'Dissonance' - Chapter Two Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Chapter One



Wed, May 13th 1627 ZULU JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA



Clayton Webb was angrily pacing back and forth, waiting for the elevator that would take him up to where he was about to meet his doom once again. How on earth did Rabb do this? Try as he might to hide something from him, Clay could be sure that the smart ex-aviator would find out anyway. And if, for once, Harm didn't feel the need to investigate, he would certainly stumble over something that would make him curious enough to go looking. That guy had a goddamn subscription to investigators' luck!

In fact, when he'd had to let slip to AJ that Harm would have to fill in for someone who had committed suicide, he had been waiting for any subsequent calls from the commander ever since. After the concert had been over for two days and he still hadn't heard anything from JAG, Webb had dared to hope that playing in public might have worn Harm out enough that he wouldn't be interested in the facts behind the scene. But what had been bound to happen? If the mountain wouldn't come to Mohammed, Mohammed would go to the mountain. And it was Rabb again, of all people, who had tasted blood now and wanted to clear the matter. It just wasn't fair. The elevator finally arrived and Clayton Webb went up to face his destiny.

Upon entering the admiral's office, Webb saw that Harm and Mac were already present and all three officers turned to him with rather hostile glares. And much to his further dismay and surprise Webb noted that a fourth armchair was occupied: he felt himself scrutinized by the Secnav in person. What did he have to come for? He had already robbed him of precious time on the phone in the morning. Suppressing a groan, Webb greeted the assembly.

"Sit down, please, Mr. Webb," AJ said, dangerously calm and emphatically polite.

Webb did as he was told, remembering how a broken nose felt.

"Secretary Nelson tells me that you already had your suspicions about Cadet Waters's death?" AJ ventured without introduction, his eyes never leaving Clay's.

Webb cleared his throat. "Yes, we had. We were trying to establish a long- term operation inside and around the college when the death occurred."

"Would you care to enlighten us what this operation would have been about?" AJ was getting close to losing his temper at the prospect of yet another conversation with Webb in the course of which he would have to dig for any crumb of information.

"I'm sorry, Admiral, I can't. Classified."

"Damn it, Webb!" AJ shouted, jumping to his feet and leaning over his desk, "I have my top team stuck in the affair up to their necks. I want to know what they have to deal with!"

Webb, too, rose from his chair, glaring back at the admiral. Well, for once he would have a reason to defend himself. "You're completely misunderstanding the situation..."

A disdainful snort from Mac's direction interrupted him. He frowned.

"...misunderstanding the situation," he took up his speech. "By asking Harm to fill in for Cadet Waters I had no intention whatsoever to lure him into a case." Seeing everyone's mistrust, he sighed, exasperated. "Harm," he turned to his might-be friend, "I already told you on the phone that I wanted to keep you out of this, not get you into it." Harm only glared at him and said nothing. Webb turned back to face AJ. "The Agency has no interest whatsoever in having JAG lawyers involved in the case."

AJ lost it. "Now it is you who are totally misunderstanding the case," he thundered, his eyes sending daggers at Webb. "That is exactly what's wrong about this thing, Webb! The fact that you didn't inform any of us, let alone the Secnav, that we have a reason to assume that a member of the navy, though not yet a real one, is right now in imminent danger to be murdered just like her colleague! Just because your Agency didn't want us involved and leave the place JAG-free for their investigation! Tell me, what issues are more important than two lives? And spare me your 'classified'-crap. You owe me and Cmdr. Rabb!"

Webb knew that resistance would be futile. Sighing deeply, he explained: "We've been watching things at Dwayne Myers for about seven months now. We have reason to believe that an organization of drug dealers may have found a way to use the college as a safe entry for their merchandise onto the U.S. market. Before you ask for details: No, we don't know any particulars yet. Yes, we suspect we can label them Columbian but we don't know for sure. Yes, it's been damn difficult to get any information whatsoever from inside the college, and yes, we thought, not giving away our knowledge might be more important than a possible danger for the people around. Look, if the drugs reach the consumers there will be many more people in danger of dying, right?" Webb glanced around, once again meeting nothing but hostile stares.

Mac rose from her chair, her face ashen and her hands clenched to fists. Subconsciously Webb scanned the room for cover. "We're talking about innocent young girls here, Webb." He felt ripped up by her glare and her voice let show that she barely managed to contain her fury.

"We were taking care of the situation, Colonel," he tried to assure her. "We were just about to..."

"The hell you were!" she shouted, stepping up to him until they were nose to nose. AJ just leaned back in his chair and, like Harm and Nelson, enjoyed the scene. "Obviously your agents aren't fit for their job or they would have known Cadet Stiller came here! But you didn't. We had a nice surprise for you today, didn't we, Webb?" Mac was bending forward, causing Webb to bow backwards, lose his balance and topple on the floor.

By now AJ thought it wise to intervene. "Damn right you did, Colonel," he smiled devilishly. Mac seemed to awake from her trance. She gave her C.O. a confused glance, then realized that the situation was about to blow, straightened herself and, with one last killing stare at Webb, went back to her armchair. "Thank you, sir. Our pleasure."

Sensing the imminent danger was over for the moment, Webb slowly rose from the floor and got back to his seat. Chegwidden cleared his throat. "Now that we exchanged our little pleasantries, let's get to business. Secretary, would you please brief us, sir?"

The Secnav nodded and opened a thin file, obviously assembled in haste since the 'situation' had occurred. "Mr. Webb was kind enough to call me after having heard from you, Commander. It seems that in a crisis even the Agency remembers something like good manners," he stated with an unusual amount of dry humor. Mac gave Harm a quick eyebrows-up. Nelson went on. "Mr. Webb and I agreed that we have several things to be taken care of immediately. First, there's Cadet Stiller's personal safety. Second, there's the investigation of Cadet Waters's murder. And third in row stands the ongoing investigation of the drug syndicate. Mr. Webb offered me a way to proceed that, well, at first struck me as rather... unusual."

'Nice little euphemism here,' Harm thought as he, Mac and AJ simultaneously groaned, mentally asking themselves just when Webb had ever been usual in his proceedings. The Secnav looked up, disoriented by the groan in stereo, while Webb was intensely studying his fingernails.

Nelson decided to pass over the strange reaction to his words and went on: "Uhm... right. Rather unusual. But considering the options and the CIA's urging to keep things quiet, I have to admit it's the safest option to take up his plan. I've assured Mr. Webb of our unrestricted assistance." Another stereo-groan, though half-hidden. Nelson, frowning, looked at Clay. "Mr. Webb, please explain the operation."

"Well," Webb began, handing out copies of Nelson's file to everyone present, "As Secretary Nelson already pointed out, the most important thing to consider would be the cadet's safety."

"Hear that one, Mac?" Harm murmured to his partner, casting her a mockingly astonished glance. AJ knew he would have had to reprimand the commander for his lack of manners but somehow he just didn't feel inclined to. The Secnav fortunately didn't seem to have heard. Webb frowned, bit back a comment and went on. "So we decided we needed someone in the college to protect her 24/7. Unnoticed."

AJ raised his eyebrows. "I'd like to know what twenty-year old boy or girl might be qualified for that job? A teacher wouldn't work, because you'd hardly get the girl to stick to one without her knowing that she had to for her safety."

"I considered this problem, Admiral," Webb retorted, "And I think I came up with a suitable solution. We need someone who could be made to look young enough, still providing fully trained skills as a protector as well as an investigator, for surely the traces of the murder now lead to Cadet Stiller. As a matter of fact, I was thinking about the one person who would be perfect for the job: Col. Mackenzie."

"No way!" AJ, Mac and Harm shouted in unison, all three of them jumping to their feet. Webb's reflexes clicked in and made him raise his arms over his head in protection.

Nelson just stared at the officers' reaction and then stood up, too. "Ladies and gentlemen," he cut in firmly, "Let's hear the plan first. Besides, I have already decided that this is how we will proceed."

"Without even asking me, sir!" AJ shouted, ready to defend his lawyers against one of Webb's odysseys at any costs and mad to no limits that in the end he would have to submit to the Secnav's orders nevertheless.

"Yes, Admiral, without asking you. That's my prerogative," Nelson went on, unperturbed. "Believe me, it's for the best. Now let Mr. Webb finish his explanation."

