Disclaimer: I don't own these people..I think that we all know that. Just
borrowing them for a little fun! :o) No profit is being made from this
piece, nor am I trying to violate any copyright laws.
Summary: Just a little speculation for what the cliff-hanger might be like that involves a pregnant Mac.
**Not good with Zulu time, so I just used military time. That way, I don't mess up, and you all know what time I want it to be.
In the Hands of the Enemy
Part 1
1100 hours May 15, 2003 Somewhere in Afghanistan
Stifling heat was the first thing that Colonel Sarah MacKenzie noticed; sweat was flowing from every pore in her body, soaking the elaborate outfit that she wore. She wanted to wipe her forehead, but something was stopping her. Trying desperately to clear the cobwebs from her head, she assessed her situation. She was lying on her stomach, in a small sort of shack, with her hands bound behind her back and tied to her feet.
"Good God, I've been hog-tied!" she muttered through gritted teeth as she pulled at the cords, testing their strength. Finding herself utterly immobilized, she dropped her head back to the ground with a groan. Unfortunately, this kicked up a cloud of dry dust, causing her to cough furiously. *Great, could things get any worse? I've got a throbbing headache, which means probably a concussion, I'm hog-tied, and now I'm choking on dust.* she thought furiously.
Finally calming down, she lay there breathing in the stale air of her prison. It smelled dankly of old sweat and something sweeter...blood. Raising her head to survey the ground, she found a drying pool of the dark red liquid next to where her head had lain. Judging from its size, she knew that she had not bled enough to seriously hinder her, though head wounds were never good.
She began twisting all around, craning her neck to inspect the building and its contents, hoping desperately to find something that she could use to free herself from her bonds. But much to her dismay, she was completely alone in the shack, just her and the dirt on the ground. *Geez, they didn't even leave any rocks in here* she observed as she scanned the land around her. *At least then I could have used one to maybe saw through these ropes.*
As she lay there pondering her limited options, her mind drifted back to what had happened to get her into this mess. As usual, she was on one of Webb's damn missions, and something went wrong...only this time, Harm wasn't here to help her.
2 days earlier
She had been searching the residence of Harim Masutu, a suspected Al Quaeda player. After monitoring his activities for days in Casoto, a small desert town in Afghanistan, Webb believed that they almost had enough information to arrest and prosecute him for acts of terrorism. But first he needed someone to copy the computer files from his PC that would hopefully lead to knowledge of more Al Quaeda members and their whereabouts.
This was where Mac came into play. She had been undercover in the town for nearly a week now watching him, playing the role of a recently widowed Afghani woman staying with her brother, who just happened to be Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez. And just to "spice things up," Webb had insisted that she should play the role of a pregnant woman, to make her less conspicuous. Wearing the extra padding around her middle had only made the days more miserable inside the typically stifling middle-eastern outfit she wore.
They had surveyed Masutu leaving his house about 20 minutes ago, headed in the direction of the local café where they assumed he would be having his habitual evening coffee. This meant that Mac and the marine computer specialist assigned to go in with her should have plenty of time to break into his house, access the computer, and copy the files before he returned.
Once inside the house, Mac had to admit that the new looking computer sitting atop an old, scarred desk looked rather ridiculous inside the otherwise poverty stricken dwelling. The marine, a Major Jeff Baldwin and local computer guru/hacker, quickly went to work on the machine. Booting up the system, he immediately began scanning programs and entering password options so quickly that Mac soon lost track of what all he was doing. She instead began to search through Masutu's other rooms, heading down a narrow hall toward the back of the house to search his bedroom first.
Upon entering the room, she immediately went to the small bureau, the only other piece of furniture in the room besides the narrow bed. As she reached for the first drawer, she heard a quiet *pop* followed by silence. Drawing her firearm out from under the folds of her clothes, Mac crept to the doorway of the room. Peering down the hall, she saw Major Baldwin slumped across the keyboard of the computer, his lifeless eyes staring into her own. Fighting off the shiver that swept her body, she watched as a tall man in camouflage came to stand in her line of vision as he inspected the neat bullet hole in the back of the Major's head. Easing silently out of the room, she walked swiftly down the hall until she had reached the man.
"Don't move unless you want a pretty hole to match the Major's," she said in fluent Farsi as she placed her gun to the back of his head. She felt him immediately tense up, and she added "and get rid of the weapon I know you have."
He slowly moved his right hand to his belt and withdrew the silenced pistol he had used. As he started to drop it to the floor, Mac caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and was barely able to jump forward as a bullet whizzed by her head. Catching the first man in front of her off guard, she knocked him into the desk and the dead marine's body in her haste to avoid the bullet, causing him to accidentally fire the gun he was holding. The man fell to the ground howling in pain as he held onto his left thigh, trying desperately to stop the blood gushing from his wound. Had the situation not been so dangerous, Mac would have afforded herself more than the split second it took her to smile at the man's obvious misfortune before diving behind the minimal cover that the computer and desk offered.
