Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Six
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One
From part five:
Taking a deep breath, Jeannine prepared to reply, unsure if she was ready for this, having been involved with Harm's brother for less than two months, having seen him only once after having been to Washington for Christmas. But she wanted to see Mac and be there for her, even if it was only for a few days, without having to impose on her hospitality, though. Mac had more than enough problems herself. And Jeannine somehow felt she could trust the younger Rabb just as she could the elder. "I could come over for Spring Break," she offered slowly, her heart beating a little quicker than usual, "If you let me stay with you."
Sergei's answer held a slightly hoarse edge, telling Jeannine that he, just like her, was precisely aware of the consequences that her staying with him might have for the two of them. Nevertheless, he agreed. "I think Mac would like having you around, Janutchka."
"What about you?" Jeannine couldn't help asking under her breath.
"Me, too," she heard him say just as low.
For a few seconds the silence hung heavily between the two ends of the phone line connecting Georgetown and Long Island. Then Sergei ventured a shy "Take care, little one."
"You, too."
"Dusvidunya, Yanina Andreyevna." [Good bye, Yanina Andreyevna.]
Wanting to surprise him, she answered with a phrase that she had trained to pronounce correctly with Mac's help. She smiled. "Dusvidunya, Sergei Harmonovitch."
Part Six:
Sat, Feb. 20th 0312 ZULU Bethesda Naval Hospital Washington, D.C.
It was the continuous, suppressed sobbing that first penetrated the thick fog that was clouding Harm's conscious. He felt a sudden wave of pain as he realized that it was none other than his Sarah crying desperately over something. Mac, crying desperately? What the heck had happened?
Trying to get his vision into focus, he became aware of the white wall he was staring at. And his ears suddenly recognized the steady beeping of a heart monitor. This had to be an intensive care unit. A dull, throbbing pain, obviously lessened by painkillers, made itself known somewhere in his gut. And suddenly he remembered. Maryann Cramer had shot him.
He noticed that his left hand was clasped between Mac's smaller ones. She was obviously stroking his palm with her thumb. ['Hey, Marine, I thought you knew that no one gets rid of Harmon Rabb easily.'] Thankful that she was with him and eager to relieve her from her apparent insecurity about his well-being, he tried to squeeze her hand in return. But strangely, his fingers didn't obey his brain.
He tried to turn his head in her direction but his muscles seemed to be on strike. Unable to fight the growing sense of doom inside himself, he tried to look at her but his eyes wouldn't comply. It felt as if they were glued to the spot, always bound to stare at the white wall. He tried to close them to concentrate on his other senses, but his eyelids wouldn't budge.
Damn, this couldn't be possible! There had had to be at least one tiny part of his body that he could still command! Finding his lips refusing their service, too, he tried to at least emit some sort of groan, to somehow make her see that he was with her, but his vocal chords were in deep hibernation. ['Okay, accelerate your breathing, then,'] he ordered himself. But his lungs seemed to function on autopilot, steadily inhaling and exhaling without caring if he wanted to or not. Desperate anger and raging pain hit him mercilessly as he finally understood his exact condition: he was in a perfect cocoon, aware of all that was going on around him, but completely incapable of communicating with the outside world. Cramer had done a thorough job, taking him out for good.
His inner turmoil didn't go unnoticed by his heart monitor, though. The steady beeping accelerated, making Mac suck in her breath and look up. She immediately saw that the green peaks on the oscillator that represented his heartbeat stood closer to one another. Starting to tremble, she pressed the 'call' button. A minute later, Zanelli entered the room.
"What is it, ma'am?" As he walked past his feet, Harm could get a glimpse of the Lieutenant Commander's concerned expression.
['I'm at Bethesda,'] he noted, keen on learning every detail about his present state.
"His pulse has gone up suddenly," Mac explained in a shaky voice.
Puzzled, Zanelli checked the readings on the many machines Harm was connected to.