Clenching their teeth, the three lawyers sat down again, Harm feeling the strong urge to take Mac's hand but refraining from the gesture knowing she'd understand. Webb came out of his defensive position and matter-of- factly began to point out the details. "Mac, as I said, you will go undercover as a second-year student, becoming Cadet Stiller's new roommate. As she didn't see you when she came here there won't be any problems."

"Only that I might look slightly older than twenty, even with my anti-aging cosmetics," she couldn't hold herself back from cutting in.

"Colonel..." AJ gently tried to smooth the waters.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"I'm sure you'll work out a way to surprise us all, Colonel," Webb said smugly, causing Harm to feel a slight fit of nausea. "Anyway," Webb went on, "Cadet Stiller doesn't seem to have many close friends besides Cadet Waters, so Mac would just, well, fit in as new-found soul-mate, right? They'd attend classes together, spend their spare time, do sports, whatever."

"What if she doesn't like me, Clay?" Mac asked dryly, pouting, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

Webb smiled sweetly. "I'm sure she will, Mac. There's another problem, though, that we have to solve before you can go, that means in the next two days."

"What problem, Webb?" Harm asked slowly, on his guard.

"Well, Cadet Stiller spends much of her time practicing on her flute, being a member of the marching band. As was Cadet Waters. It's probable Waters's murderer has connections to those circles. You'll have to join the band, Colonel."

"How? Clapping my hands or singing laalaa?" Mac couldn't believe it. "Clay, this is crazy! I can't even read music! What am I supposed to do in a marching band?"

"As I said, you have two days to let Harm teach you the theory. And I picked the perfect instrument for you. You're tall and strong and we saw you dance, so we know you have a feeling for rhythm. You'll play the bass drum."

Images instantly formed in Harm's mind. Images of Mac, in a naval-college cadet's uniform, carrying a huge drum in front of her, barely able to look over it, with cottoned drumsticks in both her hands, swinging her arms to hit the instrument's sides that had diameters of at least three feet. The thought was so odd that Harm wasn't able to retain a loud snort, followed by barely suppressed chuckling. Obviously AJ's musings had gone in a similar direction as his mouth was twitching violently. Only Mac was nothing but cold fury, increased, in fact, by her colleagues' amusement.

"Forget it, Clay!!!"

"There's no choice, Mac."

"Try and make me!!!"

"You will go, Colonel, that's a direct order!" Nelson shouted, making them all jump for they'd hardly ever heard him raise his voice before.

"Aye, sir." Mac was defeated. At least Harm and AJ had by now regained control over their features.

"Where does that leave me, Clay?" Harm asked, knowing he'd never let Mac walk into the lion's den by herself. To his surprise Webb seemed to have thought that far.

"Patience, Harm. We'll get to your part soon. We need you for the outside investigation, to find out about the connections the syndicate has in society, in the city and beyond. Mac will cover the inside part. Let me finish explaining Mac's cover. As she may at times seem a little older than twenty, we worked out a story for her. Her name will be Patricia O'Hara."

Harm and Mac exchanged a quick glance. 'Harm's mom and my uncle, I can live with that,' Mac thought. Webb continued. "Patricia's grandfather was a navy captain and a world-war hero and she always wanted to be like him."

'Why navy? I'd rather it were the marine corps. I can't live with that too well, but I will have to.' She frowned, seeing Harm smirk at the thought of Mac 'wanting' to join the navy.

"She wanted to attend a naval college after high school but a serious long- term illness prevented her from it."

"What illness, Clay?" Mac asked cautiously, hoping he wouldn't become too realistic and refer to her alcoholism.

"Leukemia," Webb stated evenly, causing Mac's color to slightly drain from her face.

"Why?" she choked out.

"It's easy," Webb went on matter-of-factly, as if he'd just said 'measles' or 'hay-fever'. "It's severe enough to take you out for four years, as in your case, and the chemotherapy is hard on the body, making people look slightly older at times. So you're twenty-four plus the illness bonus. And who survives comes out iron-willed. See? Perfect cover."

Mac was feeling sick but she willed herself to gulp it down. "How do I get admitted to college being ill and old?" she only asked.

Webb remained as self-confident as ever. "Dwayne Myers is a rather exclusive place. Your grandfather still has many friends in the military and your family, Californians, by the way, are up high in IT business. So money's no problem. As to your strange choice of instrument - your mother always wanted you to play but you never would, preferring sports. So when they let you follow your dreams and go to a naval college instead of studying e-commerce to join their firm, you at least had to do your mother a favor and join the marching band."

"I see," Mac said, still frowning. "And why do I go to Dwayne Myers mid- term second year?"

"You started at..." Webb glanced at the file, "San Diego but your mother felt society would be better at Long Island. So as soon as the Myers had a free place in second year... you were top of the waiting list."

"That's disgusting!" Mac blurted out. "I'll have to be glad that the girl was murdered because that was why they took me?"

"Kind of. Yeah." Webb looked at her with a bit of a bad conscience. "Look, Mac, that's the way things are. We had to come up with something. I'm sorry it's got to be some weird story like this but it adds up and, remember, it's for the best. I really want you around that girl because I'm sure she couldn't have a better protector. Physically and emotionally," he added quietly.

Something in his voice made Harm and Mac remember Webb was a caring person after all, even if he did everything in his power to be disagreeable. Still not able to smile, Mac's anger vanished, though. "I understand," she said simply, Harm nodding his agreement, waiting for his own share.

"As for you, Harm," Webb began to point out, "You'll go as yourself. Plain and simple. As a person. But not as Harmon Rabb, the investigator. I contacted Captain George Wells, the headmaster of Dwayne Myers and he offered a perfect solution. He ordered Lt. Cmdr. Peter Laird, the music teacher and leader of the marching band, by the way, to get ill for a couple of weeks. Laird seems to be a decent person, Wells certainly is and he trusts Laird to full extent. Thanks to the concert you're known as a gifted musician, Harm. That will provide you with two advantages: people will be extremely pleased to hear the navy was able to immediately find a more than adequate replacement for the well-liked teacher, and - and that's even more important for the investigation - your fame and rank and normal position as a JAG lawyer will grant you immediate access to all circles of society. And, as we all know," Webb said, smirking, "You're good with children, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Great. Only that they are not children, Clay. They're young adults. And I was never good at teaching. But I assume it's the only way you'll let me get near Mac, so I accept. Just one question," Harm's glare was just as hostile as Mac's had been. "How on earth do I learn to be a conductor in two days?"

Now it was Mac's turn to chuckle, seeing Harm standing in front of a big band, desperately trying to make the young people follow his baton. She was sure he would look like carrier personnel, trying to get a tomcat to maneuver safely on deck. Harm cast her a frown, knowing, though, he had to be careful, considering his reaction to her fate.

Webb, as always, had a solution to that one as well. He handed Harm a calling card that read 'Special Agent Raymond Burns, Federal Bureau of Investigation'. "I'm sure after your great success on stage together he'll be ready to teach you and Mac to be unobtrusive in your roles."

AJ had sat behind his desk, quietly observing and taking in the scheme. Hell, this sure was yet another of Webb's crazy missions but he understood that, given the situation as it was, it might actually be the only one to work out. He hated sending his 'kids' to investigate this case, but on the other hand he knew, as did Webb and Nelson, that they were the only ones fit for the task.

"You're on immediate leave, Colonel, Commander," he said as everyone was rising, Harm and Mac coming to attention in front of him. "Meet me at my place on Friday for dinner, you, too, Webb, so you can provide them with all they need. Especially the colonel. I'll invite over Lieutenants Sims and Prumetti, including his fiancée as well as your brother, Commander, so we can take a look at your cover and get you ready to fit in properly. Commander Turner will be on personal leave so he won't be able to join us. 1900 sharp. Dismissed."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Harm and Mac shouted a little louder than necessary, eager to get away.

Outside the office Mac grabbed Harm's hand and dragged him straight into her office with a fierce look on her face. 'Uh oh, poor Cmdr. Rabb,' Tiner just thought as they whooshed past his desk.

Mac slammed the door shut and closed the blinds. Harm, completely at a loss about what he'd done this time, prepared for the impact of her fury. Instead he was completely caught off-guard as, all of a sudden, he found himself wrapped up in her arms.

