Tears for Allah, Chapter XXI, Part I

Senator Ken Masters' Office
Washington, DC

Bobbie Latham stared at her esteemed colleague across the enormous expanse of his desk. Other people would have been intimidated, but not Bobbie. "Ken, we've known each other for a long time, so I am going to put this as politely as I can. There will no proceedings against Rear Admiral Chegwidden or Secretary of the Navy Sheffield. Am I clear on this?"

Ken got up from his chair, giving her an angry look that was supposed to weaken her resolve. "But, Bobbie, they are culpable, someone has to pay."

Bobbie just smiled and shook her head. "Ken, I know your game. This is a bipartisan issue and you're going to find few if any who will go along with you on this one. If you want to go after someone, I strongly suggest you set your sights on CIA Deputy Director of Foreign Operations. After all, it was his direct interference that lead to this attack."

Ken flinched. She had struck a nerve. "Bobbie, that's insane, Watts would never-"

"He would and he did, Ken. He sold Nelson out when Kabir Atef secreted that dirty missile out of Russia with Yerastov and put Sheffield in his place thinking he now had some leverage against the Navy. What makes you believe he wouldn't do it again and sacrifice Chegwidden and Sheffield just to make himself look good in the eyes of the President?" She got up signaling to him she wasn't about to listen to anymore of his bluff and bluster. She had him.

"Tell the Director that Bill Watts has to go," she said as she turned to leave.

Somewhere in Ankara, Turkey

Rene and Trent were sitting in the backseat of their limousine congratulating themselves on their latest business deal with Arik Kemal.

Rene gave his second in command a sly smile. "So what did he think about our offer, mon ami?"

Trent chuckled. "He snapped it right up." Sure his contacts at the CIA had ensured the deal would go through, but he had to erase any chance of Rene finding out about that. "Truthfully, Rene, I think we gave him too good of a deal," he said cautiously.

Rene shook his head and laughed. "Ah, see, Trent? That is where you are wrong." He reached into the wet bar in front of him and pulled out bottle of Champagne and two glasses. "No, mon ami, we want him thinking he got a really good deal that way-"

As Rene began filling up the glasses, his car phone rang.

Rene sighed and put down his glass on the car tray while handing Trent his. "Just a minute, Trent." He picked up his phone. "Bonjour Monsieur Radeau, what news do you have for me?"

Rene listened intently for a moment. "Oh?" he said while looking over at his number two.

Trent took a sip of champagne, determined not to let this sly fox rattle him the way he had other fellow arms dealers and businessmen. Rene was good at catching people doing things they weren't supposed to do, and though he would do nothing directly, these people always seemed to pay, one way or another, for their transgressions. He was determined not to become one of them.

Rene meanwhile continued his phone conversation, seemingly oblivious to Trent Kort's unease. "Well, that is not a major concern…no, I will take care of it. Thank you for letting me know about this, my friend."

xxixxixxi

Ziva and Jenny stood looking at Hetty and Lara via the videoconference connection.

"So you had dinner with Monsieur Benoit, Agent Shepard?" Hetty asked evenly of the red haired NCIS agent.

Jenny glanced at Ziva and then turned back to the screen, clearing her throat. "Not really, ma'am."

Hetty shook her head. "Oh, that's a shame. I heard they have a wonderful Doner Kebab and Borek there. Just what did Monsieur Benoit tell you?"

"He said that he had nothing to do with Treshchenko …or Operation Firebird," she said flatly, not sounding pleased at all with what she had discovered.

"That's very interesting, Ms. Shepard. Special Agent David, can you corroborate this?"

Ziva looked torn between telling the truth or lying for her friend. She chose the former. "I cannot personally, Ms. Lange, as he asked me to leave so that he could talk privately with Special Agent Shepard."

Hetty focused all of her attention on Jenny Shepard. "I see. So what did Rene give you that supposedly clears him of his involvement with Treshchenko?"

