Chapter 12; Cannon Fodder:

20:00 ZULU

Burnett Beachfront Home, Myrtle Beach, SC:

As Harm approached the turnoff to his family's beach front home, he glanced up at his rearview mirror noticing the vehicle that had been behind them since they left the airport. He didn't become suspicious until he and Mac had stopped at the grocery store to pick up things they would need for the next day.

Beside him, Mac had already sensed something was wrong and to his surprise, she pulled her own weapon from her handbag and chambered a round.

"Did you bring a weapon with you, Harm," she asked.

"Yeah, mine is in the trunk, packed in my luggage. I'm going to pull over and see if this guy goes on by. If he is following us, I don't want to lead him to the house."

Harm pulled to Jeep over to the side of the road and grabbed the map off the dashboard. Quickly, he opened it and pretended to be lost as the late model sedan continued on by. It was then that he noticed a second vehicle which slowed enough for him to catch a glimpse of the driver. The dark suit and sunglasses screamed 'federal agent' and Rabb assumed he was CIA.

"There goes one of Clay's minions," he commented dryly.

"Both cars had Florida tags…"

"Which means they were probably rentals," he interjected.

"Do you think the first vehicle was one of Sayyid's men?" she asked.

"Tell you the truth, Mac, I wouldn't have given it a second thought had it not been for the fact they were still behind us after we left the grocery store. We were there for at least thirty minutes."

"Thirty two minutes, sixteen seconds," replied Mac, with her usual precision for timekeeping.

"Mac, we've known each other for what, nine years? Are you ever going to tell me how you do that?"

"You won't believe me," she offered.

"Try me."

"Well…as much as I would like people to believe otherwise, the truth is, I don't know how I do it. I just know I've had the ability since before I was a teenager."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she said. "I guess it's a gift. Kinda like my ability to know where certain people are. I know it's silly but…"

"There is nothing silly about it, Mac," interjected Harm. "You saved my life with that gift of yours. When I defended your ability to Sturgis, he must have thought I had gone over the deep end. I would have paid real money to have seen the look on his face that day."

Harm turned his attention to the road in the distance. Seeing that neither vehicle had turned around, he pulled the car back onto the blacktop and continued on his way. The turnoff to his parent's beach house was just a few hundred yards further and Harm turned onto the gravel surfaced access road.

"This must be a mess during the rainy season," observed Mac, as they traveled down the rough surfaced path.

"That's why Frank always rents a four wheel drive vehicle to get down here. The road has a tendency to get washed out in heavy rains. The city DPW is constantly re-grading and adding gravel. A few years ago, the city council took up a proposal to asphalt the access road, but the property owners banded together and squashed it."

"Why would they do that?" asked Mac.

"To keep down the unwanted traffic, sightseers and such," Harm replied. "It also helps to keep the speeds down on the roads."

"Must be nice," Mac commented. "Sorry, Harm, I shouldn't have said that. It's just that…well…your parents are so down to earth and I sometimes forget how affluent they are."

"God help us when they spoil our children…sorry…I…"

"Don't apologize, Harm," Mac interjected. "I think about it too."

Harm came to the end of the road and turned left at the stop sign. The road turned to asphalt once again, but it was still in a state of disrepair. Houses appeared on both side of the street, but, for the most part, they were separated by as significant amount of land. "My parent's place is at the end of the road," he said. "When this subdivision was built back in the seventies, each plot of land was a ten acre square. Most of the owners have held onto the original plots, but there is an increasing amount of pressure to subdivide and sell. If you go south on this road, all of the plots are down to an acre and the new owners paid top dollar."

"Being so close to the shore, don't they have a problem with hurricanes?" asked Mac.

"My parent's house has survived a couple category two storms since it was built. That's not counting Hurricane Hugo in 1989 which hit the Charlestown area as a category four storm. As it sits up on a bluff, it is less susceptible to storm surge than some of the other properties. Hugo destroyed several homes in this area."

"It sounds like it was well built," Mac commented.