"Help me, Harm," Mac pleaded against his chest, her tension slowly lessening as he put his arms around her in return and held her tight. "You know, I'm a Marine and I feel I can handle hostage situations as well as combat missions or intelligence ops, but I sure as hell don't know how to be a young girl with a happy childhood, may she have been seriously ill or not! And I'm scared of the music part. I'm sure this time I'll blow my cover and get you in danger and the girl as well!"

"No, you won't, ninja-girl," he said softly, stroking the back of her head. "And I'll tell you why. You're headstrong and smart, you'll learn the music part in no time. The illness won't be a problem, either, because what you've been through with your alcoholism has made you come to know how bad things can get physically. And how much strength you need to recover and how long that can take. And you can always say that you'd rather not talk about it."

"But the family thing, Harm..." she softly sobbed, her voice muffled by his uniform shirt.

"Mac, look at me. Sarah..." he gently tilted her chin upwards to make their eyes meet, his once again conveying all he still found so hard to put into words. "Just imagine all that may one day be ours to have. Imagine how it will be, you and me and our children, a big, friendly house with a dog like Jingo, us two on the front-porch swing, reminiscing the old days, with our kids listening to our wild stories and not believing one word of what we're telling them, you and me at our eldest son's graduation day, even me dancing with my daughter on her wedding-day when she'll remind me exactly of what you looked like when we got married... want me to go on?"

A watery but incredibly beautiful smile had spread over her face while she had been listening to him. "Is this how you want us to be or were you just trying to make me get the idea?" she asked in a whisper, holding her breath.

His voice was very low and warm when he replied, nothing but absolute honesty shining in every word. "This is what I want more than anything in the world, Sarah. And if you'll give me a little more time I'll be ready to ask you properly. Do you think you can do that?"

"As long as it takes, Harm. I'll wait," she whispered, overwhelmed by what he had been implying. They held on to each other for some long minutes, never wanting the moment to end.



Sat, May 16th 0224 ZULU Admiral Chegwidden's residence McLean, VA



"Everybody ready?" Mac shouted from behind the living-room door. As she heard seven voices shout "Yes!" in unison, she said with doubt in her voice: "Well, then meet Cadet Patricia O'Hara, known by her friends as Pat." With that she entered the room, meeting stunned silence.

She was wearing a cadet's neat uniform, blue skirt, blue jacket with huge gold buttons closed up to her throat, blue beret, black college slippers with flat heels. Her hair, being slightly longer than it had been by the time of their Venice assignment, was strictly combed back from her face, held in place by a single unobtrusive gold pin could only be seen when she took off her beret. She had put on only as much make-up as was needed to cover her still greenish-yellow jaw. Apart from that she was nature's child herself. "So, what do you say?" Mac asked, smiling embarrassedly.

Sergei was the first to speak. "Brother, I think I just found myself a girlfriend. Age fits perfectly," he grinned.

"Ma'am... uhm... Mac, you're perfect!" Harriet was enthusiastic. "You don't need any more help from any of us. You'll fit in without the slightest problem."

Harm rose and pompously paced up in front of her. "Cadet Patricia O'Hara, did you give me yesterday's assignment regarding Bach's thorough-bass techniques? I didn't find it on my desk yet. If I won't still by 1400, I'll sign you an F. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Mac shouted, having come to attention as soon as she had understood what he had been up to. Both, to their own utmost astonishment, managed to remain completely earnest.

"Whoa, that's quite a show you two put on there!" AJ shouted, laughing. "If you keep that up, they might actually believe you and let you live. Mac, you're the sweetest cadet I ever laid eyes on!"

Mac blushed. "Thank you. I do hope it works for the other teachers as well. I've been out of school for quite a bit and I just hope, with all my thorough general knowledge of the world, there won't be too many gaps in my education to make it obvious that I've been out of it for so many years."

"You can always excuse that with your long stay at the hospital," Fred suggested, Claire nodding her consent.

"Well, let's just hope they buy it. But wait..." she vanished out of the room again and they heard her saying: "I didn't show you the best part, yet. Everybody listen to what I learned during the last forty-eight hours!"

After a moment, they heard a muffled 'thump - thump - thump, thump, thump - thump - thump - thump, thump, thump...' that grew louder and louder until Mac came into sight again. That is, the first thing the whole party could see of her was an enormous bass drum that she wore like she would a backpack in front. A moment later Mac emerged from behind the doorpost, quite easily marching and drumming her rhythm. In front of the living-room table she came to a halt, drumming on and letting her friends hear the variety of different basic rhythms that she had practiced with Agent Burns after Harm had explained to her how to read a music score. That had been an awful lot to take in at once, but she had been as headstrong as Harm had been patient, and on Friday morning around 0600 local she had finally been able to pass any test he'd set up for her - after a marathon of twenty hours filled with nothing more than studying. Friday morning Burns had come to Harm's place and had taught them both whatever they were able to swallow in the few time they had at hand.

Harm again rose from his chair, took his conductor's baton that he had been showing to his friends and stepped in front of her. He took the lead of her rhythm and she let him lead her. When he slowed down so did she, when he changed from her four-four time to a quicker three-four time she complied like they had practiced all day with Burns. Everyone could see that the Agent had done a good job instructing them. When Harm led their improvised one-man piece to a conclusion everyone clapped their hands.

"Good work, Colonel, Commander," AJ said with a huge grin. "I see, as always, you did a thorough research on your case."

"You could put it that way, sir," Harm chuckled.



Sun, May 17th 2109 ZULU Times Square New York City, N.Y.



"I wish we could just stroll on like that, holding hands, glancing up at the remnants of sky between the skyscrapers..." Mac said longingly, squeezing Harm's hand.

"Yeah..." Harm, with a smile, watched his beautiful Marine take in the surroundings, for once a tourist and not on a mission. "But we will have to put it off until the investigation is over," he reminded her softly, his voice conveying as much regret as she had expressed before.

"Uh hmmm," she agreed reluctantly. "My clock tells me it's time for goodbyes now."

"Time to say goodbye," Harm sang sappily, grinning.

"Don't turn Bocelli on me," she threatened with a chuckle. Then her face sobered. "This could turn out quite a long investigation, you know. We have no clue what to look for and where and how simple it will be to blend in. And I dread the thought of seeing you every day, even talking to you, but not being allowed to show you how much you mean to me and how happy I am with you!"

Harm pulled her into a tight hug, a sad smile on his face. "I can only tell you that however distant I'll have to be around you, you can always be sure of my love, Sarah. You've made me come home to myself, get to know what it is I want for my life. And Hell would freeze over before I'll ever let go of this treasure again. But that reminds me..." He lunged into his pocket and pulled out a small booklet, covered in fine leather. "Take this, Mac, and whenever you feel like talking to me and can't get near the Internet, write everything down and it'll be as if I were listening, okay?"

Mac swallowed. "Thanks, Harm," she whispered. "This means a lot to me. But before you go..." She opened her purse and pulled out a small case, handing it to him with a mischievous, though teary grin.

Harm opened it and cast a questioning look at her when he saw what it contained: reading glasses, just like the ones AJ wore, the ones you could look over the top.

"Mac, I'm a pilot. I couldn't be if I needed glasses. What are these for?" he asked, at a loss.

She smiled openly. "I know. But I always find that with AJ they underline authority. He seems more respectable and intellectual when he puts them on. You're a professor of a well-renowned college now, sailor. I don't know how on earth you plan to do it but you have to seem a respectable person. So I thought these might help. They're plain glass lenses really. But they'll do you credit. And you can always imagine seeing the world through my eyes."

Harm's smile was radiating from inside his heart. "There's nothing I'd rather do. Thanks, Marine. Take care of yourself, okay?"

"You, too. Give me a little time, ten minutes or so, then you can set off for Long Island as well. The way we arrive, they won't suspect we flew in together." Mac took her bag, glad her luggage had been sent directly to the college.

"Aye, ma'am. I love you, Sarah." Harm kissed her tenderly and then shooed her off.

"I love you back." She set off to catch a cab, without turning back to wave.



Sun, May 17th 2232 ZULU Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.



Mac had changed into her uniform at a small restaurant near the college. From there she had walked right up to the front gate. After the guards had taken her to the headmaster - Captain Wells who had welcomed her without giving the slightest hint about the fact that he knew who she was - Mac had signed in, collected her luggage in the entrance hall and was now walking towards what would be her home for she didn't know how long.

