Secrets and Sacrifices
Part 25
It takes less than fifteen minutes for Harm to rethink his decision—it's too darn cold in the room to be just sitting around. He struggles to his feet and tries walking around the perimeter of the room, but the room is so small that he just makes himself dizzy. Rethinking the strategy, he switches to a flattened figure eight—corner to corner, along the wall to the next corner and cross over again. It's not perfect, but at least it generates a little bit of warmth and doesn't cause nearly as much dizziness as going around in circles.
Harm doesn't know how long he's been in the room, but his steps are faltering and the limp he's been trying to hide is becoming more pronounced with each step. The door flies open abruptly, intercepting Harm in his pacing; the force of the blow knocks him backwards into the wall, the rough surface only serving to abrade his skin as he slides to the floor. By the time he comes to a rest, Sadik has settled into a chair one of the ever present guards placed in the room for that purpose.
"How long will it take for your government to send a team to rescue the ones I am holding?" Sadik asks. He's bundled up against the cold, confirming Harm's suspicions that this room is part of Sadik's plan.
It's not really what Harm thought Sadik would ask—at least not to start with. "I don't know," Harm tells him, making only a half-hearted attempt to regain his feet; he's just too cold and tired. "I can't say that I've ever had to research anything along those lines for any of my cases." Okay, so that's part truth and part not-truth. Harm knows very well—given the information he's had access to in the past three years—that rescue plans are probably being discussed as they speak, although it will probably be another 24 hours or more until they have enough data to proceed—unless there is even a hint there is danger to the hostages.
Had Harm gotten the call, he and his team would already be in the area. Although no less effective in their results, the other team leaders are more cautious and prefer more information before even beginning their operations. Sure, they'd all like to be able to operate like Harm, but they've all been trained to plan more extensively, and that training sometimes holds them back where Harm charges ahead, relying on his instincts to guide him through.
Sadik continues the questioning for hours. Sometime in that period, Harm manages to get to his feet and off the cold, hard floor; and props himself in the corner to remain upright. The questions seem to go in a cycle, the wording varying with each repetition, most of which Harm—as a lawyer and pilot—would not ordinarily know the answers to; although, with his recent assignment, he is more than passingly familiar with the answers. Somewhere along the line Sadik begins slipping in questions about Post and Harm, trying to see if his captive will trip up and give him the knowledge he wants—Sadik is for some reason certain Harm can answer all of his question and he intends to keep questioning him until he does.
Outside of the little room, the sun is chasing the dark of night away. The muted activity on the grounds increases rapidly as the night guards give up their posts to their daytime counterparts. Those not standing guard hurry to complete their tasks before the day grows to warm; the necessity of wearing the masking hats and coats in the summer weather makes getting the outside tasks completed in the cool of the early morning a priority.
Inside the building more men begin their daily labor. Those with kitchen duty have already been working for several hours and are ready to feed everyone on the grounds, including the hostages. Today Sadik has requested a special meal be set up for him, his son and two guests. When Fasal sees everything is set, he sends someone to inform his father and personally sees about 'inviting' their guests.
The knock on the door to the small room interrupts the ninth repetition of one of the questions about something or other. Harm welcomes the interruption, wishing desperately for Sadik to leave the room so he can move away from the corner he wedged himself into. His legs are asleep, his back—and thankfully his shoulder as well—is numb, and his mind is muddled and confused with all the variations of questions that have been thrown at him. He misses Sadik's instructions for the guards to bring him along as he is pondering how he'll ever remain on his feet. The moment they pull him from the corner he crashes to the floor. As his consciousness fades and he feels the guards pick him up, he overhears a comment his tired mind unconsciously overhears—they are close to getting into the computer they found in the ambassador's office.
***
"Yes, Mr. Secretary, I understand sir." Only Mac can see the exasperation on AJ's face, and the rapid change to astonishment and confusion. "You want me to do what?" Another pause and AJ's gaze flickers to Dunston and DePalma. "Well, there are two of them in my office right now." A smile tugs at one corner of AJ's mouth. "No, they're still sitting outside. We've had dealings with these two before—Chuck DePalma and Stuart Dunston." The hardened Navy SeAL is back and Mac can't read anything more from her CO. "Yes sir. I'll take care of it. Thank you sir." The handset is placed on the base; for a moment there is complete silence—it's AJ's turn to break it.
For the moment ignoring the reporters, AJ sends Tiner to gather the staff in the bullpen. Sturgis is sent to tell Admiral Morris to bring his staff down for a meeting; the unusual request is taken in stride and the two officers hurry to deliver their messages. Acknowledging their obvious curiosity, AJ assures the two reporters that they will have their answers along with everyone else; he also informs them that while they may not use the cameras in the building, they will be permitted to use a tape recorder to record the statement he will be making shortly. It is almost comical to see the two men scramble for the door—they know without being told that AJ will make his statement on his time schedule and anyone not ready will miss it.
Mac follows the two men to the door and closes it behind them. "Sir? I take it Harm's mother has been notified," she observes softly.
"You would be correct, Colonel," AJ sighs. "The SecNav said she didn't take the news very well."
"Can you blame her sir? It sounds like he's been lying to her about a lot of things for years—all under orders of course. Not to mention she's already lost her husband to the Navy. She's almost lost her son twice before. I can't imagine what this latest situation is doing to her."
"She apparently saw the newscast and was convinced it was Rabb; she was waiting by the phone for the call—or a formal visit. Now, was there something else you wanted?" he asks, pulling them both back to the subject at hand.