"There is definitely some brain activity going on in there," he confirmed, trying not to show his excitement. This could mean everything. Better not get the colonel's hopes up too high. "I wouldn't be surprised if it were just a slight irregularity, ma'am, that wouldn't tell anything about your husband's actual condition," he went on cautiously, "But we could give it a try." Turning to Harm he raised his voice. "Commander Rabb, do you hear me?"
Harm felt Mac clasp his hand more firmly. ['Damn, yes, I hear you! Don't you doubt your monitor, man, you're my one ally at the moment,'] he implored the doctor.
"Commander!" Zanelli put a hand on Harm's shoulder and shook him rather fiercely.
Harm felt the force of his grip but his inward cry of pain wouldn't surface. ['I'll get you for that one, Commander, once I'm out of here,'] he silently swore.
"You try, please, ma'am," he heard Zanelli address Mac. "He knows your voice."
Mac once more tightened her grip on Harm's hand. "Harm. Harm! Do you hear me? It's me, Sarah! Harm!!" The last sound came out together with a sob.
['Mac...'] Harm tried to reach out to her, despair choking him. ['I'm right with you, honey, can't you see?']
Mac tried once more to call him and then slowly let go of his hand, taking her chair again. Zanelli silently placed a hand on her shoulder, hurting for the woman whose child would probably never know her father as who he had once been. The doctor then shook himself from his grief, knowing he had to keep a professional distance. Having administered Harm his eye drops, he left the room.
Mac let her head rest on her arms on top of Harm's bed. "If this is our future I can't live through it," she sobbed, fresh tears flowing freely. "I can't, do you hear me???" she cried out forcefully, only to completely break down after, weeping her soul out for the man she loved, for the child she carried and for her own heart that was breaking into a million pieces.
Unbeknownst to her, only inches away, her husband was going through exactly the same ordeal. Only that he was slowly but steadily nearing the verge of insanity as the pressure in his body, heart and soul kept building up to no limits, leaving him without a valve to let it out, though. His eyes had no tears to shed.
Eventually Harm gave in to the voice that, at the back of his mind, tried to lure him into letting go and getting rid of the pain. Lost in her grief, Mac didn't notice that the steady beeping of the heart monitor kept getting slower and slower.
Mon, Feb. 22nd 1502 ZULU Rabb residence Arlington, VA
Once again Mac braced herself and hoped her Marine mode would get her through this. During the weekend it had proven extremely difficult to get her mind off Harm for so much as a minute. But she had work to do. The admiral depended on her. And maybe work would be the only way she could get through this. So she had told Sturgis that she would gladly take over the first chair on the Cramer case as well, knowing he would object for the sake of her pregnancy but also knowing that they were extremely short on personnel. In the end he had given in, making her promise to let Fred and Bud do as much work for her as they could.
Squaring her shoulders and drawing a shaky breath, Mac managed to smile as Fred pulled up in their driveway to pick her up. 'You can do this, Marine.'
Fred got out, rounded the car and opened the door for her to get in. "Good morning, ma'am. How are you?" He gave her a smile of sincere compassion.
"Thanks, Fred, I'm well, given the circumstances," Mac replied quietly, fastening her seatbelt.
"How's the commander?" Fred started the engine and drove off.
Mac sighed, frowning. "No change since Friday night. After the short period of increased brain activity he's just totally dropped out again. Seems as if something inside him struggled and then just let go."
"Are you going to see him today?"
"After my appointment with Claire, yes. Could you maybe drop me off?"
"How are you going to get back, ma'am?"
"I'll take a cab, that's all right, Fred."
"Uhm, ma'am, I almost forgot," Fred pulled to the side and took a letter out of his inside pocket, "Claire told me to give you this to read before seeing her today. It's the results of your examination in New York. She says you might want to prepare a few questions."
"Thanks." Biting her lip, Mac opened the letter while Fred drove on. From the corner of his eye the young lieutenant saw her skim the lines, frown, swallow and quietly put the letter into her purse.
"If I may ask, ma'am... is Trisha okay?" Fred's voice once again sounded very formal, a sure sign that he was unsure if he could ask his superior officer such a personal question, regardless of whether she was a close friend or not.
