Secrets and Sacrifices

Part 28

            Morning slowly morphs into afternoon as Harm speaks to each of the Marines, outlining, without giving anything away, the way they can best help their rescuers when the time comes, hoping to avoid making them wonder how he obtained the knowledge in the first place.  And then the afternoon begins fading into evening and Harm hopes Sadik hasn't gotten the information he wants out of Meg's computer. 

            Gunnery Sergeant Parr is given more specific instructions than the marines under his command; Ambassador DeLong is given assurances that everything will turn out in the end, assurances she dismisses with demands of answers.  Assuring himself that he's only giving in because he feels lousy, Harm asks her to have Meg join them; he only wants to make this explanation once.

            Meg has been watching Harm from afar all day and she hasn't been happy with what she's been seeing. "Sir, you should rest for a while," she says when she approaches—close up, he looks even worse than he did from the other side of the room.

            Harm takes a sip of the water Jeffers has kept full for him and dredges up a smile.  "I thought you wanted answers," he counters mildly. 

            "They can wait, you need to rest."

            "I will after we've talked," Harm promises.  "Now sit down and tell me the sequence I asked you to remember earlier."

            Meg sits, albeit reluctantly.  "O1, orange, black, blue, green, 24, 3," she dutifully responds.

            "Very good," Harm smiles.  "You always did have a good memory."

            "What does that mean?" DeLong asks.  She reclaimed her seat while the other two spoke.

            "I'll answer your question in a while, but I think you both could use a little background to understand." 

Both women nod and wait patiently for him to begin, settling in to their chosen seats.

            Harm turns his attention to DeLong.  "Do you recall my partner when we were on the carrier?"

            "The Marine Major?  Sure."

            "She's a Lt. Colonel now, but that's beside the point; Mac and I were partners for six and a half years.  In May of 2003 the same CIA agent who essentially got us assigned together borrowed her for an assignment.  The assignment was Sadik Fahd.  When Admiral Chegwidden told me they had missed several check-ins, I asked to go to Paraguay; a request he denied.  I'd had a bad feeling about the assignment from the beginning, so I did the only thing I could think of, which was to submit my resignation and travel to Paraguay.  When I arrived I met up with a man who had served in our office—Gunnery Sergeant Galindez—who was also attached to the mission.  The CIA was going to leave Mac and Webb in Sadik's hands.  I couldn't let that happen.  Gunny and I attacked the compound and got them out, and then Mac and I went after the Stinger missiles while Gunny took Webb to a hospital.

            "To find the Stingers, we borrowed a plane from a German farmer, who incidentally was on Sadik's payroll.  I…appropriated some dynamite from the farmer and used it to take out the truck the Stingers were in, but one of Sadik's men managed to hit the plane.  After a…controlled landing, it took us a couple of days to get back to civilization.  Once we made it back to the States, I was made an offer I wasn't allowed to refuse."  Harm pauses at this point as a surge of anger rises. 

            "What was the offer?" Meg asks gently.

            Harm quickly tamps down the surge of anger.  "That my resignation would be null and void should I agree to work for the SecNav.  Although I find my current position rewarding and challenging, I admit I am a little bitter over being coerced into it.  To answer your earlier questions, Meg, for the past three years I've been leading a mixed Navy/Marine Corps team.  We report directly to and get our assignments directly from the SecNav."

            "So Sadik wants revenge against you for blowing up his Stinger missiles," DeLong summarizes. 

            "And apparently for being a better pilot than his son.  I'm not sure yet that he knows I was the one to destroy his missiles, but I'm sure once he gets into Meg's computer he will."

            "Have you ever met Commander Post, the other man he wants revenge against?" Meg asks.

            "I've never been introduced to him, but I do know him," Harm answers.  "And he's actually a captain now."  Harm wonders if Meg will put the information together, or if he'll have to spell it out for her.

            "What did he do to antagonize Sadik Fahd?"

            "There are two things it could have been, but most of the details are classified…and he's only mentioned one of the incidents."