Hesitantly, Mac slips the letters from the large envelope. "Harm left these letters to be distributed in the event he went missing for more than 24 hours…or was killed. Lt. Commander Duncan gave them to me on the Reprisal after the last meeting. I have to admit, it's why I didn't report in right away. Harm left me a note with them…he was aware of the possibility I might just chuck the whole thing in the garbage, but he went through the trouble anyway." An image of Harm writing at a desk in a cramped stateroom pops into her head, effectively derailing her train of thought. She realizes the image is a memory—from the time he returned to flying. She'd seen him in his stateroom, working on legal issues for the wing, when she was on the Patrick Henry.
"Colonel? Mac?" AJ's concerned voice finally breaks into her thoughts. "Are you ok?"
"Sorry sir," she smiles sadly. "Just lost in thought." A pause to take a deep breath and reorder her thoughts, and she's back on track. "I wanted your opinion, sir. Harm fought for—and won—the concession that after 24 hours missing he would be allowed to let us know why he disappeared after returning from Paraguay. What I'm unsure about is if reading these letters will help or hurt. Should I deliver the letters now, wait until he returns and let him do it, or wait until he returns and just give them back to him?"
AJ can see this is weighing heavily on her mind; he gives the options she outlined serious thought before speaking. "Mac, what you ultimately decide is up to you; I can tell you what I would do, but I don't think that is really what you're looking for, is it?" he asks wisely.
Mac simply shakes her head slowly, wondering why she even brought the subject up. She begins to gather her things to leave when AJ speaks again.
"Hold on Mac. I didn't say I wouldn't help you work through it to make your own decision."
Mac reseats herself, feeling even more nervous than she had before. Inspiration suddenly hits. "Actually, sir, I think I know what I should do. Harm fought to make sure there was a possibility these would be delivered after 24 hours. Had I not seen him on the Reprisal I most likely would have canned the lot," she admits. "But it is obviously important to him for everyone to have these, so I would like your permission to distribute those I can after the meeting."
AJ smiles to himself—he always knew she had a good head on her shoulders; seeing Harm again and having the many things happen that have in the past couple of days simply confused her for a short time. "Permission granted. Did he leave you one?" he asks softly.
"Not in the same way he did these others—he kept a journal and addressed the entries to me. I've actually read a couple of them. Do you know a Gunnery Sergeant Crockett?" she asks.
"Crockett? Sure I do. He's a sniper instructor; or at least he used to be. Rabb out-smarted him and then volunteered to drive a target vehicle for him. Why do you ask?" He's curious, not defensive or angry.
"There was an interesting story of how Crockett chose to train Harm as the sniper for his team; practically told the SecNav off too."
AJ laughs. "That would have been quite a battle of wills."
"It certainly sounded that way. What I don't understand is why he would have chosen Harm."
"He wanted to train him all those years ago…I'm sure he was pleased to finally get the chance." 'And the chance to get him back for the embarrassment he probably felt when Harm bested him on his own territory,' AJ adds to himself.
They share a slightly strained laugh at the thought of a Gunnery Sergeant giving orders to Sheffield. Mac still looks like she has something on her mind; AJ calls her on it. "There's something else bothering you, Mac. Let's have it."
"I guess I'm just trying to process it all—Harm showing up again, finding out what he's been doing, getting a look at his service record. I always knew he seemed to find trouble, I just never knew…I guess it just never hit me just how much he's been through. He was always reluctant to talk about his past."
"There's a lot there that he can't talk about. Ask him to tell you what he can talk about sometime…it might help both of you," AJ suggests.
"If he comes back," Mac says softly.
"You're not giving up on him are you?" AJ asks.
"No sir." Her voice lacks conviction. "But I'm not sure how many more times he can beat the odds."
Jen picks that moment to buzz AJ. "Sir, everyone is gathered in the bullpen as requested," she reports.
Without taking his eyes off Mac, AJ unerringly finds the intercom button on his phone. "Thank you Coates. We'll be out in a minute."
"Aye sir," Jen acknowledges. The ensuing silence in the office is deafening.
AJ emerges from behind his desk to sit next to Mac. "Don't give up on him, Mac," he pleads. "Harm has more lives than a cat, more luck than a leprechaun, and a good head on his shoulders. Any one of those will see him through."
"I know sir. I'm just scared I won't get the chance to ask him all of the questions I have or tell him how much he means to me." Her voice is soft, almost a whisper, and she won't look him in the eye.
"I have faith they will eventually find out where he is; or he'll get away on his own. I don't doubt he'll be in here causing trouble again before you know it." AJ stands and offers a hand to Mac. "Now, we need to go out there and give a report to the rest of the staff; and we both need to be positive about it." He glances at the letters clutched tightly in her hands. "Do you want to leave those in here and we'll bring everyone in here after the announcement?" he asks, his voice returning for a moment to a gentler tone.
"That would probably be the best, sir." Mac sorts through the letters, reading the names off to him. When she reaches the last one, her voice breaks, "this one's for you."
AJ attempts unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in his throat as he accepts the envelope from her hands. Sure enough, 'Admiral AJ Chegwidden' is written on the front in Harm's distinctive handwriting. He stares at the envelope for a long minute before deliberately setting it on his desk with the others. Another minute passes while he visibly draws his 'admiral' persona around him. Once again squared away, he turns back to Mac, who has watched him the entire time. "It's time to face the staff," he says sternly but compassionately. "So suck it up, Marine," he unconsciously echoes Harm's words of years earlier.
"Aye sir," Mac replies. She straightens her spine and shoulders, schools her face into an expression of neutrality, takes a huge calming breath and steps through the door into the bullpen.