"Not quite, but I'm still relieved," came Mac's reply. "From what the doctor in New York explained to me, Trisha's heart irregularities could very well have turned out a serious congenital heart defect. But the results show that the heart is in normal shape. Our little one appears to suffer from a very light form of myocardiac insufficiency, though, and we need to go easy on her during the first years as it seems. I'll ask Claire for the particulars. Anyway, I was fearing far worse and, luckily, this thing isn't anything we can't handle. Our child having a heart defect would have been the cherry on top right now," Mac tried an attempt at humor, aware that she was still picturing Harm and herself raising Trisha together.
For a while they were silent. From the way Fred tightly clutched the steering wheel and stared at the street, Mac could tell something was bothering him. "What's on your mind, Lieutenant?" she asked gently.
Nervously clearing his throat, Fred cast a quick glance to where she sat. "You are due in less than two weeks, ma'am, right?"
"Eleven days."
"That means you could have your baby every day now, right?"
"I guess." Mac waited for him to go on, not quite sure where this was leading.
"Do you... do you really think it wise that I should take over on the Chegwidden case, ma'am? I mean, the admiral needs every help that he can possibly get. And if you should be out of it, too, when your daughter decides she wants to be born, that would leave me of all people to defend the U.S. Navy's JAG against murder charges." Fred had spoken in a rush, clearly not feeling well in questioning her decision to have him join the team.
With a small smile, Mac put a reassuring hand on Fred's arm. "Don't worry. You'll do just fine, Fred. In the eight months that we've been working together you have proven yourself an excellent lawyer. You are very precise in your research - which is what you'll mainly do as long as I'm still on board - and you are a diplomat in court who wriggles testimonies out of witnesses in a rather unorthodox way, I give you that, but it turns out to be just as efficient as Harm's creative cross examinations or my no- nonsense direct approaches. And Sturgis has promised me to keep himself updated on the case so you'd have an extra-class second chair, should I really be totally out of the game. Which I won't, I promise."
"Aye, ma'am." Fred gave her a quick half-smile, seeming not entirely convinced, but a good deal light of heart than before. "Here we are." With that he maneuvered the car into a parking space directly in front of Sydney Walden's medical practice. He and Mac had agreed to once again try to find out the nature of Sydney's preoccupation. As the Danny-drug line had led to no results whatsoever, this seemed to be the only lead left.
A young urologist had agreed to act as a substitute for Sydney until the practice would be legally sold in Daniel Walden's name. Only few patients had dared to make an appointment yet, the situation of their doctor having been murdered making them feel uneasy. Mac and Fred stepped up to the reception desk.
"Good morning, Col. Rabb," the receptionist greeted her rather uneasily, casting an unsure look in the lieutenant's direction. By not, all of Washington had read about everyone's favorite guitar-playing Navy commander having been shot, probably in connection with the murder trial the U.S. Navy's JAG was facing. What a story!
"Good morning, Lisa," Mac returned the greeting. "My colleague will be taking over for my husband. Meet Lieutenant j.g. Federico Prumetti from the Italian Navy." Fred and Lisa exchanged quiet nods. Mac went on. "Could we just have a look at Doctor Walden's files again as far as they aren't liable to medical confidentiality?"
"Sure, follow me, please, ma'am, sir." Lisa led them into Sydney's deserted administrative office, leaving them alone.
"So, ma'am, what are we looking for?" Fred asked Mac, glancing at the many, many folders with a lost expression on his face.
Mac's chuckle was bitter. "Everything and nothing, Fred. Let's just get this over with." She grabbed the first case and settled down at Sydney's desk.
A little while later - Fred had just finished the D's whereas Mac wasn't even halfway through B - the office door opened and one of the nurses stepped into the room, carrying a tray with two water glasses and a couple of cookies.
"I thought, you might want some of these," she said smiling, throwing a knowing glance at Mac's impressive belly.
"Thanks, Stephanie, I do appreciate that." Mac's grateful smile was genuine. She was about to turn back to her folders when she became aware that the nurse hesitated to leave the room as if something were bothering her. "Was there anything else?"
