Faithful Service, Silent Hearts Read online

  She spotted a female wearing Navy blacks leaning over a desk conferring with the Army Spec4. The woman turned as the others stood and Devon saw she was a Naval Chief Petty Officer, who was the NCO (Non Commissioned Officer) in charge of the shift. Ann Baxter was a ten year Navy veteran, who was in her tenth month assigned to this unit. She was shorter than Devon by several inches and had brown curly hair and warm brown eyes set deep in her pleasant round face.

  "Let me introduce you to the alpha shift, Ma'am." Devon nodded. Baxter stepped into the center of the small dimly lit space, "Listen up people. This is our new commander, Lieutenant James." Devon could read what could only be characterized as mild hostility in their eyes as they looked at her. Rough group.

  "Lieutenant," Baxter looked at her, "did you have anything you wanted to say to the crew?"

  Devon had no idea what to say. "Well," she looked at each one in the eye as she spoke,

  "I'll be spending time with you to learn the operations and become proficient with the equipment. I understand the unit's mission. I want to understand how your job fits into that mission. That way, I can relate and support you in whatever way I can. I won't ask anyone to do anything I wouldn't do. I look forward to working with you all." The tone sounded and her audience was lost again in their work.

  She and Baxter walked back into the office area where both of their desks were along the same wall and sat. "Too formal?" Devon asked.

  She shrugged, "Na, they're fine. They expect you to outline your objectives. But, trust me; we are a good group, lieutenant. No finer signal Intel people in the world than in that room." The pride in her voice was evident. She conveyed directness in her intelligent brown eyes and carried herself with confidence that Devon admired at once.

  "I believe you. I intend to learn as quickly as I can so that I'll be worthy of your praise some day, too, Baxter. Until then, you are my teacher. I respect the fact that you have been doing this quite a bit longer than I, so I expect that you'll keep me in line.

  Devon smiled slightly and met the petty officers steady gaze with her intense blue eyes. Baxter didn't look away, and even managed a barely visible smile at her new boss.

  When she first heard about the new lieutenant who was being assigned to their unit directly out of school, Baxter made no bones about the fact that she had no desire to train some wet behind the ears snot nosed college kid. She knew the drill-she would run the unit, do all the work and the new lieutenant would get all the credit. If anyone screwed up, well that would be her fault. Baxter was all too experienced with the natural order of things.

  Devon caught the hint of a smile from Baxter, recognizing it for the small victory it was. She decided to press her advantage, "What?" A blond eyebrow pushed toward her hairline with the question. A large smile split her face.

  Scrutinizing this new officer threw Baxter off. "Well, lieutenant," She hesitated, "May I be frank?"

  "You are my senior enlisted person, I would very much like for us to have that relationship. In fact, I insist on it." Devon replied.

  "It's just that I'm not used to officers deferring to enlisted NCO's. You don't come off with the arrogance I was expecting." As soon as the words were out, Baxter cringed. She waited for some kind of rebuke for that comment. She didn't get one.

  She didn't know what she had expected next, but not this. The lieutenant laughed out loud.

  "Well, Baxter, let's just hope you'll slap me at the first sign of arrogance on my part." Her eyes conveyed an open honesty that seemed to cut right through Baxter's cynical assumptions about who the new shift commander was. Her lack of arrogance, in fact her very approachable demeanor was refreshing to say the least. Baxter found herself liking Lieutenant James immediately, in spite of herself.

  The unit was a 24/7 operation that required four shifts of personnel who held one of the few military occupations that was never on stand down or 'peacetime mode'. Their main function was direction finding, meaning in a nutshell that the analysts and cryptographers would find a signal that they felt was important, and call Devon's unit to find out where it was coming from. Intelligence work never took time off, especially in the elite intelligence center of the U.S. government. This was just the kind of perfect assignment to allow Devon to throw her entire energy into work, eliminating the painful downtime of a now non-existent personal life.

  Baxter was surprised that the lieutenant was always seated at one of the computer terminals when she arrived each morning, engrossed in learning. Usually, she remained working with the evening shift long after the petty officer left for the day. Her people noticed too. They were quickly gaining respect for their new commander, who listened to their recommendations before formulating her own opinions. Of course, her decisions were final, but they had a sense that she deferred to their expertise and this was an important point.

  Three weeks into her new job, Devon was becoming familiar with most of the operational positions in the unit and her team responded to her hands on leadership style. She relinquished her chair to the airman first class and moved to her left beside the army specialist who manned what the group nicknamed the 'quick draw' antenna. This position was the only antenna that the operator could actually track live targets. An experienced operator could flip around frequencies listening for the telltale warble given off by Soviet bloc jets flying in the no fly areas along the border of Russia and Eastern Europe. Pilots essentially playing cat and mouse games with multi-million dollar jets.

