shoulder. Clay turned to face her. “Sorry to interrupt you, sir, but Mr. Kershaw would like to see you….”
“Thanks, Laurie June,” he said absently to her as he got up from his chair. She nodded silently, giving him a sympathetic smile. It was obvious his mind was elsewhere.
He looked beat. She wished he could help him with this mission, but he had made it clear he didn’t want anybody else involved. Including her.
*~*
“Clayton,” Harrison Kershaw looked up from the report he was reading. “I trust you’re doing better.” He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “By the way, how is your hand?”
Clay looked down at his scarred hand. It remained steady. The new combination of drugs they were giving him seemed to be working. “Much better, thanks.” He settled into the chair in front of the Deputy Director’s large polished dark cherry desk.
The assistant that had let him in had quietly exited the room.
“What is the status with Arafat’s former bodyguard?”
“Sadik has gone underground.”
“As have you. I’m moving Hardy to the position of Station Chief of Paramaribo. Sadik knows too much about our operation in the Chaco Boreal.”
Kershaw didn’t add ‘because of what Sadik might have learned from you’. But then, he didn’t have to. The implication was already there. Clay could have told him that he didn’t break, but it probably would not have done much good. He wondered if the Deputy Director still suspected that Edward Hardy might be leak for their operations in Central and South America. Maybe by putting him there, he would more easily reveal himself…. Still, without Hardy’s import – export business front, all the armed forces assets in the area would be without a logistical base.
“What about Colonel Bushnell’s Tactical Analysis Team? Are you pulling them out as well?” Clay had to know if he had compromised the whole Paraguayan operation.
“No, not at all. The Colonel has other logistical points he can use.” That didn’t make the CIA Agent feel much better.
Kershaw gave him a rare paternal smile. “The truth is, we need you here. You’re too valuable an asset to leave where Sadik could easily find you; that export office front had served its purpose...Raul Garcia is no longer a problem.”
Satisfied that he had given Clayton Webb the answer he was seeking, Harrison Kershaw went back to reading his report. Then he closed the folder and laid it down in front on him on his desk pad. “Have you heard from Rabb lately?”
“I tried to contact him about thirty minutes ago. The ship-to-shore operator told me he wasn’t available right now….
“Not available?” the Deputy Director seemed perturbed by that idea.
“He’s, uh, out on dawn patrol,” Clay hastily explained. It appeared that Kershaw had forgotten that Harm had been recalled.
“Dawn patrol? …oh yes, that’s right, he was recalled to active flight duty….”
“Yes sir,”
“Well I guess he won’t be much help to us….” It was obvious that Kershaw had written off Harmon Rabb, Jr. as an asset – for now. “What have you heard from “Rancher” lately?” he said shifting mental gears.
Clay flipped through Rancher’s latest report. “She and Scimitar are still trying to pin down where al-Sahood has hidden his missiles….
Harrison Kershaw leaned forward. “Any leads?”
“Nothing solid yet.”
“I don’t need to remind you that we’re running out of time,” Harrison said as he got up out his chair and walked over to his window, looking out at the evening traffic heading in and out of the parking lot moving through the woods to the nearby highway. The late evening shift was coming in.
“No sir,”
“Agreeing to let Commander Rabb go back to JAG might have been a mistake. We need his expertise….
Clayton Webb felt himself bristle at that comment, part of him wanted to say, ‘we don’t need Rabb’ but he knew that was just the undercurrent of jealously…part of his strange…friendship? with Harmon Rabb, Jr. Despite all they had been through in the last few years, he somehow still considered Harm a friend. Some people might wonder how many ‘friends’ try to steal the other’s girlfriend…but then again, Sarah MacKenzie never made it clear she wasn’t available….
Arrrgh…this kind of thinking wasn’t getting him anywhere. He needed to focus on this meeting before the Deputy Director thought he might need a psych evaluation….
“I know sir, but he’s been assigned as flight leader for a Fighter-Bomber squadron on the Patrick Henry,” Clay reminded the Deputy Director.
“Yes, well, I guess the Navy needs him more at the moment than we do… I take it he was activated due to that influenza outbreak in Persian Gulf region. Do have anything more on where this bug came from?”