"Uhm..." Stephanie looked around uneasily, eventually closed the door and motioned for Mac and Fred to move closer. Facing the officers' questioning glances, she put one hand under her coat and pulled out a small, dirty folder that she must have carried stuck in the waistband of her trousers. "Two days ago, I had to get an electric saw from Sydney's house 'cause we needed to repair a cupboard at the practice. I knew she kept it with her garden tools, and as I was looking for it in the small shed at the back of her lawn, I came across this. It was actually hidden in a sack of earth." She handed Mac the folder that, in spite of all the dirt, seemed to be a recent one. "I thought it might be of interest to you, that's why I... well... kind of confiscated it." She smiled a little guiltily.
Thumbing through the folder, Mac's curiosity rose. 'Testicular cancer...' she mused, 'Quite a few recent cases among Sydney's patients.' Reading on, she whistled softly under her breath as she came by a scientific abstract on regional clusters of testicular germ cell cancer being attributed to a certain chemical called dimethylfomamide that had been used, among other things, in the repair of exterior surfaces and electrical components of the airframes of F4 Phantom Jets and other aircraft before being substituted by less carcinogenic substances.
'This would definitely be something I'd want to discuss with a military lawyer,' Mac thought, thrilled that they might have their first actual clue at hand, but still unsure about the possible connection between the cancer cases mentioned in the medical article and those that had obviously occurred among Sydney's patients. Deciding that she would study the medical details later, she went on skimming the pages while Fred and Stephanie were patiently waiting for her reaction.
The missing link was supplied a few pages later on. There were notes that Sydney had obviously taken in a great hurry, somewhere outside as raindrops seemed to have washed away a few words. Sydney had described something she must have found somewhere in the woods near D.C., Mac would need to make out the exact location later on, trying to figure out what had been washed away. But it seemed that a certain waste disposal company by the name of Minton Greenwood had made easy money, getting rid of toxic waste by depositing it in the woods. From what Mac could make out this quickly, Sydney had located all her new testicular cancer patients' homes within a closely confined area, had gone looking around and had found the site by herself. A description of the exact whereabouts was given on the page Mac had just turned. Sydney had taken samples of the chemicals that she had found there and one of them had indeed turned out to be dimethylformamide.
With a grim smile, Mac looked up and met the expectant glances of her two onlookers. "Thank you very much, Stephanie," she said slowly. "I think you just supplied some essential evidence in Admiral Chegwidden's favor."
"I hope so, ma'am," the young nurse replied. "You know, we all liked him very much and we were sorry that things didn't work out between him and Sydney..."
"I need a favor of you, though, Steph," Mac went on, earnestly gazing at the eager young woman. "Is there a laboratory you send samples to? Chemicals for instance," she clarified.
"There is, ma'am. Doctor Walden used to see to those things herself but I think I know whom she turned to. Is there anything you would need me to check out for you?" she offered.
"Actually, yes, there is. I would need you to go and collect a few samples from the laboratory. They have already been analyzed, the results are in here. But we need to keep the original samples safe. They might be vital evidence as well. Could you do that for me without raising too many questions? You can refer to me if they ask who authorized you." Mac hoped the young woman wouldn't be afraid and back away now.
Luckily, Stephanie nodded without hesitation. "Of course, ma'am. I'll call you."
Mac rose, safely storing the file in her briefcase. "I'll photocopy it for you, Fred, so you can take your time and go over it thoroughly." Turning once again to the nurse, Mac offered her a handshake. "Thank you so much for your help. I promise we will keep our source of information confidential."
The nurse nodded, obviously relieved. "Thanks, ma'am."
Fred and Mac greeted the staff, exited the medical practice and two minutes later found themselves in the privacy of their car.
"Yes!!" they exclaimed unanimously, giving each other five. It was the first real laughter that escaped Mac's lips since Harm had been shot. She knew he would approve seeing her like this.
To be continued... (Feedback - as always - highly appreciated!)
