Roberta, Molly and Ed

Friday

"Commander Cromartie?"

Lt. Commander Edward Cromartie, USN, turned toward the voice that had spoken his name. He saw two female naval officers, a tall willowy light-skin Black woman, and a short Asian one. The Black one was wearing the uniform of a full commander, the Asian of a lieutenant. He saluted, and they returned the salute before approaching him as he stood next to the baggage carousel at JFK airport.

The Commander extended her hand as the pair reached him. "I'm Commander Roberta Blisson, public affairs." Cromartie shook her hand. Blisson indicated her subordinate. "This is Lt. Molly Wynn, personnel recruitment and retention." Wynn extended her hand; Cromartie shook it. "We're your escorts while you're on this public relations tour. Have your bags arrived?"

Cromartie looked from one woman to the next. Each were exceedingly attractive, though their differences in height gave them a Mutt-and-Jeff appearance. The commander was at least 6' tall in her three-inch heels, while the lieutenant shorter than Cromartie's 5'8' although she too was wearing heels. In their dress whites, they could have been poster girls for Navy recruitment.

"By escorts do you mean minders and handlers?" he smiled at them.

Blisson smiled, "Let's just say, Commander, that you're a very hot asset right now, that the Navy would like to make maximum use of. Some of your statements when you were debriefed following your release, as well as other facts about your career, might prove difficult to explain to the public. We wouldn't want you to endanger that career, would we?"

Cromartie looked at the Commander. Her smile and beaming face was countered by her eyes. Knowing eyes. Hard eyes. He looked at the lieutenant. Same bright smile, crimson lips, beaming face. Only her eyes sparkled. How much did they know about him? How much didn't they know?

"Are those your bags?" Blisson asked.

Two soft leather suitcases with his name stenciled on them in gold were approaching them on the carousel.