Code 13 Page 4

  In the fleet, a general or admiral would have an entourage surrounding him wherever he went. Usually a junior aide would carry a flag officer’s bags and take care of menial matters, while a senior aide took care of correspondence and more substantive matters. Then there would be an enlisted man serving as the admiral’s driver, for the flag or general officer always had his own personal staff car, complete with flapping blue-and-white flags on the hood above the headlamps, depicting the number of stars on the officer’s collar.

  When a general or admiral’s car pulled into a military installation, others, not part of the official entourage, would swarm around, trying to get face time with the high-ranking officer and to ingratiate themselves with the seat of military power.

  Against this backdrop, and understanding the awe and reverence for a star on the collar out in the “real” military, P.J. found himself immobilized.

  An Air Force one-star.

  Standing in the bus line.

  Carrying his own briefcase.

  P.J. watched as the general stepped onto the bus and disappeared among all the other passengers. Then he thought about the gold oak leaf on his own collar, signifying a full three ranks below the general, and remembered the words of those around him when news broke of his assignment to the Pentagon.

  “You’ll be making coffee for the admiral. You’ll be getting the admiral his toilet paper and taking him his lunch.”

  Well, it hadn’t been that bad. Officers at Code 13 did, in fact, handle some of the most top-secret military matters confronting the Navy.

  But in terms of the space where he had to work, it was that bad.

  They put Code 13 down in the basement of the D-Ring, four decks below the office of the Judge Advocate General, Vice Admiral Zack Brewer.

  Most people didn’t even know the Pentagon had a basement, but for the Pentagon insiders, if anything resembled a dungeon in the building, this was it.

  The sight of all kinds of creatures crawling about on the unpainted cement floors in the huge underground corridors circumventing the D-Ring of the Pentagon had a certain symbolic relevance. Midlevel officers, like Navy lieutenant commanders or Marine Corp majors or Army captains, all wielded about as much power in this great citadel as the rodents creeping about on the bottom floor. The midlevel and junior officers here were accustomed to the classic “low man on the totem pole” treatment.

  Incandescent lights hanging from the ceiling cast a dim glow in the basement corridor. One could see, but there was always a bit of an adjustment period stepping out of the brightly lit office spaces into the large, darker corridor.

  P.J. had walked down the corridor and up the steps to the main deck, then stepped out into the courtyard for a few minutes, trying to clear his head. After enjoying five minutes of sunshine and taking in the breeze, he finished his bottled water and headed back into the building.

  He was on his way back to the Code 13 spaces when a huge gray rat crawled right in front of him, so close to his feet that he almost kicked it.

  Like a schoolkid traversing a crosswalk, the rat took its time, undaunted by the presence of a human, as if it had legal, proprietary rights to the basement and could file an injunction if anything got in its way.

  They were arrogant creatures, these river rats of the Pentagon basement, bold and fearless of the humans intruding on their spaces.

  P.J. watched the huge rodent as it crossed from the left bulkhead to the right bulkhead, then squeezed its fat body into a small hole, its six-inch tail still protruding out onto the floor.

  As ugly as these creatures were, somehow they proved mesmerizing, and something always made P.J. want to stop and watch. Maybe it was because he was one of the few people in the world who got to witness one of the Pentagon’s best-kept secrets.

  Rats in the basement.

  One would have thought the airplane that exploded into the building on September 11, 2001, would have incinerated them all. But after the blast, it seemed that the cockroaches and rodents not only survived but actually thrived.

  P.J. waited until the rat’s black tail disappeared into the hole in the plastered wall, then walked up the concrete passageway to the next bend in the Pentagon.

  No more than fifty feet beyond the rat, a simple blue-and-white sign over a door along the left interior corridor proclaimed “Navy JAG Code 13 —Administrative Law.”

  Time to get back to work.

  He punched in the security code, waited as the locking mechanism hummed and electronically unlocked the steel door, then stepped into the spartan work space.