Sparks erupted above her as bullets struck the computer, and she shielded her head and face with her arms to avoid harm. When the shooting paused, she swung out from behind her hiding place and fired several shots before taking cover again. A few more shots rang out, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps as many people entered the house. In the following silence, Mac was filled with dread.
"I know that you realize that there are now far more people in the room," a cultured voice rang out in Farsi. "People who are not on your side, and they all have semi-automatic weapons trained on what is left of that desk you are hiding behind. So unless you want them to make Swiss cheese out of you just like they have the desk, you will come out slowly with your weapon in plain view."
Fighting off panic and an incredible urge to swear viciously, Mac reluctantly complied with his demands. Easing out from behind the desk with both hands in the air and the warm barrel of the gun in one, she guardedly approached the half a dozen men in the room. She noted that they were all dressed identically in the camouflage uniforms, just like the guy who had killed Major Baldwin and was now glaring up at her from the floor. Smoothing away a smile at the indignant expression on his face, she turned back to face who she suspected to be the leader. He was a bit shorter in stature than the other men in the room and not quite as well-muscled, but the smug expression on his face combined with the confidence emanating from his posture separated him from the rest.
She stood there silently, not moving except to place the gun on the floor and kick it toward a swarthy looking man off to her right when she was indicated to do so. Straightening back up, she unwaveringly met the gaze of the man before her. He held her stare for several moments before breaking into a smile.
"This is very good work you did here for a woman, but very foolish at the same time. Did you honestly believe that we had no idea what your CIA was planning?" His superior tone grated on Mac's last fragile nerve, but she forced herself to be outwardly composed as she remained silent.
"What was it that you and your, uh, friend were searching for in Mr. Masutu's computer? Were you, perhaps, looking for more bits of evidence to lead you to additional members of Al Quaeda?" He had begun pacing in front of her as he spoke, gesturing with his hands to emphasize the points he was making. After another long silence from Mac, he stopped in front of her frowning. "When I ask a question, woman, I expect to receive an answer!" he shouted as he reached out to roughly rip off the veil and headpiece that covered all but Mac's eyes.
Because they were standing so close, she could see the obvious appreciation in his eyes as her face was revealed to him. Maintaining her composure even when he reached out to stroke her cheek, she met his intentionally lustful gaze with a steady glare. He slapped her then, muttering a crude epithet, and strode back to stand before his men. Motioning them toward her, two of them approached her and seized her arms. One riffled about in her robes, finding the padded middle that was her "child" and violently ripped it out of her clothing. Another came forward to pat her down for additional weapons, finding nothing despite his overly-thorough inspection.
"You realize that you are all alone here, with no cavalry awaiting you outside," the leader said in a calm, calculated voice. "We located the vehicle down the street waiting for you, filled with marines and one irritating man in a suit. It didn't take long to send them to your God. I must admit, I did quite enjoy the looks of surprise on their faces when we pulled open the back doors of the vehicle and began firing. They knew that they did not have a chance."
Mac felt the blood involuntarily drain from her face as she suddenly went very still in the arms of the men holding her. *Irritating man in a suit..oh God, he must mean Webb!*
The last thing she remembered was the sly smile on the leader's face before the butt of a gun connected with the back of her head and her entire world went black.
Part 2
1100 hours May 15, 2003 JAG Headquarters
Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. suddenly sat up at his desk where he was working and stretched his hands over his head. Absently rubbing the back of his head, he wondered when that aspirin he had taken over an hour ago was going to kick in and dispel the headache that had been nagging at him all morning.
Shuffling through the finished papers on his desk, he sighed as he glanced out into the bullpen toward the direction of Mac's darkened office. She had been over in Afghanistan for nearly two weeks total now, and he wondered how much longer her mission for Webb would last. It killed him that he wasn't a part of the investigation with her, but the Admiral had insisted that he was needed in Washington and ordered him to stay.
He actually knew very little about what it was that she was doing over there; just that it was something for Webb that involved her working undercover. With her dark good looks and vast knowledge of Farsi and the associated culture, she was a perfect candidate for the job. Unfortunately, that is also why he was not selected to go with her - his all American looks and limited knowledge would have fooled no one.
Automatically he picked up the framed picture of him and Mac that she had given him for Christmas that sat on his desk; he had been repeating this gesture several times a day, ever since she had left for the Middle East. He wondered if the Admiral had heard from either her or Webb recently to know what was going on. He made a mental note to himself to discuss it with him later.