“Both the CDC and USAMRIID confirm it wasn’t biological attack.” Clay said getting up and joining him at the dark window. “And if it was, it was a miserable failure. The casualty rate has been less than 20 percent.”
“But it has forced the Navy and Marine Corps to activate their Reserves….” The Deputy Director said thinking aloud.
“Yes sir,” Webb said kicking himself for adding the ‘miserable failure’ part.
The Deputy Director gave the former Paramaribo Station Head a telling glance. “Then if it was deliberate, I wouldn’t call it a complete failure, Clayton.”
“Yes sir.”
“Well, let’s concentrate on more pressing matters, shall we?” He handed the CIA Agent a sheet of paper.
“I received a call from Deputy Director Green at DSD earlier this morning. He told me that Colonel MacKenzie has been attached to Lieutenant Colonel Livingston’s Force Recon unit as a legal advisor and that they have joined the search for the missiles.”
Clay tried to not let his surprise show. “I’d heard rumors to that effect.” He handed the paper back to Kershaw.
Harrison Kershaw, of all people, knew how close his Special Agent and the Marine Judge Advocate had become as a result of what they had experienced at the hands of Sadik Fahd. He also knew that Clayton Webb would never let his true feelings show about her being involved in this hunt. He decided that pressing him any further on this matter wasn’t beneficial for either of them. Besides he knew if it came down to it, Clayton Webb would do the right thing. Even if it meant sacrificing a woman he might have feelings for.
The Deputy Director had not reached this position without cost. And he knew Special Agent Webb and Colonel MacKenzie shared a bond much like he had had many, many years ago with a young woman who had saved his life.
“What do we know about the insurgent forces in the Mirbullah area?”
The CIA Special Agent was relieved that they were off the subject of Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie.
“We believe the Jihadist Salafies, in particular al Jihad and Jama’at al Tawhid wal Jihad, have joined forces or are providing support to a group of Republican Guard, former Iraqi Army troops and a cadre of Saddam Fedayeen from the central region in Iraq.”
Kershaw didn’t like the sound of that. “That means they’re getting Iranian Revolutionary Guard support as well. How large of a group are we talking about?”
“Big. At least a battalion’s worth of fighters.”
“Are they in contact with al Sahood’s cell?”
“Most likely, yes.”
“Then that means they are also most likely in contact with the moles in that Marine Expeditionary Unit.”
“Yes sir. And we’re certain now that the mole, and/or moles, are in Colonel Livingston’s Force Recon command staff.” Clay wished he didn’t have to qualify that statement, but the truth was, they still weren’t sure how many moles they were dealing with.
“We’re sure?”
“Absolutely.” Clay wondered about the wisdom of using that word as soon as it left his mouth. Still, he forged ahead. “The traffic that CTIN picked up in the last few days indicates encrypted messages being sent to and from someone in Livingston’s command staff.”
“Can we pinpoint who?”
“Rancher, Scimitar and the SEAL team have been unsuccessful in their efforts so far. Not without having someone on the inside…” Somehow the conversation had revolved full circle back to Colonel MacKenzie.
“Clayton, we need to find out who exactly those moles are. Can you get in touch with Colonel MacKenzie?”
Webb cleared his throat. “It’ll be tricky sir, but I’ll try.” He hoped Sergeant Reyes was still on duty. The Sergeant was a well-connected set of eyes and ears in the 36th MEU and could find out almost anything he asked.
Harrison Kershaw gave Webb a sharp look. “Don’t *try*, Special Agent Webb, *do*.”
“Yes sir.”
0530 Local
BOQ/VOQ, Camp Chest Puller
Near Mirbullah, Iraq
Gibbs had gotten a few hours of sleep until his dreams had interrupted his slumber. Dreams of Shannon with her beautiful flowing red hair and Kelly with her exuberant, sunny, innocent smile.
They were disturbing only because in his sleep he knew they were dead even as they spoke to him. And yet, they seemed so real…so alive.
He woke up to find himself in his dark humid and dusty Visitor Officer Quarters. Parched, he reached over for his canteen. As he started to open it, he stopped, examining it’s smooth surface.