  "Now this is the position I want to become an expert at running," she smiled brightly at the brown haired man about her age that was the operator for the night.

  "Yes, ma'am," he said as he slid off his chair to make room for her in front of the monitor. Devon stayed at that position for the entire shift, becoming fairly adept at capturing her target regularly by the end of their time.

  "Lieutenant, you're catching on fast. You'll be trackin' MIG's in no time." The specialist complimented her.

  He hadn't missed the heart stopping blue eyes set in a very attractive face that became beautiful when she smiled. But, officers and enlisted people don't fraternize, he reminded himself. Still, the LT was easy on the eyes, so he was sure that he wouldn't mind being her teacher for as long as she needed.

  Devon stood to stretch painfully feeling the effects of sitting glued to the monitor for hours. "Thanks for being patient with me," she nodded and then walked to her office.

  "My pleasure, ma'am." The decidedly suggestive tone hung in the air as he watched her walk across the room. She halted her stride for just a beat, looking sideways at Baxter before continuing on to the office. His less than professional tone drew a laser stare of rebuke from the petty officer, and she would deal with him. Baxter followed the lieutenant into the office, fearful of her reaction to the inappropriate comment from the young man.

  Sitting in the empty chair in front of Devon's desk, she offered, "Lieutenant, I apologize for that."

  "What?" she met her senior enlisted woman's eyes.

  "Henderson's comments were uncalled for, I'll deal with him." Her businesslike tone covered her own embarrassment over the infraction.

  "I had no doubt that you would handle it…Ann. Is it alright that I use your first name?"

  "Yes, of course, ma'am."

  "Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not all that comfortable with the ma'am thing, especially with you. I'd like it if you called me Devon, at least when we're not among the troops."

  "Yes, ma'am-Devon." Ann couldn't hold back her smile. For an officer, this one is alright.

  Chapter 15

  Devon and Ann were working in their office one day in early June. Ann was going over scheduling trying to work out coverage for the summer while allowing as much leave time as possible for her people who were taking trips with their families. Devon was pouring over recently received data from the unit's previous months tracking
.

  During the past few months Devon had begun working on a theory regarding the shift in threat assessments and incoming intelligence data. She noticed an increasing number of location coordinate fixes in and around the Middle East, in addition to the usual Eastern Europe/Russian locations. That intrigued her because she had always had an interest in the Mid East. In fact, she received her undergraduate degree in history and political science with an emphasis on Middle Eastern studies. Recently world events had begun to heat up in that region; Lebanon, Syria and Iran were becoming problematic world players, as were the terrorist groups loosely related to those governments.

  In the spring the U.S. Embassy in Beirut had been attacked by a suicide bomber who drove a van loaded with 2,000 pounds of explosives into the complex and detonated it. Seventeen Americans lost their lives, including one marine guard, three army trainers, and the entire CIA Middle East contingent.

  Devon couldn't believe that there had been no warning, something that could have indicated danger and possibly saved lives. She knew her history regarding the American government's historical reluctance to react to emerging threats until it was too late. In fact, signal intelligence officers working in what was the predecessor to NSA had intercepted messages indicating that the Japanese intended to strike U.S. bases prior to Pearl Harbor, and were dismissed by their superiors.

  She was certain if she cataloged the data from their work that a pattern would begin to emerge as to the locations of potential targets and just maybe the whereabouts of some of the responsible parties. At the very least, it was possible to identify a starting point for more in depth investigation by intelligence officers. Surely, though, especially after losing so many people, the CIA was aggressively pursuing every available option. But, then again, you never knew when seemingly unimportant information offered additional pieces to the puzzle that may have previously gone unnoticed.

  She looked at her second in command, "Ann, does anyone ever ask for our fix location information? I mean proactively, not when we already know we have an issue, or target we are looking for."

  "Not that I'm aware. You mean like looking for patterns in the fixes?"

  "Precisely." Devon nodded.

  "I don't think so, at least nobody has ever asked us to examine the relationships, and to my knowledge no one comes in to get the printouts." Ann responded.

  On a whim, Devon punched the intercom, and buzzed Janice the division secretary.

  "Yes, Lieutenant?" Janice responded.

  "Jan, could you see if you can track down a number for me?"

  "Certainly, ma'am."

  "Over at CIA, I'm looking for an old friend from college, Alexandra Sommers. She should be assigned to their Mideast division."

  "I'll get right on it for you."

  Less than five minutes later, the intercom buzzed and Janice informed her that she had located the number. "Wow, you are efficient." Devon said appreciatively.

  "Just doing my job," Devon could hear Janice smiling, "Would you like me to try the call for you?"

  "That would be great."