The campus was shaded by huge oak trees whose age seemed to be more conveniently counted in centuries than in decades. The dorms were built in solid brick-stone as was the main school building. Everything was kept in the neatest order, planned to be impressive from the start. There were few places where Mac had seen so much beautifully carved and polished mahogany wood, so many shining brass ornaments and marble floors as people could find in the main complex. Everything looked extremely expensive. More than once Mac had caught herself thinking: 'What am I doing here? I don't belong in these circles of society.' And it had taken her all her USMC pride to tell herself: 'Sure you do, and more than everyone else around. 'Cause you earned it yourself, without a penny from your father.'

Having turned around a corner, she finally stood in front of the right building. 'House Mistral' could be read above the entrance. 'Sure fits those sailors,' Mac thought grinning, remembering she had already passed other 'windy' houses like 'Cephir', 'Trade Wind' or 'Bora'. She opened the heavy oak door, pushed her luggage inside and then herself and headed upwards to find apartment No. 1023. Upon arriving in front of the door, Mac drew one last deep breath and let go of Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, becoming Cadet Second Year Patricia O'Hara.

Upon her knocking a petite blonde opened the door, smiling curiously. "Can I help you?"

"Er... hi. You must be Jeannine. I'm Pat. I think I'm your new roommate." Mac thought straightforwardness might be appropriate.

A shadow clouded Cadet Stiller's face for a second or two, Mac noted. Then the girl shook herself from her musing and offered Mac a genuine smile. "Hi, glad to meet you. Come in and make yourself at home."

Ice broken. Mac suppressed a sigh of relief and returned the smile. "Thanks," she said and stepped into the room.

The little apartment had more space than one would think from outside. It consisted of two small single bedrooms with doors to supply a minimum amount of privacy. The two rooms shared a small entrance hall, a living room, a kitchen and a bathroom. Each bedroom contained a rather large and long bed, a big cupboard, a desk with drawers, a dressing table and a washing basin. In the living room stood a small dining table with four chairs, two armchairs with a matching couch and coffee table, a TV set and stereo and bookshelves. Huge windows let in the evening sun and offered a beautiful view of the shore.

"Wow," was Mac's immediate comment.

"We're among the lucky ones with west windows," Jeannine said with a wink.

"Definitely lucky," Mac agreed. When Jeannine offered to help her with getting her things into place she readily agreed.

"So, where did the girl go whose place I'm taking?" she asked lightly, seemingly unaware of the tragedy.

Jeannine swallowed. "She... committed suicide. Personal problems," was all she said.

Mac feigned shock. " Oh my God... I'm so sorry. You... uhm... were good friends, I suppose?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. The best. But, please, Pat, I'd rather not go into that right now, okay?"

"Sure. I'm sorry. Uhm, listen, Jeannine, I know you don't know me yet, but I wanted you to know that if you should ever feel you needed someone to listen... you can always come to me, okay? No matter what time." Mac tried a reassuring smile.

Jeannine seemed to relax. Maybe she had been lucky with her new roommate. "Thank you, Pat," she said simply and then added: "My friends call me Janni." She held out her hand. Mac took it and squeezed it, feeling she might be able to be friends with this girl.

They were silently putting Mac's clothes into her cupboard when Jeannine spoke up, just a hint of curiosity showing in her voice. Mac bit back a smile. "You're older than twenty, aren't you, Pat?"

"Yeah. I'm twenty-four," she stated simply.

"How's that - if you don't mind my asking."

Mac knew that now the serious acting was about to begin. She took a deep breath. "I was sick."

"I'm sorry, if you don't want to talk about it..." Jeannine seemed embarrassed.

"No, it's okay," Mac said quietly, inwardly abhorring the thought of having to tell a lie that at the same time was deadly true for so many other people. But it couldn't be helped. "I was diagnosed with leukemia when I was nineteen. That's kept me out for quite a bit but a year ago I was finally strong enough to follow my dreams of joining the navy." 'Did I really say that?' she wondered.

"Oh my God. You've been through a lot then, I imagine," Jeannine said compassionately.

"Yes, I have," Mac confirmed, telling the truth this time. "Where are you from?" she changed the subject after a little silent interval.

"Freeport, Maine. And you?"

"Santa Monica, California. Do you have a big family back home?"

"My dad died when I was thirteen. I've been living with my mom and my older Brother Jake ever since. He's in the navy, too, flying helicopters. My mom's a teacher." Jeannine smiled a sad smile. "I could never have come here if it wasn't for my scholarship. Music, you know, I'm the solo flute in the college marching band. What about you?"

'Don't panic, Marine. Think of Harm and of how you want your family to be.' "I have two older sisters, Karen and Frances. They are working with my parents. My family's in IT business. I'm some sort of black sheep of the family, wanting to follow my grandpa's career at any cost." Mac gave her a mockingly frowning smile. Jeannine chuckled.

"What are the others like?" Mac wanted to know. "Honestly."

Jeannine sighed. "Well, most of them are nice, I suppose. But I'm not as lucky as you, Pat. They're gonna love you 'cause you're one of them. I'm no sparkling addition to society."

'If you knew just how much I understand how you feel, Cadet,' Mac thought. Then she rolled her eyes. "Oh God, I hate those snobs. That's why I didn't want to come here in the first place. I started college in San Diego and the atmosphere's very easy down there. I was afraid that I might find just what you described up here. But they're not all like that, are they?"

"No. Most of them, but some are really nice. My close friend Dorothy and her roommate, for example. They live next door to us. She and Cassandra sure are rich but they don't let it show. And we're all in the band. That's some kind of connection. They, me and Meryl, er, the girl who used to live here, we were quite a lucky clover leaf. Do you play?"

Mac pointed her index to a big case on the floor. "Yep."

Jeannine studied the form of the case, seemingly unsure what to make of it. "Ah... percussion?"

"Yeah. Bass drum." Seeing Jeannine's dumbfounded expression she allowed herself a hearty laugh that had haunted her long before. "I'm not really into music, just doing my mom a favor. But if people are nice it's fun for me, too."

Jeannine slightly slapped her on the shoulder. "Anyway, I'm glad you'll join us, Pat. You'll see just how much fun it'll be." They had finished unpacking. Mac felt herself taken by the arm by Jeannine.

"Come on, Pat, I'll introduce you to Dorrie and Cass."

Together they went to the adjoining apartment and Jeannine introduced Mac to a very tall redhead, Dorothy, who was a little stout and played the trombone, and to a handsome brunette about her own size, Cassandra, whose instrument was the French horn. They gave Mac a hearty welcome and immediately introduced the girls to the newest gossip.

"Did you hear Laird is sick?" Dorothy asked excitedly.

"No. Any reason to be happy, Dorrie? I thought we agreed to like him." Jeannine was confused. "And what about our concert?"

"Of course I'd rather he were here," Dorothy admitted, "But without Meryl's clarinet I doubt we'll have our Benny-Goodman soirée at all. But," her excited smile returned, "You'll never guess who's been sent to replace Cmdr. Laird while he's ill. I heard it from Brandon," turning to Mac, "My older brother, you know, he's in school admin. They couldn't come up with a real music teacher this quickly so they requested..." she let her glance slowly wander from one curious face to the next one, "Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr.! And he agreed to help out!"

"Oh my God!!!" Cassandra cried. "My hero ever since we saw that concert!"

"What concert?" Mac asked innocently, inwardly jumping up and down at the mentioning of Harm's name.

Three very astonished faces turned to her. "What, you didn't see that?" Jeannine asked, aghast.

"No, what?" Mac replied with a laugh.

"Dear Patricia, you missed the event of the year, speaking in navy terms, that is," Dorothy said. "There was a huge charity concert and each governmental or military institution was to send one of their personnel to play on stage. Our friend Meryl was supposed to play for the navy but she... well, she..."

"Committed suicide," Mac cut in quietly.

"Yeah... Anyway, Rabb replaced her with four days' knowledge and he played an awesome guitar concerto. He deeply impressed all of us. And he's awesome himself," Dorothy added. "Tough guy, aviator, you know, but now he's a lawyer with the JAG and he's sooo good-looking! And he's a great musician, very sensitive. A perfect man, if there's such a thing."

