'Dissonance' - Chapter Four
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Chapter One
Wed, June 10th 2253 ZULU Nick's World Wide Wafers Long Island, N.Y.
Mac was smiling to herself, shaking her head. She was definitely losing her wits if by now even opening an email could cause sudden heat to flow through her body. But since the incredible weekend every allusion, word or image whatsoever that could possibly remind her of Harm in some way, produced a similar effect. 'God, don't let me run on constant high adrenaline for the rest of my life,' she pleaded, chuckling to herself. 'I'd be a terrible mother, no such thing as patience.' She moved her mouse to the 'open' button and resolutely clicked.
To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com) Subject: What have you done to me?????
My dearest Marine,
How could you be so cruel and leave me alone in my current state of mind? I've hardly been able to get anything done in the last few days. My sense happily left me. Guess it didn't like being squashed between the myriads of thoughts that are spinning in my brain, every single one of them about you.
This is so mean of you, jarhead, to deprive me of what makes me fit for my job. I'm stuttering in the easiest of situations, just because there might be something I accidentally see or hear that reminds me of you. I catch myself daydreaming all the time, or worse - I'm caught daydreaming by someone else. And at night... Mac, it's worse than ever. Before last Friday I had finally gotten accustomed to get a little sleep without you by my side. But now it's hopeless.
But I'll stop complaining because when I'm lying awake you're with me, Sarah. The memories are so vivid I can actually feel you in my arms. That helps a great deal.
Last weekend was incredibly beautiful, Mac. Thank you for being with me. I don't think there's any man in the world feeling what I do right now. Okay, I'm sure there are many who'd claim the same thing for themselves, but I'm convinced I'm still better off. Just the idea of being loved by you the way you showed me makes my world spin. Once again: what did I do to deserve you? It's beyond my capacity of understanding. I love you so much I don't know how I can make you see the full extent of my feelings. But I swear I'm gonna show you once we get out of here!
Maribel's been a little distant these last days. I think she's mad at me for not having spent the weekend with her. Well, as much as I'll hate it, I'm going to make it up a little to her. But don't be alarmed - nothing serious is going to happen. The very thought makes me want to throw up. Anyway, Maribel's got no reason to be angry. She told me she went up to the Adirondacks, hiking, with a friend. I guess she had her share of fun while we did... See? That's what I mean. One sentence, one association, and I'm carried away with my imagination.
Have a little pity with a poor, mentally disturbed sailor who in his current state wouldn't dare to fly any planes (Imagine me saying that, Mac!), but who on the other hand does a great job expressing his feelings (Don't I? Please, tell me I've at least improved on that ground, otherwise I might think I lost it completely!),
I love you,
Harm
With a huge grin on her face, Mac clicked on the 'reply' button. 'I'm just glad to hear I'm not the only one,' she thought, relieved. Just as she wanted to start writing, she felt a hand on her shoulder and gave a start. She quickly moved another Internet window on top of her mail program and turned around to find Jeannine smiling at her.
"God, Janni, you scared me to death," Mac tried her escape, "Lesson finished?"
Jeannine grinned. "Closed your dirty page, did you?"
Mac felt herself blush. "Er... no. Okay, I'll tell you, but keep it a secret. It's a rather silly game page I got addicted to. It's German, www.moorhuhn.de, but you don't need the language to play. You just shoot these silly-looking grouses. I'll show you, if you like."
"I'd like to," Jeannine answered, "But let's do it another time, okay? We don't have much time left until we have to get back, and, uhm..." She looked at Mac rather embarrassedly. "Pat, do you have a tampon you could give me?"
Mac smiled, her previous tension lessening as Jeannine seemed to buy her story. "Sure. Take my purse, it's in the little compartment with the zipper. Meanwhile I'm gonna finish an email I was writing."
"Already on my way back," Jeannine said, taking off for the restrooms. Mac instantly went back to writing.
To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com) Subject: Contagious!!
Hi, my flyboy lover!
I don't have much time, 'cause the café's cramped and I had to wait to get to a terminal. Jeannine's lesson is already over. I just wanted to tell you two things: first, Pablo's not as unforgiving as I thought. Mad as he was at me when I told him I had to go home for the weekend, he's now as nice as ever. We're making rapid progress, I fear, not only with my Spanish. I'll have to think of something to keep him at a little distance without causing suspicions. He's taking the concept of a 'latin lover' very seriously. But don't be afraid: you said, thinking of Maribel made you want to vomit? Well, I almost knocked out Pablo instead.
Pablo yesterday came to wake me up in the morning, sneaking into my room, can you guess??? He admitted he stole my spare key from me during Monday's Spanish lesson. Good job, thinking he got to do with a U.S. Marine. Don't let the Corps hear that, okay? Anyway, when he was creeping to my bedside I woke in shock, jumped to my feet and introduced him to my right hook. After that I guess I made it quite clear to him that I wasn't too amused about his stunt. I just had to hold myself back from bringing out the colonel while yelling.
I could tell he was impressed, only stammering he'd thought it might be a welcome surprise waking up next to the man of my dreams... He's got a big black eye now that he's trying to cover with some make-up I gave him. But he hasn't got an aviator who knows how to paint things! (Snicker...)
Second thing: yes, it would damn right be a welcome surprise waking up next to the man of my dreams. Harm, I miss you so much it hurts. I'm out of my senses at least as much as you are, I can tell you that for sure.
Last weekend was... I can't tell just what it was. The only thing I know is that I'll remember every single second of it as long as I live.
Gotta go, love you!
Mac
Same time Ladies' restrooms Nick's World Wide Wafers Long Island, N.Y.
Jeannine opened Mac's purse, glad her friend was able to supply her with what she needed. Being in summer whites made you repent even more if you forgot to count the hours during your 'female' days. Searching for the little zipper bag, Jeannine twisted and turned her friend's purse, frowning. Then she'd finally located it. The zipper didn't move.
'What the...' Jeannine's thoughts didn't get any further than that. While making an effort to open the little bag, Jeannine's fingers slipped off the zipper. The sudden movement gave the purse a rather strong momentum and sent it flying against the wall and falling down with a 'thud'.
"Sh...ame!" Jeannine exclaimed, quickly kneeling down to gather all of her friend's belongings that lay spread on the floor. Seeing her friend's wallet had opened, Jeannine picked it up to close it again to make sure nothing could fall out.
Just then, something sailed to the floor. Jeannine grabbed it... and stared. It was a black-and-white portrait photo of none other than Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., and on the back was written something. Normally Jeannine respected the privacy of others but this particular case was just too much for her curiosity. She turned the picture around and read:
'To my Sarah, my favorite Marine, my life, my love. Always, Harm.'
Jeannine stared at the words, her hands beginning to tremble. Something wasn't right. Something about Pat, the girl she'd come to trust completely in her desperate situation, wasn't right. Who was Sarah? Fear of being misled and left alone gnawing at her nerves, Jeannine took up the wallet again and watched it more closely. The picture had obviously fallen out of a hidden side-compartment that was normally closed by a button. Upon impact, the button had opened.
With trembling fingers Jeannine reached inside and pulled out a small ID that proved her fears to be true: Cadet Patricia O'Hara, the friend of her utmost trust, didn't even exist. She was holding in her hands the personal belongings of one Sarah Catherine Mackenzie, born back in 1967, JAG lawyer and Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Marine Corps. And not only her friend, someone else had deceived her, too, by planting a spy right in her apartment: Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., the one person she'd risked her life to meet. Hot tears stinging in her eyes, Jeannine leaned back against the bathroom wall, slowly sliding down into a crouched sitting position, desperately searching to control her feelings.
Mac was beginning to wonder what was taking Jeannine so long. Finally, she got up and went over to the ladies' restrooms to look for her friend. She found the girl sitting on the floor, firmly clutching the purse, traces of tears glistening on her cheeks. Worried, Mac started to kneel down when she saw the look in Jeannine's eyes: hostile, cold, hurt. Luckily, no one else seemed to be in the room.
"Janni, what..."
"That's Cadet Stiller to you, ma'am!" Jeannine spat.
Mac felt hot fury well up inside herself. "Did you snoop through my wallet, Cadet?" she said icily, her hands clenched to fists, trying to stay calm.
"It happened to fall out, ma'am." Jeannine stressed the 'ma'am' in bitter mockery.
"You had no right to invade my privacy!" Mac raised her voice, stressing every syllable. Her stare would even have intimidated Lt. Singer, but Jeannine was too furious to notice it.
"You damn sure invaded mine!!" she yelled, starting to sob. Seeing Jeannine cry somehow brought Mac to her senses. She knelt down and put a hand on the girl's shoulder.
"I'm here to protect you, not to use you as a cover for my investigation."
Jeannine violently shook Mac's hand off and glared at her, tears still flowing. "That's not the point, ma'am! You sneaked into my life! You lured me into trusting you and betrayed my trust by pretending to be someone who doesn't even exist! Does the word friendship mean anything to you? Did you ever hear it's got something to do with mutual trust and bonding? Did you know being let down by someone you trust can hurt big time? You offered to sustain me in this hell I'm going through and I accepted because I just lost the closest friend I ever had! And now I find all was just set up to get you inside the college for an investigation that could advance your career. Where does that leave me? Well, I guess that doesn't matter, ma'am, because you're quite above caring for some insignificant girl like me!"
Gritting her teeth, Mac drew herself up to full height. Her face was white with rage and her hands were trembling. "Get to your feet, Cadet," she hissed, deadly serious, her glare sending daggers at the raging girl who slowly got up and reluctantly came to attention.
"Right now I'm feeling very much inclined to tell Captain Wells to expel you for insubordination and disrespecting an officer." Mac's voice was trembling with the fury she tried to hold in check. "But I won't because it wouldn't be helpful with the case. Actually, we'll have to play being friends a little longer, Cadet Stiller, if you like it or not. And this is the only reason why I'm going to tell you something I'd never tell anyone who insulted and hurt me the way you just did."
Mac paused a moment, trying to calm down. Jeannine watched her in silence, noticing the emotional struggle the other was fighting. Mac's voice was low and strained when she finally spoke. "I know damn well what it means to be let down, Cadet! I've been through that situation more often than you'd like to know. I know how the feeling of being hurt and betrayed can eat you up from inside. And it eventually led me to the point where I thought friends didn't even exist."
Another flash of fury lit up Mac's eyes. "And don't you dare tell me I didn't know the concept of real friendship, Cadet. Some years back I got to know someone who trusted me without even knowing who I was, although at one point I even pointed a gun at him and lied to him. He saved my life more than once, putting his own on the line. He showed me what real loyalty and friendship are like and I've been trying to be just the same anchor and source of strength for him as he is for me. We went through bitter times but our friendship survived. Because we knew what it means to us. I'm sure you never even came near yet to experiencing what friendship can be, Cadet. But I have. So, once again: don't you dare accusing me of not honoring the concept!"
Mac's voice had risen to full volume on the last sentence, causing Jeannine to wince. The girl looked at the tall woman's face that showed anger, hurt, defense, passion and... love? Jeannine's fury slowly began to fade away as she understood that Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie had an affectionate heart, very much like Pat O'Hara, the girl she'd come to like so much during the last few weeks.
Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Mac took several deep breaths to calm down. When she opened her eyes again, she found Jeannine looking at her, her gaze not friendly but not cold either.
"You were talking about Commander Rabb, ma'am, weren't you?" Jeannine asked quietly.
"I..."
Just then, a woman entered the restrooms. Mac and Jeannine busied themselves washing their hands.
"Let's continue this someplace else, Cadet," Mac muttered under her breath.
"Aye, ma'am."
They exited the café and set off in the direction of the beach, not caring that they would be late for dinner. After a rather long period of silence, Mac spoke up.
"You were right, Cadet. I was talking about Commander Rabb."
"I... I saw the photo, ma'am," Jeannine admitted uneasily.
"I guessed as much," came Mac's guarded reply.
"How long have you known him, ma'am?"
"Seven years."
"Are you married? Excuse me if I'm impertinent, ma'am, but I think I have a right to know whom I told so many details about my own life."
Mac couldn't help smiling a little at Jeannine's last remark. It held a striking logic. They were supposed to be friends. So why not tell her? "If we were married we couldn't work together, Cadet."
"But isn't it just the same working with your husband or with your boyfriend?"
"Technically, yes. At least for the military."
"So how come you..."
"Nobody knows," Mac cut in quietly.
At the admission, Jeannine lost her guard and openly stared at the officer. "You've been going against regs for years and succeeded to let it go unnoticed?"
Mac's smile was just a little sad. 'I wish we had,' she silently said to herself. 'We've lost so much time.' "Three months, Cadet," was all she replied aloud. The answer made Jeannine's eyes get even rounder.