"Frank originally bought the land as an investment, and decided to build a vacation home there. This was before he met Mom. Everything he put in that house is well above code and I'd be willing to bet that you could ride out a hurricane there if need be."

"Thanks, but no thanks," replied Mac. "Hurricane Isabel cured me of any curiosity I might have had. I rode that one out at home, alone."

"When was this, Mac?"

"September of 2003, you were working for the CIA, somewhere on the planet," she offered.

"Where was Clay? I thought the two of you were…"

"Harm, Clay and I didn't become an item until after you returned to JAG. If you had returned my phone calls, you would have known that." There was a note of irritation and sadness in her tone.

"I just assumed that the two of you became involved when I went to work for the CIA…"

"Hasn't anyone ever told you what happens when you assume?" she shot back, and this time there was no mistaking the hurt in her voice.

"Point taken, counselor," he replied, his voice subdued. The last thing he wanted to do was say something that would cause a fight between them, especially this weekend. He glanced in her direction, expecting to see anger, but her expression was one of sadness. Her chocolate brown eyes glistened with moisture. He reached for her hand and she gave him a reticent smile.

"Harm," she continued in a kinder, almost pleading voice. "This weekend, I don't want to talk about Clay, Paraguay, Mic, Renee, or any of the other poor decisions we've made over the years. I'd like to focus on us and our future together, okay?"

"Okay," he replied. "I'm sorry if I was being insensitive, Sarah."

"I'm sorry I snapped at you. I guess I still have some garbage to clean out."

The road suddenly smoothed out as they approached the house set up on a ridge. Even from a distance, one could see that the property was very well maintained, but the dark colored vehicle in the driveway set Harm's senses on high alert.

"Were you expecting company, Harm?"

"No, Mac, I wasn't," he replied. "But I'll bet a year's pay I know who our uninvited guest is."

It was then that he noticed that the front door was open and he could see a figure moving around near the entrance. Harm pulled the Jeep up to the garage next to the government tagged vehicle. As he got out of the car, a lone figure stepped out of the house.

"Clayton Webb," Harm remarked dryly. "Have you no shame at all?"

"Hello, Rabb," replied the intel agent. "Is that any way to treat someone who is trying to save your ass?"

"That's beside the point, Webb. Just what the hell are you doing inside my parent's house?"

"Making sure it is safe. Christ, Rabb, you may not care about your own safety, but I would at least expect you to watch out for Sarah's."

"Harm and I can take care of ourselves, Clay," Mac said, as she rounded the car. She still had her weapon in hand. "I could have killed you just now."

"Too late for that," countered Webb. "You did that when you walked away…"

"Go to Hell, Clay," she spat, emotional pain evident in her voice.

"Haven't you caused her enough pain already, Webb?" rasped Harm.

"People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw bricks," Webb spat back. "The house is clear and I've got agents staked out on the property edge. You have my number if you need me, Rabb."

The CIA agent pushed by him and headed for his car. "See you around, Sarah," he added as he climbed into his vehicle. Webb slammed the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. A few seconds later he was out of sight.

Mac made her way to Harm's side and circled his arm with hers. "He's a real bastard," she said.

"He's also right," Harm said wistfully. "I've hurt you far more than he has…"

"No!" she replied, cutting him off. "Don't you even think about buying into his lies. In all the years I've known you, you've never done anything blatantly malicious. Inept, maybe, but never out of ill intent," she added.

Before he could open his mouth to object, she stepped in front of him, taking his mouth with her own, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. When they both came up for air, he said, "That's a pretty convincing closing argument, counselor."

"Wait until you see my arguments for mitigation," she replied saucily. "Let's get these groceries in the house. I want to grab a quick shower and change so you can take me to see the sights."

...

20:30 ZULU

JAG HQ, Falls Church, VA:

Commander Sturgis Turner was finishing the weekly case status report when Petty Officer Coates tapped on his open door.

"Petty Officer, what can I do for you?" he asked politely.

"Sir, General Cresswell just called. He is returning from a meeting in the Pentagon and would like to see you in his office in ten minutes."

