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Chapter 4:
Before I Sleep
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"All warfare is based on deception. We cannot enter into alliances until we are acquainted with the designs of our neighbors."
--Sun Tzu, The Art of War (fl. 400-320 BC)
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1924 Zulu
3 November 2003
Golf Course
Washington, DC
"Harm, Beth, I've got an assignment for both of you." Blaisdell teed off and glanced over at the aviators.
"What is it, sir?" Harm asked.
"Sadik has resurfaced," Blaisdell said.
"I knew he was still out there," Harm muttered. Beth put her hand on his shoulder.
"For the record, we didn't expect it to be this fast; it's only been six months since Paraguay, after all."
Harm nodded. "So our mission is to stop him?"
"In a way. Your report said that he never saw your face; is this correct?"
"As far as I know, sir," Harm responded as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
"Good. The two of you are to infiltrate his organization. You're in this because you're one of the few that can recognize him; Webb isn't up to this kind of work yet."
"Do we know where, sir?" Beth asked. "Usually, the two of us are just aviators..."
"You have approximately four hours to get packed before your plane leaves." Blaisdell turned to face them, his face serious. "This may be a long term assignment. Sadik must be stopped--we've received word that he's planning on blowing up several major universities that have high concentrations of exchange students here in the US. Webb and *his* new partner will be by with the tickets and give you everything we have before you leave for the airport."
"Yes, sir," the duo answered, then turned to leave. They walked to the car and got inside without saying a word. Only when they had started to drive back to Harm's place, did Beth venture to speak.
"I still don't get why they tapped me," she grumbled.
Harm smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. "Because you're my partner--we now go together like peanut butter and jelly."
Beth made a face. "I never liked that kind of sandwich. Couldn't it be something cooler, like Superman and Lois Lane? Batman and Robin? Hell, Burt and Ernie?"
Harm laughed. "Well, Lois was in love with Superman, I've already been partnered with Robin, and we both know how *that* worked out I guess Burt and Ernie are possibilities, but are you *sure* you want to be a muppet?"
Beth rolled her eyes. "Good point. Hmm... perhaps the Lone Ranger and Tonto? I'll have to think about it."
"How about Peter Parker and Mary Jane?" Harm suggested with a smirk.
"They got married," Beth said, then punched him lightly on the arm.
"Hey! That's not fair. I'm driving here," Harm said indignantly. "How about the Cisko Kid and Pancho or the Green Hornet and Kato?"
"I think I like the Green Hornet and Kato," Beth said thoughtfully.
"As long as I get to be the Green Hornet," Harm teased. "I'm older than you, so it's only fair."
Beth stuck her tongue out at him. "Fine. Now, what was that about Webb having a *partner* now?"
Harm shrugged. "Maybe they got sick of FUBAR'd assignments and assigned some poor sap to keep him out of trouble."
"Webb needs to go back to spook school," she muttered. "You're probably right. I've heard rumors of a new guy that's on loan from the NIA..."
"I suppose it's possible." Harm turned on the radio, and the two sat in silence, contemplating the new assignment that had the possibility of easily going south if they didn't hurry. There were too many easy targets that could kill not only thousands of students but had the possibility of taking cities with them as well.
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1445 Zulu
30 October 2003
CIA Headquarters
Langley, Virginia
Deputy Director Kershaw smiled at his guest as they waited for Webb. He didn't know the man personally, but his record was excellent. Perhaps he could get Webb to actually listen for once, since he'd been a contemporary of Neville Webb.
Kershaw looked up as Webb entered. "Director, you wanted to see me?" Webb said.
Kershaw motioned to the other chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat, Agent Webb."
Webb sat down, shot a puzzled look at the unidentified man, then turned towards Kershaw. "What is this about?" he asked.
"Agent Webb, this is your new partner, Agent Jack Olsen from the NIA."
Webb glanced at the older man next to him, then glared at Kershaw. "Partner? I don't work with *partners*; I work *alone*!"
"You work with a partner, or you fly a desk," Kershaw said with a wave of his hand. "Jack Olsen *is* your partner, whether you like it or not." He stood up and walked around the desk. "I'll leave the two of you together to work things out; I have to go check on a project."
"I don't need a partner," Webb insisted.
"Nice to know you think that, kid. If it weren't for who your old man was, you'd have ended up behind a desk or as a star on the Company's wall a long time ago." Jack leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the director's desk. "I don't work with partners, but I agreed, because I owe your dad. Neville and I worked together more than once, and he saved my life."