It was not like the one he had back at NCIS Headquarters...the one with a bullet embedded in the etched remembrance from his dead wife and daughter. Shannon and Kelly had given that canteen as present just before he had gone Kuwait to participate in Desert Shield/Desert Storm. The bullet embedded in the canteen came later - it may have even been a harbinger of things to come. (Boy, there’s a negative thought for first thing in the morning….)
The dream had left an air of depression pressing down on him as well as the urge to have a shot of whiskey. He shook his head.
(No.)
He wasn’t going to let anger and sadness drag him down. Not now. Not during the middle of an investigation.
He shoved himself up off his bed and began doing push-ups. He’d think about having that drink later…when all this was over.
0550 Local
36th MEU SJA Office
Camp Chesty Puller
Near Mirbullah, Iraq
When Gibbs walked into the SJA Office, a Lance Corporal looked up from his paperwork.
“They’re in conference right now with SJA Iraq, sir.” he said indicating that Major Barnett and Captain Johnson were unavailable at the moment.
As if on cue, Colonel Gordon Cresswell’s iron voice could be heard through the thin wooden door. Obviously they were having a conference call with the senior SJA.
“Today gentlemen!”
“Aye, aye, Colonel!” The junior Marine judge advocates responded simultaneously.
Everyone in the SJA office looked up. Gibbs smiled. He didn’t know the senior SJA in Iraq all that well, but what he heard through that door indicated Cresswell didn’t think very much of Barnett and Johnson’s performance to date, either.
As the door to the inner office opened everyone in the outer area, except Gibbs, found a reason to look extra busy.
Vince Barnett let an ‘oh crap’ look flit through his features. “Good morning Special Agent,” he said smoothly.
The senior NCIS Agent was used to this kind of response. A standard ‘good morning sir’ while split second looks of irritation, or in some cases outright disgust, told how they really felt. It really didn’t matter that much to him – he wasn’t here to win any popularity contests.
“Has Commander Turner arrived yet?” The tone was gruff, no-nonsense.
“He’s, uh, with, um, former Special Agent…that is…the suspect right now.”
Gibbs could tell that the Captain was nervous and honestly trying to help him. Part of him was also glad that this Navy JAG attorney, Turner, was so on the ball. As long as he didn’t try to turn Phillips into his client….
“Thank you, Captain.”
Gibbs didn’t say anything to the Major as he walked past them toward the interrogation room.
*~*
Mac watched as the KC-130 swung around and came in low, nearly touching down. As it skimmed over the sand and rocks, the rear cargo door opened a little wider. In quick succession, a drogue chute deployed and a giant pallet slid down the plane’s ramp and out the back. This was immediately followed by a second extraction chute and pallet.
Both slid along the rough ground, kicking up clouds of sand and rocks as their chutes fully deployed, slowing their journey.
“Right on the money, Pelican one!” called out the Master Gunnery Sergeant over his radio, “We’re good to go!”
The KC-130 picked up speed and assisted by its auxiliary jets, rocketed back into the sky, heading in an easterly direction back toward Mirbullah. In few short minutes, it was gone from sight.
He looked over at Mac and the others. “Okay, you ‘Recruits’! Grab your gear and begin loosening the straps on those trucks! Hop to it!!”
Mac and the others leapt aboard the now stationary pallet sleds and attacked the fastening straps with zeal.
*~*
Gibbs and Sturgis were drinking cups of lukewarm, albeit Marine-grade coffee. Their interrogation of Sederick Phillips this morning had yielded precious little useful information. Most of what he told them had come out during the Cobra crew’s court martial.
Cresswell had detailed a fresh young 1st Lieutenant to be Phillips’ counsel, so that everything was done “by the book”, but he really hadn’t proved to be that much help to the former NCIS Agent-in-Charge.
Sturgis took another sip of the tepid drink and made a face. “We could try good cop, bad cop again.”
Gibbs smirked. “Which do you want to be this time?” He drained his cup.
The JAG Corps attorney put his down. “His refusal to cooperate makes me want to play bad cop.”
As they were about to get up and go back to interrogation, Anthony DiNozzo made his way into the SJA’s break room.
“DiNozzo, where have you been?” Gibbs asked pointedly
“Following up on a lead, Boss. I told Lieutenant Roberts to tell you that I was going with him.”
If that was supposed to appease the senior Agent, it didn’t. “*You* tell me when you’re headed off somewhere, got it?”