  Under bright fluorescent lighting and with a blue Astroturf-like carpet on the floor, the JAG officers of Code 13 shared adjoining workstation-cubicles in a largely open room. Only the division commander occupied an enclosed office.

  Altogether, twenty-one JAG officers composed the JAG Corps’ most elite operations: five officers in each of the four subdivisions, plus one Navy captain, Captain David C. Guy, also a JAG officer, who served as the division commander.

  Many of them would be deep selected by the next officers’ promotion board, meaning they would be promoted to the next rank at least one year before their peers. All of them were virtually guaranteed to make captain. At least one of them, probably, would one day become Judge Advocate General of the Navy.

  Because of their elite status, they were often referred to by other JAG officers in an under-the-breath manner with several half-envious, half-sarcastic nicknames.

  “The Chosen Twenty-One.”

  “The Lucky Thirteeners.”

  “The Bright Boys of the Basement”—a rather sexist moniker, because not all of them were male.

  Together, these twenty-one JAG officers made up the legal brain trust of the entire United States Navy, whose bases and ships were scattered to the four corners of the earth.

  P.J. had been assigned to Section 133, which handled legislation, regulations, and Freedom of Information Act requests.

  “Welcome back, Commander,” said the cute, new, redheaded lieutenant in the Ethics Division. “How was your walk?”

  “Not bad. Only saw one in the passageway on the way back.”

  “Gross. I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “Well, I think we’re safe in here. But if you need an escort in the passageway, I’m your knight in shining armor.”

  “My hero.” Lieutenant Victoria Fladager smiled, beaming those magnetic green eyes at him, a delightful split-second distraction before returning to his dilemma.

  P.J. turned away from her, sat at his sparse cubicle, leaned back in his chair, and held the written directive he’d received that morning up against the fluorescent light.

  How had he gotten into this?

  The Secretary of the Navy and Captain Guy wanted his legal opinion, and no matter what opinion he rendered, it could potentially end his career.

  After rubbing his eyes, he started reading it again:

  From: SECNAV

  To: Lieutenant Commander P.J. MacDonald, JAGC, USN (133.3)

  Via 133

  13

  001

  01

  Classification: Top Secret

  Subj: Request for Legal Opinion—Project Blue Jay

  1. Project Blue Jay is a project proposed by Commander, U.S. Naval Air Forces, which, if congressionally approved, will begin a massive drone surveillance program of the coastal regions of the United States, including all of the U.S. East Coast, all of the U.S. West Coast, all of the U.S. Gulf of Mexico coastal regions, and the coastlines of Alaska and Hawaii.

  2. While the basic political elements of the project have been disseminated to the public, the specific details, for which we are requesting a legal opinion, remain top secret.

  3. Included also within the top-secret elements of the project are so-called surveillance areas, coastal regions within 100 miles of the seacoast of all the United States, within the area of the so-called Fourth Amendment–Free Zone, otherwise known as the Constitution-Free Zone.


  4. The plan for joint implementation with the Department of Homeland Security remains top secret at this point, as the public has only been aware of a potential “Navy Drone” contract. However, your legal opinion is sought as to the constitutional and statutory permissiveness of joint implementation of this program with the Department of Homeland Security, including commentary on the following issues:

  a) The Constitution-Free Zone, in which the federal government has claimed Fourth Amendment exclusion, includes the following:

  • Currently, two-thirds of the United States’ population lives within this Constitution-Free (or Constitution-Lite) Zone. That’s 197.4 million people who live within 100 miles of the U.S. land and coastal borders.

  • Additionally, nine of the top ten largest metropolitan areas as determined by the 2010 census fall within the Constitution-Free Zone. (The only exception is #9, Dallas–Fort Worth.)