A timid knock at his door startled him from his revere, and he looked up to see Lieutenant Harriet Sims standing in the doorway. Carefully placing the picture back in its featured place on his desk, he motioned her into the room.
Harriet had to suppress a smile as she entered at his indication. She was sure that she wasn't the only one who had noticed how lost the Commander looked with his partner gone, or how frequently he could be seen gazing at that picture of the two of them or across the bullpen to her office. Maybe, just maybe, something more would finally start to develop between those two. But then again, that could have just been the wishful speculation of her naturally romantic soul.
"Sir, the Admiral would like to see you in his office ASAP," she told him.
10 minutes later
"Sir, Commander Rabb to see you, sir." Petty Officer Tiner presented him to Admiral Chegwidden.
"Thank you, Tiner. Enter Commander," was the gruff reply heard within.
Harm walked through the door, carefully shutting it behind him, and stood at attention before his CO. After a pause, the Admiral looked up from the papers he had been studying on his desk, and Harm was surprised to see the worried and strained look in his eyes. He sat when indicated.
"Commander, I have received word from Webb's superiors who set up the mission that Colonel MacKenzie has been on," the Admiral began.
"Sir, if I may, I thought that you had previously been communicating directly with Webb?" Harm cut in curiously.
"Yes, I had, but Mr. Webb is not in a condition to do much talking right now," the Admiral explained. "It seems that the Colonel and a Major Baldwin were investigating the residence of the suspected Al Quaeda member that had been under surveillance when things went awry. The vehicle waiting them outside, with Webb and several Marines in it, was attacked by hostiles. They were all left for dead, but somehow Webb was still alive when they got to him. He is at one of our base hospitals now in Germany. He was pretty banged up, but expected to make a full recovery." The Admiral paused in his narration.
Harm sat up a little straighter in his chair, his eyes widening. "Sir, what happened with the Colonel and the Major?" Harm asked, knowing that he was not going to like the answer.
"Well Commander, I was just getting to that if you would be quiet and let me tell the story!" The tone of the Admiral's voice conveyed his frustration with the junior officer before him, but also indicated how very upset he was about the situation over seas.
"Sorry, sir," was Harm's contrite reply.
"As I was going to say," the Admiral continued with a pointed look at Harm, "the marines that found the others in the van then went into the house where the Colonel and the Major were. They found the Major, dead, and no sign of the Colonel, except for her head veil and the padding that the Colonel had been wearing to make her appear pregnant."
"Do they have any idea where she was taken, or who has her?" Harm questioned urgently.
"All that we know is she was taken by some local hostiles.." The Admiral trailed off. ".and, we suspect that the group was led by Astofo Atef, Kabir Atef's first cousin"
"Well, do they have any idea at all where they are keeping her?"
"They are working on it, Commander." The Admiral replied patiently. He really felt quiet sorry for the obviously upset young man standing in front of him. "I will keep you informed as the situation progresses. Dismissed."
"Aye, aye sir."
Part 3
1330 hours May 15, 2003 Afghanistan
"Ugh!" Mac groaned. She gradually allowed her tensed up muscles to relax, giving her fingers and her body a much needed break. She had found that if she arched her back as far as she could then she could reach the complicated knot binding her hands to her feet. But after an hour of working on it with her now bloody fingers, she knew that she had made little progress. Frustrated, she lay there catching her breath.
Absently she allowed her mind to wander, and she wondered what Harm was doing. Surely word of her disappearance had made it back to Washington by now, and she knew that her stubborn partner would try to do everything in his power to come after her. She hoped that the Admiral would be able to keep him in Washington, especially if Harm was ordered to do so, though this wouldn't be the first time he disobeyed orders for a friend.
*Friend* she thought warily. *Yes, I suppose that's all we are now, despite our mutual feelings. Face it, Sarah, you do want him to come over here looking for you. You, a United States Marine and the token damsel in distress, want to be rescued by your knight in shining armor. Ha, more like an aviator in fatigues. But I wouldn't want it to be any other aviator.."
The sound of heavy footsteps outside the shack stirred Mac from her thoughts as she glanced toward the door. It suddenly swung open, lighting up the dim interior and blinding her long enough for two faceless figures to enter the room. One of them cut the bonds binding her hands to her feet, then also the cord around her ankles. They roughly pulled her to her feet and half-drug her out of the shack. When they got outside they paused a moment, and Mac tried desperately to regain some of her composure by standing on her own. However, her body had remained in the hog-tied position for far too long, and she could not get her numb feet to work for her. A bit humiliated, she allowed the men to continue to drag her across the camp to another run-down looking building.
Crossing the threshold, they roughly threw her into the single, solitary chair in the dismal room. Tying her securely to the piece of furniture, they turned and went to guard the door as another man, the one who had led the raid on her and the Major in Masutu's house, entered. Standing before her in the at ease position, he looked down on her with the same smug expression he had worn the last time she had seen him. Though she bristled internally at his arrogance, the face she presented him was devoid of expression. Chuckling, he began pacing slowly in front of her.