“Got it, Boss.”
Gibbs raised then lowered his now empty cup. He threw scowl in Tony’s direction. Special Agent DiNozzo looked confused. Gibbs threw his subordinate an exasperated look. “What did you learn?”
“Oh! Well, Lieutenant Roberts and I went to Bahrain and talked to Commander Lexington at the NLSO Detachment…”
This time Gibbs didn’t raise his empty cup. It doesn’t look good to look foolish in front of subordinates.
“And?”
“And Lieutenant Roberts figured out a coded message system that Captain Branch had used…. You should have seen him Gibbs, it was like something right out of a spy movie, you know, James Bond? 007? Tony’s voice morphed into a fairly good impression of Sean Connery. “‘shaken, not stirred’?”
The senior NCIS Agent was usually more entertained by Tony’s impersonations, but Gibbs was still angry with him going to Bahrain. “I get it DiNozzo; so how does this help our case?” he said dismissively.
“Well uh, it’s like this, Boss; that JAGMAN team sent by the Bahrain NLSO OIC was compromised even before they could start their investigation. Captain Branch had the presence of mind to find some way to record it, only he didn’t know how to tell anyone about it.”
“If it hadn’t been for Lieutenant Roberts, we never would have cracked the code.” It was obvious that Tony had a new-found respect for the junior JAG Corps attorney.
“You couldn’t have figured it out yourself, DiNozzo?”
“I’m good at crossword puzzles, Boss, and uh, not very good with those kind…of puzzles.”
“What kind of puzzles?”
“What Special Agent DiNozzo is telling you, Gibbs, is that Lieutenant Roberts is very good at cryptological puzzles.” Sturgis said, feeling a small tug of pride for Bud Roberts. “He always has been.”
“Yeah Boss, you should’ve seen him, it was zip, zip, zip. He had the code and the message figured out in few minutes, max.”
Gibbs cocked a doubting eyebrow at his ex-Baltimore PD subordinate. “A few minutes, DiNozzo?”
“Well, maybe it was more like five minutes…” Tony hedged, looking away from Gibbs’ intense stare.
“Get down to the holding cells and find out what Corporal Richards knows.”
“Right Boss,” Tony said as his made a move toward the exit. He was glad to get out from under the ‘ole Gibbs stare’.
As Tony headed out the door, he ran headlong into Lieutenant Roberts.
“Sorry Lieutenant,” Tony said quickly as he exited the room. Bud turned to look at Tony DiNozzo hurrying down the hallway. He then looked back toward Gibbs and Sturgis – a puzzled stare was still etched on his face.
“Good job in Bahrain, Bud.” Sturgis said moving toward the junior JAG Corps officer.
“Huh? Oh, thank you, sir…”
“Did you have something for us, Lieutenant?” Gibbs said trying to jostle the young JAG back to the present.
Bud only looked momentarily embarrassed. “Here’s a package Commander Rabb asked me to give to you and Commander Turner…and there’s been another murder. A body was just found north of here on the highway to Najaf.”
Gibbs and Sturgis shared blank expressions as Sturgis took the package. “Who found the body, Lieutenant?” The former Bubblehead asked.
“Gunny did, sir.” Bud said automatically. As if he knew what Gibbs was going to ask, he automatically clarified his statement. “Uh, that is Gunnery Sergeant Galindez did, sir.”
Sturgis’ tone betrayed his surprise. “Gunny is here in Iraq?” Gibbs wanted to ask who this Gunny was, but he thought it best to learn through observing at this point.
“Yes sir, he was catching a ride to his unit with a ZNN correspondent when they came across the body.”
“Do they know who it is, Lieutenant?”
Bud remembered Gibbs from when he was interrogated about Commander Rabb’s connection to Lieutenant Singer. His blurted out comment regarding Singer and sex, which had come out sounding very Clinton-esque, still stung. He wanted to show this man just who Bud J. Roberts was.
“No sir,” Bud said firmly, trying to sound like every bit of the professional military lawyer that he was. “The body missing its head and fingers.”
0625 Local
Persian Gulf
As they finished up their maneuvers, Nicole’s voice came over the radio.
“We’ve got visitors coming up from our five o’clock low….”
“I see them…”
Harm watched as two Iranian F-14A’s pulled alongside their planes.