"I'm sorry I'm dwelling on the subject, ma'am, but you mean you've been together for so long and never got involved until recently? That's an incredible achievement."
Mac's chuckle carried a trace of bitterness. "It'd be more appropriate to call it cowardice, beating around the bush, misunderstanding, backing away, whatever you like. On both sides," she added.
"Oh..."
They walked on in silence, both contemplating the situation. They knew they had to get to at least some kind of a working relationship. Again it was Mac who made the first move. Like when she'd first presented herself to her new roommate, she thought straightforwardness might work best. She stopped her pace, causing Jeannine to stop as well and look at her expectantly.
"Let me make a proposition. It's up to you to accept, I'll be okay with any decision you make, although I hope you'll consent. It's true that I was sent to Dwayne Myers in order to be your undercover bodyguard and to investigate a case the CIA's involved in. Actually it's the matter Meryl might have stumbled over. But I have to admit that, apart from the investigation, I really enjoy college life."
Mac let her gaze wander to the open sea, shading her eyes with her hand. "You know, before joining the Marine Corps my life's been one big mess. I was an alcoholic at sixteen and my abusive father succeeded to turn my home to hell. Being a member of a rich family and going to college without really worrying about anything has been a singular experience for me. My new life's easy-going and full of incredible events. But most of all, apart from having to keep up my cover, that is, I could just be myself. Especially with the marching band. I love being together with all of you. I rarely had so much fun. And though you may find it hard to believe: you got to know the real Sarah Mackenzie, not some made-up person. People may call me Patricia O'Hara, but the person they are friends with is none other than Sarah Mackenzie, living a part of her youth she never came to know."
Turning her head to face a very thoughtful Jeannine, Mac continued: "So the person you trusted and called your friend will always be the same, the name doesn't really matter. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth but I wasn't allowed to. That's what I hate about undercover ops. You even have to lie to the people who mean something to you. But now that you found out anyway I can only tell you that I never betrayed your trust, neither did Harm. We're both your friends, and if you decide to see me as exactly the same person you considered your friend, we can continue our friendship as before."
Jeannine smiled an unsure smile, obviously glad to have her friend back but not knowing how to react. "I... I'd be glad to, ma'am."
Smiling, Mac held out her hand and presented herself in her unique minimalist manner: "Mac."
Jeannine's smile widened as she took the offered hand and squeezed it. "Janni."
"We must come up with something why we couldn't be on time for dinner," Mac said after a little while, thoughtfully chewing her lower lip.
"Maybe Cmdr. Rabb could help?" Jeannine suggested with just the hint of a smile on her lips.
Mac raised an eyebrow. "You think I should call him?"
"Yep," Jeannine grinned.
Chuckling, Mac pulled out her cell-phone, happy about the unexpected opportunity to talk to her sailor.
On the third ring he picked up. "Rabb."
"Hey, flyboy. It's me."
"Mac!" His voice conveyed real surprise and joy. But concern immediately took over. "You're not supposed to call me. Something wrong? You okay?"
Mac smiled at his rushed questions. "No, everything's fine. Could you just meet me at the Internet café as soon as possible, please? Something's come up."
"I'll be right there. By the way: I love you, jarhead."
"I love you, too, squid." With a smile Mac ended the connection and found Jeannine still grinning at her.
"What?"
"That was cute, ma'am... uhm, Mac," Jeannine corrected herself at seeing Mac's raised eyebrows.
"Thanks. Harm will meet us at Nick's in five."
Chatting, they set off to return to the café.
Harm hurriedly entered the café and to his astonishment found Mac sitting in a hidden corner, together with Cadet Stiller. Disappointed that they wouldn't be able to talk freely, Harm snapped to professor's mode and casually strode over to his students.
"Good evening, Cadet Stiller, Cadet O'Hara," he said, casting Mac a questioning glance.
She just chuckled. "Save that for your lessons, flyboy. Janni found out."
"I see..." He was unsure how to react to her comment. Mac signaled him to sit down and quickly gave him a peck on the cheek, causing him to blush and Jeannine to chuckle at the sight of the embarrassed commander.
"Okay," he said, nervously clearing his throat, trying half a flyboy-grin. "What can I do for you, ladies?"
"Sir," Jeannine spoke up with a smile, "We need you to come up with an excuse for us. We'll be late for dinner, and that means trouble as in t-r-o- u-b-l-e."
"Uh huh...," he drawled, grinning. "Any propositions, Cadet, Colonel?"
"Actually, yes," Mac said, causing Jeannine to look at her in surprise. "I just had an idea. I saw it once in the movie 'Curly Sue'."
"Mac," Harm replied, dreading what was coming. "You were damn lucky you saved my life in Afghanistan with something you saw in a movie. You can't be sure luck will always be on your side."
"No, but this time no one's life is at stake, sailor. You just have to knock me down with something heavy and take me to the college's medical department afterwards, claiming Jeannine called you 'cause I fell and hit my head hard." Mac smiled nonchalantly at his shocked expression.
"No way, Mac. I won't hurt you." Harm's glance was icy. Jeannine watched the exchange with amusement. 'One mule just met another,' she thought.
"Oh yes, you will," Mac shot back, still smiling. "It's the best we can come up with right now. And they'd believe everything you tell them."
"Mac, I could never..."
"Do I have to make this an order, Commander?" Mac asked pointedly.
Jeannine stared. "You can order him?"
Mac's grin was nasty. "Yep. I'm three months his senior in rank."
Harm stared at his partner. "You wouldn't..."
"Yes, I would. In fact, as you seem to be reluctant: Commander, I order you to knock me down and take me to the college's hospital. Now." Mac openly grinned at her wincing partner.
Harm started to object but understood that opposition would be pointless if her mind was made up. And she was right: if, for being late, she and Jeannine would be confined to college grounds, the Carnegie Hall concert and even the investigation might be in danger. Sighing heavily, he asked: "Okay, where do we go?"
"There's a quiet back street around the corner."
They set off and arrived in a deserted little lane full of garbage. Mac took a look around and then grabbed a metal pipe. "Okay, this will do," she stated, handing it to Harm. "Now hit me on the head. Hard."
Harm's stomach was origami-folding itself inside his belly. "Mac," he almost whined, "Don't do this to me, please. I could never forgive myself."
Mac put her hands to her hips indignantly. "Don't be a coward. Consider this a matter of national security if it makes you feel better. Do you know what James Belushi tells his film-daughter when she's got to hit him? He says: 'Hit me as hard as you love me.' And she does. So: do you love me?"
"Of course I do, but..."
"Then hit me. Now!" Mac was getting exasperated.
Closing his eyes, Harm took a deep breath. "I'm gonna regret this," he muttered. Then he raised the metal pipe and with a heartfelt "Forgive me, Sarah!" let it come down on her head. Mac immediately went down on the concrete. Harm dropped the pipe and knelt down at her side. "Mac, do you hear me? Mac!"
Jeannine just stared at the scene. 'I think I understand what Mac meant when she said I'd not yet known what real friendship can mean.'
Mac slowly opened her eyes. "Thorough work, Commander," she said with a strained smile, blood trickling down her cheek from a gash on her forehead.
"I'm so sorry, Sarah," Harm whispered, gently stroking her face.
"Don't be," she replied, "I ordered you."
"But I am," he stated with a sigh.
"Then you can work off your guilt by applying your make-up arts to my face, flyboy. Now take me to the college. Jeannine called you, remember? And, let's say I hit my forehead on the curb."
Harm easily lifted her into his arms and set off for his car, signaling Jeannine to follow him.
Thu, June 11th 0323 ZULU Medical facility Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.
Jeannine was sitting at Mac's bedside, watching over her sleeping friend. She was impressed by what the colonel had gone through just to save them from being confined to college grounds and to save the concert. And somehow she felt proud, too, to be a person the colonel liked to be friends with. 'I wouldn't mind being like her one day,' she thought.
The door was cautiously opened and Harm tiptoed into the room. "How is she, Cadet?" he asked in a soft whisper.
"Much better, sir," Jeannine replied just as softly. "She's incredibly brave, sir," she added, admiration shining in her voice.
Harm smiled warmly as he looked at the sleeping woman. "She's incredible in every respect," he said.
Jeannine was touched by the amount of feeling the commander's voice conveyed. "This investigation must be hard for you two, sir," she stated quietly. "I'll leave you alone. Don't worry, I'll stick to my room. I'll be safe. Give her my love when she wakes, sir."
"Thank you, Cadet Stiller," Harm replied warmly, "I will."
Same time Clayton Webb's office CIA Headquarters Langley, VA
Just another long night at the office. Webb finished his twelfth cup of coffee and ran a hand through his hair. The Dwayne Myers investigation was proceeding far too slowly for his liking but it couldn't be helped. He trusted his JAG friends to work steadily and thoroughly. Harm had supplied him with a lot of useful details. The facts strongly pointed to the Gonzalez family. But they were still lacking one decisive hint that would justify an operation. Webb knew all he could do was wait for his friends to supply it but he hated having to be patient. Just as he had decided to go get his thirteenth cup of coffee, the telephone started to ring. Frowning, Webb lunged for the receiver. Who'd call him at this late hour?
"Webb."
"Mr. Webb? Nelson here."
The Secnav. What could he possibly want from him? "Good evening, Secretary. What can I do for you?"
"Actually, I'm calling to ask if you decided yet about the kind of operation you'll set up once Rabb comes up with the missing link."
"We've not decided anything yet. Personally, my preference lies with a quick in-and-out op."
"That wouldn't be a quiet one, would it?" Nelson carefully asked.
Webb suppressed a grin. "Not really."
"Is there... do you see any possibility you can keep this quiet, Mr. Webb?"
"It'd be a little complicated but I guess we might be able to. Why, if I may ask?"
"Well, Dwayne Myers suffered some critique recently, saying it was a high society place that didn't really succeed to form students to become promising officer's candidates. You know, Dwayne Myers students tend to have excellent connections in society. So the percentage of them who get good jobs in the military is higher than with any other naval college throughout the U.S. The navy invested a lot of effort to convince the public that concepts like valor, loyalty and unselfishness were just as strictly held up at Dwayne Myers as at any other naval college and that Dwayne Myers students are just as hard-working. A drug syndicate connected to the college might be the total ruin of its reputation and to the reputation of its students and their important families as well. And the navy would surely face enormous difficulties with fund-raising and with people suing the college."
"I see," Webb consented. "So you're asking me to make it go unnoticed."
"Yes, I am," Nelson stated.
Webb's thoughts were flowing rapidly. The Secnav would owe him. And he, Clay, owed Harm and Mac for sending them to investigate. Why, this was the opportunity to get his debts off his back!
"I think we can do that," Webb said and then casually went on: "But, as I happen to talk to you, would I ask too much if I bade you to do me a little favor concerning Cmdr. Rabb and Col. Mackenzie...?"
Thu, June 11th 1235 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.
Harm woke as his fax started to beep. Silently swearing, he got up to retrieve the message. He had only gotten one or two faxes since he was at the college. Why did they always have to arrive when he could sleep in a little longer or when he went to bed early? Surely this would be just another ad telling him how to reduce his debts or what to do to prevent his skin from aging. He grabbed the two sheets and was just about to throw them in the nearby dustbin as he noticed the Secnav's letterhead on one of them. Curious, Harm sat down on the sofa and studied the papers. His astonishment grew when he found the first to be in Clay's handwriting.
Harm,
I feel I need to motivate you and Mac to get me the missing information ASAP. That's why I took the liberty of trading a favor the Secnav owed me. I intend to pay back my own debts to you two by doing so. You'll receive the original document the next time we meet. I just wanted to tell you that the Secnav wants the whole affair to be kept quiet. And I suggest you better do it. There's too much at stake with what he offers in return. Make the most of it.
Clay.
Totally at a loss about Clay's cryptic message, Harm took a look at the second page and his heart skipped a beat at what he saw.
Subject: Regarding Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, both assigned to the Judge Advocate General Corps
Answering to a special request ventured by Undersecretary of State Clayton Webb, referring to a wish expressed by the USN Judge Advocate General, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden, I declare that the senior lawyer team assigned to JAG Headquarters, Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., USN, and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, USMC, receive the guarantee not to be obliged to change designator, regardless of whatever facts might suggest the necessity.
Any event or situation whatsoever that is connected to Cmdr. Rabb and Lt. Col. Mackenzie and might cause conflict with chain-of-command regulations is to be considered of minor importance. In the interest of achieving continuity, regarding thoroughly conducted investigations and carefully researched and successfully argued court-martials, JAG Headquarters must not be deprived of its most efficient and successful personnel who set an example of excellent work to the entire JAG staff.