"A list of arms dealers who supposedly have no problem working with Treshchenko, ma'am." Jenny replied.

Hetty's eyebrows raised at that comment. "Supposedly?"

Jenny explained. "These could just be some of his competition that he is trying to put out of business by leading us to them."

Hetty thought about that for a moment. "Very true, Ms. Shepard, but the more important question here is, do you think Rene Benoit is involved with al Jihad?"

Jenny thought about the question for a moment and then sighed. "Honestly, ma'am, though it goes against every instinct I have about this man, in this case I do believe him."

Hetty sat back in her chair, surprised by her uncharacteristic answer. Usually Agent Shepard would be the first to accuse Rene Benoit of being involved, even if all the evidence showed that he wasn't. So this was a big switch. "Well, I guess that leaves us with a list of arm dealers who may or may not lead us to Treshchenko, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," she replied.

Hetty looked at the Mossad officer. "Special Agent David,"

Ziva looked at the diminutive NCIS Director. "Yes, ma'am?"

Hetty gave her a benign smile. "Would you ask your father if he can help us winnow down this list of potential Treshchenko allies?"

Ziva nodded, though she didn't know just how much of help her father would want to be. "Yes, ma'am."

JAG-NCIS Liaison Office
NCIS Headquarters
Washington, DC

John Michael McBurney was almost beyond exhausted. He had hoped to leave early today, but then there was that last minute call from Hospital Mate 3 Stan Ward regarding the Corpsman's involvement in a jewel theft case. Of course, it wasn't any ordinary jewel theft. These were jewels stolen from the Basra Museum during early days of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Now HM 3 Ward said he had some valuable information regarding the case that was for Major McBurney's ears only.

Because Ward was being held at the detention facility in Norfolk, that meant a drive down there after already arguing two cases before Colonel Blakely, one which he won and other that he, regrettably had lost. So after that grueling drive in late afternoon Norfolk traffic, the SJA Major arrived at the detention facility just as dinner was being served. While Ward wolfed down a lovely dinner of steaming Chicken Cordon Bleu and rice pilaf, Jack had to make do with a cold ham sandwich he had gotten from the detention commissary vending machines.

And the piece de resistance, HM 3 Ward really didn't have any earth shattering, or in this instance, case-breaking, news for him. Just another name to add to the growing list of potential witnesses for this case and a vague reference to a man known as 'Mahmoud' in the Republican Guard. Oh yeah, and that he had helped with the heist. Great, there only had to be like a million 'Mahmouds' in the Iraqi Army and now that it was defunct, who knows where this Republican Guard 'Mahmoud' ended up.

On top of that, he had another stress filled drive back from Norfolk to the Navy Yard. Whee.

All Jack wanted to do once he had cleared security and gotten inside, was to head to his office, enter this 'evidence' into his computer and go home.

If he was lucky, by the time he got to his apartment, he'd get about five hours sleep before he had to be back here.

Ah, the glamorous life of a Staff Judge Advocate.

When Jack turned his key in the lock to their spacious little office, he didn't expect to see Faith Coleman at her desk, with only her desk lamp on, pouring over a book.

He idly wondered if it was a romance novel until he looked closer at the cover's blue paisley dust jacket. That was Lieutenant Singer's diary. The only thing close to girlythat the Lieutenant had ever had.

Faith quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at him staring at the book's cover.

"Sorry, long drive from Norfolk," he said as an apology.

"Did the Corpsman give you any useful information with regards to his case?" It was a normal question between two colleagues. Idle chit-chat.

But Jack wasn't in the mood. "Oh sure. He told me that an Iraqi soldier by the name of Mahmoud had helped them with the heist," he said sarcastically.

"Just Mahmoud? No last name?"

"Just Mahmoud." He sighed disgustedly as he sat down heavily in his desk chair. Then he looked at her staring at him. He blushed. "Sorry," he mumbled, "as I said, long day. I just need to get what he gave me into my computer and then I'm outta here."