            "What's not classified?" DeLong asks.  "And why wouldn't he have mentioned both?"

            "I'd actually be rather surprised to hear he knows what happened during the first incident; after the hostages were rescued the vessel upon which they were being held exploded.  It is still unclear whether something was damaged during the firefight that took place or whether one or more of the men assigned to watch the hostages decided they didn't want to be around to face Sadik's wrath when he discovered they were gone.  Either way, other than the hostages and the team who rescued them, no one made it off the vessel alive."

            "And the other incident?" DeLong prods.

            "Also a hostage rescue mission.  I'm not sure how Sadik found out that he hadn't killed Post after all, but I can tell you he had to have been very annoyed to have been thwarted in his plans."

            "If these missions are classified, how is it you know about them?" Meg asks.  "Wait, Commander Post is in command of a team like yours, isn't he?"

            Harm's going to have to spell it out for her after all.  "Not exactly.  If you were to look through the Navy's personnel files, you wouldn't find a Commander—or Captain—Post in there anywhere; he doesn't exist."

            He can see the information clicking into place.  "You're concerned Sadik is going to realize you are Post," Meg exclaims.  "That's why you're hoping the rescue will occur tonight."

            "It will be bad enough if Sadik makes the connection with Paraguay, but I will admit I'm more concerned with what might happen should he find out I was behind his failure three months ago as well," Harm admits.

            "Is that why you're transferring back to JAG?"

            "I'm not giving up command of my team; the SecNav isn't asking me to do that, he's trying to keep my team out of the field for a while.  Despite my team taking the leave time offered at the end of every mission, we have undertaken more missions than any two of the other teams put together.  We've always just been at the right place at the right time.  Only once were my men recalled from their leave time, and that was for the last mission where we encountered Sadik."

            "What about your leave time?"

            "I think part of the reason my team has been chosen to stand down from active rotation is because I've refused all leave.  When my team would take their leave, I'd find someone, somewhere who needed a hand.  I did a lot of flying during team downtime.  Or when I couldn't lend a hand anywhere, I spent a lot of time studying, keeping up on current cases and expanding my understanding of languages."

            DeLong listens with interest as this seems to have become a personal conversation between the two former partners.  While she doesn't feel she is listening in on what would otherwise be a private conversation, she doesn't see any need to break in with a question or comment of her own; Meg's asking all the questions she would anyway.  "Why not just take the leave time?" Meg queries.

            "At first I was trying to make a point.  After that…well, I wasn't supposed to have contact with my former co-workers back at JAG and I spoke to my mom every few months.  I didn't really have anywhere to go or anything to do.  And I was afraid that if I went with the rest of the team I'd slip and divulge something about my past…or my real identity.  It's one thing to be undercover for an investigation that lasts a week or so; it's completely different when you have to depend on keeping your cover for an extended period of time.  I was afraid of getting too comfortable and slipping up."

            "So instead you'd find something to do to keep you occupied.  Didn't your team ever wonder?"

            "Actually except for when I was actually in the air or in my quarters, one of my team members stayed with me at all times.  There are two corporals…" 

            The door to the room flies open, cutting Harm off and letting the smell of what must be dinner permeate the room.  Harm can see Sadik from his vantage point, but the terrorist can't see him; the look on the other man's face tells Harm what he's feared—Sadik has gained access to the computer.  The anger on Sadik's face intensifies when he doesn't immediately spot Harm.  He's about to have his guards search the room when Harm enters his view, somewhat unsteadily. 

            "You are either very brave or very foolish to make yourself so available to me," Sadik comments once Harm has crossed the floor to where he's standing.  He hasn't missed the fact that not one of the others in the room has made an attempt to aid or hinder his progress. 

            "Why delay the inevitable?" Harm mutters.  "It's not like there's anyplace to hide in here."

            "And that would be unwise.  Since you are being so cooperative, I'll allow you to walk out of here…provided you can stay on your feet," Sadik remarks snidely as Harm sways a bit. 