From part five:
Taking a deep breath, Jeannine prepared to reply, unsure if she was ready for this, having been involved with Harm's brother for less than two months, having seen him only once after having been to Washington for Christmas. But she wanted to see Mac and be there for her, even if it was only for a few days, without having to impose on her hospitality, though. Mac had more than enough problems herself. And Jeannine somehow felt she could trust the younger Rabb just as she could the elder. "I could come over for Spring Break," she offered slowly, her heart beating a little quicker than usual, "If you let me stay with you."
Sergei's answer held a slightly hoarse edge, telling Jeannine that he, just like her, was precisely aware of the consequences that her staying with him might have for the two of them. Nevertheless, he agreed. "I think Mac would like having you around, Janutchka."
"What about you?" Jeannine couldn't help asking under her breath.
"Me, too," she heard him say just as low.
For a few seconds the silence hung heavily between the two ends of the phone line connecting Georgetown and Long Island. Then Sergei ventured a shy "Take care, little one."
"You, too."
"Dusvidunya, Yanina Andreyevna." [Good bye, Yanina Andreyevna.]
Wanting to surprise him, she answered with a phrase that she had trained to pronounce correctly with Mac's help. She smiled. "Dusvidunya, Sergei Harmonovitch."
Part Six:
Sat, Feb. 20th 0312 ZULU Bethesda Naval Hospital Washington, D.C.
It was the continuous, suppressed sobbing that first penetrated the thick fog that was clouding Harm's conscious. He felt a sudden wave of pain as he realized that it was none other than his Sarah crying desperately over something. Mac, crying desperately? What the heck had happened?
Trying to get his vision into focus, he became aware of the white wall he was staring at. And his ears suddenly recognized the steady beeping of a heart monitor. This had to be an intensive care unit. A dull, throbbing pain, obviously lessened by painkillers, made itself known somewhere in his gut. And suddenly he remembered. Maryann Cramer had shot him.
He noticed that his left hand was clasped between Mac's smaller ones. She was obviously stroking his palm with her thumb. ['Hey, Marine, I thought you knew that no one gets rid of Harmon Rabb easily.'] Thankful that she was with him and eager to relieve her from her apparent insecurity about his well-being, he tried to squeeze her hand in return. But strangely, his fingers didn't obey his brain.
He tried to turn his head in her direction but his muscles seemed to be on strike. Unable to fight the growing sense of doom inside himself, he tried to look at her but his eyes wouldn't comply. It felt as if they were glued to the spot, always bound to stare at the white wall. He tried to close them to concentrate on his other senses, but his eyelids wouldn't budge.
Damn, this couldn't be possible! There had had to be at least one tiny part of his body that he could still command! Finding his lips refusing their service, too, he tried to at least emit some sort of groan, to somehow make her see that he was with her, but his vocal chords were in deep hibernation. ['Okay, accelerate your breathing, then,'] he ordered himself. But his lungs seemed to function on autopilot, steadily inhaling and exhaling without caring if he wanted to or not. Desperate anger and raging pain hit him mercilessly as he finally understood his exact condition: he was in a perfect cocoon, aware of all that was going on around him, but completely incapable of communicating with the outside world. Cramer had done a thorough job, taking him out for good.
His inner turmoil didn't go unnoticed by his heart monitor, though. The steady beeping accelerated, making Mac suck in her breath and look up. She immediately saw that the green peaks on the oscillator that represented his heartbeat stood closer to one another. Starting to tremble, she pressed the 'call' button. A minute later, Zanelli entered the room.
"What is it, ma'am?" As he walked past his feet, Harm could get a glimpse of the Lieutenant Commander's concerned expression.
['I'm at Bethesda,'] he noted, keen on learning every detail about his present state.
"His pulse has gone up suddenly," Mac explained in a shaky voice.
Puzzled, Zanelli checked the readings on the many machines Harm was connected to.