Signed, Secretary of the Navy Nelson, Department of Defense
With trembling hands, Harm put down the letter. "Thanks, Clay," he whispered to the silent room. 'Now we owe you,' he thought, fighting his commotion, 'But how on earth could we possibly ever repay this?' He longed to call Mac, to tell her at once what Clay had done for them. But he knew it was too risky, and then, even though she had been released from the hospital and had returned to her own room for the night, she had still been allowed to miss classes to recover from her injury. Harm would never wake her up now. But he had to talk to someone or he felt he'd burst.
And all of a sudden, an idea sprang to his mind. 'Well, she'll probably shoot me for calling in the middle of the night, but when I tell her this...' He grabbed the phone and dialed the familiar number. He had to wait an endless minute until she picked up.
"Burnett?"
"Mom, this is Harm."
"Harmon! Is something wrong?"
"No, Mom, I'm fine. Sorry for waking you but I had to talk to someone."
"Anything wrong with Mac?" 'Please, don't let it be, Lord,' Trish silently prayed. To her astonishment she heard her son chuckle softly.
"No, Mom, on the contrary. The most extraordinary thing just happened and I need you to do me a big favor..."
Thu, June 11th 2007 ZULU Music auditorium Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.
The band was assembled and anxiously awaiting their newest addition. Harm had moved the rehearsals to the music auditorium where the cadets were sitting in orchestral formation as they would on stage.
"The Italian seems to be a good friend of Cmdr. Rabb," Dorothy giggled, "Already late for his first rehearsal."
"If he's half as cute as Rabb I won't mind," Cassandra retorted.
Mac suppressed a fit of laughter.
"Here they come!" Gary shouted. Everyone tried to get a glimpse of the Italian lieutenant.
"My God, he could be Rabb's little brother!" Dorothy exclaimed, trying to keep her voice low.
At her comment, Mac instantly thought of Sergei and compared him to Prumetti. 'Nah,' she thought, grinning.
An "Attention on deck!" from Danny made them all snap to attention.
Smiling, Harm and Fred approached the group. "At ease," Harm said with a smile. "Good afternoon, Cadets. As you see, our ticket to Carnegie Hall has arrived this morning from D.C."
He ventured a rather nervous Fred to step forward, noticing the lieutenant was holding on to his clarinet as if it would keep him from falling. "Cadets, I present to you my friend and - as long as the Italian navy can spare him - fellow JAG lawyer Lieutenant, j.g. Federico Prumetti."
Fred cleared his throat. "Good afternoon, Cadets. I'm pleased to meet you and I hope I'll be able to help you out with your concert." Once again he earned astonished glances at his Scottish accent.
"Good afternoon, sir!" the cadets replied. Fred involuntarily jumped. 'I'm not used to being that much of a senior officer,' he thought, fighting an embarrassed grin.
Harm kept his smile in check as he rushed to help his friend. "Cadets, we don't have much time and one hell of a schedule to follow to make it to Carnegie Hall. Let's go to work. Lt. Prumetti," he indicated a free chair and music stand between Jeannine and Pablo, "That would be your place when we play in orchestral formation. For your solo pieces I'll take your place and you'll stand right here, leading the band."
As he saw Fred pale, he added: "According to Cmdr. Laird, it's the best guarantee the accompaniment does what you want them to do. And as to my part, I slightly changed Cmdr. Laird's arrangements, with his knowledge, of course, and inserted a guitar part into the pieces with the solo clarinet. The sound comes closer to the original. In order to get to know each other, I think we should actually start with a solo piece. Lieutenant?" Harm cast Fred an encouraging smile as he himself sat down next to Jeannine who handed him his guitar.
The musicians tuned their instruments and then expectantly looked at Fred who desperately tried to dry his sweating hands on his uniform trousers. 'Damn,' he thought, 'I played at the La Fenice opera house. Why am I so nervous?'
'Because you never thought you'd be a soloist on the stage of Carnegie Hall with only ten days to practice,' his subconscious answered, 'And you don't want to look bad in front of Harm.'
'Well, I already did once,' he reminded his inner voice, 'In Venice, when I didn't tell him I was a lawyer because I was intimidated by his fame. Like I am now, although I know that this time I'm the professional.'
'Then why not show him this time what you're capable of?' his subconscious suggested, 'Harm had four days to prepare for the charity concert, you have ten to prepare for Carnegie Hall. Come on, Tenente, you can do that!'
'Yes, I can.' Fred lifted his chin, put on a charming smile and faced the waiting group. "I'd like to start with 'Stardust', Commander, Cadets, if you don't mind."
"You got it, Lieutenant," Harm answered, unaware of the inward struggle his junior officer had just fought. "Take the lead. We'll follow."
After a general rustle of music sheets, Fred put his instrument to his lips and, with a nod, cued in the band.
Soft blues rhythms and serenade tunes instantly filled the auditorium. Mac, like half of the band, had no part in the solo pieces as sections of the band played in reduced numbers so they wouldn't cover Fred's melody. Closing her eyes, Mac leant back on her chair, her hand idly resting on the drum next to her to prevent the membrane from vibrating along with the bass notes. She felt hugged and caressed by the gorgeous harmonies and then suddenly electrified as, for the first time, she heard the solo clarinet. The sound seemed to swell from nowhere, coming forth on the right beat but not giving away when it had originated.
Fred played as if he were singing, his tone velvety just like Nat King Cole's voice in the remade 'Stardust' version they had used for the 'Sleepless in Seattle' soundtrack. Jeannine, with an incredibly tender expression, played the counterpoint that would have belonged to a violin. From the rest of the band no single part was distinguishable, as all musicians were carried away by the melody and unselfishly inserted themselves into the general accompaniment.
When the piece was over, Mac saw Cassandra quickly wipe away a tear from her cheek.
Silence.
"Wow." That was Dorothy, who succeeded in easing the tension with her remark. Cheers went up for the young lieutenant who had just proven himself fit to save the concert.
Fred, feeling extremely relieved, sought Harm's eye and earned himself a radiant grin, together with an acknowledging nod. He knew he had finally overcome his shyness regarding the commander. 'Well, now I'm really looking forward to working with you, sir,' he quietly stated to himself, grinning back.
Thur, June 18th 1432 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.
Harm's first notion at hearing his alarm clock was to knock it off the nightstand to silence it for good. But even slightly turning his head made him immediately regret the movement. God, he hadn't had a hangover for ages. 'I'm no longer used to it. Mac's influence,' he thought with a frown that at once made his head throb even harder. But he had to stop the noise somehow. Carefully, gritting his teeth, he reached over and switched off the dream-shattering device. And such a nice dream it had been, about a certain Marine without her uniform. Without any clothes in fact.
'Mac!' The thought of her immediately made him get up and groggily walk over to his computer, switching it on. He'd gone out with Maribel and her cousins right after the rehearsal. Fred had stayed back, saying he wanted to practice. Poor guy. According to Chegwidden he'd practiced for four days before even coming up to New York. But hadn't Harm requested his assistance, starting right on Monday 8th? Well, counting the days Fred had taken for exercising, he'd in fact been helping him since Monday, even though he had arrived only yesterday. As a new wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him, Harm became aware that yesterday night he would have needed Fred badly for maintaining a little control. 'Whoa,' he thought, settling at his desk in slow motion. 'Did I ever tell anyone I liked Tequila? That's a damn lie!'
Maribel still seemed distant and a little hostile, but she was obviously trying not to let it show. Her cousins had lured him into drinking more than he'd wanted to. There had been no way of escape. Harm only hoped that he hadn't spilled any secrets. He wouldn't, couldn't swear to it, though. When they had finally taken him home, he'd just collapsed on the bed. Half an hour later he had at least managed to pull himself up to undress and wash before settling down again. But he hadn't been able to read Mac's Wednesday mail yet. Harm shook his head at himself in disgust. He had been too drunk to open his mailbox.
Shading his eyes against the all-too-clear screen, he found her mail and printed it for hangover-friendly reading. Making himself a cup of strong coffee on the return to the bedroom, he settled down on his bed and read, feeling better with every line.
To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com) Subject: Good luck - you're gonna need it... (Just kidding!)
My dearest Maestro,
I just wanted to tell you I'm crossing all fingers available in my reach (mine and other people's... I can always order them!) for you for the concert. T minus four days and counting... How are you feeling?
Well, I'm feeling rather sh...shameful. I know I'm only part of the band, seated in the last row but one and playing an instrument of minor importance. But: Sarah Mackenzie in concert at Carnegie Hall - this is all so weird. Jeannine does all she can to cheer me up. That girl's a miracle. She seems totally immune to stage fright although she's got major responsibility for the concert's success. But she actually seems to revel the adrenaline. I don't get it. But I'm a Marine, I'll handle it.
I think rehearsals have gone extremely well so far. Even I can tell that by now and Janni confirms it. You're doing great, squid, and Fred's just marvelous. I get shivers down my spine when I hear him play. If we get all the pieces through without major problems, we should be able to present a good show on Sunday. I can't wait to see you in your dress whites!
Rehearsing every day keeps wearing me out more than I'd thought possible. I can hardly get up in the morning, my limbs feel heavy and every now and then I even get a little dizzy. Don't worry, sailor, I'm okay. I think it's the aftermath of your blow on my head... oops, wrong choice of words. Don't feel guilty, Commander, that's an order. It's the aftermath of my plan, I wanted to say. The gash has healed off completely, and the blue on my forehead has turned to greenish yellow by now. I'll try your make-up techniques for the concert night.
The Pablo problem still exists although he seems to notice that I've become a little distant of late. I think he suspects it's because of the stunt he pulled off sneaking into my room. But he tries to make up for it. So I have to imagine that all the flowers are coming from you or I might find myself throwing them out of the window.
Seeing you with Maribel still hurts. I can see you're not as easy with each other as you used to be before... well, before the most beautiful experience in my entire life, let's put it that way, but I guess I'm rather jealous all the same. Don't tell the Corps.
By the way, Jeannine keeps getting those sick letters. I still don't have the slightest clue about whom they could come from. Luckily she seems to get used to receiving them. And I think after the first shock of finding out who I am, she's glad she's got a Marine to watch her six. We're getting still closer. I really like her. I hope we can stay in touch when this is over.
I'm very excited about the general rehearsal tomorrow afternoon. Trying out the Carnegie Hall stage. Wow. I hope I won't leave anything essential at home... Did I say 'home'? My God, what's become of me! This isn't home. Home is where you are, Harm. Wherever that is. I'm hugging you tightly and telling you not to worry about the concert. Can you feel my arms and hear my words? Anyway, I've got enormous faith in your abilities. You'll do just fine. And if you need an anchor on stage just look into my eyes. I'll be there for you. Always.
I miss you so much. Hope it won't be long anymore.
Sarah
'God knows I miss you, too, my Sarah,' Harm thought, slowly relaxing at her warm words in combination with the effect the coffee had on his body. Sighing, he put the letter in a hidden drawer at the back of his nightstand and got up to take a shower.
Thu, June 18th 2308 ZULU Carnegie Hall New York City, N.Y.
Even the chatting was quieter than it normally used to be. Every single member of the Dwayne Myers marching band was in awe at the realization that they were in fact seated on the stage of one of the world's most famous concert halls. They were still occupied with shifting and re-shifting the position of their music stands and chairs in order to get the most efficient and esthetically best formation. When they finally all agreed that they'd found it, they tuned their instruments and waited for Harm to start the rehearsal.
Harm was as nervous as if this were the actual concert. Very slowly he crossed the stage to get to his conductor's stand, taking in the vast, dark auditorium that seemed a cathedral while it was void of the public. 'You don't belong here. Run!' something deep inside him started to scream. Remembering Mac's email, he sought out her glance and found her giving him a barely noticeable smile of encouragement. 'I love you!' he thought as he felt himself relax.
Fred was as pale as Harm, Mac noticed. He was desperately searching his bag for something and only upon hearing Harm clear his throat in his direction, he'd look up.
"Any problems, Lieutenant?"
"Actually, yes, sir," Fred stated in a slightly strained voice. "I can't find my 'Stardust' copy."
'Don't do this to me, Prumetti,' Harm silently threatened his friend. "Did anyone take the lieutenant's score by accident?" he asked the band. A rustle of bags being searched was the answer, followed by everyone shaking their heads 'no'.
'Damn.' "We'll leave it out for the moment, then," Harm decided, taking up his baton for the program's first song.
They rehearsed the rest of the show without further damage to anyone's nerves, actually rejoicing in the enormous sound they created in the huge hall. Harm was beginning to relax. 'Laird told me something has to go wrong at the general rehearsal or the concert won't work,' he remembered. 'Maybe that's it.'
"Sir," Jeannine suddenly spoke up as they had finished the last piece but 'Stardust'. "I just found a handwritten copy of Meryl's soloist part from 'Stardust' in my music bag. I'm totally at a loss about how it got there, but it's written well and maybe Lt. Prumetti could take it until he finds the original. I even think Meryl copied it herself." She held out several sheets of paper to the lieutenant who, with a grateful smile, took them and placed them on his stand.