'Tell me about it,' Mac thought happily. 'And there's so much you don't know about his qualities.' "Well, I'm getting curious to see that wonder guy," she stated dryly.

"Don't get your nose up too high, Cadet," Cassandra warned her, laughing. "I'd bet a hundred dollars that you'll find him just as smashing as we all do."

"We'll see," Mac retorted with a well-guarded smile. From the corner of her eye she had been observing Jeannine. Cadet Stiller had jumped at Harm's name but seemed to have realized by now that he must have kept his promise and come to help her. Mac sensed that the girl was slowly relaxing, even without knowing that direct protection had just moved into her apartment. Jeannine's eyes began to slightly shine with a barely noticeable trace of relief and gratefulness that could only be detected by someone who knew of her secret conversation with Harm.

Just then a loud, old-fashioned bell was heard throughout the building.

"Dinner!" Dorothy exclaimed happily. "I'm starving!"

"When aren't you?" Cassandra snickered.

"Shut up and come on, Cadet," Dorothy shouted. "I'm sure they'll introduce Rabb to the school now."

"Oh my, I'm not going to miss that one!" Cassandra grabbed her key and closed the door behind the foursome. Then they hurried in the direction of the main building.



Wed, May 20th 2214 ZULU Nick's World Wide Wafers Long Island, N.Y.



Taking her latte macchiato and access-code card from the counter, Mac had butterflies creating uproar in her stomach. Accompanying Jeannine to her music teacher, she finally had the opportunity to go to the nearby Internet café to check her private email. She and Harm had agreed that it would be too dangerous to contact him from an on-campus terminal where there could always be someone peeping over her shoulder. She had seen Harm several times in the last few days, briefly. At the presentation, in the cafeteria, at the gym. But her class had not yet had music lessons and the band's rehearsals were on Thursdays.

Mac knew well how Harm felt for her, she believed every word he said about it. But she still needed to hear it, needed audible or visible proof that he was still with her, though ignoring her completely. She reached her computer, put the glass down and logged on. Her heart did little jumps of joy when she found four messages from her sailor. Fortunately he had his private Internet access in his room.

To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com) Subject: 05-17

Hey, my beautiful one!

It's 2341 and I guess you'll be a good girl and be asleep by now. Well done. Remember, tomorrow you gotta go to school. Don't stay up reading too long at night, okay?

All right, that's it. I'll quit teasing 'cause somehow it doesn't help anyway. I think this is the first night I'm gonna spend by myself ever since our return from Venice. You have no idea how much I'm missing you right now, Sarah. I miss your goodnight kiss. I miss the way you drive me crazy, always getting up again when I just switched off the lights because you need some more water. I miss your warmth. I miss the wonderful certainty to wake up and see you first thing in the morning. And most of all I miss the way you comfort me when I'm scared of something. I tell you, I'm scared to no end.

When I arrived I went to Captain Wells straight away and was very relieved when he told me that you'd already arrived. He assured me of his total assistance and cooperation and of Laird's secrecy, too. Then, to my utmost relief, he handed me a large pile of files Laird (God bless him!!!) had prepared for me: plans of studies for every class, what to expect of them, who's who, who could cause problems, who could be of support, how to handle the band's rehearsals, their projects etc. I owe that man, Mac. We'll have to think of something to reward him when this is over.

Then, at dinner, all I wanted to do was vanish from the earth. Everybody openly or not so openly stared at me, teachers, girls, boys, personnel. Webb's gonna pay for that concert!!! I didn't know so many people watched those kinds of things. And the only direction I could have looked into without feeling uneasy was out of the question. I knew I had to avoid your eyes, my favorite Marine. As much as I longed to see them. Two or three times I allowed myself a quick glance, though, but you were always chatting with your neighbors. I began to doubt if you missed me at all - you seemed such a merry party. I see you already befriended Cadet Stiller. I was sure she'd like you. How could she not?

I'll go to bed now, hoping sleep will make my Marine-less hours pass more quickly. Do you miss me, Sarah? Not that I wish you a heartache, but I'd like to think you wanted me around.

I love you.

Harm



To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com) Subject: 05-18

My dear Sarah,

well, first day's over and things could have gone worse. Right now I'm a little blue because there's no reply from you, but I know you've got little opportunity to go off-campus. So, when you read this, don't neglect your bodyguard duties just to get to write more often. I know you write whenever you get round to it.

Thank you so much for the reading glasses, Mac! They're terrific! Today was my first music lesson, first year. When I walked in, the cadets would whisper but they almost instantly came to attention in front of me, and I made them sit down and pulled out your glasses as I opened the class book to read the names. I felt much more respectable, you were right about that. And what's more, they create some kind of a shelter I can hide behind. What'd I do without you, my Marine?

Anyway, the lesson went remarkably well. They're doing Richard Wagner at the moment, the 'Flying Dutchman', actually. Laird seems to have prepared his lessons several weeks in advance and he's written them out properly. So all I had to do was follow his guidance and see how it went. I guess I'm actually learning quite a bit myself about how to instruct people. Could come in handy one day, don't you think? By the time his plans end we'll either have this case wrapped up (and I can take you home with me) or at least I'll know how to teach. Laird is an angel!

Last night was torture but somehow I survived it. I heard humans tend to adapt. Well, I hope I'll adapt to not having you with me, 'cause, one, I need sleep, and, two, it'll be all the more wonderful to get you back again!

Love, miss and want you,

Harm



To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com) Subject: 05-19

Hi there!

Do you still exist? I'm sorry, I know you're maybe just as anxious as I am to get in touch, and more still because you can't. But still... seeing you walk by or being formally greeted by you when we meet hurts badly. I want your smile back! I don't know if I should look forward to or dread Thursday. I'll be seeing you twice, in class and at the rehearsal. It'll be dreadful to see you and yet not see you for three hours altogether.

Today I did a little research. There's a nice guy here who works in administration, Lt. Brandon Anderson. I think his sister Dorothy's in your class. He gave me some background information on the people around when I told him I'd like to know whom I was working with. I checked the persons for their nationalities and I actually found out that there's a Columbian working as a civil private secretary to Wells. Her name is Maribel Gonzalez and guess what? Her younger brother's in your class, too. Look out for Pablo Gonzalez. He's the one. From what I hear, the Gonzalezes are a well- renowned family on the Island, very well connected with society. And two of Pablo and Maribel's cousins are attending the college, too. Ramon García is a first year, and Pedro Godoy's in fourth year. Of course they are American citizens but it seems that their grandparents are still in Columbia. I instantly paged Fred 'home' at JAG to gather some info on their background. Whatever. I know it may be unfair to suspect them just because of their nationality, but right now that's the only clue we've got. You try to get near Pablo, if possible, okay?

By the way, Wells let me have the coroner's report. Did you ever wonder why a girl who committed suicide would be found in the middle of a parking lot? Well, I did. But the police explain it with a huge amount of alcohol they found in Cadet Waters's blood. So when they found with her the bill of the drugstore she - or whoever killed her - bought the responsible soporific at, they determined that the girl didn't care where she was, due to the alcohol, and took the pills as soon as she got off her car. An open bottle of mineral water was found next to her, too. So they thought it was an easy affair to settle: Cadet Waters committed suicide. Far too easy, but who likes to work overtime, huh?

Take care, my favorite Marine, and feel hugged and kissed by

Harm



To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com) Subject: 05-20

My dear Mac,

I do hope you're okay! I mean, I know you are because I see you around but I'd like you to confirm it to me all the same to set me at ease. I'm doing okay, although I might need a little more sleep - maybe I'm the exception to the rule because I don't seem to adapt to Sarah-less sleep. But don't worry, you know it's hard to get rid of Harmon Rabb, Jr. I'll find a way to sleep. Do you know how to influence dreams, maybe?

Lessons are going smoothly. People actually seem to like me, apart from that ridiculous fame Webb so kindly bestowed upon me... Yesterday it was the third year. History of jazz music. Nice topic, actually. Offers many possibilities to get into practice. Today I taught the fourth years. Decent guys, all of them. In third year, there are a few individuals who like to try things that could blow your lessons, but I'll handle them. (See me roll up my sleeves, Marine!) The seniors seem to have lost their wickedness. Talking to them about counterpoint theory wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Tomorrow it's up to you to show me how much I can teach you about cadences and harmonies.