"So, you are awake now. I had feared that perhaps I had allowed Hamid to hit you too hard with his gun, for he was quite angry over shooting himself in the leg because of you, and then I would not get to talk with my beautiful prisoner again. Although, as I recall, it was mostly me doing the talking last time, wasn't it?" The grin that followed sickened her, and she struggled to withhold her disgust and contempt. Carefully noting that he now was speaking fluent English to her, she vowed to remain as silent as possible by willing all emotion from her face.
Temporarily pausing in front of her, Astofo regarded the determined expression on the woman's surprisingly lovely face. *It will be a shame to have to mar such beauty, but orders are orders.*
"Well, I believe first that introductions are in order," he started as he began to pace again. "I am Astofo Atef, cousin of Kabir Atef, the man that nearly succeeded in hitting one of your warships with a nuclear weapon." He paused then, noting the brief flicker of awareness crossing her features before they settled again into their stony mask. Looking at her, he said, "This is the part in the introduction where you give me your name, preferably with your rank and division of the armed forces so that I truly understand who it is I am talking to."
Receiving dead silence for his answer, he raised his voice, "Oh come now, woman. This silence of yours is growing old rather quickly. But here, let me tell you what I already believe to know about you. You are an American, most likely a Marine because of the men also with you on the mission. However, I have been told that other branches of the military also work intimately together, so we will leave that possibility open for now. You speak our language fluently, according to Hamid, and even possess a little humor in you. And judging from your earlier reaction, you were also close to someone in that van that was killed, perhaps the man in the suit?"
At this point in his speculation, Mac's impassive countenance faltered as her eyes involuntarily widened. She had forgotten about Webb. *Oh, poor Harm. I wonder if he knows about that already too..*
Astofo watched the woman's face carefully, noting the sadness now present in her expressive brown eyes. He had struck a nerve with the mention of the man in the suit. Perhaps he had been wrong on his assessment of her being military and she was CIA, though something in her posture and determination indicated otherwise. Shrugging to himself, he acknowledged that it didn't really matter. Either way, she would die in the end once her usefulness had ceased.
Stepping forward, he roughly took her face in his hand. "You had best give up whatever silly notion in your head that keeps you in silence. I am fast losing my patience with this game you are playing, and I will see my questions answered!"
Mac felt the bruising fingers painfully digging into her flesh tighten momentarily before releasing her. He made as if to walk away from her, then whirled around swiftly, catching her off guard as he struck her across the face. Reeling from the blow, she gasped. Then, steeling herself for the next blow she saw coming, she tried to give with it as he hit her in order to minimize the pain. But she couldn't avoid the swift punch to the stomach he dealt then. Over and over he hit her, taking out his frustrations on her weakening body as she had many times done with her punching bag at home.
Though she was in great shape, she knew that her body couldn't withstand much more of his violent abuse. Reverting to a tactic that had worked as a child when her father went on one of his drunken rampages, she closed her mind to the pain and focused instead on "happy thoughts." Involuntarily, her mind went to Harm.
She could see him there in his apartment when he had insisted on making her dinner before she left. She had told him that he was acting silly, but she secretly enjoyed all of the effort he was obviously making when she saw the candlelit table and incredible amount of food laid out. His cooking had been absolutely delicious, and afterwards they had sat together on his couch talking easily with each other as they always did. When it began to get close to midnight, Mac had stood to go, and Harm walked with her to the door. He had helped her put on her light jacket in the doorway, and even followed her out in to the hall and over to the elevator. When she opened up the gate to go, he had taken hold of her hand and stopped her. Slowly, he had drawn her to him, enveloping her in a gentle, tender hug. Automatically, she had lain her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes so that she would be aware of only the man she was with. She would never forget his worried expression when she closed the gate between them, and him telling her to be careful or he would have to come over and save her Marine butt. God, how she wanted him here now. It suddenly hit her then that she may never see him again, and she wasn't prepared for the effect it had on her. Unbidden tears sparked her eyes as she silently implored God to help her get out of this mess alive.
She was brought sharply back to the present with the realization that Astofo had stopped hitting her. He stood before her angrily, still breathing heavily with exertion. Raising her pounding head, she met his gaze through her rapidly swelling eyes. *This man, who killed Webb, will surely kill me before anyone finds me..and I will never see Harm again.* A lone tear escaped her left eye, running slowly down her bruised face before dripping off of her chin. The last thing she saw before passing out was his satisfied smirk at that single tear.