"There is definitely some brain activity going on in there," he confirmed, trying not to show his excitement. This could mean everything. Better not get the colonel's hopes up too high. "I wouldn't be surprised if it were just a slight irregularity, ma'am, that wouldn't tell anything about your husband's actual condition," he went on cautiously, "But we could give it a try." Turning to Harm he raised his voice. "Commander Rabb, do you hear me?"
Harm felt Mac clasp his hand more firmly. ['Damn, yes, I hear you! Don't you doubt your monitor, man, you're my one ally at the moment,'] he implored the doctor.
"Commander!" Zanelli put a hand on Harm's shoulder and shook him rather fiercely.
Harm felt the force of his grip but his inward cry of pain wouldn't surface. ['I'll get you for that one, Commander, once I'm out of here,'] he silently swore.
"You try, please, ma'am," he heard Zanelli address Mac. "He knows your voice."
Mac once more tightened her grip on Harm's hand. "Harm. Harm! Do you hear me? It's me, Sarah! Harm!!" The last sound came out together with a sob.
['Mac...'] Harm tried to reach out to her, despair choking him. ['I'm right with you, honey, can't you see?']
Mac tried once more to call him and then slowly let go of his hand, taking her chair again. Zanelli silently placed a hand on her shoulder, hurting for the woman whose child would probably never know her father as who he had once been. The doctor then shook himself from his grief, knowing he had to keep a professional distance. Having administered Harm his eye drops, he left the room.
Mac let her head rest on her arms on top of Harm's bed. "If this is our future I can't live through it," she sobbed, fresh tears flowing freely. "I can't, do you hear me???" she cried out forcefully, only to completely break down after, weeping her soul out for the man she loved, for the child she carried and for her own heart that was breaking into a million pieces.
Unbeknownst to her, only inches away, her husband was going through exactly the same ordeal. Only that he was slowly but steadily nearing the verge of insanity as the pressure in his body, heart and soul kept building up to no limits, leaving him without a valve to let it out, though. His eyes had no tears to shed.
Eventually Harm gave in to the voice that, at the back of his mind, tried to lure him into letting go and getting rid of the pain. Lost in her grief, Mac didn't notice that the steady beeping of the heart monitor kept getting slower and slower.
Mon, Feb. 22nd 1502 ZULU Rabb residence Arlington, VA
Once again Mac braced herself and hoped her Marine mode would get her through this. During the weekend it had proven extremely difficult to get her mind off Harm for so much as a minute. But she had work to do. The admiral depended on her. And maybe work would be the only way she could get through this. So she had told Sturgis that she would gladly take over the first chair on the Cramer case as well, knowing he would object for the sake of her pregnancy but also knowing that they were extremely short on personnel. In the end he had given in, making her promise to let Fred and Bud do as much work for her as they could.
Squaring her shoulders and drawing a shaky breath, Mac managed to smile as Fred pulled up in their driveway to pick her up. 'You can do this, Marine.'
Fred got out, rounded the car and opened the door for her to get in. "Good morning, ma'am. How are you?" He gave her a smile of sincere compassion.
"Thanks, Fred, I'm well, given the circumstances," Mac replied quietly, fastening her seatbelt.
"How's the commander?" Fred started the engine and drove off.
Mac sighed, frowning. "No change since Friday night. After the short period of increased brain activity he's just totally dropped out again. Seems as if something inside him struggled and then just let go."
"Are you going to see him today?"
"After my appointment with Claire, yes. Could you maybe drop me off?"
"How are you going to get back, ma'am?"
"I'll take a cab, that's all right, Fred."
"Uhm, ma'am, I almost forgot," Fred pulled to the side and took a letter out of his inside pocket, "Claire told me to give you this to read before seeing her today. It's the results of your examination in New York. She says you might want to prepare a few questions."
"Thanks." Biting her lip, Mac opened the letter while Fred drove on. From the corner of his eye the young lieutenant saw her skim the lines, frown, swallow and quietly put the letter into her purse.
"If I may ask, ma'am... is Trisha okay?" Fred's voice once again sounded very formal, a sure sign that he was unsure if he could ask his superior officer such a personal question, regardless of whether she was a close friend or not.