Webb got up and started to pace, dismissing Jack's words with a flap of his wrist. "I don't need you," he said.
Jack smiled indulgently and ran a hand through his graying dark hair. "Well, kid, I've been working for the NIA since you were in diapers, and you've got more FUBAR'd missions than I do to your credit. I've never had to have JAG officers pull me out of tight spots, and you make a habit out of it." He stood and stretched out to his full height.
"I'm not a kid," Webb said, irritated.
"Yes, you are," Jack smiled, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief. "My son isn't that much younger than you are."
Webb rolled his eyes and moved away from the man. "I've been involved in several successful missions," he began.
"In which you almost managed to get all of your allies killed, and the Company refuses to give you backing unless you've got a baby-sitter." Jack smiled charmingly, stood up, and leaned against the deputy director's desk. "That's *me*, kid. Now you can accept your role as junior partner who's got a lot to learn, or you can choose to ride a desk, or we can send you back to training with the recruits. It's your decision."
Webb stuck his hands in his pockets. "I guess you're my partner," he said grudgingly.
"Well then, *you*, boy, have a lot to learn. Your first lesson is that whatever I say goes; you follow *my* orders."
"Yes, sir," Webb said stiffly.
"Now, if you'll come with me, the first thing we need to do is look over your latest case to see where you went wrong." Jack picked up a file from the desk and started flipping through it. "The way I see it, your planning was only half-cocked, nobody knew exactly what the hell was going on, and you just didn't blend in well enough." He put the file down on the pile, picked it up, and started walking.
Webb groaned inwardly and followed, wondering what he'd ever done to Kershaw to get superspy as his babysitter. It was humiliating enough to be babysat like a screw up, but having Jack Olsen do it was even worse. He'd only read about some of the man's cases, but Olsen was worse than Rabb; most of the time, he could do no wrong on the job. At this rate, he'd never get his old position back.
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0300 Zulu
16 November 2003
Harm's Apartment
North of Union Station
Washington DC
Mac knocked on the door, waited, and then started pounding on it. When no one answered, she fished out her keys, unlocked the door, and slipped inside. "Harm?" she called.
No one answered. Mac looked around the apartment, taking in its unlived-in look. It looked as if it had been unoccupied for quite some time. There was a fine layer of dust covering things, as if the owner hadn't been around to clean. The answering machine light was blinking, probably with all the messages she'd left in the past few weeks.
Mac walked into Harm's bedroom and checked the closet. Damn. His seabag was gone, and heaven only knew when he'd come back. She walked back into the living room and smiled when she saw a blank legal pad on the desk. There was one thing that she could do to let him know that she still cared.
Mac walked over and sat down in the desk chair before grabbing the legal pad and a pen. She took a deep breath and started to write what she thought might be the most important document of her life.
"Dear Harm," she wrote.
"I've recently received a Chegwidden wake-up call, and I've discovered a few things that we need to talk about. The first thing I need to say is that I'm sorry. Yeah, I know you never thought you'd hear that from me, because I've said that apologies are signs of weakness, but it needed to be said. I'm sorry I didn't realize how thoroughly concussed you were after the plane crash in Paraguay, and I'm sorry I said never.
"Flyboy, the Admiral made me realize that I've never exactly said how I feel about you, and I've never made what I want clear. I've never really said this and meant it before, so I'm not too good at it, but here we go. I love you. I want my best friend back, and I want us to reach for something more, something better. And as for what I want, well, I want us to make good on our deal. Before that, I'd like to marry you, so I can tell all the blonde bimbos of the world to keep their mitts off of you because you're mine.
"Yes, I know it's possessive of me, but I'm hoping that you still love me enough to want to stake a claim of your own. Sailor, come back to me. I'd camp out on your doorstep if I thought it would help. It wasn't until after you stopped talking to me and the rest of the JAG crew that I realized how much I need you in my life. I love you, Harm. I miss you.
"Love,"
Mac thought about it for a few minutes, then signed the note with, "your Sarah." He rarely used her first name unless he was completely serious about something, and by using it now, perhaps he'd realize how much she meant what she was writing.
Mac ripped the page from the legal pad, folded it, wrote his name on it, and laid it in plain sight on the desk. "Hurry home, Harm," she murmured to the empty apartment
In her hurry to leave, Mac jostled the desk, knocking over a tall stack of bills. Not noticing, she left, locking the door behind her. The bills fell on top of her note, completely obscuring the yellow paper.
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