Astofo watched as the woman allowed a solitary tear to escape her right before she lost consciousness. He had beaten her hard, as was evident by the terrible bruising and cuts on her face. Motioning to the guards at the door, he ordered them to return her to her prison, but told them not to bother with hog-tying her this time, only to make sure her feet and hands were secure. Rubbing his swelling fist as he followed them out the door into the sunlight, he was glad that he had never been raised with the silly American idea of never hitting a girl.
1400 hours Same day JAG Headquarters
"Bud, I think you should go talk to the Commander. He must be really upset." Harriet poked her husband in the side as she looked at the closed blinds covering his office windows.
"Harriet! Of course he's upset! The Colonel has been kidnapped by terrorists, and nobody has even the slightest idea where she is!" Bud replied back in typical Bud fashion.
"Oh, Bud!" she said, slightly exasperated. "I know that you don't have the answer to the problem, but I just don't think that he should be alone right now. It's always hard when someone you love is in danger."
"Someone he loves? But he and the Colonel are just friends.." He trailed off as Harriet began pushing him toward the Commander's office.
"Bud, just go in there and talk to him. At least make sure that he isn't planning on doing something that could get him in trouble, like disobeying an order to go look for her." With that, she gave her reluctant husband a final shove to the Commander's doorway.
As Bud raised his hand to knock, he looked through one of the broken blinds to make sure that he wasn't interrupting the Commander in the middle of something important. What he saw halted his fist in mid-knock. The Commander was sitting at his desk staring intently at the framed picture of him and the Colonel. He picked up the picture and pressed it to his chest, as if hugging the image of her would keep her safe. Returning the object to its spot, his whole body seemed to slump down defeatedly as he dropped his head into his hands.
Bud felt embarrassed standing there watching him. He backed away from the glass and rapped sharply on the door. After several seconds he heard a tired "Enter" from within, and he stepped into the office. Bud noticed that Harm still had a worried look on his face, but had regained most of his broken composure.
"What is it, Bud?" Harm asked wearily.
"Well, sir," the junior officer began. "I just thought that I would stop in and see how you were doing, and also check and see if there was further word on the Colonel."
"I haven't been told anything else, Bud," Harm replied. "But the Admiral promised to keep me up to date on all news and leads that they had on her whereabouts or who might have taken her..." Bud didn't miss the fact that his gaze was now resting on the picture again. Shaking himself slightly, Harm looked up into Bud's face as he said, "In fact, I was just going to go see him about that. Excuse me, please." Harm rushed past Bud without giving him time to answer.
"Tiner, I need to see the Admiral ASAP," Harm said urgently to the young man behind the desk.
Tiner buzzed the intercom: "Sir, Commander Rabb to see you."
"Send him in, Tiner," came the reply.
Harm immediately opened the door and stepped into his superior's office. Closing the door behind him, he stood at attention before Admiral Chegwidden's desk.
"Sir, I was just wondering if there had been further word on the investigation into Colonel MacKenzie's disappearance."
The Admiral raised his eyebrows. "There is Commander; I was just going to send Tiner to get you. Have a seat." The Admiral noticed that Harm remained on the edge of the chair, his entire body tensed for whatever the Admiral had to say. It wasn't like he could blame him; the tension in the entire office had been palpable all day long. The Colonel was very well liked here, and everyone wanted her back safely.
"I have just been informed that we now believe we know who it was that took her. His name is Astofo Atef. They are still working on locating his camp, but as soon as they do, they will send in a Marine Recon unit to raid the area and find her."
"Sir, request permission to go to Afghanistan and be part of the raid." Harm asked immediately.
"Commander, by the time you get there, the raid may already be complete and they could have her back. It would be a waste of time and money to send you over seas just to turn around and come right back."
"Sir, please! Let me go over there; I could be of some help to them, and I know that the Colonel is going to want to see a friendly face after they get her out of that Hell." Harm argued passionately.
The Admiral frowned as he stared at his desktop, deliberating on all that Harm had just said. He knew that Harm would find a way to get to his partner no matter what he said, even if it came to disobeying a direct order. He didn't want to be the one to end such a brilliant career by issuing said order. Looking up to meet Harm's intense gaze, he knew that he needed to tell him something else first.
"Harm, you do realize that there is a chance that she may not be in the camp when they find it..or that she may be dead. She's already been in their custody for 2 and a half days; there's no telling what they could have done to her by now." The Admiral paused to swallow back the lump in his throat. "I want to believe that they will find her soon and alive, but we both have to be realistic. We are a nation at war, and she is a prisoner of the enemy."
Throughout the Admirals speech Harm could feel his heart drop. He hadn't allowed himself to even consider that she may not be alive when he got to her. Thinking about it now brought the unfamiliar sting of tears to his eyes, but he blinked them back rapidly before the Admiral saw them. Swallowing several times, he asked again in a voice husky with emotion. "Sir, request permission to go to Afghanistan."