"Not quite, but I'm still relieved," came Mac's reply. "From what the doctor in New York explained to me, Trisha's heart irregularities could very well have turned out a serious congenital heart defect. But the results show that the heart is in normal shape. Our little one appears to suffer from a very light form of myocardiac insufficiency, though, and we need to go easy on her during the first years as it seems. I'll ask Claire for the particulars. Anyway, I was fearing far worse and, luckily, this thing isn't anything we can't handle. Our child having a heart defect would have been the cherry on top right now," Mac tried an attempt at humor, aware that she was still picturing Harm and herself raising Trisha together.
For a while they were silent. From the way Fred tightly clutched the steering wheel and stared at the street, Mac could tell something was bothering him. "What's on your mind, Lieutenant?" she asked gently.
Nervously clearing his throat, Fred cast a quick glance to where she sat. "You are due in less than two weeks, ma'am, right?"
"Eleven days."
"That means you could have your baby every day now, right?"
"I guess." Mac waited for him to go on, not quite sure where this was leading.
"Do you... do you really think it wise that I should take over on the Chegwidden case, ma'am? I mean, the admiral needs every help that he can possibly get. And if you should be out of it, too, when your daughter decides she wants to be born, that would leave me of all people to defend the U.S. Navy's JAG against murder charges." Fred had spoken in a rush, clearly not feeling well in questioning her decision to have him join the team.
With a small smile, Mac put a reassuring hand on Fred's arm. "Don't worry. You'll do just fine, Fred. In the eight months that we've been working together you have proven yourself an excellent lawyer. You are very precise in your research - which is what you'll mainly do as long as I'm still on board - and you are a diplomat in court who wriggles testimonies out of witnesses in a rather unorthodox way, I give you that, but it turns out to be just as efficient as Harm's creative cross examinations or my no- nonsense direct approaches. And Sturgis has promised me to keep himself updated on the case so you'd have an extra-class second chair, should I really be totally out of the game. Which I won't, I promise."
"Aye, ma'am." Fred gave her a quick half-smile, seeming not entirely convinced, but a good deal light of heart than before. "Here we are." With that he maneuvered the car into a parking space directly in front of Sydney Walden's medical practice. He and Mac had agreed to once again try to find out the nature of Sydney's preoccupation. As the Danny-drug line had led to no results whatsoever, this seemed to be the only lead left.
A young urologist had agreed to act as a substitute for Sydney until the practice would be legally sold in Daniel Walden's name. Only few patients had dared to make an appointment yet, the situation of their doctor having been murdered making them feel uneasy. Mac and Fred stepped up to the reception desk.
"Good morning, Col. Rabb," the receptionist greeted her rather uneasily, casting an unsure look in the lieutenant's direction. By not, all of Washington had read about everyone's favorite guitar-playing Navy commander having been shot, probably in connection with the murder trial the U.S. Navy's JAG was facing. What a story!
"Good morning, Lisa," Mac returned the greeting. "My colleague will be taking over for my husband. Meet Lieutenant j.g. Federico Prumetti from the Italian Navy." Fred and Lisa exchanged quiet nods. Mac went on. "Could we just have a look at Doctor Walden's files again as far as they aren't liable to medical confidentiality?"
"Sure, follow me, please, ma'am, sir." Lisa led them into Sydney's deserted administrative office, leaving them alone.
"So, ma'am, what are we looking for?" Fred asked Mac, glancing at the many, many folders with a lost expression on his face.
Mac's chuckle was bitter. "Everything and nothing, Fred. Let's just get this over with." She grabbed the first case and settled down at Sydney's desk.
A little while later - Fred had just finished the D's whereas Mac wasn't even halfway through B - the office door opened and one of the nurses stepped into the room, carrying a tray with two water glasses and a couple of cookies.
"I thought, you might want some of these," she said smiling, throwing a knowing glance at Mac's impressive belly.
"Thanks, Stephanie, I do appreciate that." Mac's grateful smile was genuine. She was about to turn back to her folders when she became aware that the nurse hesitated to leave the room as if something were bothering her. "Was there anything else?"
