Chapter 7 Plant Em Deep

With Angela's assistance, a firewalled video feed was set up in the Bone Room. Its security level rivalled Jethro Gibbs' NCIS MTAC room across town. Father Donovan contacted Elaine Halstead Clemens, requesting her to visit the FBI Field Office in Raleigh for his findings about Aldo. The next afternoon, Booth and Brennan joined him at the lab to speak to her.

They had carefully couched their message about Aldo's death in terms of Gulf War Syndrome. It was true that soldiers had been given pyridostigmine bromide (PB) pills as a safeguard against nerve gas agents then used by Saddam Hussein's regime. The Army had successful utilized organophosphate pesticides and insect repellents to keep rates of pest-borne diseases low. Since Iraq had launched some missiles and artillery shells filled with botulinum toxin and anthrax, soldiers had been vaccinated against anthrax.

Each of these preventive practices had some negative side effects on soldiers' health in the years since, which were still being observed, investigated, and tracked. Elaine was aware of Aldo's reckless drug use and alcohol consumption, which had weakened his physical condition and compounded his medical problems. Father Tim advised the worried mother that she might not choose to burden her daughter with scientific complexities and medical jargon.

He asked if she wished to bring her daughter to DC for her father's military interment at Arlington. Surprised by this honor, Elaine asked what Aldo had done to deserve it. Booth explained how many times Aldo had counteracted his combat anxiety with wise patient counseling. He told her that then-Father Clemens had helped countless soldiers like him as a military chaplain.

"The same considerate kind personality that drew you to Aldo benefitted numerous service men and women in Iraq, Elaine," the agent stated firmly. "Your former husband was the best friend I had during my military service."

Elaine wiped her eyes. "I had hoped Marisa would be able to get to know Aldo. Visiting him in a military cemetery is a poor substitute for the man. I'd suggest bringing him to a military cemetery near us, but I read recently that all four of North Carolina's national cemeteries are closed to new burials or inurnments. Laying him to rest in Arlington is an incredible honor, and it sounds like he deserved it."

"The drive from Charlotte to Arlington takes a little over five hours, Ms. Halstead," Brennan spoke up. "My brother's family lives in Winston-Salem and it's a pleasant manageable drive."

Elaine sighed, took a deep breath, and sat up straighter. "Aldo and I weren't married more than a few years, but he never shirked supporting Marisa. Although absent, he was a loving father. Our finances just never allowed us to spend much time together once Marisa started school. She's a motivated intelligent girl, in the IB Diploma Program, and they penalize students for missing classes."

"Not that she wouldn't be excused for a funeral, especially a parent's, but the burden of make-up work would be brutal. She definitely got Aldo's brains; took to Latin like a duck to water. Studying Advanced Russian this year!" she smiled proudly.

"I believe visiting Washington this summer would be our best course of action to insure her continued academic success. I may delay telling her about Aldo's death until she completes her final exams. She has waited 17 years to know him; a few more months won't make much difference or alter the situation. I just wish they'd had one opportunity to meet in person. She was so little when we moved, she barely remembers him at all."

Father Donovan spoke up. "As tough as this is, that seems like a sound decision, Elaine. If there's any way I can help you, don't hesitate to call."

"Marisa's father was my friend for 26 years. Brennan and I are here for you and her, however we can help."

"I appreciate that, all of you. There's not much you can do until we get to town, but I'd welcome the chance to meet you then. Thank you for finding out about Aldo, Father Tim. Booth, Dr. Brennan, your kindness in arranging his memorial won't be forgotten. Right now, I need to get back to my office and finish some work before evening. Thank you again, and goodbye."

With that, Elaine nodded to the video technician, who closed their connection.

"I think that went about as well as we could have hoped," Father Tim declared. "I'm glad you figured out my veiled references today at lunch, Booth. You could enlist as a Navaho Code Talker!"

"No thanks, Father. I'm done with the Army! So we'll see you at St. Patrick's Friday morning at 8 a.m.? Aldo would hate this; he was never an early riser, despite saying 6:30 a.m. Mass on the base," Booth chuckled.

B&B B&B

Friday morning dawned warm and sunny. The fact that their regular 8 am daily Mass was a memorial service went unnoticed by St. Patrick's most devout parishioners. Booth and Brennan arrived early and entered a pew 6 rows back. Brennan sat forward, her arm around Booth's waist as he knelt to pray. Booth wore a dark gray suit with her favorite blue dress shirt. Aldo's urn sat inconspicuously on a low stand near the back wall. Father Donovan nodded to the couple before intoning the Opening Rite.

"The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all."

Rising to his feet, Booth responded with the rest of the small congregation, "And also with you."

He gripped Brennan's hand tightly. She squeezed his back in silent support.

After the communicants had dispersed, Father Tim joined them, and started to fold himself into the Prius' back seat. He stopped and looked at the pair.