"Permission granted."
Part 4
0100 hours May 16, 2003 Al Quaeda Camp Afghanistan
Mac felt like she was drowning; she was having a terrible nightmare. Harm had come to find her, and he was almost to her when he fell into a quicksand trap. Mac, suddenly free of her bonds, rushed to the edge of the pit just as his outstretched hand disappeared beneath the surface. Plunging her own hand in, she tried to find his to no avail. Leaning over further, she fell in also. She could feel herself sinking in the heavy mud as she screamed for help, crying out to Harm even though she knew that he was already gone.
The guard standing outside her shack jerked awake when he heard her cry out. Entering the building, he saw her thrashing around on the floor moaning and sobbing an English word over and over again. It sounded like she was saying "Harm," but his limited knowledge of the language didn't include that word. Squatting down beside her he grasped her shoulders and shook her roughly. Her tear streaked eyes opened as much as they could through the bruising and swelling as she tried to focus on him. She moaned and flinched away from his fingers digging into her hurt flesh. He realized that he was hurting her, and gently laid her back to the ground. Whimpering softly, she began mumbling something. He leaned down near her bloody lips and was finally able to discern the Farsi word for water. He left swiftly to retrieve a cup for her.
When he returned, he sat down next to her and tried to make her drink. Her hungry lips sucked at the edge of the cup, but she tried to take in too much. The water in her mouth tasted like blood from her lips and choked her since she was lying down. She began to cough violently. The hard movement pained her terribly, and she was now sure that she had several broken ribs. The guard felt sorry for her as he watched her struggle. He laid the cup aside and gently lifted her to an upright position to help clear her airway. Allowing her to lean against his body for support, he brought the cup back to her lips.
"Sip it," he ordered gruffly, and she obeyed. Taking very slow swallows, she managed to finish the rest of the cup. Trying hard to smile appreciatively through the pain as he laid her back down, she whispered thanks before losing consciousness again. The guard just shook his head at her, feeling great sympathy for this American woman who looked and spoke just like him. She made it hard for him to hate her.
1030 hours
Mac struggled to open her eyes. At first she thought that maybe they had blindfolded her, but then realized that her eyes were practically swollen shut. Her entire body ached, each breath bringing a new wave of pain. Fighting off panic, Mac forced her breathing to be shallow. In, out. In, out. She concentrated on keeping a steady, slow rhythm while she tried to assess the rest of her body. Though she was no longer hog-tied, her arms and legs were still numb from being tied in the same position for so long. Where she hurt the most was her mid-section and her head. She remembered the majority of the blows landing in those two places the night before during her interrogation. Astofo had beat her much harder than she had expected him to during her first questioning, and she desperately hoped that he wouldn't subject her to another round again today.
The guard on duty outside came in then, and she flinched away from him. As he got closer to her she could see that it was the same man she dimly remembered from last night. Her hopes raised as she searched both his hands for a cup of water. What she saw was a blade, and he knelt down to cut her ankle bonds. Looking into her eyes he watched the panic set in as she realized what was happening. He lifted her, and with the help of another guard, they escorted her back to the same building she had been in before.
Mac offered up a quick, desperate prayer to God for strength as they crossed the threshold. Once seated and tied in the chair, she lifted her head to look resolutely into Astofo's cold, hard eyes.
"Are we playing the same game again, woman?" He questioned tiredly. He rubbed the sore knuckles of his right hand, now enclosed in a leather glove to cushion them. After being answered with only her heavy silence, he sighed, "Ah, well. We will see how much longer you hold out with this game. For your sake, I do hope it ends soon."
And then the beating began.
When it was finally over, the guards returned her, barely conscious, to her prison. She was dimly aware of being laid roughly on the ground, and the feel of the coarse rope used to retie her ankles biting into the open sores on her skin. She passed out temporarily from the pain.
She woke again 10 minutes later when the guard gently nudged her. He had water in his hand again, and Mac longed to feel the cool liquid on her broken lips. When he sat her up as before and placed it to her bloody lips, she tried calmly to sip it. But there was so much blood in her mouth, and she began to choke. Bending away from him, she started to vomit. She hadn't eaten in several days, and her stomach had long since digested all that was in it. The guard mercifully held her up from the ground when she would have fallen face down in the dirt as she dry heaved.
When her stomach finally stopped heaving, she opened her eyes. Looking down in the dirt, she saw that she had vomited blood. Knowing that wasn't good, but also realizing that there was nothing at all she could do about it, she indicated to the guard that she didn't want any more water. He laid her down in the dirt, away from the spot where she had vomited, and left the tent.