I got to know Maribel Gonzalez. Maybe you've seen her. She's the tall, rather good-looking woman with the tight bun of black hair. I had to go get some papers from Wells's office and she explained to me where to sign and so on. I invited her to the cafeteria afterwards and she told me quite a bit about society. She seems very keen on getting to know me 'cause she already invited me to at least four or five events. No, there's no need to be jealous! (Just in case...) I'll just play along a bit so I get access to the truly interesting people...

I miss you so much, Sarah. Yours always,

Harm



Mac had indeed felt a slight sting of jealousy when Harm had told her about Maribel's interest in him. But she was afraid he'd feel just the same when he read her reply. Taking a soothing sip from her latte, Mac opened a 'compose'-box and began to write.



Wed, May 20th 2338 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.



Harm opened his door, let his briefcase drop on the coffee table with a 'thud' and quickly strode over to his desk to switch on his computer. He had caught sight of Mac and Jeannine earlier when he'd finished writing to her and had been leaving his apartment for a teachers' meeting. Mac was going off-campus with Cadet Stiller - that could only mean she'd found an excuse to accompany Jeannine to her music teacher and wait for her at the Internet café, finally being able to write. His concentration during the meeting had merely been one of 'Stop fussing around, stay calm, Hammer!' Now he couldn't wait for his login procedure to conclude. His heart beating wildly, he saw the line he'd so much hoped for and quickly opened the message.



To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com) Subject: Miss you?? Hell, yes!!!

My dear flyboy,

of course I miss you! What'd you think? I'm lying awake at night, shivering because I don't have your arms to wrap around and warm me! I miss waking up in your embrace and I miss your goodnight kisses, too! So much. I'm totally clueless about how I could ever do without you.

I'm dreading tomorrow, too. I'm dreading to see you and not being able to talk to you. Properly, I mean. But - don't laugh - I'm dreading the rehearsal even more. You know, until now, lessons have gone rather smoothly for me, too. I've got a lot to do, yes, but I'm not so much out of learning as I feared I would be, and in most classes I'm actually a little ahead of the others. I never knew how much I must have learned in college! But the rehearsal will blow my cover. I see it coming. It'll never work!

In private life, my cover works rather well, I daresay. Jeannine, Cadet Stiller, trusts me. Yesterday she told me her version of Meryl's death. All came out rather surprisingly. I had heard about Pablo's nationality from Dorothy. She seems to be just as talkative as her brother from what you tell me. My alarm went off instantly and I decided to get to know Pablo a little better. So after my Spanish lesson (first Spanish lesson in my life - luckily the class isn't very good at languages so it won't take me too long to catch up with them) I went to him and asked him if he could help me with my Spanish 'cause I didn't learn it in San Diego. He seemed a little surprised that a Californian wouldn't know any Spanish at all but he agreed. He seemed flattered, actually. He's a little older than the rest, too, you know, having started primary school at the age of eight because of the language. And he seems to be every girl's dream guy - besides you, that is, but somehow they seem to know you're out of the question. Anyway, we'll do a little learning every day after lunch. And he, too, has already invited me to some sort of a party. Maybe I'll meet you there with Maribel? Would be fun, don't you think?

What was I talking about? Oh, yes, Meryl. When I told Jeannine about my 'good fortune' she became all quiet. I asked her what was up and she told me she didn't trust Pablo. You know what? He'd been going out with Meryl for several months! But right now he doesn't really seem to have a broken heart.

Harm, I'm almost sure it's just a coincidence. Jeannine isn't, though. She gave me no hints to underline her suspicion, but upon urging her to spill her concerns she told me the whole story like she did to you back at JAG. When I asked her if she had any ideas about what might have bothered Cadet Stiller or at least where someone might find a hint at what it was, Jeannine said no. But she supplied one new piece to the puzzle. She said: "Meryl had been uneasy ever since she returned from the training cruise." "What training cruise?" I asked, and she explained to me that, during the whole year, groups of ten cadets are sent on cruises for practical training. They board an old frigate at Norfolk, go down to Kingston, Jamaica, and return to Norfolk, breaking the journey once in Miami.

Jeannine is sure that whatever happened, happened in the course of the trip. Of course I asked her if she'd been to the police or to Wells or someone else. She showed me the letters her blackmailer keeps sending. I'd be scared to death, too, Harm, if I were the target! And then Jeannine would look at me with large frightened eyes and say that what she had just told me she'd told only her boyfriend and a trustworthy friend of his, with the help of whom she'd sneaked away to see you. I feigned astonishment when she revealed that she was sure you'd come to the college because of the case. I'm really surprised that Jeannine already trusts me so much. She didn't tell Dorothy or Cassandra, for instance, but then, they do love gossip and can't keep secrets.

I don't think Pablo had anything to do with Meryl's death but he might be a link to someone responsible. Well, I'm gonna find out, and, yes, I'll be careful. You know I can take care of myself. I'm a Marine, flyboy! Gotta leave you for now, homework's calling... Don't you dare give us any assignments tomorrow!

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Sarah



Smiling, Harm clicked on the 'save' button and shut down the program. So she did miss him. Doubting that would have been ridiculous, he was aware of that. But hearing it from Mac felt so good. Shaking his head at his irrational emotions, Harm took a legal pad and wrote down what hints she had supplied him with. He already hated Pablo Gonzalez, that he was sure of. Gonzalez got to see Mac in private every day, and obviously she'd at least have to fake some sort of interest in him. As he'd have to for Maribel. With a deep sigh Harm busied himself with preparing lessons for the following day.



Thur, May 21st 1900 ZULU Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.



"Oh my God, I'm so nervous!" Cassandra said under her breath. Mac just smiled at her, a little exasperated. She'd heard nothing but comments similar to this one from almost every girl in her class since the morning, and lunch break hadn't eased the tension. Inwardly, Mac was sure that her own nervousness by far exceeded that of any other girl in her vicinity but she couldn't let it show. Seemingly disinterested, she was sitting at her desk in the last row of the classroom, right next to a slightly pale Jeannine, while one row in front of them Dorothy and Cassandra were literally dancing with excitement.

Suddenly, Mac felt her heart skip a beat when Danny, the boy seated next to the door, shouted: "Attention on deck!"

All sprung to their feet and came to attention, trying not to focus on the door as a tall, dark-haired figure appeared in the classroom.

"Good afternoon, Cadets," Harm said good-naturedly.

"Good afternoon, sir!" twenty voices shouted back.

"At ease. Sit down," Harm replied with a hint of his flyboy-smile. "By now I'm sure gossip's been all around the school about who I am and why I'm here, but just to keep up the tradition of civil behavior, I'll introduce myself. I'm Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., former naval aviator and now a lawyer with the Judge Advocate General Corps. One of my friends - at least I used to call him that until three weeks ago - talked me into replacing Cadet Meryl Waters in the governmental charity concert after her tragic death.

So maybe it was just a matter of time, when your music teacher, Cmdr. Laird, became ill, that the navy asked me again to step in, as they knew I had some rudimentary knowledge about music and they couldn't come up with a fully qualified replacement quickly enough. So, first of all, I ask you for your full cooperation. I know people like to play tricks on inexperienced teachers - well, I did - but let me tell you one thing: We can start on friendly terms and have fun or you can meet my... uhm, let's say, combat experience on dealing with you. As far as I'm concerned I'd vote the first option, simply because I love music and I'd like you to come to love it as well."

'Good job, flyboy,' Mac thought proudly as Harm had ended and let his friendly but firm gaze wander from face to face. When he met her eyes he was careful to stare right through her, giving Mac a moment's sting of disappointment, but she understood.

Harm now pulled his - her - reading glasses from his pocket and put them on. 'Not bad,' Mac judged contently. Then Harm took the class book from his desk and opened it at the class list. Reading one name at a time, he made the bearer of the name stand up to try and memorize the names, at the same time asking if the person in question played an instrument and if he or she was a member of the marching band.

After 'Odenberg, Cassandra', it was Mac's turn.

"O'Hara, Patricia," Harm read.

Mac jumped to her feet. "Sir!"

"I hear you're a newcomer, Cadet O'Hara."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I hope you'll get accustomed to your new surroundings without any major problems."

"Thank you, sir, I hope so, sir."

"Any instruments, Cadet?"