"Ready, sir."
"Thank you, Cadet Stiller," Harm said, then turning to Fred. "Lead the way, Lieutenant."
Fred confidently put the clarinet to his lips and they began to play. Mac, as always with this favorite song of hers, leant back to listen. She jumped when she suddenly heard several notes that seemed completely out of tune. Fred was frowning while he played on, intently studying his copy. Just as everything seemed to have come back to normal Fred again inserted a couple of terribly out-of-tune notes. Harm turned at him.
"What's the matter, Lieutenant?" he hissed.
Fred played on with an excusing and embarrassed expression, seeming at a loss. When the phenomenon occurred for the third time, Harm interrupted the music.
"Heck, Lieutenant, what's the problem? Can't read your copy?"
Fred's voice sounded miserable. "I can read it clearly, sir, and I swear I play whatever's written on the pentagrams. Cadet Waters must have erred tremendously in copying the score."
"I doubt that, sir, if you'll excuse me," Jeannine cut in, worriedly. "Meryl may have had some discipline problems, but if she had one decisive trait in her character, it was her accuracy. She'd never copy mistakes or make them herself while copying."
"Very well, Cadet," Harm replied, just a little annoyed, "But how do you explain this if it wasn't her?"
"I don't know, sir. Maybe for a moment she thought she was writing something different..." Jeannine let her voice trail off, suddenly paling visibly.
Mac noticed the change, worried. And she started to worry even more as she became aware of Harm's reaction. He succeeded to mask his expression in front of everyone. But not in front of her anymore. Mac could see Harm was puzzled to no end. Obviously his thoughts were heading in a similar direction as were Jeannine's.
"Uhm, Lieutenant, may I see the score, please?" he said casually, his voice just a little hoarse.
"Sure, sir." Fred handed it to him.
Harm compared the pentagrams to the ones in his general partition and found his suspicion confirmed. 'Why, Stiller and Waters were good friends. They may have talked about the concept of hiding a message in a piece of music. If I'm right they both did just that, independently from one another. They just used different codes. Maybe if I can figure this out I can supply Webb with the missing link..."
Getting all excited but trying not to let it show, Harm called off the rehearsal, saying they'd done enough for now and that they could do 'Stardust' when he'd corrected the score or when Fred had found the original.
They headed home in the college bus, Harm nervously keeping the copy in his hands. This could turn out to be key evidence. Better not lose it.
Upon arrival Harm immediately withdrew to his apartment and settled down to decode the message - if there turned out to be any, that was.
Fri, June 19th 0617 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.
Sighing in frustration, Harm ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. He had been studying the copy for the umpteenth time, trying rhythm, number and position of wrong notes, distance of wrong notes from one another, intervals between the notes and the following ones, between the wrong notes and the right ones in the original score, regrouping the wrong notes... nothing. The copy just seemed transcribed wrong and nothing else. But Harm couldn't fight the feeling that he'd stumbled over something that was right under his nose and that he just didn't see it for some reason.
Getting up to pour himself a glass of water, he tried a different approach. Why would Waters leave a message in a copy of her own instrument's part? Probably to remember something important. But she had obviously been too afraid to write it down properly for whatever reason. If she had wanted to communicate something to somebody she'd have left a trace for that someone to find her message. If it had indeed been intended for somebody else, that someone had to be musical...
'Hammer, you have been sleeping,' he scolded himself. 'Of course Waters intended the message for someone else. Stiller found the copy in her bag! Waters must have written it to her...' "My God!" Harm choked on his water, set the glass down with a 'clank' on the kitchen counter and rushed back to his desk.
'Written to! Hammer, you mega-idiot! She has w-r-i-t-t-e-n to her! You thought of everything but the first thing that would have come to anyone else's mind! Try the wrong notes' names!' Eagerly Harm bent over the copy and wrote down the names of the notes that differed from the original score.
"b-flat, e, a, c, b, c, a, f, e, b-flat, a, c, g-double-sharp, b-flat, c- double-sharp, e-flat, b, e, e-flat, c, a, e-flat, e," he read, frustration again getting the better of him. Nothing! But then something near the beginning of the line sprang to his eyes: letters six to ten spelled 'cafe'. It could be a coincidence, but he decided to clutch at the straws and try to figure out the rest.
'Why all those flats and double-sharps,' he thought with a frown. He was sure it wouldn't make sense just omitting them and using the letters they were connected to. Waters must have put them in for some reason. Then the last four letters caught his attention and an idea began to form in his mind.
"C-a-something-e," he read aloud, thinking hard. And suddenly he knew what to look for. When he had been fourteen years old, his mother and Frank had taken him to Los Angeles one evening for a guest performance of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. Harm remembered that, seeing the program booklet, he'd found it odd that Mozart's symphony number 38 in e-flat major had been written in German as 'Symphonie Nr. 38 in Es-Dur'. 'E-flat' according to the German system was called 'Es', pronounced like 'S'. Here was an additional letter for him to use, and it made the last word spell 'case'!
Thinking of the other letters he might find, Harm grabbed his flashlight, the copy, the score and his legal pad and pen and headed for the college library. 'If you have a question about music, go to the library and ask your friend New Grove,' his guitar teacher had always told him. Harm had never yet found himself in a situation to follow his advice, but now it might provide the clue he was searching.
Thankful that he didn't have to pick the lock, but could use the general key he had been given, Harm stepped into the dark, quiet room. Shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation - having to go to the library at 0130 in the morning without getting caught - Harm switched on his flashlight and started looking for the world's amplest music dictionary. He just hoped they even had it...
He soon found that one of the advantages of the fact that Dwayne Myers was a wealthy institute was that they had a large number of volumes in their library that the college didn't really need but considered 'hip' to own. Among them figured the twenty-plus volumes of the New Grove Dictionary of Music.
Holding the flashlight between his teeth and the papers he'd brought between his knees, Harm tried several entries until he found a list of note names according to the German system. He laid the book on the floor and knelt down, quickly copying the necessary information. 'B' was 'h' and 'b- flat' was just 'b', he found. The double-sharps being called 'gis' and 'cis' still didn't help him for his purpose, but as the message contained only two of them, he might figure out the sense without knowing what they meant. Harm got up, put the volume back on the shelf, quietly left the library and returned to his apartment.
With trembling fingers he rewrote the message: 'beachcafebacxbxshescase'. Staring at the line, he contemplated about it only one or two minutes. Then, deciding to take the double-sharps as wild cards, he understood that he had to go and look for a case somewhere near the bushes at the back of one of the cafés on the beach. Swallowing heavily, Harm put on his shoes and a dark sweater.
Harm had seen Mac at her window once. Now, slowly circling around House Mistral, he tried to remember which one it had been. It wasn't that he really needed her to recover the object, but it would definitely be easier with two, one holding the light and watching out and the other digging or whatever was necessary. And figuring out something with the capacity of two brains instead of one could also mean it would be done quicker. And, he silently admitted to himself, he desperately needed to see her alone.
Having completed three circles around the house, Harm was now sure enough about which one was Mac's window to try and contact her. Cell-phone was out of the question and her front door would mean Jeannine would wake as well. So he had to apply stone-age methods. He picked up a small pebble, aimed carefully and gently threw it against her windowpane. He jumped at the 'clink' that seemed very loud to him, but obviously no one but him had noticed it. Not even Mac, it seemed, as she didn't show up or give any sign of activity.
Harm was about to give it another try when he suddenly detected a movement inside her dark room. He couldn't suppress a grin when he saw the top of her head become visible just barely above the windowsill, next to her something that could be the butt of a gun. 'My Marine, always in combat mode,' he thought lovingly. Stepping out of the shadows, he signaled her to come down and indicated his dark clothing, making her eyes grow wide. After a moment of astonishment she nodded and vanished from the window. Three minutes later he saw her coming around the corner of the house.
He waved to her to join him in the shadows and silently encircled her in his arms. She let him hold her and buried her face on his chest, holding on to him. Only after some minutes she drew back slightly and looked at him with a questioning smile.
"What's this about, Sherlock?" she asked in a low voice.
"Is this the proper way to welcome your lover?" he replied with a raised eyebrow, grinning.
"I'll welcome you properly when you tell me what this is about," she stated stubbornly.
"Kiss me first, Watson," he suggested smugly.
"Okay," she complied with a smile and a sigh, stepping close again and bringing her lips to his in a passionate kiss that lasted another thirty seconds. When they finally parted, panting, she again looked up at him, tilting her head to one side.
"This is about the 'Stardust' copy, right?" she guessed.
Harm gave her an appreciating grin. "Good thinking, Cadet O'Hara." Then he sobered and told her what he'd just found out.
"I'm impressed, Commander," she said, her voice devoid of any teasing. "There could indeed be something to it. Let's go find out. And spend some time together on a moonlit beach," she added with a contagious grin.
"Good thinking again, Cadet," he remarked and, taking her hand and carefully sticking to the shadows, guided her to a gate in the campus wall opposite the main entrance that only the professors had a key to. He quickly let the two of them out and locked the gate behind them. They still kept to the shadows of trees and houses until they had put a comfortable distance between themselves and the college.
Feeling secure, they slowed down their pace and walked down to the beach, strolling along the shore hand in hand.
"Now, Mac, do you know how many cafés there are on the beach?" he asked her.
"Too many," she replied, frowning, "But I suggest we start with the 'Driftwood'. It's about half a mile from here and I happen to know it was some kind of a hangout for Jeannine, Meryl, Dorothy and Cassandra. Janni took me there once. If I were Meryl I'd choose that place to leave something for Jeannine."
"I see your point," Harm agreed. "This direction?"
"Yup." They silently wandered on, Mac leaning to Harm's shoulder, both enjoying the warmth and closeness of the other.
"Awfully romantic, isn't it?" Harm chuckled after a while as the moon came out behind a cloud.
"I'm beginning to rather like this investigation," Mac retorted with a grin. "Pity we can't stay here all night. I can think about a lot of nice things to do on a moonlit beach in a warm summer night. But I don't want to leave Jeannine alone too long."
"Yeah..." he murmured consent, his stomach tightening as he imagined what he'd like to do to her on a moonlit beach.
"Here we are," she woke him from his reverie, indicating a small house on the beach. On the waterside it had a huge wooden porch stretching out across the sand. The back of the café was surrounded by small trees and bushes. Making sure no one was in sight, they walked over to the house.
"Could you hold that, please?" Harm handed Mac his flashlight and knelt down to study the terrain. For about ten minutes he scrutinized every inch of his surroundings, swearing low when he didn't find any indication that might point to some hidden object. Mac was about to suggest they try out another café when he suddenly locked his gaze on a small piece of ground between two bushes where significantly less herbs were growing. He pulled up his sleeves and carefully began to dig. Mac watched in silence.
"Bingo," he finally stated in a low voice, pulling a small object out of the hole he'd dug. Mac switched off the light and, in silent agreement that Mac had to get back to Jeannine, they headed back to the college.
Once again inside the campus walls, Harm drew Mac into the shadows of the library and once more tightly embraced her, claiming her lips with his. Mac responded ardently. They hadn't been able to exchange even a handshake for two weeks now after their hallmark weekend. Longing and passion soon threatened to overwhelm them. Reluctantly breaking the kiss after a few endless moments, Harm rested his forehead against Mac's.
"God knows, I'd like to take you up to my apartment, Sarah, and make love to you all night long. But given the situation..."
"Yeah," she whispered. "I miss you so much, Harm."
"You know what," he suggested, "When this is over we'll take a couple of days off and go someplace nice. Just you and me. We'll take 'Sarah' and fly up in the mountains, for example. We could go and see my Grandma Sarah. What d'ya say?"
"I'd love to," she sighed, "Can't wait."
Harm smiled and softly kissed her one more time. "I'll examine this... thing and let you know what's inside via email. Off you go now, Cadet. It's past your bedtime, you know."
"Aye, sir," Mac whispered, kissing him back. "Sweet dreams, flyboy."
"To you, too." He watched her carefully and quickly run over to House Mistral and then returned to his own apartment.
Upstairs, Harm once again sat down at his desk and examined the object they had retrieved from its secret hiding place. It was a rusty metal case secured with what seemed meters of cord to keep it shut. It took him a full fifteen minutes to get rid of the cord but finally he had completed the task. Subconsciously holding his breath, Harm opened the case and inside found a notebook. Opening it on page one, he read: 'Cruise diary, 04-20 - 04-30, Meryl Christine Waters, Cadet Second Year, Dwayne Myers Naval College'.
"This is getting more interesting all the time," he muttered to himself as he stretched out on the couch and began to read.