            Harm settles for a glare as response and leaves the room in the company of the guards, without a look back.  Sadik, certain he's won, flashes a triumphant smile and follows, allowing the group waiting outside to enter with their burdens.  The meal is excellent and quickly consumed, but everyone's thoughts remain with the one of their group who's missing, making it a very somber meal.

            ***

            Harm is left alone once again after being brought to what he thinks is the same room—only instead of the room being colder than an iceberg, it's now hotter than the desert he trekked through…could it have been only a couple of days ago?  The aspirin Jeffers located to help his fever now seems a waste as the temperature in the room elevates his body temperature.

            Without the energy to or the necessity of remaining active to keep warm, Harm slumps in the corner, absently wondering if he'll be able to get back to his feet.  The heat saps his energy, but not enough to let him rest.  Fortunately perhaps, Sadik changes tactics in more than just the temperature; Harm is only left alone for half an hour before Sadik, Fasal and two of Sadik's largest men join him.  The two men yank him roughly to his feet, each keeping a firm grasp on one of his arms, neither caring if they cause pain.  Harm tenses as Fasal approaches with a knife; his captors do not permit any more movement than that.  The younger man takes pleasure in cutting the material that is keeping his injured arm tight against his chest, allowing both men holding to draw his arms behind his back.  He can't stop the cry of pain that escapes, bringing an evil smile to Sadik's face.

            "The way to stop the pain is to answer my questions," Sadik explains.  "If you do not answer, the pain will grow worse."  The stubborn glint in Harm's eyes makes him smile.  "What were you doing when you were working for the CIA in May of 2003?"

            Well, that definitely answers that question; they've either gotten into the computer and the Navy's database—or they're bluffing.  "I wasn't asked to undertake any missions for the CIA that month," Harm says carefully, using the literal truth to attempt to deny involvement.

            A fist planted in Harm's stomach explains in no uncertain terms that his subterfuge is not welcome.  "I already know you were working for the CIA—what I want to know is what you were doing for them," Sadik explains, as if to a small child, while Fasal grins broadly.

            Not a bluff, then, Harm realizes.  "Why don't you tell me what it is you think I was doing and I'll…"  He doesn't get a chance to finish the sentence—his teeth snap together as his head snaps back from the force of the blow. 

            The smug satisfaction Fasal displays is quickly changed to contrite guilt—only a few curt words from Sadik are needed; no matter how insulting and uncooperative Harm is in the next hour, Fasal never again aims a punch above his shoulders. 

            The end to this round of questioning is unplanned—a series of loud explosions rock the compound.  The two men restraining Harm—or more accurately holding him up—involuntarily loosen their grips, allowing their burden to slip to the ground.  "Stay with him," Sadik points to one of the guards; Fasal and the other guard follow him into the hallway, leaving the door unlocked and open in their haste; the seemingly unconscious form of their captive undermining the normally cautious routine.  Mistake number one.

            Mistake number two is made by the remaining guard.  Not bothering to check or even glance at his charge, he plants himself in the doorway, facing into the hall.  He wants to be where the action is, not guarding someone he doesn't believe will getting up anytime soon.  As such, he only allocates a small bit of his attention to the room behind him, the rest of it straining to hear what's going on elsewhere in the compound—he's certain he'll hear Harm should he wake.  Harm only waits for a minute before he taps into his reserve energy and strength and quietly creeps up on his unsuspecting captor.  Knocking him out with a vicious move learned in training.  Though Harm notes the man is the one who wrenched his injured shoulder harder than really necessary, he doesn't entertain a single thought of revenge on his way out the door—Sadik will make the man pay dearly for allowing him to escape.