Faith sat there for a moment and then cleared her throat. "I'm…I'm…sorry that Corpsman Ward wasn't more helpful to you," she said. It appeared she was trying to sound sympathetic.

Maybe it was the fatigue, but Jack barely noticed what she had done. He was already busily clacking away on his keyboard "Yeah, well, you can't win them all, I guess," he said distractedly. "Win some, lose some."

Faith watched him for a few more minutes. The SJA Major could have sworn when he glanced at her that there was something akin to sympathy on her face.

"Would…would you…like to see what I've found in Lieutenant Singer's diary?" she asked quietly.

Jack stopped typing and stared stupidly at her for a few minutes.

Faith looked down at her book. It was obvious she was embarrassed and aggravated. "Never mind. It's late and you need to get home. Sorry I bothered you."

"No, no, I'm sorry, it's late. I'm punch drunk. What did you want to show me?" He wanted to say more importantly, why? But he didn't. He got up and walked over to her desk and then behind her, looking over her shoulder at the blank diary pages.

Faith cleared her throat again. He thought she was going to ask him not to lean over her shoulder, but she didn't. Instead she pointed to the open book. "Well, you see that this page looks blank, right?"

Any idiot could see that. "Umm, yeah," he said trying to concentrate.

"Well, I found there was one page that looked like it was blank, but it really wasn't," she explained.

Fatigue was winning. He was not following her train of thought. "So?"

Surprisingly, she didn't react with her usual snide remark. She just continued on with her train of thought. "So I took a pencil and shaded the page. Look what it revealed."

"Looks like she wrote on something on the top," he said as he looked more closely at the page.

"Yes, and look what it says" she urged. He could tell she was excited about this discovery. So he tried his best to be at least interested in what she was showing him.

He squinted as he read. The blurry words were difficult to make out. "Um, 'contact….uh, contact Aintin Maggie?… let her know… about the package…coming…via mail….'"

He gave her a blank look. "Aintin?"

That thin smile was back. "Irish for Aunt." Only this time it wasn't because she was making fun of him. She actually seemed to be smiling at him.

For the first time he gave her a smile in return, a tired smile, but nevertheless a smile. "So now?"

"So now I contact Aunt Maggie first thing in the morning and find out if she'll let us look at the copy of the diary that she has."

Seunta Inn
Galvin Residence
Kirn, Ireland

Maggie Galvin sat in her rocker easy chair looking at the book that Loren had sent her. She hadn't been able to sleep, so she decided leafing through her niece's diary might induce slumber.

But Maggie found it wasn't a typical girl's diary. It read more like excerpts from a spy novel.

The more she read, the more intrigued the owner and manager of the Seunta Inn became.

Loren told how she was doing okay as an attorney at the US Navy's Judge Advocate General Corps Headquarters (Her mother must be so proud of her) in Falls Church, Virginia (Falls Church, what a lovely name) but that she craved action and adventure (Ah, she always was a rambunctious lass…never happy with the status quo…)

She also talked about her problems fitting in with the other attorneys and her like/dislike for fellow attorney Bud Roberts [whom she saw as her competition] and his wife Harriet, who Loren described as an 'enigma' - cute but tough, not your 'typical dumb blond'. To Maggie it sounded like they were becoming friends until what her five year old son, AJ, called her (Out of the mouth of babes…) she thought sadly.

Maggie was intrigued by her relationship with Commander Harmon Rabb's half-brother, Russian helo pilot, Sergei Zhukov. She wondered idly if this was just a way to make Commander Rabb jealous, a person whom she seemed to admire and yet loathe at the same time. It seemed that Loren had mixed feelings about almost everyone she worked with, including her CO, Rear Admiral Albert Jethro Chegwidden (my, what a proud and strong name…).