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)
Wed, June 10th 2253 ZULU Nick's World Wide Wafers Long Island, N.Y.
Mac was smiling to herself, shaking her head. She was definitely losing her wits if by now even opening an email could cause sudden heat to flow through her body. But since the incredible weekend every allusion, word or image whatsoever that could possibly remind her of Harm in some way, produced a similar effect. 'God, don't let me run on constant high adrenaline for the rest of my life,' she pleaded, chuckling to herself. 'I'd be a terrible mother, no such thing as patience.' She moved her mouse to the 'open' button and resolutely clicked.
To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com) Subject: What have you done to me?????
My dearest Marine,
How could you be so cruel and leave me alone in my current state of mind? I've hardly been able to get anything done in the last few days. My sense happily left me. Guess it didn't like being squashed between the myriads of thoughts that are spinning in my brain, every single one of them about you.
This is so mean of you, jarhead, to deprive me of what makes me fit for my job. I'm stuttering in the easiest of situations, just because there might be something I accidentally see or hear that reminds me of you. I catch myself daydreaming all the time, or worse - I'm caught daydreaming by someone else. And at night... Mac, it's worse than ever. Before last Friday I had finally gotten accustomed to get a little sleep without you by my side. But now it's hopeless.
But I'll stop complaining because when I'm lying awake you're with me, Sarah. The memories are so vivid I can actually feel you in my arms. That helps a great deal.
Last weekend was incredibly beautiful, Mac. Thank you for being with me. I don't think there's any man in the world feeling what I do right now. Okay, I'm sure there are many who'd claim the same thing for themselves, but I'm convinced I'm still better off. Just the idea of being loved by you the way you showed me makes my world spin. Once again: what did I do to deserve you? It's beyond my capacity of understanding. I love you so much I don't know how I can make you see the full extent of my feelings. But I swear I'm gonna show you once we get out of here!
Maribel's been a little distant these last days. I think she's mad at me for not having spent the weekend with her. Well, as much as I'll hate it, I'm going to make it up a little to her. But don't be alarmed - nothing serious is going to happen. The very thought makes me want to throw up. Anyway, Maribel's got no reason to be angry. She told me she went up to the Adirondacks, hiking, with a friend. I guess she had her share of fun while we did... See? That's what I mean. One sentence, one association, and I'm carried away with my imagination.
Have a little pity with a poor, mentally disturbed sailor who in his current state wouldn't dare to fly any planes (Imagine me saying that, Mac!), but who on the other hand does a great job expressing his feelings (Don't I? Please, tell me I've at least improved on that ground, otherwise I might think I lost it completely!),
I love you,
Harm
With a huge grin on her face, Mac clicked on the 'reply' button. 'I'm just glad to hear I'm not the only one,' she thought, relieved. Just as she wanted to start writing, she felt a hand on her shoulder and gave a start. She quickly moved another Internet window on top of her mail program and turned around to find Jeannine smiling at her.
"God, Janni, you scared me to death," Mac tried her escape, "Lesson finished?"
Jeannine grinned. "Closed your dirty page, did you?"
Mac felt herself blush. "Er... no. Okay, I'll tell you, but keep it a secret. It's a rather silly game page I got addicted to. It's German, www.moorhuhn.de, but you don't need the language to play. You just shoot these silly-looking grouses. I'll show you, if you like."
"I'd like to," Jeannine answered, "But let's do it another time, okay? We don't have much time left until we have to get back, and, uhm..." She looked at Mac rather embarrassedly. "Pat, do you have a tampon you could give me?"
Mac smiled, her previous tension lessening as Jeannine seemed to buy her story. "Sure. Take my purse, it's in the little compartment with the zipper. Meanwhile I'm gonna finish an email I was writing."
"Already on my way back," Jeannine said, taking off for the restrooms. Mac instantly went back to writing.
To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com) Subject: Contagious!!
Hi, my flyboy lover!
I don't have much time, 'cause the café's cramped and I had to wait to get to a terminal. Jeannine's lesson is already over. I just wanted to tell you two things: first, Pablo's not as unforgiving as I thought. Mad as he was at me when I told him I had to go home for the weekend, he's now as nice as ever. We're making rapid progress, I fear, not only with my Spanish. I'll have to think of something to keep him at a little distance without causing suspicions. He's taking the concept of a 'latin lover' very seriously. But don't be afraid: you said, thinking of Maribel made you want to vomit? Well, I almost knocked out Pablo instead.
Pablo yesterday came to wake me up in the morning, sneaking into my room, can you guess??? He admitted he stole my spare key from me during Monday's Spanish lesson. Good job, thinking he got to do with a U.S. Marine. Don't let the Corps hear that, okay? Anyway, when he was creeping to my bedside I woke in shock, jumped to my feet and introduced him to my right hook. After that I guess I made it quite clear to him that I wasn't too amused about his stunt. I just had to hold myself back from bringing out the colonel while yelling.
I could tell he was impressed, only stammering he'd thought it might be a welcome surprise waking up next to the man of my dreams... He's got a big black eye now that he's trying to cover with some make-up I gave him. But he hasn't got an aviator who knows how to paint things! (Snicker...)
Second thing: yes, it would damn right be a welcome surprise waking up next to the man of my dreams. Harm, I miss you so much it hurts. I'm out of my senses at least as much as you are, I can tell you that for sure.
Last weekend was... I can't tell just what it was. The only thing I know is that I'll remember every single second of it as long as I live.
Gotta go, love you!
Mac
Same time Ladies' restrooms Nick's World Wide Wafers Long Island, N.Y.
Jeannine opened Mac's purse, glad her friend was able to supply her with what she needed. Being in summer whites made you repent even more if you forgot to count the hours during your 'female' days. Searching for the little zipper bag, Jeannine twisted and turned her friend's purse, frowning. Then she'd finally located it. The zipper didn't move.
'What the...' Jeannine's thoughts didn't get any further than that. While making an effort to open the little bag, Jeannine's fingers slipped off the zipper. The sudden movement gave the purse a rather strong momentum and sent it flying against the wall and falling down with a 'thud'.
"Sh...ame!" Jeannine exclaimed, quickly kneeling down to gather all of her friend's belongings that lay spread on the floor. Seeing her friend's wallet had opened, Jeannine picked it up to close it again to make sure nothing could fall out.
Just then, something sailed to the floor. Jeannine grabbed it... and stared. It was a black-and-white portrait photo of none other than Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., and on the back was written something. Normally Jeannine respected the privacy of others but this particular case was just too much for her curiosity. She turned the picture around and read:
'To my Sarah, my favorite Marine, my life, my love. Always, Harm.'
Jeannine stared at the words, her hands beginning to tremble. Something wasn't right. Something about Pat, the girl she'd come to trust completely in her desperate situation, wasn't right. Who was Sarah? Fear of being misled and left alone gnawing at her nerves, Jeannine took up the wallet again and watched it more closely. The picture had obviously fallen out of a hidden side-compartment that was normally closed by a button. Upon impact, the button had opened.
With trembling fingers Jeannine reached inside and pulled out a small ID that proved her fears to be true: Cadet Patricia O'Hara, the friend of her utmost trust, didn't even exist. She was holding in her hands the personal belongings of one Sarah Catherine Mackenzie, born back in 1967, JAG lawyer and Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Marine Corps. And not only her friend, someone else had deceived her, too, by planting a spy right in her apartment: Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., the one person she'd risked her life to meet. Hot tears stinging in her eyes, Jeannine leaned back against the bathroom wall, slowly sliding down into a crouched sitting position, desperately searching to control her feelings.
Mac was beginning to wonder what was taking Jeannine so long. Finally, she got up and went over to the ladies' restrooms to look for her friend. She found the girl sitting on the floor, firmly clutching the purse, traces of tears glistening on her cheeks. Worried, Mac started to kneel down when she saw the look in Jeannine's eyes: hostile, cold, hurt. Luckily, no one else seemed to be in the room.
"Janni, what..."
"That's Cadet Stiller to you, ma'am!" Jeannine spat.
Mac felt hot fury well up inside herself. "Did you snoop through my wallet, Cadet?" she said icily, her hands clenched to fists, trying to stay calm.
"It happened to fall out, ma'am." Jeannine stressed the 'ma'am' in bitter mockery.
"You had no right to invade my privacy!" Mac raised her voice, stressing every syllable. Her stare would even have intimidated Lt. Singer, but Jeannine was too furious to notice it.
"You damn sure invaded mine!!" she yelled, starting to sob. Seeing Jeannine cry somehow brought Mac to her senses. She knelt down and put a hand on the girl's shoulder.
"I'm here to protect you, not to use you as a cover for my investigation."
Jeannine violently shook Mac's hand off and glared at her, tears still flowing. "That's not the point, ma'am! You sneaked into my life! You lured me into trusting you and betrayed my trust by pretending to be someone who doesn't even exist! Does the word friendship mean anything to you? Did you ever hear it's got something to do with mutual trust and bonding? Did you know being let down by someone you trust can hurt big time? You offered to sustain me in this hell I'm going through and I accepted because I just lost the closest friend I ever had! And now I find all was just set up to get you inside the college for an investigation that could advance your career. Where does that leave me? Well, I guess that doesn't matter, ma'am, because you're quite above caring for some insignificant girl like me!"
Gritting her teeth, Mac drew herself up to full height. Her face was white with rage and her hands were trembling. "Get to your feet, Cadet," she hissed, deadly serious, her glare sending daggers at the raging girl who slowly got up and reluctantly came to attention.
"Right now I'm feeling very much inclined to tell Captain Wells to expel you for insubordination and disrespecting an officer." Mac's voice was trembling with the fury she tried to hold in check. "But I won't because it wouldn't be helpful with the case. Actually, we'll have to play being friends a little longer, Cadet Stiller, if you like it or not. And this is the only reason why I'm going to tell you something I'd never tell anyone who insulted and hurt me the way you just did."
Mac paused a moment, trying to calm down. Jeannine watched her in silence, noticing the emotional struggle the other was fighting. Mac's voice was low and strained when she finally spoke. "I know damn well what it means to be let down, Cadet! I've been through that situation more often than you'd like to know. I know how the feeling of being hurt and betrayed can eat you up from inside. And it eventually led me to the point where I thought friends didn't even exist."
Another flash of fury lit up Mac's eyes. "And don't you dare tell me I didn't know the concept of real friendship, Cadet. Some years back I got to know someone who trusted me without even knowing who I was, although at one point I even pointed a gun at him and lied to him. He saved my life more than once, putting his own on the line. He showed me what real loyalty and friendship are like and I've been trying to be just the same anchor and source of strength for him as he is for me. We went through bitter times but our friendship survived. Because we knew what it means to us. I'm sure you never even came near yet to experiencing what friendship can be, Cadet. But I have. So, once again: don't you dare accusing me of not honoring the concept!"
Mac's voice had risen to full volume on the last sentence, causing Jeannine to wince. The girl looked at the tall woman's face that showed anger, hurt, defense, passion and... love? Jeannine's fury slowly began to fade away as she understood that Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie had an affectionate heart, very much like Pat O'Hara, the girl she'd come to like so much during the last few weeks.
Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Mac took several deep breaths to calm down. When she opened her eyes again, she found Jeannine looking at her, her gaze not friendly but not cold either.
"You were talking about Commander Rabb, ma'am, weren't you?" Jeannine asked quietly.
"I..."
Just then, a woman entered the restrooms. Mac and Jeannine busied themselves washing their hands.
"Let's continue this someplace else, Cadet," Mac muttered under her breath.
"Aye, ma'am."
They exited the café and set off in the direction of the beach, not caring that they would be late for dinner. After a rather long period of silence, Mac spoke up.
"You were right, Cadet. I was talking about Commander Rabb."
"I... I saw the photo, ma'am," Jeannine admitted uneasily.
"I guessed as much," came Mac's guarded reply.
"How long have you known him, ma'am?"
"Seven years."
"Are you married? Excuse me if I'm impertinent, ma'am, but I think I have a right to know whom I told so many details about my own life."
Mac couldn't help smiling a little at Jeannine's last remark. It held a striking logic. They were supposed to be friends. So why not tell her? "If we were married we couldn't work together, Cadet."
"But isn't it just the same working with your husband or with your boyfriend?"
"Technically, yes. At least for the military."
"So how come you..."
"Nobody knows," Mac cut in quietly.
At the admission, Jeannine lost her guard and openly stared at the officer. "You've been going against regs for years and succeeded to let it go unnoticed?"
Mac's smile was just a little sad. 'I wish we had,' she silently said to herself. 'We've lost so much time.' "Three months, Cadet," was all she replied aloud. The answer made Jeannine's eyes get even rounder.
"I'm sorry I'm dwelling on the subject, ma'am, but you mean you've been together for so long and never got involved until recently? That's an incredible achievement."