"Uhm..." Stephanie looked around uneasily, eventually closed the door and motioned for Mac and Fred to move closer. Facing the officers' questioning glances, she put one hand under her coat and pulled out a small, dirty folder that she must have carried stuck in the waistband of her trousers. "Two days ago, I had to get an electric saw from Sydney's house 'cause we needed to repair a cupboard at the practice. I knew she kept it with her garden tools, and as I was looking for it in the small shed at the back of her lawn, I came across this. It was actually hidden in a sack of earth." She handed Mac the folder that, in spite of all the dirt, seemed to be a recent one. "I thought it might be of interest to you, that's why I... well... kind of confiscated it." She smiled a little guiltily.
Thumbing through the folder, Mac's curiosity rose. 'Testicular cancer...' she mused, 'Quite a few recent cases among Sydney's patients.' Reading on, she whistled softly under her breath as she came by a scientific abstract on regional clusters of testicular germ cell cancer being attributed to a certain chemical called dimethylfomamide that had been used, among other things, in the repair of exterior surfaces and electrical components of the airframes of F4 Phantom Jets and other aircraft before being substituted by less carcinogenic substances.
'This would definitely be something I'd want to discuss with a military lawyer,' Mac thought, thrilled that they might have their first actual clue at hand, but still unsure about the possible connection between the cancer cases mentioned in the medical article and those that had obviously occurred among Sydney's patients. Deciding that she would study the medical details later, she went on skimming the pages while Fred and Stephanie were patiently waiting for her reaction.
The missing link was supplied a few pages later on. There were notes that Sydney had obviously taken in a great hurry, somewhere outside as raindrops seemed to have washed away a few words. Sydney had described something she must have found somewhere in the woods near D.C., Mac would need to make out the exact location later on, trying to figure out what had been washed away. But it seemed that a certain waste disposal company by the name of Minton Greenwood had made easy money, getting rid of toxic waste by depositing it in the woods. From what Mac could make out this quickly, Sydney had located all her new testicular cancer patients' homes within a closely confined area, had gone looking around and had found the site by herself. A description of the exact whereabouts was given on the page Mac had just turned. Sydney had taken samples of the chemicals that she had found there and one of them had indeed turned out to be dimethylformamide.
With a grim smile, Mac looked up and met the expectant glances of her two onlookers. "Thank you very much, Stephanie," she said slowly. "I think you just supplied some essential evidence in Admiral Chegwidden's favor."
"I hope so, ma'am," the young nurse replied. "You know, we all liked him very much and we were sorry that things didn't work out between him and Sydney..."
"I need a favor of you, though, Steph," Mac went on, earnestly gazing at the eager young woman. "Is there a laboratory you send samples to? Chemicals for instance," she clarified.
"There is, ma'am. Doctor Walden used to see to those things herself but I think I know whom she turned to. Is there anything you would need me to check out for you?" she offered.
"Actually, yes, there is. I would need you to go and collect a few samples from the laboratory. They have already been analyzed, the results are in here. But we need to keep the original samples safe. They might be vital evidence as well. Could you do that for me without raising too many questions? You can refer to me if they ask who authorized you." Mac hoped the young woman wouldn't be afraid and back away now.
Luckily, Stephanie nodded without hesitation. "Of course, ma'am. I'll call you."
Mac rose, safely storing the file in her briefcase. "I'll photocopy it for you, Fred, so you can take your time and go over it thoroughly." Turning once again to the nurse, Mac offered her a handshake. "Thank you so much for your help. I promise we will keep our source of information confidential."
The nurse nodded, obviously relieved. "Thanks, ma'am."
Fred and Mac greeted the staff, exited the medical practice and two minutes later found themselves in the privacy of their car.
"Yes!!" they exclaimed unanimously, giving each other five. It was the first real laughter that escaped Mac's lips since Harm had been shot. She knew he would approve seeing her like this.
To be continued... (Feedback - as always - highly appreciated!)