Jeff took out his camera and started taking pictures as they flew side by side.
“Hey Hammer, his RIO is doing the same thing….”
Harm looked over at the Tomcat flying next to him. “I’m not surprised….”
The Iranian pilot lifted his visor and unhooked his oxygen mask. Then he lifted his right hand and shot Harm a peace sign.
The aviator/lawyer looked back at the pilot and gave him a guarded salute.
The bearded pilot’s face grew sullen. Finally, he returned Harm’s salute.
In a moment, the two Iranian Tomcats folded back their wings and went to full afterburner, rocketing away from the two American F-14’s.
“Wow….” Commented Jeff as the two ‘Cats disappeared from sight.
Nicole’s voice came over the radio again.
“Hammer, what did you do that guy?”
Harm looked over at Nicole who was now flying wing to wing with him and gave her a slight grin. “Not a thing, Supergirl. I even saluted him.”
*~*
Lieutenant Ebbits’ Force Recon Team had finished backing their two Dodge pick-up trucks off the landing platforms and were making final checks on them to assure both were mission capable, when Master Gunnery Sergeant Rudy Wilbane motioned for the group to form a semi-circle around him.
Mac and the others quickly complied.
Rudy was all smiles. “Congrats Recruits, you have now joined the Iraqi insurgency. The vehicles you will be using today are similar to the technicals that we will see the insurgents using, that is, if we see them.”
One of the team that Mac hadn’t met yet, spoke up. “Whaddya mean *if* we see them, Master Guns?”
The Master Gunnery Sergeant shook his head as if he had just heard the stupidest question in the world. “Son, sometimes you bump right into these guys and other times they just seem to disappear into the landscape…”
Another Marine ventured to ask a question. “Hey Master Guns, aren’t we gonna stick out, kinda like sore thumbs? I mean, we aren’t exactly native looking, you know.”
Rudy’s smile disappeared. “Not if you stow your gear in the truck beds and put that greasepaint on like I told you to do, Mickens.” He snorted.
That ended the questions.
Mac and Kayce pushed their hair up under their head garb and then began to liberally apply the greasepaint to their faces. While they did this, the Master Gunnery Sergeant continued their briefing.
“…we’re visiting the neighboring village of Amariya today, people. Stay loose and alert. Keep your ears open for any news of an upcoming attack or any other hostile movement against Coalition forces. If you hear anything, squawk your radio once. When we’re done for the day, I’ll squawk my radio twice. Everybody got it?”
As Ebbits stood in the background, the Master Gunnery Sergeant’s order’s were met with affirmative responses.
“All right! Let’s move out, Recruits!”
As Mac moved toward the second pick-up truck that Kayce was boarding, Lieutenant Ebbits walked over to intercept her. “Colonel, you ride in Sergeant Williams’ truck with the Master Guns. I’ll ride with Danvers and O’Grady.”
Mac figured that Ebbits was separating them to see how the Marine Judge Advocate would take having her ‘buddy’ taken away.
“No problem, Lieutenant,” she sullenly replied, getting into her ‘spoiled officer’ act.
Carlson Ebbits shook his head and let out a frustrated hiss. “You don’t like me much, do you, Colonel?”
Mac gave him a senior officer glare. “I don’t have an opinion, one way or the other, Lieutenant.”
Carlson gave Mac a pained expression. “Well, I’ll be blunt with you, MacKenzie; I don’t like you.”
He held up his hand to stifle her protest. “Before you start going feminist on me, Colonel, let me clarify; I don’t like any of the Colonel’s ‘pets’ that breeze in and out of here, pretty as you please. I think you and the others will fold like a lawn chair, ma’am, when the pressure gets too great….”
Instead of being irked by at his condescending tone, she was curious about his statement regarding so many “‘pets’ breezing through here”. “How many have come through your unit?”
He gave her a sarcastic look and then seemed to think better of it and shook his head. “Hell Colonel, I’ve lost count. We get them, we take them on one or two missions, they screw up and we kick them out. If you ask me, ma’am, it’s a waste of time and resources we can’t afford.”
So this unit was a training cadre for new recruits and maybe Livingston was using it for something else as well. More and more it looked like Darcy Livingston was the person who might be responsible for all the chaos and mayhem that had occurred around here lately, but Mac needed more….