Then she came to part that kept her turning the pages. After admitting that Harriet had been right that she was 'stepping on others to get what she wanted', she vowed to 'make amends' for that. It started with an innocuous meeting with a client, a young Petty Officer by the name of Willis (why no first name?) about being approached by a young Irishman named Sean Macklin, who was asking him if she was happy being in the US Navy (So that's where this all started…) She read on about how she convinced Willis to let her meet with Macklin and pose as a disgruntled Navy officer to find out what he wanted. She contacted DSS, an American counter intelligence agency within the Justice Department, and told them what was going on.

She talked at length with a 'Mr. Green' whom she described as a real 'cloak and dagger' kind of guy. Green thanked her for doing her duty and was just going to dismiss her (Why the nerve of that man!) but she lobbied to see this through. After all, it was her chance to do something good and something that would make her superiors notice her. So after a little convincing (That's my girl) he agreed to let her be the one to talk to Mr. Macklin.

Loren played her part well, even mentioning her distaste for Christianity (It's a good thing her Uncle/Uncail Rupert wasn't alive to hear her say that…why, he would have taken her over his knee for that one…) It worked, Mr. Macklin (So formal at first…) told her he was looking for a Navy person with enough pull to get him a meeting with a disgruntled pilot. At first he wouldn't tell her why, he just kept flattering her, hoping she would just do as he asked. But Loren, she was tougher than that (Good girl) and eventually he had to tell her why he needed to talk to a pilot.

It turned out Mr. Macklin was looking for a disgruntled pilot who could be convinced to help with a terrorist act. Loren played right along but she also wanted him to see her worth, so she noted that just any pilot wouldn't do. They needed one who had flown or was flying bombers.

Loren, smart lass that she was, told him she would take care of all the details about what kind of bomber was needed and the kind of pilot they were looking for. (Always such an industrious lass)

So Loren began meeting with a fellow JAGC attorney, Teddy Lindsey, on the pretext of looking at ways to help him with his vendetta against attorney Harmon Rabb, Jr, in return for information on bomber accidents and the pilots involved. Loren figured she could get Lindsey for trying to ruin Commander Rabb's reputation and nab a terrorist cell before they could do any real damage.

She never expected to fall in love with Sean Macklin. (Love always finds you when you aren't looking for it)

Once the dueling egos were put aside, she found him to be extraordinarily kind, considerate, and a caring man. She hadn't meant to fall in love with him. After all, he was a terrorist and wanted to hurt or kill other Americans. But they shared so many common interests, and his talk about his beloved Ireland intrigued her. He also confessed that the longer they worked on this plot, the more he wondered why she was so dedicated to it.

It first she tried to bluff her way out, saying she had been hurt and wanted to make them all pay, but he persisted, wanting to know everything. So she told him, and in return he told her about his life, his brief but ignoble career with the IRA, then joining a splinter group, then meeting with al Jihad operatives who told them about their great plans. It was bold, it was new, it was something different.

But somewhere along the way, he realized this wasn't for him. He didn't want to kill anymore, and he didn't like some of the things his brothers in arms were saying about any Westerner. He got the feeling he was being used. He confronted Loren and asked her point blank if she really felt a hatred for all Westerners and wanted to embrace Jihad. At first she blew up and called him 'a sentimental fool' and 'weakling', but when he fired back at her calling her 'a traitor' and 'cold blooded snake', she confessed as he was walking out the door that she loved him and that she didn't want to go along with the plot either.

That began their romance. On the surface they were dedicated to al Jihad. Underneath they were plotting to foil the plan. She never told him that she had started out trying to entrap him. Now she couldn't bear the thought of the father of her child going to prison. There had to be a way out…. (Oh, you poor, poor child)

Suddenly her phone rang. (Now who the devil would be calling at this early hour?) She thought groggily, not realizing she had been asleep. That's when she looked at the clock on the mantle. It was almost 11am. She cleared her throat and picked up the receiver.

"Good mornin' Seunta Inn, Maggie Galvin speakin.'"