  Devon thought now about her old friend. Alex was always ready to engage her in a debate about world affairs, historical questions and a myriad of 'what if' scenarios that the two young women always seemed to be dreaming up. She was from West Virginia, just a few hours' drive from Pittsburgh, and their common interests made them fast friends from their freshman year on.

  She hadn't talked to Alex in almost two years, since she left for basic training and Alex took the job in Washington. So much had happened to Devon since then. She felt like a different person, and she wondered how the Agency assignment might have affected Alex. She felt a shiver of excitement when Janice announced that she had Agent Sommers on the line.

  "Alex, is that you?" Devon could hardly contain the excitement in her voice.

  "Dev? Oh my God! I can't believe it." Her voice was warm with affection, "How long has it been?"

  "Almost two years, I think." The smooth tenor of Alex's familiar voice raised Devon's spirits for the first time in months.

  "So, where are you?" Her friend asked.

  "You won't believe it." She paused a beat, "NSA."

  "No way!" Alex squealed with excitement. "That is unbelievable. We have to have dinner tonight! Are you free?"

  "Absolutely, and even if I wasn't, I'd break my plans to meet you. Tell me where and when."

  "I know a great little place near George Washington U. Take the M to the Foggy Bottom stop, and I'll meet you there. How's seven o'clock?"

  "Seven it is. See you then, Alex." Excitement coursed through her at the thought of spending the evening with her old friend.

  #

  Alexandra Sommers arrived with much anticipation at the Foggy Bottom Metro stop in the fading light of the warm June evening. She wore a sleeveless pale yellow shirt, blue jeans just snug enough to show off her shapely hips and well worn brown loafers. Her shoulder length dark hair framed a cute round face. A light dusting of freckles across her cheek bones that lent a youthful quality to her face offset by deep dark brown eyes. She wore almost no make-up, except sometimes when she was working a case that required a more mature look. Not that she needed any, her smooth clear skin and expressive eyes gave her a natural wholesome beauty that required no assistance.

  Alex checked her watch, noting it was five minutes to seven. While she waited on the platform she thought about her college friend minutes away on the metro. She hadn't seen Devon since she joined the Army and she wondered if the experience was everything that her friend had hoped it would be. She thought back to their days of idealistic dreaming in school, and how they had been so sure that honesty and justice really did rule the world. They fiercely debated politics and social justice with their classmates, frustrated by their peers' lack of interest in learning about the real issues in the world. She was pulled from her memories by the sound of the approaching train.

  Devon stood at the door of the train as it approached the stop watching Alex on the platform. She looked exactly the same as Devon remembered her, cute as ever, and Devon felt a rush of adrenaline coarse through her body seeing her friend. As she stepped from the train, she heard Alex laugh out loud when she saw her. In the next moment, the two women embraced fully and then Alex leaned back to look at her friend. Her blond hair was shorter, but still just as thick and wavy and her eyes were still that unbelievable intense blue. Her heart skipped a beat, suddenly feeling the familiar excitement with Devon so near. She remembered how shy she had been in school and how she would have said yes if Devon had only asked her…

  They smiled at each other, neither one speaking, their love for one another unspoken in their eyes. Alex hugged Devon tightly again. They held hands as they turned to walk toward an area of trendy shops and restaurants about a mile away.

  The two women engaged in nonstop conversation during dinner, combining reminiscence with new stories and information catching both up on the other's life up to this night. Devon was riveted by Alex's explanations of her work at the Agency, although the brunette had to edit out the classified portions of the stories, they were intriguing none the less. Both women noted appreciatively the other's obvious growth and accomplishments.

  "I can see that you love what you do, Alex. That's wonderful." She was proud of her friend.

  "Who would have ever thought the two of us would be some kind of super spies, huh?" Alex laughed between bites of food.

  "Oh, not me," Devon balked, "I'm a soldier. I might try a few new tricks, but when it gets right down to it, that's what makes me tick."

  Alex admired the success that Devon had made of her military career thus far, but she could sense an undercurrent of unease in her that she couldn't quite put her finger on. She hadn't missed the fact that Devon avoided talking about herself personally this evening.

  "Are you okay, really Dev?" The
genuine concern in her eyes was unmistakable.

  Devon's blue eyes were guarded, "Sure, why do you ask?"

  "Your eyes look sad." Alex searched her friend's eyes searching for answers to her unspoken concerns.

  Devon trusted Alex like her own sister, but wasn't sure how much she wanted to reveal at this point. After all, she was in a classified government assignment too. She realized then how much the experience with Jillian and the CID investigation had changed her. It saddened her to withhold such a big event in her life from her old friend, but a part of her wanted to keep that painful memory sealed. Besides, she was eager to discuss her ideas about sharing data with Alex. Her personal drama could wait for another day.