Mac's chuckle carried a trace of bitterness. "It'd be more appropriate to call it cowardice, beating around the bush, misunderstanding, backing away, whatever you like. On both sides," she added.
"Oh..."
They walked on in silence, both contemplating the situation. They knew they had to get to at least some kind of a working relationship. Again it was Mac who made the first move. Like when she'd first presented herself to her new roommate, she thought straightforwardness might work best. She stopped her pace, causing Jeannine to stop as well and look at her expectantly.
"Let me make a proposition. It's up to you to accept, I'll be okay with any decision you make, although I hope you'll consent. It's true that I was sent to Dwayne Myers in order to be your undercover bodyguard and to investigate a case the CIA's involved in. Actually it's the matter Meryl might have stumbled over. But I have to admit that, apart from the investigation, I really enjoy college life."
Mac let her gaze wander to the open sea, shading her eyes with her hand. "You know, before joining the Marine Corps my life's been one big mess. I was an alcoholic at sixteen and my abusive father succeeded to turn my home to hell. Being a member of a rich family and going to college without really worrying about anything has been a singular experience for me. My new life's easy-going and full of incredible events. But most of all, apart from having to keep up my cover, that is, I could just be myself. Especially with the marching band. I love being together with all of you. I rarely had so much fun. And though you may find it hard to believe: you got to know the real Sarah Mackenzie, not some made-up person. People may call me Patricia O'Hara, but the person they are friends with is none other than Sarah Mackenzie, living a part of her youth she never came to know."
Turning her head to face a very thoughtful Jeannine, Mac continued: "So the person you trusted and called your friend will always be the same, the name doesn't really matter. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth but I wasn't allowed to. That's what I hate about undercover ops. You even have to lie to the people who mean something to you. But now that you found out anyway I can only tell you that I never betrayed your trust, neither did Harm. We're both your friends, and if you decide to see me as exactly the same person you considered your friend, we can continue our friendship as before."
Jeannine smiled an unsure smile, obviously glad to have her friend back but not knowing how to react. "I... I'd be glad to, ma'am."
Smiling, Mac held out her hand and presented herself in her unique minimalist manner: "Mac."
Jeannine's smile widened as she took the offered hand and squeezed it. "Janni."
"We must come up with something why we couldn't be on time for dinner," Mac said after a little while, thoughtfully chewing her lower lip.
"Maybe Cmdr. Rabb could help?" Jeannine suggested with just the hint of a smile on her lips.
Mac raised an eyebrow. "You think I should call him?"
"Yep," Jeannine grinned.
Chuckling, Mac pulled out her cell-phone, happy about the unexpected opportunity to talk to her sailor.
On the third ring he picked up. "Rabb."
"Hey, flyboy. It's me."
"Mac!" His voice conveyed real surprise and joy. But concern immediately took over. "You're not supposed to call me. Something wrong? You okay?"
Mac smiled at his rushed questions. "No, everything's fine. Could you just meet me at the Internet café as soon as possible, please? Something's come up."
"I'll be right there. By the way: I love you, jarhead."
"I love you, too, squid." With a smile Mac ended the connection and found Jeannine still grinning at her.
"What?"
"That was cute, ma'am... uhm, Mac," Jeannine corrected herself at seeing Mac's raised eyebrows.
"Thanks. Harm will meet us at Nick's in five."
Chatting, they set off to return to the café.
Harm hurriedly entered the café and to his astonishment found Mac sitting in a hidden corner, together with Cadet Stiller. Disappointed that they wouldn't be able to talk freely, Harm snapped to professor's mode and casually strode over to his students.
"Good evening, Cadet Stiller, Cadet O'Hara," he said, casting Mac a questioning glance.
She just chuckled. "Save that for your lessons, flyboy. Janni found out."
"I see..." He was unsure how to react to her comment. Mac signaled him to sit down and quickly gave him a peck on the cheek, causing him to blush and Jeannine to chuckle at the sight of the embarrassed commander.
"Okay," he said, nervously clearing his throat, trying half a flyboy-grin. "What can I do for you, ladies?"
"Sir," Jeannine spoke up with a smile, "We need you to come up with an excuse for us. We'll be late for dinner, and that means trouble as in t-r-o- u-b-l-e."
"Uh huh...," he drawled, grinning. "Any propositions, Cadet, Colonel?"
"Actually, yes," Mac said, causing Jeannine to look at her in surprise. "I just had an idea. I saw it once in the movie 'Curly Sue'."
"Mac," Harm replied, dreading what was coming. "You were damn lucky you saved my life in Afghanistan with something you saw in a movie. You can't be sure luck will always be on your side."
"No, but this time no one's life is at stake, sailor. You just have to knock me down with something heavy and take me to the college's medical department afterwards, claiming Jeannine called you 'cause I fell and hit my head hard." Mac smiled nonchalantly at his shocked expression.
"No way, Mac. I won't hurt you." Harm's glance was icy. Jeannine watched the exchange with amusement. 'One mule just met another,' she thought.
"Oh yes, you will," Mac shot back, still smiling. "It's the best we can come up with right now. And they'd believe everything you tell them."
"Mac, I could never..."
"Do I have to make this an order, Commander?" Mac asked pointedly.
Jeannine stared. "You can order him?"
Mac's grin was nasty. "Yep. I'm three months his senior in rank."
Harm stared at his partner. "You wouldn't..."
"Yes, I would. In fact, as you seem to be reluctant: Commander, I order you to knock me down and take me to the college's hospital. Now." Mac openly grinned at her wincing partner.
Harm started to object but understood that opposition would be pointless if her mind was made up. And she was right: if, for being late, she and Jeannine would be confined to college grounds, the Carnegie Hall concert and even the investigation might be in danger. Sighing heavily, he asked: "Okay, where do we go?"
"There's a quiet back street around the corner."
They set off and arrived in a deserted little lane full of garbage. Mac took a look around and then grabbed a metal pipe. "Okay, this will do," she stated, handing it to Harm. "Now hit me on the head. Hard."
Harm's stomach was origami-folding itself inside his belly. "Mac," he almost whined, "Don't do this to me, please. I could never forgive myself."
Mac put her hands to her hips indignantly. "Don't be a coward. Consider this a matter of national security if it makes you feel better. Do you know what James Belushi tells his film-daughter when she's got to hit him? He says: 'Hit me as hard as you love me.' And she does. So: do you love me?"
"Of course I do, but..."
"Then hit me. Now!" Mac was getting exasperated.
Closing his eyes, Harm took a deep breath. "I'm gonna regret this," he muttered. Then he raised the metal pipe and with a heartfelt "Forgive me, Sarah!" let it come down on her head. Mac immediately went down on the concrete. Harm dropped the pipe and knelt down at her side. "Mac, do you hear me? Mac!"
Jeannine just stared at the scene. 'I think I understand what Mac meant when she said I'd not yet known what real friendship can mean.'
Mac slowly opened her eyes. "Thorough work, Commander," she said with a strained smile, blood trickling down her cheek from a gash on her forehead.
"I'm so sorry, Sarah," Harm whispered, gently stroking her face.
"Don't be," she replied, "I ordered you."
"But I am," he stated with a sigh.
"Then you can work off your guilt by applying your make-up arts to my face, flyboy. Now take me to the college. Jeannine called you, remember? And, let's say I hit my forehead on the curb."
Harm easily lifted her into his arms and set off for his car, signaling Jeannine to follow him.
Thu, June 11th 0323 ZULU Medical facility Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.
Jeannine was sitting at Mac's bedside, watching over her sleeping friend. She was impressed by what the colonel had gone through just to save them from being confined to college grounds and to save the concert. And somehow she felt proud, too, to be a person the colonel liked to be friends with. 'I wouldn't mind being like her one day,' she thought.
The door was cautiously opened and Harm tiptoed into the room. "How is she, Cadet?" he asked in a soft whisper.
"Much better, sir," Jeannine replied just as softly. "She's incredibly brave, sir," she added, admiration shining in her voice.
Harm smiled warmly as he looked at the sleeping woman. "She's incredible in every respect," he said.
Jeannine was touched by the amount of feeling the commander's voice conveyed. "This investigation must be hard for you two, sir," she stated quietly. "I'll leave you alone. Don't worry, I'll stick to my room. I'll be safe. Give her my love when she wakes, sir."
"Thank you, Cadet Stiller," Harm replied warmly, "I will."
Same time Clayton Webb's office CIA Headquarters Langley, VA
Just another long night at the office. Webb finished his twelfth cup of coffee and ran a hand through his hair. The Dwayne Myers investigation was proceeding far too slowly for his liking but it couldn't be helped. He trusted his JAG friends to work steadily and thoroughly. Harm had supplied him with a lot of useful details. The facts strongly pointed to the Gonzalez family. But they were still lacking one decisive hint that would justify an operation. Webb knew all he could do was wait for his friends to supply it but he hated having to be patient. Just as he had decided to go get his thirteenth cup of coffee, the telephone started to ring. Frowning, Webb lunged for the receiver. Who'd call him at this late hour?
"Webb."
"Mr. Webb? Nelson here."
The Secnav. What could he possibly want from him? "Good evening, Secretary. What can I do for you?"
"Actually, I'm calling to ask if you decided yet about the kind of operation you'll set up once Rabb comes up with the missing link."
"We've not decided anything yet. Personally, my preference lies with a quick in-and-out op."
"That wouldn't be a quiet one, would it?" Nelson carefully asked.
Webb suppressed a grin. "Not really."
"Is there... do you see any possibility you can keep this quiet, Mr. Webb?"
"It'd be a little complicated but I guess we might be able to. Why, if I may ask?"
"Well, Dwayne Myers suffered some critique recently, saying it was a high society place that didn't really succeed to form students to become promising officer's candidates. You know, Dwayne Myers students tend to have excellent connections in society. So the percentage of them who get good jobs in the military is higher than with any other naval college throughout the U.S. The navy invested a lot of effort to convince the public that concepts like valor, loyalty and unselfishness were just as strictly held up at Dwayne Myers as at any other naval college and that Dwayne Myers students are just as hard-working. A drug syndicate connected to the college might be the total ruin of its reputation and to the reputation of its students and their important families as well. And the navy would surely face enormous difficulties with fund-raising and with people suing the college."
"I see," Webb consented. "So you're asking me to make it go unnoticed."
"Yes, I am," Nelson stated.
Webb's thoughts were flowing rapidly. The Secnav would owe him. And he, Clay, owed Harm and Mac for sending them to investigate. Why, this was the opportunity to get his debts off his back!
"I think we can do that," Webb said and then casually went on: "But, as I happen to talk to you, would I ask too much if I bade you to do me a little favor concerning Cmdr. Rabb and Col. Mackenzie...?"
Thu, June 11th 1235 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.
Harm woke as his fax started to beep. Silently swearing, he got up to retrieve the message. He had only gotten one or two faxes since he was at the college. Why did they always have to arrive when he could sleep in a little longer or when he went to bed early? Surely this would be just another ad telling him how to reduce his debts or what to do to prevent his skin from aging. He grabbed the two sheets and was just about to throw them in the nearby dustbin as he noticed the Secnav's letterhead on one of them. Curious, Harm sat down on the sofa and studied the papers. His astonishment grew when he found the first to be in Clay's handwriting.
Harm,
I feel I need to motivate you and Mac to get me the missing information ASAP. That's why I took the liberty of trading a favor the Secnav owed me. I intend to pay back my own debts to you two by doing so. You'll receive the original document the next time we meet. I just wanted to tell you that the Secnav wants the whole affair to be kept quiet. And I suggest you better do it. There's too much at stake with what he offers in return. Make the most of it.
Clay.
Totally at a loss about Clay's cryptic message, Harm took a look at the second page and his heart skipped a beat at what he saw.
Subject: Regarding Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, both assigned to the Judge Advocate General Corps
Answering to a special request ventured by Undersecretary of State Clayton Webb, referring to a wish expressed by the USN Judge Advocate General, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden, I declare that the senior lawyer team assigned to JAG Headquarters, Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., USN, and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, USMC, receive the guarantee not to be obliged to change designator, regardless of whatever facts might suggest the necessity.
Any event or situation whatsoever that is connected to Cmdr. Rabb and Lt. Col. Mackenzie and might cause conflict with chain-of-command regulations is to be considered of minor importance. In the interest of achieving continuity, regarding thoroughly conducted investigations and carefully researched and successfully argued court-martials, JAG Headquarters must not be deprived of its most efficient and successful personnel who set an example of excellent work to the entire JAG staff.