“Well don’t worry Lieutenant; I promise I won’t screw up your mission.”
Carlson didn’t know what to make of that comment. Mac could tell he was conflicted.
“Just keep alert like the Master Guns said, Colonel, and you’ll do fine.” he finally said. “You’d better get aboard, ma’am.”
Mac walked over to the first pick-up truck and got in next to Sergeant Williams. The Master Guns and three other members of the team were loading ammunition belts into the machine gun mounted on a stand in the back of the truck.
“Let’s go Sergeant,” Mac said to the driver.
“Aye ma’am.”
The two vehicle convoy moved out, front tires spinning in the dusty soil until they caught a foothold.
0630 Local
Highway to Najaf
Gunny had secured the possible crime scene as best he could. There had been some yellow twine in the back of the Landcruiser and he used that to as makeshift crime scene tape. The ZNN reporter had stopped filming for now and was standing with his butt resting against the hood of their SUV. Mr. Holliman didn’t know it yet, but the criminal investigators who would be arriving soon would most likely confiscate his minicam and its cassette tape.
The sound of approaching HMMWV’s made Victor stand up and turn around. Coming down the highway toward him were three squad carriers – two of which had flashing blue lights on their dashboards.
Instinctively Brad lowered his minicam and popped open the case, palming the video cassette and dropping it into the deep pocket of his fatigues.
Two MPs, a Captain, and Major got out of the two lead HMMWVs. Sturgis Turner, Bud Roberts and Leroy Jethro Gibbs emerged from the third one.
“Commander Turner, Lieutenant Roberts,” Gunny said saluting. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”
“Likewise, Gunny,” said Turner returning the salute.
“Where is the body, Gunnery Sergeant?” asked Major Barnett, not able to see the victim from where they stood.
“This way, sir, over here in the gully….”
As Gunny lead the JAG Corps officers and Marine SJAs over to the headless corpse, the silver haired NCIS Agent walked over to Brad Holliman.
“Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS,” Gibbs said as he flipped out his wallet containing his identification card and badge and held it in front of the reporter.
The correspondent held out his hand. “Brad Holliman, ZNN, Southwest Asia correspondent.”
“I’ll take that tape you made, Mr. Holliman.” Gibbs said holding out his hand.
The ZNN Reporter popped open the mini-camera, and handed the NCIS Agent the tape. “I know better than to argue with NCIS, Special Agent Gibbs.”
Gibbs smiled. “That’s good, Brad, because I’ll also need that tape you slipped into your pants pocket.”
Sturgis looked up as the ZNN Correspondent reluctantly handed over the second tape. He exchanged grins with Gunny. “So what was it like riding with Mr. Holliman?”
“He wanted to interview me,” Victor said trying to sound like he was in awe of the ZNN reporter. “He said it would be good publicity for the Marines.”
“You don’t say,” Sturgis deadpanned. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him I would have to check with my CO, sir.”
“So what do we have here, Gunnery Sergeant?” asked Captain Johnson as he moved closer to the disfigured body.
“A headless Caucasian, sir,” Victor answered, becoming all business. “ It’s a male; I’d estimate between thirty and forty years of age…”
Floyd Johnson got as close as he could to the body without disturbing Gunny’s impromptu crime scene tape. The MEU SJA pulled out a notepad and began sketching the scene. “Let’s see what else we can find out about him….”
“Yes sir.”
“How did you find him, Gunny?” Bud asked, squatting down to get a better look the sand caked figure. The junior JAG Corps officer had seen dismembered bodies before, but the savageness of it always unnerved him. How could someone do this to another human being?
“Mr. Holliman saw his arm sticking up out of the ditch, Lieutenant. We thought it was an IED until we stopped and got a closer look.”
Barnett lowered his camera and motioned to the two MPs. “Let’s see if we can get him out of there.”
The two MPs, having donned work gloves, began pulling the body from the sand filled gully.
Sturgis looked at the gruesome figure. Despite their having succeeded in pulling it from its sand pit, they still didn’t know who the sand caked victim was.
“His underwear is standard issue.” Bud reported as the MEU SJA Captain continued sketching.