"Very well, Petty Officer, thank you."

Coates snapped to attention and spun on her heel to leave when Sturgis addressed her again. "Before you go?"

"Sir?"

"This is a delicate question so to set your mind at ease, your answer will be held in the strictest of confidence."

"I understand, sir."

"Have you had any dealings with Lt. Vukovic?"

"Nothing of substance, although he told me to call him 'Vic' instead of Lieutenant to which I very politely declined, sir."

"I see," replied Turner. "Anything else?"

"Nothing that I can pin a conviction on, sir," she offered.

Turner knew she was holding something back and he rephrased his question. "But there is something that made you uncomfortable, am I correct?"

"Well, sir, he seemed to be looking at Colonel MacKenzie kind of funny."

"Was he casually looking in her direction, or was he leering at her?"

"Definitely the later, sir," she replied. "Commander, I know the difference between the look a man gives you when he finds you attractive and the one he gives you when he is undressing you in his mind. I got the same look from him the second day he was here. It really creeped me out, sir."

"Did you inform the General?"

"No, sir, I didn't. If I were to use that as criteria for sexual harassment, I would have had to report half the men on the Seahawk when I was posted aboard her. But none of them ever gave me the chills like Lt. Vukovic did."

"In light of what he did to Colonel MacKenzie, do you wish to make a formal complaint?"

"No, sir, but thank you for asking," she replied. "I think the Lieutenant is in enough trouble without me adding to it. If he looks at me funny again, I'll throw him a red light and tell him to stop. If he doesn't take the hint, then I will file a complaint, sir."

"Thank you Petty Officer, carry on."

"Aye aye, sir."

Sturgis considered everything that Jennifer had told him. She was the third enlisted and fifth person in the office to admit feeling uncomfortable around the troublesome new lawyer who Lt. Mayfield had dubbed, Lt. Sleezavic.

Vukovic had been gone most of the day as the General had ordered him to Quantico, supposedly to accompany him for his annual PFTs. Sturgis planned on asking the General how the young Navy sailor had faired on the field. Marine Corps PFTs were no joke, Turner knew. When he was the Force Judge Advocate at COMSUBPAC, he had taken the qualification tests, primarily as a motivator to stay in shape, but doing so also earned him the respect of the Marines assigned to the base. He prided himself for holding the endurance running record, much to the chagrin of Harm and Mac who competed with him in the Jagathon event.

Sturgis grabbed his now finished report and made his way to Cresswell's office. The door was open and Tuner knocked on the frame.

"Come on in, Commander," said Cresswell. "Close the hatch behind you and have a seat."

Sturgis came to attention briefly before sitting down.

"When is that last time you were out on a sub, Commander?"

"November of 2003, sir, aboard the USS Cathedral City," said Turner. "It was the sub that rescued the ten North Korean sailors after their own mini-sub struck a reef."

"As I recall, you suffered some fallout over that incident, is that correct?" asked the General.

"Yes sir, I did," replied Turner. "Lucky for me, I had a very good attorney to represent me in the case."

"Yes, I've been reviewing Lt. Commander Roberts' record. I may have been a little premature in my opinion of the man. Admiral Chegwidden obviously saw something in him that I missed. His actions yesterday took me by surprise."

"That would make two of us, sir, although I will contend that Roberts deserved his promotion."

Cresswell looked down at the report on his desk. "This morning at 05:53 zulu, the USS Cheyenne was involved in an underwater collision with an Iranian sub in the Persian Gulf. Both sides are claiming that the other side deliberately rammed the opposing vessel. Cheyenne has since been withdrawn to the Arabian Sea and is scheduled to rendezvous with the JFK battle-group. I'm assigning the JAG-MAN investigation to you. Get out there, find out what happened on our side, and report back to me."

"I've already heard the scuttlebutt about that incident, General. Has the skipper been relieved of duty, sir?"

"Not yet," replied Cresswell. "It seems the Commander Taylor has some very powerful friends in Washington, most notably, his father, Senator Jonathan Taylor, who is Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee. Senator Taylor is from Texas and just happens to be close friends with the President."