Signed, Secretary of the Navy Nelson, Department of Defense
With trembling hands, Harm put down the letter. "Thanks, Clay," he whispered to the silent room. 'Now we owe you,' he thought, fighting his commotion, 'But how on earth could we possibly ever repay this?' He longed to call Mac, to tell her at once what Clay had done for them. But he knew it was too risky, and then, even though she had been released from the hospital and had returned to her own room for the night, she had still been allowed to miss classes to recover from her injury. Harm would never wake her up now. But he had to talk to someone or he felt he'd burst.
And all of a sudden, an idea sprang to his mind. 'Well, she'll probably shoot me for calling in the middle of the night, but when I tell her this...' He grabbed the phone and dialed the familiar number. He had to wait an endless minute until she picked up.
"Burnett?"
"Mom, this is Harm."
"Harmon! Is something wrong?"
"No, Mom, I'm fine. Sorry for waking you but I had to talk to someone."
"Anything wrong with Mac?" 'Please, don't let it be, Lord,' Trish silently prayed. To her astonishment she heard her son chuckle softly.
"No, Mom, on the contrary. The most extraordinary thing just happened and I need you to do me a big favor..."
Thu, June 11th 2007 ZULU Music auditorium Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.
The band was assembled and anxiously awaiting their newest addition. Harm had moved the rehearsals to the music auditorium where the cadets were sitting in orchestral formation as they would on stage.
"The Italian seems to be a good friend of Cmdr. Rabb," Dorothy giggled, "Already late for his first rehearsal."
"If he's half as cute as Rabb I won't mind," Cassandra retorted.
Mac suppressed a fit of laughter.
"Here they come!" Gary shouted. Everyone tried to get a glimpse of the Italian lieutenant.
"My God, he could be Rabb's little brother!" Dorothy exclaimed, trying to keep her voice low.
At her comment, Mac instantly thought of Sergei and compared him to Prumetti. 'Nah,' she thought, grinning.
An "Attention on deck!" from Danny made them all snap to attention.
Smiling, Harm and Fred approached the group. "At ease," Harm said with a smile. "Good afternoon, Cadets. As you see, our ticket to Carnegie Hall has arrived this morning from D.C."
He ventured a rather nervous Fred to step forward, noticing the lieutenant was holding on to his clarinet as if it would keep him from falling. "Cadets, I present to you my friend and - as long as the Italian navy can spare him - fellow JAG lawyer Lieutenant, j.g. Federico Prumetti."
Fred cleared his throat. "Good afternoon, Cadets. I'm pleased to meet you and I hope I'll be able to help you out with your concert." Once again he earned astonished glances at his Scottish accent.
"Good afternoon, sir!" the cadets replied. Fred involuntarily jumped. 'I'm not used to being that much of a senior officer,' he thought, fighting an embarrassed grin.
Harm kept his smile in check as he rushed to help his friend. "Cadets, we don't have much time and one hell of a schedule to follow to make it to Carnegie Hall. Let's go to work. Lt. Prumetti," he indicated a free chair and music stand between Jeannine and Pablo, "That would be your place when we play in orchestral formation. For your solo pieces I'll take your place and you'll stand right here, leading the band."
As he saw Fred pale, he added: "According to Cmdr. Laird, it's the best guarantee the accompaniment does what you want them to do. And as to my part, I slightly changed Cmdr. Laird's arrangements, with his knowledge, of course, and inserted a guitar part into the pieces with the solo clarinet. The sound comes closer to the original. In order to get to know each other, I think we should actually start with a solo piece. Lieutenant?" Harm cast Fred an encouraging smile as he himself sat down next to Jeannine who handed him his guitar.
The musicians tuned their instruments and then expectantly looked at Fred who desperately tried to dry his sweating hands on his uniform trousers. 'Damn,' he thought, 'I played at the La Fenice opera house. Why am I so nervous?'
'Because you never thought you'd be a soloist on the stage of Carnegie Hall with only ten days to practice,' his subconscious answered, 'And you don't want to look bad in front of Harm.'
'Well, I already did once,' he reminded his inner voice, 'In Venice, when I didn't tell him I was a lawyer because I was intimidated by his fame. Like I am now, although I know that this time I'm the professional.'
'Then why not show him this time what you're capable of?' his subconscious suggested, 'Harm had four days to prepare for the charity concert, you have ten to prepare for Carnegie Hall. Come on, Tenente, you can do that!'
'Yes, I can.' Fred lifted his chin, put on a charming smile and faced the waiting group. "I'd like to start with 'Stardust', Commander, Cadets, if you don't mind."
"You got it, Lieutenant," Harm answered, unaware of the inward struggle his junior officer had just fought. "Take the lead. We'll follow."
After a general rustle of music sheets, Fred put his instrument to his lips and, with a nod, cued in the band.
Soft blues rhythms and serenade tunes instantly filled the auditorium. Mac, like half of the band, had no part in the solo pieces as sections of the band played in reduced numbers so they wouldn't cover Fred's melody. Closing her eyes, Mac leant back on her chair, her hand idly resting on the drum next to her to prevent the membrane from vibrating along with the bass notes. She felt hugged and caressed by the gorgeous harmonies and then suddenly electrified as, for the first time, she heard the solo clarinet. The sound seemed to swell from nowhere, coming forth on the right beat but not giving away when it had originated.
Fred played as if he were singing, his tone velvety just like Nat King Cole's voice in the remade 'Stardust' version they had used for the 'Sleepless in Seattle' soundtrack. Jeannine, with an incredibly tender expression, played the counterpoint that would have belonged to a violin. From the rest of the band no single part was distinguishable, as all musicians were carried away by the melody and unselfishly inserted themselves into the general accompaniment.
When the piece was over, Mac saw Cassandra quickly wipe away a tear from her cheek.
Silence.
"Wow." That was Dorothy, who succeeded in easing the tension with her remark. Cheers went up for the young lieutenant who had just proven himself fit to save the concert.
Fred, feeling extremely relieved, sought Harm's eye and earned himself a radiant grin, together with an acknowledging nod. He knew he had finally overcome his shyness regarding the commander. 'Well, now I'm really looking forward to working with you, sir,' he quietly stated to himself, grinning back.
Thur, June 18th 1432 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.
Harm's first notion at hearing his alarm clock was to knock it off the nightstand to silence it for good. But even slightly turning his head made him immediately regret the movement. God, he hadn't had a hangover for ages. 'I'm no longer used to it. Mac's influence,' he thought with a frown that at once made his head throb even harder. But he had to stop the noise somehow. Carefully, gritting his teeth, he reached over and switched off the dream-shattering device. And such a nice dream it had been, about a certain Marine without her uniform. Without any clothes in fact.
'Mac!' The thought of her immediately made him get up and groggily walk over to his computer, switching it on. He'd gone out with Maribel and her cousins right after the rehearsal. Fred had stayed back, saying he wanted to practice. Poor guy. According to Chegwidden he'd practiced for four days before even coming up to New York. But hadn't Harm requested his assistance, starting right on Monday 8th? Well, counting the days Fred had taken for exercising, he'd in fact been helping him since Monday, even though he had arrived only yesterday. As a new wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him, Harm became aware that yesterday night he would have needed Fred badly for maintaining a little control. 'Whoa,' he thought, settling at his desk in slow motion. 'Did I ever tell anyone I liked Tequila? That's a damn lie!'
Maribel still seemed distant and a little hostile, but she was obviously trying not to let it show. Her cousins had lured him into drinking more than he'd wanted to. There had been no way of escape. Harm only hoped that he hadn't spilled any secrets. He wouldn't, couldn't swear to it, though. When they had finally taken him home, he'd just collapsed on the bed. Half an hour later he had at least managed to pull himself up to undress and wash before settling down again. But he hadn't been able to read Mac's Wednesday mail yet. Harm shook his head at himself in disgust. He had been too drunk to open his mailbox.
Shading his eyes against the all-too-clear screen, he found her mail and printed it for hangover-friendly reading. Making himself a cup of strong coffee on the return to the bedroom, he settled down on his bed and read, feeling better with every line.
To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com) Subject: Good luck - you're gonna need it... (Just kidding!)
My dearest Maestro,
I just wanted to tell you I'm crossing all fingers available in my reach (mine and other people's... I can always order them!) for you for the concert. T minus four days and counting... How are you feeling?
Well, I'm feeling rather sh...shameful. I know I'm only part of the band, seated in the last row but one and playing an instrument of minor importance. But: Sarah Mackenzie in concert at Carnegie Hall - this is all so weird. Jeannine does all she can to cheer me up. That girl's a miracle. She seems totally immune to stage fright although she's got major responsibility for the concert's success. But she actually seems to revel the adrenaline. I don't get it. But I'm a Marine, I'll handle it.
I think rehearsals have gone extremely well so far. Even I can tell that by now and Janni confirms it. You're doing great, squid, and Fred's just marvelous. I get shivers down my spine when I hear him play. If we get all the pieces through without major problems, we should be able to present a good show on Sunday. I can't wait to see you in your dress whites!
Rehearsing every day keeps wearing me out more than I'd thought possible. I can hardly get up in the morning, my limbs feel heavy and every now and then I even get a little dizzy. Don't worry, sailor, I'm okay. I think it's the aftermath of your blow on my head... oops, wrong choice of words. Don't feel guilty, Commander, that's an order. It's the aftermath of my plan, I wanted to say. The gash has healed off completely, and the blue on my forehead has turned to greenish yellow by now. I'll try your make-up techniques for the concert night.
The Pablo problem still exists although he seems to notice that I've become a little distant of late. I think he suspects it's because of the stunt he pulled off sneaking into my room. But he tries to make up for it. So I have to imagine that all the flowers are coming from you or I might find myself throwing them out of the window.
Seeing you with Maribel still hurts. I can see you're not as easy with each other as you used to be before... well, before the most beautiful experience in my entire life, let's put it that way, but I guess I'm rather jealous all the same. Don't tell the Corps.
By the way, Jeannine keeps getting those sick letters. I still don't have the slightest clue about whom they could come from. Luckily she seems to get used to receiving them. And I think after the first shock of finding out who I am, she's glad she's got a Marine to watch her six. We're getting still closer. I really like her. I hope we can stay in touch when this is over.
I'm very excited about the general rehearsal tomorrow afternoon. Trying out the Carnegie Hall stage. Wow. I hope I won't leave anything essential at home... Did I say 'home'? My God, what's become of me! This isn't home. Home is where you are, Harm. Wherever that is. I'm hugging you tightly and telling you not to worry about the concert. Can you feel my arms and hear my words? Anyway, I've got enormous faith in your abilities. You'll do just fine. And if you need an anchor on stage just look into my eyes. I'll be there for you. Always.
I miss you so much. Hope it won't be long anymore.
Sarah
'God knows I miss you, too, my Sarah,' Harm thought, slowly relaxing at her warm words in combination with the effect the coffee had on his body. Sighing, he put the letter in a hidden drawer at the back of his nightstand and got up to take a shower.
Thu, June 18th 2308 ZULU Carnegie Hall New York City, N.Y.
Even the chatting was quieter than it normally used to be. Every single member of the Dwayne Myers marching band was in awe at the realization that they were in fact seated on the stage of one of the world's most famous concert halls. They were still occupied with shifting and re-shifting the position of their music stands and chairs in order to get the most efficient and esthetically best formation. When they finally all agreed that they'd found it, they tuned their instruments and waited for Harm to start the rehearsal.
Harm was as nervous as if this were the actual concert. Very slowly he crossed the stage to get to his conductor's stand, taking in the vast, dark auditorium that seemed a cathedral while it was void of the public. 'You don't belong here. Run!' something deep inside him started to scream. Remembering Mac's email, he sought out her glance and found her giving him a barely noticeable smile of encouragement. 'I love you!' he thought as he felt himself relax.
Fred was as pale as Harm, Mac noticed. He was desperately searching his bag for something and only upon hearing Harm clear his throat in his direction, he'd look up.
"Any problems, Lieutenant?"
"Actually, yes, sir," Fred stated in a slightly strained voice. "I can't find my 'Stardust' copy."
'Don't do this to me, Prumetti,' Harm silently threatened his friend. "Did anyone take the lieutenant's score by accident?" he asked the band. A rustle of bags being searched was the answer, followed by everyone shaking their heads 'no'.
'Damn.' "We'll leave it out for the moment, then," Harm decided, taking up his baton for the program's first song.
They rehearsed the rest of the show without further damage to anyone's nerves, actually rejoicing in the enormous sound they created in the huge hall. Harm was beginning to relax. 'Laird told me something has to go wrong at the general rehearsal or the concert won't work,' he remembered. 'Maybe that's it.'
"Sir," Jeannine suddenly spoke up as they had finished the last piece but 'Stardust'. "I just found a handwritten copy of Meryl's soloist part from 'Stardust' in my music bag. I'm totally at a loss about how it got there, but it's written well and maybe Lt. Prumetti could take it until he finds the original. I even think Meryl copied it herself." She held out several sheets of paper to the lieutenant who, with a grateful smile, took them and placed them on his stand.