'Good morning, Ms. Galvin. My name is Faith Coleman, Commander, United States Navy, JAG Corps.'

"Well, good mornin' to you, Commander," she said, remembering how to address the rank from her days when her Inn served as a 'home away from home' for many US Navy officers. "What can I do for you?"

Despite the distance, Faith Coleman's voice came in sharp and clear like she was in the next room. 'I was wondering if you have received a diary from your niece, Lieutenant Loren Singer.'

Picacho Library
Y
uma, Arizona

16 November 2003

Mac stood there in a daze, not believing what helo pilot Major Justin Tunney had just told her.

"Yes, I'd do it again."

Harm watched proudly as the Major left them and then he glanced over at the Light Colonel, noting her stunned look.

"Bet you didn't expect that, did you?" he said in a jocular manner. He was feeling pretty good about the Major's response. Truth be known, he probably would have told her the same thing if it had been him.

Mac glanced at her partner and saw that 'cat swallowed the canary' look. She sighed heavily.

"Look, Marine, you can't expect to win them all," he said in response to her resigned sigh. In his mind, Justin Tunney was justified in using his helo to stop Barkley Cale even if it was a violation of the Posse Comitatus Act.

"So you agree with him?" was all she said.

"Yep," was his one word reply.

She sighed again.

Harm shook his head. "Oh come on, Mac. Are you really that surprised by his answer?"

She shook her head. "No, I really shouldn't be. Not as long as I've known you." And with that she began walking toward the front of the library.

Harm hurried to catch up with her. "Hey, wait a minute. Just what did you mean by that crack?"

Mac turned to face him stopping him in his tracks. "Harm, he was in the wrong. He shouldn't have fired into that barn."

Harm shook his head. "I disagree."

"Then we agree to disagree," and she resumed her march toward the library front entrance.

xxixxixxi

Mac was standing outside putting on her cover when Harm caught up with her.

"Are you going to give me to silent treatment all the way back to air base?" he asked as he put his own cover on.

She gave her partner a smirk. "Did you thank the Library Director for letting us use their reading room for the Hearing?"

Harm seemed to ponder the question. "I thought that was the purview of the Judge and the Base Commander, but I did thank her, yes."

"Good." she said walking away from him again.

"Good? That's all you have to say?" he said to her back.

She stopped and looked at him. "Look, Flyboy, I get it. You, Tunney, and Lukens are cut from the same cloth. If I had recognized that at the time, I could have used it to my advantage in there."

Not waiting for his response, she began walking down the steps, headed for the parking lot.

Harm was intrigued by her comment. Collecting himself he caught up with her. "How so?"

She didn't look at him as they walked but she was smirking again. "I could have tripped him up with his own ego by stroking it in court rather than trying to poke holes in it."

Harm chortled at her barb. "Wow, you are calculating," he said as they reached their sedan.

Mac shook her head and gave her partner a wry smile. "That's what they pay me for," she quipped then she looked over the car's roof at her partner. "Look, I know you're enjoying this, but can I ask you something in all seriousness?"

Harm dropped his playful smile. "Sure, Mac." He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what she had to say, given their up and down engagement lately, but she deserved his attention on whatever it was she had to say.

"I can't go back to JAG right now. In fact, I asked the Admiral before I left if I could go over to Red Rock while I was out here."

"What did he say?" Harm asked. He hated that she was going to stay behind, but if that's what she needed to do….

"He approved it. Just a couple of days and then we need to get back."

"We? You asked for time off for me as well?" He did have some leave on the books, but not much. He had planned to use most of it in preparing for Mattie's hearing. He unlocked the car doors.

"The Admiral thought you needed it," she replied as she opened hers.

"Because the Singer case has hit a dead end?" he said as he got in the car.

