Dangerous Alliance

“Very well. Radio Donnally and tell him I want to see him as soon as he arrives.”

“Sure thing, sir.”

Great. Just great. Dan faced the window and placed his hands on his hips. One of his brig chasers had just screwed up big time, which gave him and Reed a black eye. Not a good way to start his job. And Donnally had been in a fistfight with fellow marines. That wouldn’t be viewed as positive by Colonel Edwards, either. He couldn’t have his brig chasers taking things into their own hands. But he’d wait to hear Donnally’s side of the incident before making a judgment. He looked out toward Teddy Roosevelt Road, running parallel to the huge two-story gray Headquarters building. When things went wrong, they really went wrong. Rubbing his jaw, Dan thought of Libby. And just as quickly, all his tension and anger dissolved. She had that kind of magical effect on him.

He heard a slight knock at his door. “Enter!” he snapped, turning around.

PFC David Shaw’s hand shook as he opened the door that led to his skipper’s office. Sweat had popped out along his broad brow and upper lip. Ramsey’s face was thundercloud dark and his eyes were narrowed on him with predatory intensity. Gulping, his Adam’s apple bobbing, Shaw entered the office, shut the door and snapped to rigid attention.

“PFC Shaw reporting as ordered, sir!”

Dan glared up at the string bean of a marine. His sandy hair was still short from boot-camp days. He was at least six-foot-three and couldn’t weigh more than a hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet. As usual, Rose had been right: Shaw wasn’t brig-chaser material. At least, not outwardly. Shaw’s face was oval, his gray eyes set wide apart, and teenage acne scars were still plainly visible on his flushed skin. It was a sensitive face, broadcasting anxiety from his straight-ahead eyes. Too sensitive for brig chasing, Dan thought as he rounded his desk and thrust his face in front of Shaw’s.

“Just what the hell did you think you were doing with Coughman, Shaw?” he rasped, his nose nearly touching the private’s.

“Uhh…sir, I shoulda put Coughman in leg irons. I didn’t. No excuse, sir!” he choked out, standing rigidly, his arms stiff against his sides.

Breathing hard, Dan glared into the private’s frightened eyes, which were locked dead ahead. “What didn’t you do, Shaw?” he shouted. Repetition was an ironclad teaching tool in the Marine Corps. Marines learned by rote.

“Sir! I didn’t put prisoner Coughman in leg irons, sir!”

“Did you read the orders, Shaw?”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“It doesn’t show, mister!”

“No, sir! It—” he gulped “—won’t happen again, Captain. I promise! Sir!”

Dan eased inches away, not satisfied that Shaw had learned his lesson. A heavy film of sweat covered the private’s face. “When you got out of boot camp, Shaw, what was your MOS, your Military Operational Specialty?”

“Motor pool, sir!”

“Then,” Dan thundered, “what the hell are you doing over here in Corrections and MP work?” It didn’t make sense.

“Sir,” Shaw snapped, as if back in boot camp facing a DI, “I was in motor pool, but Sergeant Major Black said I couldn’t cut it, so he sent me over here. Sir!”

Inwardly, Dan grimaced. Reading between the lines, he realized Black had recognized a screw-up when he saw one, and when Shaw had walked into his motor pool, he’d wisely gotten rid of him by dumping him on Correction’s doorstep at the first opportunity. “How long have you been a brig chaser, Shaw?”

“Sir! Two months, sir!”

“And you had all the primary MP training offered?”

“Sir! Yes, sir!”

“Shaw, dammit, this isn’t boot camp! Knock off the `Sir, yes, sir!’ Got it?”

Shaw’s eyes bulged and he made contact for the first time with Ramsey’s. “Yes, sir…”

Rose knocked at the door.

Reluctantly, Dan stepped away, giving Shaw one more lethal glare. The private was at stiff attention, his back bowed as if it would break. “Don’t move a muscle,” he rasped.

Jerking open the door, Dan took the files and thanked Rose. He shut the door loudly. Shaw jerked as if he’d been shot.

Let him sweat it out, Dan thought as he rounded his desk to sit down and study the two files. Quickly perusing Coughman’s, he saw Shaw’s illegible scrawl, indicating he’d read and understood the orders before transporting the prisoner.

Shaw barely breathed as the captain read through his file. Sweat beaded, then ran down his temples. Did he dare wipe it away? One look at the captain’s dark, angry face and Shaw remained at attention, not moving a muscle. Couldn’t he do anything right?

After five minutes, Ramsey looked up at the sweating private. “What made you join the corps?”

Stunned by the unexpected question, Shaw stared at Ramsey momentarily, then jerked his eyes away. “Wha— sir?”

Patiently, Dan repeated, “Why’d you join the corps, Shaw?”

“Uh…well, sir, I wanted training. My friend’s family said education was a key to success, so I oughtta get some kind of technical training I could use on the outside once my enlistment was up, you know?”

Dan’s gaze fell on Shaw’s grades. They were just this side of failing in all categories. “Motor pool would have been your best bet, Shaw. Brig chasers are a breed apart, and they’re highly intelligent men and women. Also, unless you’re planning on being a prison guard when you get out, this job isn’t going to help you toward your goal one iota.”

Shaw remained frozen. “Yes, sir, I know, sir.”

“Do you know why I called you in here?”

“Yes, sir,” Shaw mumbled.

“You screwed up on taking Coughman to TI. I suppose Lieutenant Wood set you straight on correct regulations regarding transport of a prisoner?”

Ashamed, Shaw nodded and swallowed hard. “Uh, yes, sir, he did. He, uh, was really mad about it, sir.”

“Don’t you think he had a right to be?” Dan shouted.

“Yes, sir, I do!” Shaw’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with sincerity. “I’m really sorry, Captain. I promise, it won’t happen again! I just didn’t read that set of orders close enough. Coughman was my first real chase, sir. Before, I always paired up with another, experienced brig chaser. I—I guess I got overexcited or something.”

Dan leaned forward, his voice grating. “Shaw, marines don’t get excited when trouble happens. You got that? You stay calm, cool and collected.”

“Yes, sir…”

“I don’t like being brought to task by another officer over one of my men, Shaw. Especially a navy officer. That’s embarrassing.”

“Yes, sir…”

Exhaling hard, Dan glared at the young private. Shaw was sweating so hard that large, dark splotches showed beneath each of his arms. A part of Dan took pity on the kid, but another part didn’t. Shaw could be killed if he didn’t make this lesson stick. Regulations were in place to make transporting a prisoner as safe as possible for the brig chaser and the civilian population alike. A little fear was good for him. It might keep him alive. “All right, Shaw, I’m giving you one more chance.”

“You are?” he gasped.

Dan made his face hard and merciless. “You screw up so much as an inch out of line, Shaw, and I’m going to make sure you get transferred out of my division and into someplace where the sun doesn’t shine until your enlistment’s up. You got that?”

“Yes, sir! Loud and clear, sir! I won’t let you down, sir!”