"I think I understand the problem, sir," remarked Turner "although, Commander Kevin Taylor does have a good reputation in the submarine community."

"I'm glad to see you've done your homework," said Cresswell. "I don't want to railroad a good man just because of who his father is, or isn't. Get the facts, and we'll go from there. I want you to take Lt. Vukovic along with you. As there are normally no women on a submarine, our local Lorathio won't have any distractions and we can get a good idea as to his investigative skills, or lack thereof."

"How did the Lieutenant do on the PFTs today, General?"

"He squeaked by, barely," Cresswell remarked. "I expected better, although his time on the endurance run wasn't too bad. Do we have any other problems concerning the Lieutenant's behavior?"

"I took statements from three enlisted women whom Vukovic has made uncomfortable with his actions, all on the premise of confidentiality. None of the incidents described would warrant an investigation on their own, however, in light of the incident with Colonel MacKenzie, I could make an argument that this evidence qualifies as a pattern of behavior. But with Lt. Mayfield openly admitting the animosity between her and Vukovic, her testimony would be problematic should this go to an Article 32, sir."

"And in the incident with Commander Danby, Vukovic was the junior officer," finished Cresswell. "I think at this point, we are going to have to wait and see if he has learned from his close call."

"I concur, sir," replied Turner.

"Very well, Commander. Petty Officer Coates will see to your travel arraignments. You had better catch the Lieutenant before he secures for the day. Dismissed."

Turner snapped to his feet. "Aye aye, sir."

...

20:40 ZULU

CIA Headquarters, Langley, VA:

Harrison Kershaw had been the DDI ever since the fallout from the Angelshark inquiry had torpedoed his predecessor's career. The incident would have ended Clayton Webb's tenure had it not been for Kershaw's intervention, which is why he was more than slightly irritated at the younger man's seemingly unappreciative attitude.

"Clayton, I will not argue with you about this," he said to Webb, over the phone. "The decision has been made. We keep Rabb and MacKenzie in the dark until we are ready to move. If we tell them now, it not only puts them at risk, it jeopardizes the entire operation. Was the Burnett residence secure?"

"Yeah, Rabb and MacKenzie arrived an hour ago, and left to go into town thirty minutes later. I've got the whole area staked out. There was one vehicle which followed them from the airport but it continued when Rabb pulled over."

"Do you think he knew he was being followed?"

"He knew something was amiss. Sarah had her weapon drawn when they approached the house," Clay replied.

"Keep a close eye on them, Clay. If our sources are correct, Fahd's men are going to make a grab for our two friends this weekend and I want to get them alive when they do."

"Are you sure they are going to try and abduct one of them? They could just be here to shoot them."

"That would be unfortunate," replied Kershaw. "The best chance we have of uncovering the mole is by letting this operation run its course. It's the nature of the business, Clay, just like you told Colonel Mackenzie."

With that, Kershaw hung up the phone and turned in his chair to look out the window. He had been a company man for almost thirty years, long enough to have known Webb's father. If only you knew, Clay, he thought to himself.

Ever since the botched mission in Paraguay, Kershaw had kept a close eye on the younger man. Webb's ordeal in the Chaco Boreal had shaken him more than he would admit, and Kershaw was concerned over that. Because he knew the agency had been compromised, Kershaw and his boss had crafted a complex plan of misinformation and deception that was designed to identify and rout out the source of the leak. Normally he would have taken Clayton Webb into his confidence, but knowing that Webb still held onto some residual guilt by endangering his friends, he couldn't be trusted with the truth. Especially knowing that he is still in love with Sarah MacKenzie, he thought.

Kershaw both admired and respected the two JAG lawyers who were unknowingly caught in the middle of this operation. Individually, they would both make good field agents, as a team, they were going to be unstoppable, assuming they survive the next forty eight hours.

...