“Well, now we know he wasn’t a civilian contractor….” Barnett grunted. He’d never tell anyone, but his gruffness was a shield to keep the horror he was seeing from incapacitating him.
“That we know of,” Gibbs added as he joined the little group.
“Hey, do you see that?” One of the MPs stopped pulling at the body and pointed.
“See what?” his partner snapped, he was somewhat irritated his co-worker had stopped moving the body. He wanted this detail over and done with.
The first MP pointed at what looked like a puncture wound. “That; on his right shoulder blade….”
Gibbs motioned to Major Barnett, lifted the crime scene tape and together they walked over to the two MPs. The MEB SJA got several good shots of the wound. “Looks like…that looks like a scar” he said pausing.
Johnson stopped sketching. “A scar?” Bud and Sturgis exchanged questioning looks.
Gibbs bent closer to look at the wound. “Looks like someone tried to slash it with a knife…”
“Here comes the doc….” said the first MP at the approach of the soft top HMMWV ambulance.
“Captain….” Sturgis said greeting the Medical Corps officer as he got out of the HMMWV along with two Corpsmen.
“Where’s the body?” The doctor said tiredly. Obviously, he wasn’t a morning person.
“Over here, sir,” Gunny replied, leading him and the Corpsmen over to Gibbs, Barnett, and the two MPs
The doctor sighed disgustedly and shook his head. “Did anyone find the head?”
“Not yet, sir.” reported the first MP. “We’re still looking.”
He nodded. “Good; keep an eye out for the fingers as well….”
“Commander….” Gibbs moved away from the group and toward the MEU doctor.
The tired Lieutenant Commander threw Gibbs a suspicious look. “And you are?”
Gibbs flipped open his wallet and showed him his badge. “Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS.”
The doctor nodded. “I take it you’re the lead investigator….” Behind them, the Corpsmen were helping the MPs gently load the body onto a stretcher. Bud and Sturgis had joined Gibbs.
“I’m part of a joint JAG-NCIS investigation into the Mirbullah deaths.” He nodded his acknowledge of the two JAGs presence. “I’m working with Commander Sturgis Turner and Lieutenant Roberts from Navy JAG Corps.”
The doctor gave another tired sigh. “Then you know my predecessor who was charged with falsifying records…left me a hell of a mess to clean up….”
Gibbs nodded. “Yes sir, I do.”
The tired Lieutenant Commander noted that Gibbs and the JAGs looked all business. “And I bet you’re wanting a time of death, right, Special Agent?”
Gibbs was non-plussed about the Commander’s attitude. “It would be helpful to our case, Captain.”
“I’ll do what I can,” he almost mumbled. “But I’m not promising any miracles….”
“Sir?” It was one of the Corpsmen.
“Yes, Petty Officer?”
“Could you take a look at this wound on the victim’s back? The Sergeant thinks it might be something important….”
“What is it, Sergeant?”
“It looks like someone tried to cut it off or something. Special Agent Gibbs and Major Barnett think it might be a scar….”
The doctor moved over to the stretcher along with the JAGs and the NCIS Agent. He leaned over the body and began to gently brush the sandy grit away from the disfigured scar. “I’d go with the ‘or something,’ Sergeant….” The doctor replied clinically.
“Agent Gibbs, Commander Turner, you might want to see this….” Both men looked over the Commander’s shoulder. Captain Johnson moved a bit closer so he could sketch the wound. Barnett took a few more photos.
“You see these marks?” The doctor said pointing to the cuts around the scar. “Someone tried to obliterate this….”
Sturgis nodded his agreement. “All they did was make it more obvious….”
“What else can you tell us about the scar, Captain?” Gibbs wanted more details.
The doctor didn’t look up at Gibbs, instead focusing his attention on the wound. “I can tell you this much…this wound was made after his death.”
Sturgis looked closer at the wound. “Can you match the scar to anyone in the unit?”
The doctor looked up at Captain Johnson and Major Barnett and then back at the former Bubblehead. “It’ll take some time, sir, but if you could loan me some help….”
“I’ll help you, sir,” Bud volunteered. “What do you need me to do?”
The doctor nodded his acceptance. “We should be able to find what we need in the MEU personnel medical records database. Lieutenant if you can work on that, I can go about finding out more about what happened to our Marine….”
[To be continued this month in part two...]
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