  • Some states lie completely within the zone: Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Hawaii, Maine, Massachusetts, Michigan, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York, Rhode Island, and Vermont.

  b) The Secretary of Defense has selected the U.S. Navy as the armed service to enforce Project Blue Jay, later to be renamed Operation Blue Jay, under which over 100,000 drones would be manufactured and placed into service by the defense contractor, AirFlite, for monitoring against terrorist activities in the Constitution-Free Zone.

  c) Under the proposed arrangement, the U.S. Navy shall serve in charge of operational command of Project Blue Jay.

  d) However, an interagency agreement has been reached between the U.S. Navy and the Department of Homeland Security and is incorporated into the proposed legislation, whereby DHS will assume subordinate command and control of all U.S. Navy drones operating over U.S. soil and, in particular, operating over the aforesaid 100-mile Constitution-Free Zone.

  e) The U.S. Navy, however, will operate drones over domestic and international waters, conducting surveillance and interception of ships and aircrafts that may be hostile to the United States.

  f) The contract is expected to draw political opposition from various Tea Party groups and civil liberties groups, such as the ACLU, which has already opposed the establishment of the Constitution-Free Zone as set forth above.

  g) Legal authority for the Constitution-Free Zone is established at § 287 (a) (3) of the Immigration and Nationality Act, 66 Stat. 233, 8 USC § 1357 (a) (3), which provides for warrantless searches of automobiles and other conveyances “within a reasonable distance from any external boundary of the United States,” as authorized by regulations promulgated by the Attorney General. The Attorney General’s regulation, 8 CFR § 287.1, defines “reasonable distance” as “within 100 air miles from any external boundary of the United States.”

  5. You have been requested to generate a legal opinion, if legally defensible, for the Secretary of the Navy, to be forwarded to the Secretary of Defense, to deal with the anticipated objections from various Tea Party groups and civil liberties groups, like the ACLU, that will claim that the Fourth Amendment and the constitutional doctrine of posse comitatus would prevent implementation of Project Blue Jay.

  6. In particular, you are to focus upon the legality of the proposed joint-cooperative agreement between the Navy and DHS, and whether overall Navy command and control over the project violates posse comitatus at times when DHS is operating Navy drones over domestic U.S. soil.

  7. Note that the DOD has selected the Navy over the Air Force because of its coastal emphasis, as it was felt that anticipated arguments would have greater effect against the Air Force and Army than the U.S. Navy.

  8. The public purpose of Operation Blue Jay will be to prevent the infiltration of terror groups into the United States by intercepting such groups attempting to enter through coastal regions, and to track terror activity occurring within the coastal border areas of the United States and, in particular, the Constitution-Free Zone.

  9. Please note that your opinion may serve as the legal basis for final approval of the contract to AirFlite, pending clearance of legal issues addressed herein, and further pending congressional approval.

  10. In your analysis, bear in mind that approval of this contract is of utmost importance to the Department of the Navy.

  11. With these considerations, you are directed to have a legal position paper prepared to deliver to CDR Pete Fagan, JAGC, USN, SJA to SECNAV, no later than 72 hours from the date-time stamp of this directive.

  Respectfully,

  Hon. H. Lawrence Anderson

  Secretary

  “Great,” P.J. mumbled to himself. He put the memo back into the envelope and laid it on his desk.

  SECNAV’s ordering me to come up with a legal position to justify awarding a contract of who-knows-how-many billions to a big-time defense contractor, and they want me to find legal justification for it, whether or not there is any legal justification.

  P.J. crossed his arms and thought. He didn’t like the sound, smell, or feel of this.

  “Are you okay?” He felt Victoria’s hand on his shoulder and whiffed the aroma of her pleasant perfume.

  He whirled around in his chair, picked up the envelope, and handed it to her. “Take a look at this.”

  She removed the document from the envelope and stood there reading it. While she did, his thoughts turned to her, not as a fellow officer but as a woman.

  He hadn’t been interested in anyone since Caroline. But Victoria?