She took his hand and looked at him. He stilled at her touch. "I just…we just need…to get away Harm…for little while…but this time I want you there with me." She gave him a shy smile. "And maybe we can talk about what we discussed earlier…you know…the conversation about the three of us?"

xxixxixxi

Sergeant Marla Givers was sitting at the break room table staring blankly into space. She didn't even notice when Sergeant Pete Bauer sat down at her table.

"This seat taken?" he said giving her a wink as he tore open the wrapper on his power bar.

Marla didn't answer. She didn't even look like she had touched her food. Pete grinned at her. "Well, I don't know what I did to deserve the silent treatment-"

He didn't finish because he could see there was something going on with her. "Hey, penny for your thoughts…."

She shook her head as if coming out of a trance. "What? I'm sorry, did you say something?"

Pete looked at her with concern. "Hey, are you all right?"

She sighed deeply and looked at him. "You want to know the truth?"

"I want to help if I can," he said honestly.

She smiled at that. "No, I'm not all right," she admitted.

"What's the problem?"

She sighed again. "I haven't been sleeping well."

"Did you talk to the Doc?" he said referring to Dr. Adams, the psychologist the SECNAV had sent to talk to the JAGC staff after the terrorist attack.

"Yeah, when he first came, but the nightmares keep coming back," she replied.

"What kind of nightmares?"

"I'm at the bottom of the stairwell in the building. I know need to get upstairs. Suddenly I begin running up the stairs, but it's like I'm wading through a stream. As I get closer to the top of the stairs, it turns into an escalator, and on the other side I can see dead and dying people riding it down. They look at me with accusing stares." Pete noted that she looked like she was reliving the nightmare.

"Do you ever reach the top?" he asked gently.

"Sometimes. Other times I turn around and run away," Marla said as she shifted in her chair. It was clear to Pete she was uncomfortable talking about this.

"And do you get away?"

She shook her head. "No, at the bottom is someone who looks like one of us, but they scream 'Allah Akbar' and blow themselves up." Marla shuddered involuntarily after saying that.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked in a worried voice.

"Honestly?"

"Yes," he insisted though he hoped not too strongly to scare her off.

"Since the memorial," she admitted.

He looked at her for a moment. "Maybe you should talk to Doc Adams again."

Marla heaved a labored sigh. "I don't know," she said looking wistfully at him.

"Look, I'll go with you, okay? You won't be alone," he assured her.

1959 Local_0259 Zulu
Inn Express
Red Rock, Arizona

The hotel room door opened to reveal Harm letting Mac go into the room first. She turned on the lights. For an express hotel it was nicely furnished with a writing desk, a couch that folded out into a bed, two televisions and a half wall that separated the bed, bureau with the second television, and small refrigerator from the couch and writing desk. It was an interior room so it was shielded from the traffic noise and on the second level of the building so it was unusually quiet.

Mac slipped off her shoes and took her wardrobe bag and hung it in the closet as Harm came in.

The Light Colonel walked over to the queen sized bed and unzipped her skirt and pulled it off, carefully putting it on the desk chair.

Harm hadn't been ready for this. "Do you, um, want to take the first bath?" he said in a slightly strained voice.

She looked over at him and gave him a half embarrassed smile. "Um, yeah, that is, if you don't mind-"She hadn't meant to tease him like that, it just had been such a long drive and well, they were engaged.

"No, no, I don't mind at all. I'll just hang up my wardrobe bag and catch up on the news while you do," Harm said as took his bag toward the closet, not giving her a second look.

Mac sighed and unbuttoned her blouse. "Are you sure you don't want to join me?" she asked in a coy voice.

"Um, no, I'm, ah, fine," he said fumbling with the television remote as he slipped off his shoes and laid back on the bed, and propped himself up with a pillow against the headboard.

Mac pulled off her camisole and slip. Getting no response from Commander Polite, she walked over to the closet and pulled a change of underwear out of her bag. She looked back at him and saw he was trying hard not to look at her, acting engrossed in the news.

She sighed again and headed into the bathroom and closing the door with a bang.

-TBC…