*Oh God, please help me. Harm, I need you. Please find me..hurry.*
Part 5
2330 hours May 16, 2003 US Marine camp Casoto, Afghanistan
Harm leapt out of the jeep as it squealed to a halt outside of the main tent. Entering the tent, he headed straight for the highest ranking person he saw present.
"Evening, Colonel. I'm Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., JAG Corps and Colonel MacKenzie's partner." Harm introduced himself.
The stern looking Colonel raised one eyebrow at Harm and pulled his cigarette out of his mouth to speak. "Nice to meet you Commander. I'm Colonel Thomas Jackson. What can I do for you?"
"Sir, I'm here to assist you in any way possible during the rescue of Colonel Mackenzie."
Looking him over for several seconds, the Colonel seemed to decide that he liked what he saw. "Nice to have you on board, Commander. Let me tell you what we know."
Speaking as he walked, he led Harm over to a table with a large map spread out on it. "We now are certain that Astofo Atef's troops are the ones who took her. According to our intel, we believe that his camp is located here." He indicated a circled area of desert on his map. "This is about 30 miles west of here. The suits in Washington wanted to wait longer in order to be sure that we weren't on some wild goose chase, but I didn't agree with them. I know what those people can do to a prisoner, especially a woman, and I didn't want her to be with them any longer than necessary. She's already been with them too damn long as it is, and I'm afraid to think about what we may find." He trailed off, carefully studying his cigarette butt before stubbing it out in an ashtray.
"Sir, the Colonel is very tough and can handle herself. She's taken my butt to the mat several times in the past. I'm sure that she is holding her own, though I agree that it is past time to get her out of there." Harm stated with more confidence than he actually felt.
Colonel Jackson regarded him closely, before leading him deeper into the tent. "We go in tonight to capture suspected Al Quaeda and retrieve her. I am assuming you will want to be part of the effort." At Harm's nod, he continued. "We leave in 2 hours, so if you want to grab a quick nap, the Corporal here will lead you to an available cot."
"Thank you, sir." Harm nodded to the Colonel as he left, following the sandy haired Corporal to another tent full of cots.
"I will come back to wake you when it's time to get ready for the raid," he said.
"Thanks. I appreciate it." Harm stretched out on the cot as the Corporal left the tent and tried to sleep. Though his mind was wired, his body was exhausted from the hard day of travel, and he soon fell into a troubled sleep.
He was in a desert camp all alone. Looking around him he saw neither friend nor foe, only the empty buildings and tent flaps moving in the light breeze. He was gripped with a sense of urgency as he ran from building to building searching desperately for Mac.
Finally, he had been in every structure but one, and he stood before it looking up at the formidable building. Entering the building he was presented with a corridor. He began to run, racing down the bending hallways. Left. Right. Right. Left. Frantically he continued his crazy journey, becoming hopelessly lost in the maze. But he couldn't turn back, and he couldn't stop.
He rounded a final bend and stopped in front of the closed door before him. When he stretched out his hand to turn the knob, he saw that it was trembling. He pushed open the door slowly. The room was in total darkness, the only bit of light being the rectangular glow from the hall. His heart stopped at what he saw.
Mac was lying on the floor in the small patch of light, a puddle of blood surrounding her. He fell to his knees next to her and gathered her limp body in his arms. As he looked into her beautiful, bruised face, he felt tears stinging his eyes. One tear slipped out as he leaned down to kiss her forehead gently. When he looked at her again, his tear was on her cheek, running slowly down her still face.
He was struck by how beautiful she appeared, even in death, and suddenly he could no longer withhold his tears. He gathered her closer to him, kissing her cheek, her closed eyelids, her nose, and finally her mouth. A harsh sob escaped him as he remembered what that sweet mouth had tasted like in life, so warm and soft, so unlike the cold, pale skin he tasted now.
Overcome with his grief he sat there holding her in his lap, her head cradled gently against his chest that shook with sobs. He rested his cheek against her still soft hair, soaking the strands with the tears coursing down his face.
"Sarah! I love you, Sarah. Please...I'm sorry. Please forgive me, Sarah. Sarah.."
0045 hours May 17, 2003 Al Quaeda Camp Afghanistan
Mac's eyes fluttered open slowly. She looked around, disoriented by the absolute darkness around her. She tried to move and searing pain racked her body; with it came a flooding remembrance of the past few days. She groaned softly to herself.
*Oh, Harm. Where are you? Why haven't you found me yet? I don't know how much longer I can hold out, and I know that Astofo grows tired of my silence. I know he's going to kill me soon. Please, come quickly, Harm.*
As she began to slip into unconsciousness again, she heard them coming for her once more. She began to tremble uncontrollably, trying desperately to keep from crying out all the pain and fear welling up inside as they picked her up and drug her out of the shack. But despite her resolve the tears came, coursing down her face in rivulets to sting her many open cuts and bruises.