"Yes, sir. Bass drum. I'll be a member of the marching band, sir."

Harm slightly lifted his eyebrows. "Bass drum, Cadet O'Hara? Rare choice for a young lady, isn't it?"

'Ha ha, flyboy. Wait till I get back to you for that one.' "I guess so, sir." Mac wondered what else she was supposed to say about it.

"Okay, stupid question on my part. Continue, Cadet." Harm's smile had widened a little.

"Aye, sir," Mac said, sitting down and enjoying the stifled laughter that could be heard at Harm's admittance.

"Peddersen, Gary..."

The lesson went quite well. Harm introduced several easy cadences to write down, and he played them to the students on the little keyboard that Laird used for music theory. Letting them hear the cadences in several rhythms, he asked the students if they could imagine what song he had in mind that was accompanied using the given cadence in the rhythm he proposed. The members of the marching band were to write down the answers, being 'professionals' and familiar with harmonic theory, the others could try guessing with Harm's help. Mac was glad that she would be asked to write and give her sheet to Harm directly, so no one would notice if she failed. But after the second example she got the idea and when Harm came to her to collect her answers, he cast a quick glance on what she'd written and gave her a barely noticeable 'Well-done-Marine!' flyboy-grin. Then the bell rang, announcing the end of the lesson.

"I'll see some of you in twenty minutes at the gym for rehearsal. All others have a nice day." Harm collected his things, made the class stand at attention again, saluted and exited the room. The door had barely closed when the gossip began.

"Now, that was nice!" Dorothy stated.

"I love his voice," Cassandra sighed longingly.

Danny snorted. "Girls, get down to earth again. He's no demigod, you know."

Cassandra just glared back at him, Mac had difficulties to stifle her laughter. But inwardly she was relieved this first encounter was over and her flyboy had done really well.

"Hola, Patricia!" Pablo walked over to Mac and Jeannine and casually put his arm around Mac's waist, making her jump. He raised an eyebrow in mock astonishment. "Mi estudiante tiene miedo?" he asked. [My student is afraid?]

Mac forced herself to smile, leaned into his arm and played the flattered girl, frantically collecting the few bits of Spanish she'd learnt during the last two days. "Uhm... no. Yo no... uhm... tengo miedo. Me... uhm... alegro de... uhm... encontrarte." [No. I'm not afraid, I'm glad to see you.] 'Phooo...' she thought. 'That was close. Try to think he's Harm, Marine. You gotta seem attracted to him!'

"You don't seem too impressed by Mr. Wonder-Prof., Pat," Pablo stated, smiling self-consciously. "Rabb's charms didn't work on you?"

'You have no idea!' Inwardly sighing, Mac smiled innocently. "I have a slightly different taste when it comes to men."

Pablo drew her just a little closer. "And what might that be, Cadet O'Hara?"

Mac gave him a sly wink, slowly wriggled out of his semi-embrace and turned to leave the room. "Try and find out, Cadet Gonzalez," she said upon exiting the room.

Fifteen minutes later, a very nervous and pale Mac was standing in the middle of a row of three at the end of a formation of ten rows altogether. She carried her drum in front of her, being the only female cadet in the percussion group. In the front row she could make out Jeannine with her piccolo flute, Pablo was walking two rows behind with his clarinet, next to him one person was missing, probably Meryl. In the sixth and seventh row Mac saw Cassandra's dark plait and Dorothy's red curls. 'I can't see where I'm walking,' she thought, frowning, still searching the best position for her head to see the little clip that her score was attached to on top of her drum, as well as her feet. 'This thing's too big!'

When Harm came to take his position in front of the band, all she could make out of him was an occasional flick of his baton that went high enough to be seen from the back. 'This is going to be the end of it,' Mac thought, preparing to meet her destiny.

"I never conducted a marching band before," she heard Harm say. "So give me a little support, will you? Try to focus on Cadet Stiller as well as me. Cmdr. Laird told me she knew how to keep you in line. I suggest for today we just get to know each other by playing something you know well. I was thinking about 'The Stars and Stripes'. We'll do it once standing here and then we'll play it again marching around the gym, to give me the possibility to get used to conducting while walking. Any objections?"

"No, sir!" The band seemed eager to please him.

Feeling a strong instinct to run away and hide, Harm raised his baton and tried to recollect everything Burns had taught him. But then, surprisingly, after the first bars the music's own dynamics took over and the band played swiftly, making Harm notice at once that he had gifted students to work with, students who wouldn't let him down.

Mac had faked her first two or three strikes, afraid to hit her drum in an interval. But slowly she grew more confident of herself and soon her 'thump- thump-thump' mingled into the general sound. And to her amazement Mac noticed that she was beginning to have fun! Being inside the music, being a part of where it generated, was totally different from listening from the outside. A smile began to spread over her face. Harm watched her from the corner of his eye and started to relax when he saw the color slowly return to her face and the usual sparkle brighten her eyes.

When the piece was over Harm gave the musicians a few appreciating words and then turned around to walk in front of them. He felt strange, lifting his arms up high and directing no one he could see. But when he started, he heard the introduction playing behind him. They were marching on the spot for eight bars and then started to walk forward. Harm felt a little ridiculous but it seemed to work, so he just went on, hoping no one that really mattered would see him.

After two rounds on the gym, Mac started to get accustomed to drumming on pace. The only thing she didn't like was that she still didn't see where she was walking. But assuming that twenty-seven cadets had just trodden the same path as she was about to, she might as well do it as not.

The unthinkable happened in lap three. Gary, playing the chimes in the eighth row and being allergic to the grass that was growing all over the place, tried to suppress a powerful sneeze but failed miserably. The quick, forceful movement that his body made while sneezing knocked his music clip off his chimes, causing the boy with the snare drum, who walked behind him, to stumble and fall. Mac noted the sudden movement, but it was already too late. She stepped onto the boy's leg, lost her balance and tumbled right over him, hitting her head hard on the edge of her drum. "OUW!!" she yelled before everything around her slipped into darkness.

"Cadet O'Hara!" she heard a well-known voice break through the clouds that were hanging around her consciousness. Her eyes tried to focus on the speaker. She became aware of Harm kneeling at her side and holding her head, concern written across his face in bold letters.

"Ha... Commander Rabb, sir," she murmured groggily, hoping she'd been quick enough to correct her near mistake.

Harm's face softened in relief. "Are you okay, Cadet? Does it hurt somewhere?"

"Head," she mumbled, trying to stay awake and trying as well to ignore the constant throbbing she felt behind her forehead.

"Stay with her and make sure she doesn't move, I'm going to get someone from the infirmary," she heard him say. Then she felt her head taken by someone else.

"Hey, Pat, don't pull stunts like that!" she heard Pablo say smugly. "You'll spoil the show!"

"You alright, Pat?" That was Jeannine.

Mac tried a smile. "Yeah, I guess. I'll just get myself checked over and join you before the day is over."

By now Harm was already back with two nurses who carried her to the infirmary. Pablo walked beside her, holding her hand, causing Harm heavy fits of jealousy that he had to work hard not to show. When they arrived Harm told Pablo to go and tell the rest of the band that the rehearsal was over for today. He would be allowed to see Cadet O'Hara right before dinner for a few minutes. And Pablo should tell Cadet Stiller to come over with some of Cadet O'Hara's things, just in case she'd have to stay the night. Harm knew Mac wouldn't need to stay but he didn't want to leave Jeannine without protection, so she'd better come to sit with them.

Pablo slightly patted Mac's cheek as he would his dog and as he brushed a kiss to Mac's forehead Harm fought hard not to jump at him and shout "Mine!"

When the doctor had checked Mac and confirmed that she had a slight concussion, Harm sent Jeannine to get some tea from the hospital kitchen and enjoyed having Mac to himself for a few minutes, even though it was under bad circumstances.

Gently, he traced the outlines of her face with his fingertips. She opened her eyes.

"Hey, flyboy."

"Hey, Marine. You had me scared out there."

"Won't kill me." She made a face, her eyes smiling, though.

Harm smiled. "No. But that's what you said when you returned from the dentist. And the traces rested for two weeks. That's exactly what's going to happen now."

Mac frowned. "Don't tell me I'm blue all over."

He sighed. "Not yet, but the swelling on your forehead tells me you'll be in a few hours."

