TV or Not TV, That Is The Question

Author: Timer


Part 3: This Situation Is a Joke


Adm. Chegwidden’s office
JAG HQs
0900 (local), Saturday, July 21

“Admiral, I really don’t think there is anything going on with the Addams.” I’ve spent most of the last two hours trying to figure out how to frame this so it doesn’t sound like I’m the one who’s losing it.

“Sir, I respectfully disagree. The Addams acted quite too gregarious to be meeting a couple they’d been asked to invite to a gathering that numbered over a hundred. It was clear to me that they expected more from the encounter than just a social exchange.”

I stop myself from hanging my head. Mac is gonna force me to put my suspicions on the table and I’m just not ready. After all, how can I say ‘I think the CIA’s stumbled onto a bunch of wackos that are living in a ‘60’s TV sitcom fantasy world’ without sounding crazy myself?

“Furthermore...,” oh great, this is where Mac adds insult to injury, or to be more accurate, bruises. Still working on the excuses for the pool party. ‘Just happened to run into a doorknob, several times’ isn’t gonna cut it. When will that woman come to grips with her strength before she grips me with it?

“...there were armed guards around the perimeter of the room the cocktail party was held in.” She’s just not gonna stop, is she.

“Commander?” AJ’s look leaves no wiggle room.

“Admiral, I’ll agree that my first impression was Mr. Addams seemed a trifle over-enthusiastic at meeting us, but I subsequently noticed him exhibit the same demeanor with everyone he met. Even his staff.” Hiding behind fancy words and sentence structure is such an easy subterfuge; sometimes I really love being a lawyer.

“And the armed guards, Mr. Rabb?”

Except those times when I’m facing an interrogation by someone who is (a) my CO, (b) an excellent lawyer and (c) a former SEAL. This is when it’s time to know when to fold them.

“There were men positioned around the perimeter of the room who had the size and attitude of private security. I never saw any weapons,” I shoot a glance at Mac. Did she? I get a tiny head shake in confirmation (yeah! she’s still speaking to me!).

“I concur with the Colonel’s assessment that they did have bulges under their coats. But Admiral, that party had about a hundred people, all wealthy, all excellent targets for kidnapping or who knows what these days. It doesn’t surprise me that the Addams would have security. For all we know, some of those guys were some of the guests’ security.”

I check Mac’s eyes, I scan the Admiral’s eyes, finally I force myself to look at Webb. God, he makes my skin crawl. What a weenie. No wonder he keeps coming to JAG for help on his ops. I’ll bet no one in the company will get within a mile of such a screw-up.

Webb pushes himself off the wall he’d been so insolently lounging against. “So, what else did you notice, Rabb?”

Putting the “I’ll kill him later for tacitly ignoring my partner’s opinion about this” in my score book for the moment, I regard him carefully.

“Webb, how did you initially stumble across these folks?” I know he’s not gonna like the ‘stumble’ thing, but hey, like I said, the truth hurts sometimes.

“That’s ‘need to know’ Rabb. You don’t.”

God how he loves to hide behind that. Somehow something about this crazy whateveritis (I’m still not calling it an op) is telling me it’s gonna give Webb just enough rope to hang himself. Oh please, oh please I supplicate to the powers, whatever they may be.

“Well Webb, the one thing that really stands out in my mind is the way everyone was dressed. They were all wearing clothes that were black and white...”

“some various shades of gray.” Mac fills in. Hey, has she just jumped back on my side? One look and I know it’s true. Oh boy, am I a happy man. Now, back to flattening Webb.

“All the clothes were of a ‘60’s or early ‘70’s style. The brief, casual conversations we had with people at the party were...” I have no idea how to phrase this. I look at Mac. ‘Help me, please.’

“The people we spoke to at the party seemed a little behind the times, sir.”

Wisely, Mac has addressed the Admiral rather than the spider jerk.

“Like how, Colonel?”