"Let's take my car. I have a Mazda 3 and it's got way more leg room. It'll confuse your bad guy. Plus, I get to drive!"

Brennan gracefully consigned herself to the back seat, and held Aldo's urn in her lap, admiring the monks' craftsmanship. Upon hearing Aldo's story, one of the monks, a former seminary classmate of Tim's, had constructed and donated the box, but Booth mailed him a check to support the monastery anyway.

They drove to Arlington Cemetery, entered its rolling hills and followed the narrow roadways until they reached Section 60 where Iraq Desert Storm veterans rested. A Patriot Guard contingent had driven their personal vehicles, and met the trio.

As Stan Forsythe casually shook his hand, Booth whispered, "I've gotta see your Harley!".

Stan nodded. "Sure thing. I hate this about Aldo, man."

"Yeah, I know. It really sucks. Thanks for being low-key, by the way."

An Army chaplain joined Father Donovan in front of the small hole waiting for Aldo's Trappist box.

The two men recited the committal prayers in unison, and blessed the ground in which Aldo would rest. Twenty three minutes later, his urn disappeared from view. It was then that Brennan noticed something. They were standing along a roadway marked York Drive. The section of closely-spaced markers where Iraq War veteran cremains were interred was at least fifteen yards away. A white marble tombstone stood at the end of the plot where Aldo was being buried. It bore the name "Thomas Michael Clemens, Lance CPL" and was inscribed "Oct 23 ,1983. Beirut Barracks Bombing, Beloved Son and Cousin." She realized they were on the corner of Section 59, adjacent to Section 60 where most Iraq War soldiers were laid to rest.

As the service ended, and the men in attendance began to converse heartily, Brennan nudged her husband's shoulder.

"Booth, look. Aldo is being buried on the edge of Section 59, on top of another grave. Read this marker."

She refrained from pointing impolitely, but gestured toward the upright marble stone. He followed her arm and read silently.

"Well, I'll be damned. Whadda'ya know! Aldo had family after all. This Marine must be his cousin. He would have been 12 or 13 years old in 1983. I can't recall his birthday right offhand. This is going to be a nice surprise for Marisa one of these days. Wonder why he never mentioned this Thomas. I bet he worshipped the guy. I would've if I'd had a older brother or cousin."

It was then the couple noticed the Army chaplain standing patiently nearby.

"I'm Chaplain Jim Murphy. I see you discovered our surprise. When Sam Cullen called me about Aldo, I did some research. As you may have read, we are beginning to run out of space in Arlington, and cremains might soon be the only form of veteran bodies we can accept. I looked up Aldo's surname to see if he had any relatives buried here, because a recent policy change allows family members to be interred in the same plot. It alters the appearance of the cemetery slightly, but the administrators feel that's a better change than telling Vietnam vets and those of later conflicts that we've run out of room. I was pleasantly surprised that Aldo's family has already given one hero to our country. Now he joins their ranks as well. I'm not sure yet what type of grave marker Aldo will get, but it will be taken care of, I assure you."

Booth spoke quietly. "Chaplain, thank you for all your effort on Aldo's behalf. I am out of uniform for reasons Director Cullen probably shared with you. But I can't tell you how much bringing Aldo here means to me and his brothers in arms. Iraq was a brutal place and he kept a lot of us sane."

"Say no more. I'm glad it worked out. I don't want to be rude but we have another burial in 45 minutes, so I must be moving on to prepare for that. It was good to meet you both."

Father Tim approached, and shook his fellow cleric's hand. The Chaplain nodded to Brennan and walked away.

"Doesn't that beat all? What an ironic turn of events!" Tim remarked. "Are you two ready to return to the real world?"

"Yeah, Father. Did you meet Stan Forsythe?"

"Yup, we've worked together at several military funerals in this area."

"Stan, thanks for coming out today," he called across to the tall lean biker."

"Can we take you to lunch, Tim?" asked Brennan.

"Thanks, Temperance, but no. I've got to get back to the church for a meeting with the Sister Superior at 1:30 and she doesn't tolerate tardiness from anyone; her students or adults! Let's head back to the car."

B&B B&B

Father Donovan dropped the couple at Sid's restaurant. They had called ahead and he had their favorite Thai dishes hot and waiting. Brennan dropped gratefully into a booth, and Booth slid in across from her.

"You two look like you've been through the wringer," their host commented.

"Funeral, Sid," Brennan said simply, and he nodded in understanding as he placed their meal in front of them. The two clasped hands, leaned in to share a kiss, then grabbed chopsticks and dug in. Booth made a face after his first bite, and called to Sid,

"Can you bring me a fork, knife and spoon, please? I'm too starving to be dainty. I need to chow down!"

Brennan picked up a clump of Mee Krob and rice very primly and smirked at him.