"Damn. I was so glad the yellow on my jaw had finally faded away." Mac was frustrated. She hated thick layers of make-up.

"Hey, don't fret, my beautiful one," Harm softly replied. "I love every color you're inclined to show me."

"Ha ha..." she made, grinning. "But one thing's great about this incident. I finally get to talk to you, sailor. I've been missing you so much."

"And I you," he admitted, lowering his head to make their lips meet in a soft kiss. "This will keep me alive until you knock your head against something hard again, Marine."

She playfully slapped him on the arm. "Hey, you could at least feel sorry for me, squid!"

"I do," he grinned, sobering quickly when he saw her pale and frantically grab for the recipient at the side of her bed. Supporting her back, he helped her sit and steadied her while she was being sick - side effect of her concussion. When she had finally regained her even breathing, he eased her back onto her pillow and then carried the recipient over to the sink, returning with a wet washcloth and a glass of water.

"Thanks, Harm," she said gratefully. "Feels good to be taken care of by you."

"That's the purpose of the whole exercise," he retorted with a smile, gently wiping her cheeks and forehead.

Just then Jeannine returned with a cup of tea and Harm reluctantly let go of Mac's hand and again became her professor.



Sat, May 30th 2341 ZULU The Gonzalezes' residence Long Island, N.Y.



Harm had been dreading the evening. Ever since he had noticed that Pablo and Mac seemed to become a couple he couldn't bear seeing them together. And here he was, actually dating Pablo's sister, going to a party at her parents' where he would most probably run into no one else than his Mac, who was able to join them because Jeannine was off to watch some Broadway show with Dorothy, Cassandra and Brandon.

Twice a week, Mac made it off the campus, always accompanying Jeannine to her music teacher. They had made it a habit going together, the girl obviously unaware that she was being protected. So twice a week, Harm would get mail from his jarhead, long, beautiful, heart-warming letters he looked forward to, relished and re-read countless times. But that just wasn't enough. He'd have to come up with something quickly or he'd explode from the pressure his suppressed emotions were creating inside his soul.

"Hey, you with me, Harmon?" he heard Maribel say while walking up the steps to the front porch and stopping in front of the door. "You seem far away. Tonight you're supposed to enjoy yourself."

"I'm sorry. I just thought about the test I've got to prepare for the third years on Monday." He gave her his patented grin and witnessed its effect as she leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Forget school, professor. You'll meet a lot of interesting people, have nice food and dance with me. Doesn't that sound a nice alternative?"

"Yep." He grinned, put his hand on the small of her back and led her inside, tensing at once as the first thing that greeted him from the other side of the door was Mac's laughter.

Maribel presented him first to her parents and then to everyone else, wearying him quite a bit for there were at least fifty people present. The huge garden was lit by hundreds of little colored lights, and next to the illuminated swimming pool the churrasco grill was emanating the aroma of fresh well-spiced steaks. Harm only hoped there were some corn cobs he could stick to. Well, at least Mac was supplied with dead cow, he stated to himself with a slight grin.

Mac. Where was she? Harm turned around and then saw her, leaning into Pablo's arm and chatting with his cousins. She took his breath away. To look younger, she had dressed in a very short skirt and a fitting top that let show her belly-button. She wore sandals with not too high heels and looked a natural beauty, not as stylish as Maribel but a million times more beautiful to him.

During dinner he had no opportunity to get near to her. She was seated at the opposite end of the table. So Harm had no choice but to converse with an overly excited Maribel and some deadly boring members of high society. He decided to at least make good use of the time by memorizing every name and face connected to the Gonzalez family. Maybe he'd need this knowledge when it came to solving their case. After dinner, a Cuban band began to play and Maribel dragged Harm onto the wooden dance-floor, encircling him in her arms and forcing him to play along.

Mac had been trying all evening not to look over to where Harm and his new 'girlfriend' were sitting. Maribel surely was a stunning woman, she grudgingly admitted to herself. In her simple yellow dress that was cut dangerously low to her bust and with her long black hair falling down on her shoulders and back, she was the kind of woman who could make a guy fall for her whether he wanted to or not. In her heart Mac knew that she could be sure of Harm's feelings for her, but seeing him with this woman still bothered her. When Pablo took her hand and led her to the dance floor she had a difficult time refraining from following Harm and Maribel with her eyes. And when, for a few seconds, Harm and Mac's eyes would meet, they instantly knew this evening was torture to both of them. But at least Mac had all the time and leisure to get to know Pablo's cousins and the rest of the family, and she was sure Harm was doing just the same thing.

When Harm finally got home at about 0200, he found his answering machine blinking wildly. He pushed the button.

"Hi Harm, this is Fred. It's now Saturday evening, 2100 hours, and I just got interesting information on the things you asked me about. Do feel free to call me back whenever you return, buddy."

Harm grinned. It must have cost Fred quite a bit of courage to talk this freely to his superior even though they were friends. But they had agreed not to let show who he was if he were to leave a message. 'Do feel free - I guess that means it's urgent,' Harm thought. Hesitating only a moment, he dialed Fred's private cell-phone.



Sun, May 31st 2045 ZULU Nick's World Wide Wafers Long Island, N.Y.



Wednesdays and Sundays were the lucky days. The lucky days Mac could get in touch with Harm while waiting for Jeannine to return from her music lesson next door. Sipping her latte macchiato, Mac impatiently logged on and found what she was looking for.



To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com) Subject: Torment

My favorite Marine,

it's 0320 and I'm unable to sleep once again. This party nearly killed me. You were stunning, Sarah. I could hardly take my eyes off you and still had to play along with Maribel's boring ways. I had to dance with her cheek to cheek and had to witness how you were doing the same with her brother. Mac, I can't stand this situation any longer. I'd go insane. So please, please, tell me you have no plans for next weekend. Brandon told me yesterday that he and Dorothy are going to take Jeannine home with them on Friday evening, and they'll not get back before Sunday at dinnertime.

So you're off duty, jarhead, as am I, and I'm all but dying to see you. Tell your 'boyfriend' whatever you like, that you're flying to California to see your parents, whatever, and then meet me on Friday at 1800 hours at Times Square. I've been told that the cadets are allowed out at 1600, first Friday of the month. So, please, Mac, come and wear something fancy, really fancy, okay? And bring something comfortable for the night and the next day. That's all I'm gonna say now. One hint: I'm your professor. I gotta do something for your education. (See me grin...)

Okay, back to business. I had astonishing news from Fred yesterday night. He checked the Gonzalezes' backgrounds and found they're a very extended family, owners of various firms. But that's what we already guessed, didn't we? What we didn't think about was where the firms were located. Well, here's the list our brave Italian friend came up with: First, there is the brother of Juan Gonzalez, Jesús Gonzalez. So he's Pablo and Maribel's uncle. Jesús Gonzalez owns the family hazienda back in Columbia, coffee plantation, at least officially, no one can possibly know for sure, up in the mountain rainforest, right? Just thinking.

Then there's another uncle, Gabriel García, their mother's brother. He owns a textile mill in Cartagena, Columbia, which is at the Caribbean coast. Nice place to ship anything to and from. Just thinking, right?

Follow me north, Mac, and we come to... Kingston, Jamaica. Maribel and Pablo's cousin Graciela Godoy owns a firm there, imports and exports of agricultural goods. In Kingston, now isn't this a coincidence, Mac? Destination of the college's cruises... just thinking.

From there Fred traced their little chain of business up to... can you guess? Right, Miami. A second cousin, Fernando García, has another import/export firm right there. Odd, isn't it?

And the final destination of our journey is... right again, Mac. Norfolk. Juan Gonzalez himself runs his business down there - a shipping company. Tsk, tsk, tsk, quite a lot of coincidences... sorry, just thinking.

Mac, I think we've got something reeeaaally big here. I'm going to contact Clay about what we found out. You just stick to Jeannine and, as much as I hate to say it, to Pablo. Try to sneak a bit whenever you can, okay? If Pablo wants you to himself without Jeannine around, just send her over to me on the pretext that I'd like her to instruct me a bit about running a marching band. According to Laird she seems to be some sort of a concertmaster to the band.

Sarah, I can't tell you how much I'm longing for Friday to arrive. I think I might very well develop an internal clock just like yours until then for I'm counting every single second.

I miss you so much, my beautiful Marine. Love,

Harm



To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)