“Well, they seemed to think that hula hoop was a national passion and that the Beatles were a, and I quote, ‘one hit wonder’.”
Seems like AJ has considerable elevation in his eyebrows too. Not that I’m keeping score or anything.

Webb hurrumphs. I thought you had to have at least 2 stars to hurrumph. Guess not.

“That’s what happens when you live under a totalitarian dictatorship. A repressive, brutal despot....” Webb is spewing Cold War nonsense as justification for targeting the Addams.

“Or it is in character if you have adopted a ‘60’s or ‘70’s TV sitcom character as your public persona.” I say this quietly, looking intently at the Admiral. It all hinges on him believing me.

I watch him think.

“Commander. I want you and the Colonel to attend the Addams’ pool party this afternoon. Continue to gather whatever intelligence you can about them and their associates. But you are not to, under any circumstances, confront the Addams or put yourselves in danger. Am I understood?”

Mac and I jump to attention. “Yes sir.”

“Webb,” AJ spears his attention on the spook. “Is there anything else we ‘need to know’ about this snafued mission? Like where you got your original intel? What it said? What sort of operation are we looking for here?”

I’ve been on the receiving end of that stare, those kind of questions from the Admiral and all I can say is I’m glad it’s not me this time.

“Well,” Webb is clearly starting to fray.

“Yes?”

If one word could put a man under, the Admiral saying that like that would be it.

“I have a man on the inside.”

The Admiral erupts before I get to. Boy, he’s fast.

“YOU HAVE A MAN ON THE INSIDE? And you risk my people??? What the hell is your man on the inside doing?”

Chegwidden in full fury is a force of nature wonderful to behold, as long as you’re out of the way of his path.

“Getting recon, assessing the situation...” Webb’s becoming unglued. Good. I’d love to see him fall apart on the floor right here in front of the Admiral’s desk.

“He’s ready to help Rabb and MacKenzie this afternoon.”
Right, Webb. Right after you notify him of that *after* this meeting. Like I’m gonna trust any help from you or your goonies. Fat chance.

“Look, Admiral,” I hear Webb making his last, best plea. “It’s Spy vs. Spy out there in the real world.”

Did he really say that? The guy who looks too much like Alfred E. Neuman for his own good?

“Sometimes it’s Spy vs. Spy vs. Spy.” Webb shrugs and I suppress a laugh. I see the Admiral doing the same.

“So, Mr. Webb, may we assume that all these ‘spy vs. spy’s’ out there in your world wear tall pointy hats and tench coats. Obviously in black or white.” The Admiral looks so sincere it’s almost hard to see the mirth bubbling just under the surface.

Almost.

Webb looks perplexed. “Admiral, surely you don’t think that our nation’s enemies wear black trench coats and pointy hats.”

“No I don’t Mr. Webb. But I’m beginning to wonder if you do.”

I knew there was a reason I stayed in this man’s command for so many years. He’s a master.

“Commander, Colonel, you have your orders. Report back to me here as soon as you leave the Addams’ pool party.”

“Yes sir.” I love it when we respond in unison. There’s something so intimate about it. (Better not tell that to anyone else at Parris Island.)

“And that would be about when?”

“I’d expect no later than 1700. We’ll contact you if it’s gonna be later,” I assure the Admiral.

He gives us that weighty nod, the one that says he’s thought everything through and he’s with you all the way, even if just in spirit. Wow, that’s command presence.

As we walk out of his office I turn to Mac. “So, you got your bathing suit with you?”

She gives me a look that’s a dare. “You bet. Got yours?”

“Of course Mac, we were told it’s a pool party.”

“Well Flyboy, I sure hope yours has a pretty strong inner lining, cause there isn’t much to mine.”
OK, we’re driving to the Addams’ party together so it’s not really like she’s getting the last word. But ohmygod. What is she gonna wear? Or should I ask, what is she not gonna be covering?

I’m not sure if I’m in heaven or hell, but I’ve got to get out of the ‘60’s or we’ll end up in twin beds!


continued in Part 4: Cutting It Close