  Lieutenant Victoria Fladager was proof-positive of the dangers of mixed-gender work environments in the military. He didn’t want to relinquish the idea of being with Caroline again someday. He wasn’t ready for an interest in anyone else. Not now, anyway. At least that’s what he told himself.

  But deep down he felt himself beginning to develop an interest in Victoria. And he didn’t want to develop an interest.

  He’d never dated a redhead. But the senior lieutenant standing by his cubicle, in her summer dress white uniform skirt, with her shoulder-length hair up in a bun, had become a distraction he did not need.

  Why did she have to possess the delectable combination of an irresistible personality, a brilliant mind, red-hot looks to match her red hair, and a top-secret clearance?

  Watching her stand there, flipping the pages of the document that had him so torn up, invoked a sense of delectable guilt.

  Sure, he nearly asked Caroline to marry him. But it wasn’t meant to be. So why the guilt about this attraction? After all, Caroline wasn’t here. She remained in San Diego, for the time being, and would probably be ordered overseas. What was the point?

  “Wow.” Victoria’s eyes widened. “Looks like a huge contract depends on your opinion.” She handed the memo back to him. “What are you going to do?”

  “What do you think I should do?”

  She smiled.

  Those dimples.

  “Well, it’s not like you’ve been ordered to reach one conclusion or the other. Right?”

  “Is that the way you read it?”

  She moved closer to his chair. “May I see it again?”

  “Sure.”

  She perused the document, more quickly this time. “Well, the directive says you’re requested to provide a legal opinion, if legally defensible.”

  “So you think the phrase ‘legally defensible’ gives me some leeway?”

  “Looks that way to me. Don’t you think?”

  “Sure. The directive pays lip service to the phrase ‘if legally defensible,’ but then it’s got this not-so-cryptic suggestion that makes it seem like the Secretary wants a rubber-stamp legal review.”

  “And they want this in seventy-two hours?”

  “Can you believe it?” The knots returned to his stomach. He felt a strange sense of comfort that Victoria was there. For some reason, she was like a calming influence in the midst of a brewing storm. “Hey, what are you doing tonight?”

  Why did I just ask that?

  “Why?” Her face lit with a tantalizing smile,
sending his heart into an embarrassing thump-fest. “What did you have in mind?”

  “You want to meet for a glass of wine? Maybe we could talk about this a bit more.”

  “I’d love to.” She kept smiling. “You want to meet somewhere?”

  “Sure. How about Old Town Alexandria? There’s a little wine bar called the Grape and Bean. Do you know it?”

  “Oh yes. Isn’t that the one over on Royal Street? Rosemont?”

  “That’s it. It’s private. We can chat without anyone overhearing.”

  “Can’t wait.” She had not stopped smiling. “I’d better get back to work.”

  Victoria stepped back to her workstation. Probably a good thing.

  He needed to start on this legal opinion, but he couldn’t get beyond his knotted stomach. His deadline was looming, though, and like a giant tsunami, it came closer by the second. Why did he have a premonition that something awful was about to happen? Something about the money. That was it. P.J. had come to the realization that billions may be riding on his decision, and no doubt some people in powerful places were going to be extremely angry—angry with him especially, if his identity were ever revealed as the author of the legal opinion that cut against them.

  He hit the space bar, taking the computer out of sleep mode, and began typing.

  From: LCDR P.J. MacDonald, JAGC, USN (133.3)

  To: SECNAV

  Via: 133

  13

  “How’s it going, P.J.?”

  P.J. turned his head.

  Commander Bob Prohaska, his immediate boss, stood over his shoulder. Hopefully Prohaska hadn’t overheard his conversation with Victoria, either about the top-secret assignment he had received or about the date he had just set up.

  Actually, if Prohaska had overheard their talk about the top-secret AirFlite project, that was no biggie. All the officers in Code 13 were cleared for top-secret projects and collaborated on the legal issues they had been assigned.