"Ready, sir."
"Thank you, Cadet Stiller," Harm said, then turning to Fred. "Lead the way, Lieutenant."
Fred confidently put the clarinet to his lips and they began to play. Mac, as always with this favorite song of hers, leant back to listen. She jumped when she suddenly heard several notes that seemed completely out of tune. Fred was frowning while he played on, intently studying his copy. Just as everything seemed to have come back to normal Fred again inserted a couple of terribly out-of-tune notes. Harm turned at him.
"What's the matter, Lieutenant?" he hissed.
Fred played on with an excusing and embarrassed expression, seeming at a loss. When the phenomenon occurred for the third time, Harm interrupted the music.
"Heck, Lieutenant, what's the problem? Can't read your copy?"
Fred's voice sounded miserable. "I can read it clearly, sir, and I swear I play whatever's written on the pentagrams. Cadet Waters must have erred tremendously in copying the score."
"I doubt that, sir, if you'll excuse me," Jeannine cut in, worriedly. "Meryl may have had some discipline problems, but if she had one decisive trait in her character, it was her accuracy. She'd never copy mistakes or make them herself while copying."
"Very well, Cadet," Harm replied, just a little annoyed, "But how do you explain this if it wasn't her?"
"I don't know, sir. Maybe for a moment she thought she was writing something different..." Jeannine let her voice trail off, suddenly paling visibly.
Mac noticed the change, worried. And she started to worry even more as she became aware of Harm's reaction. He succeeded to mask his expression in front of everyone. But not in front of her anymore. Mac could see Harm was puzzled to no end. Obviously his thoughts were heading in a similar direction as were Jeannine's.
"Uhm, Lieutenant, may I see the score, please?" he said casually, his voice just a little hoarse.
"Sure, sir." Fred handed it to him.
Harm compared the pentagrams to the ones in his general partition and found his suspicion confirmed. 'Why, Stiller and Waters were good friends. They may have talked about the concept of hiding a message in a piece of music. If I'm right they both did just that, independently from one another. They just used different codes. Maybe if I can figure this out I can supply Webb with the missing link..."
Getting all excited but trying not to let it show, Harm called off the rehearsal, saying they'd done enough for now and that they could do 'Stardust' when he'd corrected the score or when Fred had found the original.
They headed home in the college bus, Harm nervously keeping the copy in his hands. This could turn out to be key evidence. Better not lose it.
Upon arrival Harm immediately withdrew to his apartment and settled down to decode the message - if there turned out to be any, that was.
Fri, June 19th 0617 ZULU Harm's apartment Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, N.Y.
Sighing in frustration, Harm ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. He had been studying the copy for the umpteenth time, trying rhythm, number and position of wrong notes, distance of wrong notes from one another, intervals between the notes and the following ones, between the wrong notes and the right ones in the original score, regrouping the wrong notes... nothing. The copy just seemed transcribed wrong and nothing else. But Harm couldn't fight the feeling that he'd stumbled over something that was right under his nose and that he just didn't see it for some reason.
Getting up to pour himself a glass of water, he tried a different approach. Why would Waters leave a message in a copy of her own instrument's part? Probably to remember something important. But she had obviously been too afraid to write it down properly for whatever reason. If she had wanted to communicate something to somebody she'd have left a trace for that someone to find her message. If it had indeed been intended for somebody else, that someone had to be musical...
'Hammer, you have been sleeping,' he scolded himself. 'Of course Waters intended the message for someone else. Stiller found the copy in her bag! Waters must have written it to her...' "My God!" Harm choked on his water, set the glass down with a 'clank' on the kitchen counter and rushed back to his desk.
'Written to! Hammer, you mega-idiot! She has w-r-i-t-t-e-n to her! You thought of everything but the first thing that would have come to anyone else's mind! Try the wrong notes' names!' Eagerly Harm bent over the copy and wrote down the names of the notes that differed from the original score.
"b-flat, e, a, c, b, c, a, f, e, b-flat, a, c, g-double-sharp, b-flat, c- double-sharp, e-flat, b, e, e-flat, c, a, e-flat, e," he read, frustration again getting the better of him. Nothing! But then something near the beginning of the line sprang to his eyes: letters six to ten spelled 'cafe'. It could be a coincidence, but he decided to clutch at the straws and try to figure out the rest.
'Why all those flats and double-sharps,' he thought with a frown. He was sure it wouldn't make sense just omitting them and using the letters they were connected to. Waters must have put them in for some reason. Then the last four letters caught his attention and an idea began to form in his mind.
"C-a-something-e," he read aloud, thinking hard. And suddenly he knew what to look for. When he had been fourteen years old, his mother and Frank had taken him to Los Angeles one evening for a guest performance of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. Harm remembered that, seeing the program booklet, he'd found it odd that Mozart's symphony number 38 in e-flat major had been written in German as 'Symphonie Nr. 38 in Es-Dur'. 'E-flat' according to the German system was called 'Es', pronounced like 'S'. Here was an additional letter for him to use, and it made the last word spell 'case'!
Thinking of the other letters he might find, Harm grabbed his flashlight, the copy, the score and his legal pad and pen and headed for the college library. 'If you have a question about music, go to the library and ask your friend New Grove,' his guitar teacher had always told him. Harm had never yet found himself in a situation to follow his advice, but now it might provide the clue he was searching.
Thankful that he didn't have to pick the lock, but could use the general key he had been given, Harm stepped into the dark, quiet room. Shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation - having to go to the library at 0130 in the morning without getting caught - Harm switched on his flashlight and started looking for the world's amplest music dictionary. He just hoped they even had it...
He soon found that one of the advantages of the fact that Dwayne Myers was a wealthy institute was that they had a large number of volumes in their library that the college didn't really need but considered 'hip' to own. Among them figured the twenty-plus volumes of the New Grove Dictionary of Music.
Holding the flashlight between his teeth and the papers he'd brought between his knees, Harm tried several entries until he found a list of note names according to the German system. He laid the book on the floor and knelt down, quickly copying the necessary information. 'B' was 'h' and 'b- flat' was just 'b', he found. The double-sharps being called 'gis' and 'cis' still didn't help him for his purpose, but as the message contained only two of them, he might figure out the sense without knowing what they meant. Harm got up, put the volume back on the shelf, quietly left the library and returned to his apartment.
With trembling fingers he rewrote the message: 'beachcafebacxbxshescase'. Staring at the line, he contemplated about it only one or two minutes. Then, deciding to take the double-sharps as wild cards, he understood that he had to go and look for a case somewhere near the bushes at the back of one of the cafés on the beach. Swallowing heavily, Harm put on his shoes and a dark sweater.
Harm had seen Mac at her window once. Now, slowly circling around House Mistral, he tried to remember which one it had been. It wasn't that he really needed her to recover the object, but it would definitely be easier with two, one holding the light and watching out and the other digging or whatever was necessary. And figuring out something with the capacity of two brains instead of one could also mean it would be done quicker. And, he silently admitted to himself, he desperately needed to see her alone.
Having completed three circles around the house, Harm was now sure enough about which one was Mac's window to try and contact her. Cell-phone was out of the question and her front door would mean Jeannine would wake as well. So he had to apply stone-age methods. He picked up a small pebble, aimed carefully and gently threw it against her windowpane. He jumped at the 'clink' that seemed very loud to him, but obviously no one but him had noticed it. Not even Mac, it seemed, as she didn't show up or give any sign of activity.
Harm was about to give it another try when he suddenly detected a movement inside her dark room. He couldn't suppress a grin when he saw the top of her head become visible just barely above the windowsill, next to her something that could be the butt of a gun. 'My Marine, always in combat mode,' he thought lovingly. Stepping out of the shadows, he signaled her to come down and indicated his dark clothing, making her eyes grow wide. After a moment of astonishment she nodded and vanished from the window. Three minutes later he saw her coming around the corner of the house.
He waved to her to join him in the shadows and silently encircled her in his arms. She let him hold her and buried her face on his chest, holding on to him. Only after some minutes she drew back slightly and looked at him with a questioning smile.
"What's this about, Sherlock?" she asked in a low voice.
"Is this the proper way to welcome your lover?" he replied with a raised eyebrow, grinning.
"I'll welcome you properly when you tell me what this is about," she stated stubbornly.
"Kiss me first, Watson," he suggested smugly.
"Okay," she complied with a smile and a sigh, stepping close again and bringing her lips to his in a passionate kiss that lasted another thirty seconds. When they finally parted, panting, she again looked up at him, tilting her head to one side.
"This is about the 'Stardust' copy, right?" she guessed.
Harm gave her an appreciating grin. "Good thinking, Cadet O'Hara." Then he sobered and told her what he'd just found out.
"I'm impressed, Commander," she said, her voice devoid of any teasing. "There could indeed be something to it. Let's go find out. And spend some time together on a moonlit beach," she added with a contagious grin.
"Good thinking again, Cadet," he remarked and, taking her hand and carefully sticking to the shadows, guided her to a gate in the campus wall opposite the main entrance that only the professors had a key to. He quickly let the two of them out and locked the gate behind them. They still kept to the shadows of trees and houses until they had put a comfortable distance between themselves and the college.
Feeling secure, they slowed down their pace and walked down to the beach, strolling along the shore hand in hand.
"Now, Mac, do you know how many cafés there are on the beach?" he asked her.
"Too many," she replied, frowning, "But I suggest we start with the 'Driftwood'. It's about half a mile from here and I happen to know it was some kind of a hangout for Jeannine, Meryl, Dorothy and Cassandra. Janni took me there once. If I were Meryl I'd choose that place to leave something for Jeannine."
"I see your point," Harm agreed. "This direction?"
"Yup." They silently wandered on, Mac leaning to Harm's shoulder, both enjoying the warmth and closeness of the other.
"Awfully romantic, isn't it?" Harm chuckled after a while as the moon came out behind a cloud.
"I'm beginning to rather like this investigation," Mac retorted with a grin. "Pity we can't stay here all night. I can think about a lot of nice things to do on a moonlit beach in a warm summer night. But I don't want to leave Jeannine alone too long."
"Yeah..." he murmured consent, his stomach tightening as he imagined what he'd like to do to her on a moonlit beach.
"Here we are," she woke him from his reverie, indicating a small house on the beach. On the waterside it had a huge wooden porch stretching out across the sand. The back of the café was surrounded by small trees and bushes. Making sure no one was in sight, they walked over to the house.
"Could you hold that, please?" Harm handed Mac his flashlight and knelt down to study the terrain. For about ten minutes he scrutinized every inch of his surroundings, swearing low when he didn't find any indication that might point to some hidden object. Mac was about to suggest they try out another café when he suddenly locked his gaze on a small piece of ground between two bushes where significantly less herbs were growing. He pulled up his sleeves and carefully began to dig. Mac watched in silence.
"Bingo," he finally stated in a low voice, pulling a small object out of the hole he'd dug. Mac switched off the light and, in silent agreement that Mac had to get back to Jeannine, they headed back to the college.
Once again inside the campus walls, Harm drew Mac into the shadows of the library and once more tightly embraced her, claiming her lips with his. Mac responded ardently. They hadn't been able to exchange even a handshake for two weeks now after their hallmark weekend. Longing and passion soon threatened to overwhelm them. Reluctantly breaking the kiss after a few endless moments, Harm rested his forehead against Mac's.
"God knows, I'd like to take you up to my apartment, Sarah, and make love to you all night long. But given the situation..."
"Yeah," she whispered. "I miss you so much, Harm."
"You know what," he suggested, "When this is over we'll take a couple of days off and go someplace nice. Just you and me. We'll take 'Sarah' and fly up in the mountains, for example. We could go and see my Grandma Sarah. What d'ya say?"
"I'd love to," she sighed, "Can't wait."
Harm smiled and softly kissed her one more time. "I'll examine this... thing and let you know what's inside via email. Off you go now, Cadet. It's past your bedtime, you know."
"Aye, sir," Mac whispered, kissing him back. "Sweet dreams, flyboy."
"To you, too." He watched her carefully and quickly run over to House Mistral and then returned to his own apartment.
Upstairs, Harm once again sat down at his desk and examined the object they had retrieved from its secret hiding place. It was a rusty metal case secured with what seemed meters of cord to keep it shut. It took him a full fifteen minutes to get rid of the cord but finally he had completed the task. Subconsciously holding his breath, Harm opened the case and inside found a notebook. Opening it on page one, he read: 'Cruise diary, 04-20 - 04-30, Meryl Christine Waters, Cadet Second Year, Dwayne Myers Naval College'.
"This is getting more interesting all the time," he muttered to himself as he stretched out on the couch and began to read.
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)