            Harm's not sure where in the embassy he is, but he knows he doesn't want to run into Sadik, so he turns right upon exiting the room—heading in the opposite direction from that which Sadik went.  A short way down the hall he hears voices coming towards him; his options appear nonexistent until he notices an archway close to the end of the hallway.  He makes it through just before the owners of the voices come around the corner, finding to his dismay that it is not another hallway as he hoped, but a set of stairs leading to the next floor.  Reluctantly he forces his aching body up the stairs.  Luck seems to have deserted him though, as he hears the men start up the stairs behind him.  For the moment hidden by the bend in the stairway, he surveys his options.  Three closed doors lead from the small landing at the top. 

            Harm tries the first door and swears softly to himself—it's locked.  The certainty that he'll get away from Sadik begins to falter when the second door also proves to be locked.  Almost hesitantly he tries the third and final door, releasing his pent up breath in when it the door opens, followed by a curse as the floor squeaks under his feet.  He closes the door behind him, reaching for the lock, and realizes why the door was open in the first place—no lock.  The pounding footsteps of the men following him prompt him to prop a chair under the handle and make for the only other exit—the window. 

            Disoriented as he is, Harm has no way of knowing he is on the third floor rather than the second as he suspects, and he's completely unaware of the changes to the wall following his last visit to the embassy.  Weakened by lack of food, sleep and the fever that's now raging through his system, his planned descent to the top of the wall and ends up being more of a freefall when he finds he doesn't have the strength to lower himself out the window—his tentative grip fails, starting the fall.  Instead of regaining control at the top of the wall, he slips down the rounded, smooth surface—modifications which were made following his previous visit to the embassy—wrenches his knee in a final attempt to regain control, finally falling the last two stories head first.  In hindsight, he probably should have used his injured arm rather than his sound one to keep from landing on his head, but the instinctive reaction of the moment put his right hand in the air above—or below as the case may be—his head to absorb the impact.

            His first thought upon crashing to a stop is that maybe he would have been better off with Sadik—a thought he immediately dismisses with remembrances of Webb's appearance when he and Gunny rescued Webb and Mac in Paraguay.  The second and third thoughts are almost simultaneous:  at least he landed on the side of the wall he was aiming for; and he'd better get moving—no telling if the two men he heard coming up the stairs behind him heard his slightly less than graceful descent. 

            Adrenaline carries him for a short time; the snail's pace he forces himself to maintain on the circuit around the embassy dampens it quickly.  It was only a vague hope that he might catch up with his team before they left the area; he's trained them too well for it to take so long for them to get the job done.  For a brief moment he curses his thoroughness before firmly putting that thought aside with the others—without the efficiency, he doesn't believe they would be the only team who hasn't had to break in at least one replacement over the last two years.

            The sound of a helo approaching breaks him out of his ill-timed reverie—now is not a good time for his attention to be wandering.  He watches as the helo touches down for a very short period of time before regaining altitude—with, from his current position, what appears to be a full cargo bay.  Pleased that his team completed their mission and followed his instructions, Harm turns his thoughts to how he's going to make it through the next 24 hours. 

            ***

            With the first explosion, everyone gathers in the center of the room as instructed by Harm, to facilitate the rescue.  They don't have long to wait; the door opens a moment later, leading Meg to believe the team was already well into the compound when the charges were detonated.

            Tow of the largest men they've ever seen move quickly but carefully around the perimeter of the room.  Two more men follow them into the room, heading directly to where the group is standing.  "Ambassador DeLong?" the tall blonde asks, looking from Meg to DeLong.

            "Yes," DeLong answers.

            "Lt. Commander Duncan?" Meg queries.

            "How did you know?" Duncan asks.

            "I have a message for you:  O1, orange, black, blue, green, 24, 3," Meg recites.

            The color drains from Duncan's face at the first word, and he whitens even further by the end.  "Listen up everyone," he says into the headset comm. gear they each wear, "Sadik is here and we've been ordered out.  Let's get these people out and regroup."

            Carefully, quickly and efficiently the team leads their charges back out the way they came; CPO Standes leads with half of the marines; Duncan, Delong and Meg are in the middle; followed by Jerry and the rest of the marines.  Jack volunteers to bring up the rear and no one notices he is missing until it's too late to go back after him.