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“diggers and fillers” at work on their seemingly perpetual endeavors.
    An NCIS investigation, he thought, mentally shaking his head. Overseen by the Academy’s administration. Hell, maybe the FBI would even get into it, depending on what those mysterious “issues” were. There were already too many bureaucracies getting involved in this incident. And once the media engaged, Ev knew the administration would begin to circle the wagons, if they weren’t doing so already. He was determined to make damn sure they didn’t leave Julie outside the circle. He stopped halfway down Stribling Walk, thumbed his cell phone open, and called Worth Battle, Esquire.
    â€œRivers, Linden, Battle and Hall,” a smooth female voice answered. Ev loved the title of the firm: It had such a reassuring resonance.
    â€œHi, Felicity,” he replied.
    â€œOh, hi, Professor Markham,” she said.
    â€œIs himself around?”
    â€œLet me check,” she said, putting him on hold to the sound of Mozart. Ev sat down on one of the benches that lined the walk and waited. Worth came on the line.
    â€œDoctor,” he said.
    â€œCounselor,” Ev responded in the familiar litany. “We may need a lawyer.”
    â€œWe?”
    â€œJulie and I.”
    â€œAre we on a cell phone by any chance?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œCall me on a landline. Say thirty minutes.”
    Ev went on back to Sampson Hall, which flanked Mahan at the end of Stribling Walk. He headed directly for his office, putting a finger to his lips when Dolly tried to tell him the meeting was still going on. He shut the door as quietly as he could and sat down at his desk. There were no messages. He worried about Julie, sitting in the commandant’s conference room with two thugs from the NCIS.
    Thugs —that’s too strong a word, he reflected. NCIS agents weren’t thugs, but his experiences with NIS, the current organization’s predecessor, had not impressed him. Maybe things were different now that they had a new title and civilian leadership. He just wished it wasn’t his only daughter they were interrogating. Okay, interviewing. He sighed and checked the clock, anxious to talk to Worth. To his surprise, the intercom line on his phone rang.
    â€œMr. Battle, sir,” Dolly said. He punched the flashing button on his elderly Navy desk phone.
    â€œOkay, what’s going on?” Worth asked without preamble.
    Ev described what had happened that morning, then told him that Julie was now closeted with NCIS agents over in the commandant’s office.
    â€œRight. And nobody will say what put the spotlight on Julie?”
    â€œNope. I talked to the dant himself. He wasn’t exactly forthcoming. The word in the Yard is that the kid was a jumper, but the official party line is accident until proven otherwise. Supposedly, everyone’s still in the fact-finding mode. There are, apparently, ‘issues.’”
    â€œDid Julie know this kid? As in, Anything going on?”
    â€œNot like that. Yes, she did know him. She was on last year’s summer detail, and she’d had him come around a couple of times during the year. But no to your second question. Worth, she’s a firstie. This kid was a plebe, and, according to her, something of a weak sister. Firsties don’t get emotionally involved with plebes, except when they’re yelling at them.”
    â€œThat’s not something you could probably prove, Your Eminence. But, okay, I’ll stipulate. For now. Look, you remember Liz DeWinter? I introduced you two at that dinner party I did on my boat?”
    â€œOf course.” He did indeed. Liz DeWinter, a classy thirty-something who was also a lawyer. And twice divorced, he reminded himself. She had been vague about exactly what kind of law she did—something political, having to do with the fact that Annapolis was the capital of Maryland.
    â€œYou ever call her, by the