23:00 ZULU

Pier 14, Myrtle Beach, SC:

Hand in hand, Harm and Mac walked up the angled ramp to the main deck of what was known as 'Pier 14' one of the most famous fishing piers on the Carolina coast. Bypassing the restaurant for now, the couple continued out until they came to the end of the pier. Being early in the season only a few fishermen (and women) were lined up on the sides with their lines in the water.

They walked in silence just enjoying warmer than normal weather, and the fact that they were together. When they came to the end, Mac leaned with her back against the railing so the sun could warm her face. Harm chose to lean sideways so he could look out over the ocean yet still be able to see Mac in all her beauty.

"You know," began Harm, "this is one of the very few piers to survive Hurricane Hugo when it hit in 1989."

"1989," Mac began. "I turned twenty-one that year. Uncle Matt had managed to get me into the NROTC program at University of Minnesota. It was tough, Harm, in many ways harder than law school. I only had a year and a half of sobriety under my belt and falling off the wagon then could have meant a court martial. If gave real meaning to the saying 'One day at a time.'"

"But you did it, Mac."

"I don't know what scared me more, being court martialed and drummed out of the service, or disappointing Uncle Matt. I owe him everything I am, Harm."

Through the corner of his eye, he could see that she was tearing up. He reached out and placed hand over hers.

"Uncle Matt pointed you in the right direction and even opened a few doors," Harm offered tenderly, "but you chose to walk through them. Don't ever sell yourself short. He's very proud of you."

"Leavenworth has been hard on him. Despite what he did, he's a good man, and he doesn't belong there…"

Seeing that she was about to lose it, Harm took her into his arms and held her for a while before speaking again.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah," he said while stroking her hair. "I did everything I could…"

"Don't apologize," she replied, cutting him off. "If it wasn't for you, Uncle Matt would have gotten life." She had regained most of her composure. "He'll be out next year but he's facing dismissal. That's going to kill him as much as being in prison."

"Mac, I haven't given up on him," Harm offered. "Every year since the conviction, I've filed a request for clemency. This year, we're trying something different; I had him draft a letter asking for a Presidential pardon."

"I didn't know about any of this," she said absently. "You never gave up on him?"

"I'm still his attorney, Mac, regardless of how or where our relationship has gone. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner, but…"

"I know, Harm, attorney-client privilege, but why didn't he tell me this, and why are you telling me now?"

"I don't think he wanted you to worry," Harm replied. "The last time I spoke with him I asked him to allow me to tell you what we were doing."

"Uncle Matt always did like you," she offered. "Maybe I should have listened to him sooner."

"Oh, care to share that bit of information with me?"

"When I joined the Marine Corps, Uncle Matt told me to stay away from smooth talking sailors, and I would run into my share of them during my career. In one of his first letters from prison, he recanted that…well…at least in part."

"Just what did he say," asked Harm, even though he already knew the answer.

"Uncle Matt, told me that no self respecting Marine would ever marry a squid, but, if it was a squid I was going to marry, that squid should be you."

"It's funny you bring that up, Mac," he said, feeling the small box in his pocket. "In a lot of ways, I can be considered old fashioned, and seeing that your Uncle is the patriarch of your family, I felt that I needed his blessings."

"Blessings?" she asked, suddenly wary, "blessings for what?" She was being cagy but Harm could see the anticipation in her eyes. It's now or never. He removed the small box from the pocket of his jacket and heard her breath catch as she spotted it. Dropping to one knee, he took her hand.

"Sarah," he began, "from the day I met you in the rose garden, I knew there was something special between us. At first, I thought it was friendship, and you are my very closest and dearest friend. But at some point, and I don't know exactly when it happened, I fell in love with you. And because of my inaction, I almost lost you forever."

As he looked up at her, he could see the moisture glistening in her eyes, but her smile told him that these were happy tears and he pressed on. Opening the box, he removed the ring and held it before her.

"I've had this for over two years," he said. "The setting is new, but the stone came from the ring Dad gave Mom when he asked for her hand in marriage."

Sarah had her other hand over her mouth and he could see the emotion overflowing in her eyes.

"Sarah MacKenzie, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"