Sobbing, she cried out, "Harm! Harm!" When they threw her into the same chair as before, her abused body finally gave up, and she mercifully slipped into unconsciousness.
0045 hours May 17, 2003 Marine Camp Afghanistan
"SARAH!!" Harm yelled as he shot straight up in his cot. "Sarah...Sarah.." he whispered, struggling to catch his breath. He collapsed back against his pillow with his chest heaving. Reaching up to wipe his face he felt the tears still running down his cheeks. He wiped at his eyes, drying away the moisture while his mind raced.
What was his subconscious trying to tell him? He knew Mac was still alive; deep in his heart, he just knew that she was. But a strong anxiety was now gripping him, urging him to get to her quicker. He stood up then, rushing out of the tent and right past the Corporal coming to wake him.
He found the Colonel in the same tent he had been in when he left him, smoking a cigarette as he studied the map on the table. The older man looked up and was shocked to see the wild look on the Commander's face.
"Sir, we have to leave now! If we don't get there soon, it will be too late!" Harm implored the Colonel. The man regarded Harm, shocked by the urgency in his voice and expression. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and looked at him closely. Without warning, he turned and yelled.
"Corporal, tell all the men they've got 10 minutes to suit up if they want to join us in the effort to kick some ass and save Colonel Mackenzie. We are leaving now!"
The wide-eyed Corporal turned and ran in the direction of another tent where the marines in the camp were gathered. Soon, they all scattered, each heading out in search of the required gear for the night raid.
"Son, I think that you had better find yourself some different clothes if you plan on participating," the Colonel observed quietly. Looking down, Harm realized that he was still in his wrinkled khaki uniform. He glanced up and nodded before following the other men in the camp.
*Hold on, Mac. I'm coming!*
Part 6
0130 hours May 17, 2003 Al Quaeda Camp Afghanistan
Astofo paced angrily in front of Mac's unmoving body tied to the chair. She had been unconscious for almost an hour now, and he was growing impatient for her to wake up. He lightly slapped her cheek repeatedly, calling out "Woman" each time, but she didn't move. For the second time in three minutes he pressed his two fingers to her neck, checking for a pulse. It was still there, a faint, thready beat under his finger tips. She was still alive, for now.
With a frustrated yell, he backed away from her. It wouldn't do for him to beat her when she wasn't awake; then he could not receive any answers if she was now ready to talk. But his superiors were growing impatient waiting for him to make the American woman talk. He would give her one more chance when she woke up, if she woke up. He would explain that it was her last chance to save herself by telling him what he wanted to know. It would be the only way she would receive a quick, painless death. If she still refused, then he would kill her anyway, but it would be much, much worse than the bullet to her head that he had planned. There were many men in his camp who knew very slow, painful means of dying, and he would turn her over to them. Though he didn't always approve of their methods, it would be out of his hands.
Turning to leave, he stopped only to make sure the guard let him know the moment she woke up. Astofo was beginning to feel anxious, as if something was going to happen soon that he didn't know about. He just wanted to get done with this business concerning the woman as soon as possible. Then maybe they would receive new orders and move their camp somewhere else. Angrily, he stormed out of the building and headed out into the night sky.
0145 May 17, 2003 Afghanistan
Several Marine jeeps were racing across the desert, leaving plumes of dust in the night sky. Stopping about a mile from the enemy camp, they set off on foot the rest of the way. When they reached the outer perimeter of the camp, they stopped.
Harm lay in the dirt next to Colonel Jackson, watching the older man's face closely as he observed the camp through a pair of night vision binoculars. He quietly stated positions of guards and other men awake in the camp, which were then repeated down the line of soldiers laying in the darkness.
"On my word, we move in. Let's be as quiet about this as we can for as long as possible. We are to take prisoners when we can, but shoot to kill when threatened." The Colonel reviewed his orders to his men one last time. Then, glancing once more through the binoculars, he whispered emphatically, "Let's go!"
0145 hours May 17, 2003 Al Quaeda Camp Afghanistan
Mac lifted her head slowly to look at the man standing before her. She was in the interrogation room again, but this time it was different. Every other time she had been in here, it had been during the day. Now, at night, she realized that there was no electricity in here; the only light came from three candles placed on the ground throughout the room. The obvious malice on Astofo's shadowed face made her stomach turn and clenched her heart with fear. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his eyes filled with hatred for her as they glowed in the dim light.
He stepped toward her slowly, deliberately, determined. Involuntarily, her body began to quake, imperceptibly at first but quickly increasing in severity the closer he got until the chair was making a faint scratching sound against the ground. His grin got wider when he observed this. If Mac could have painted a picture of the Devil at this moment, she would have described his face as it was now. The hatred in his dark eyes, the shadows flickering over his face from the candles in the room, the sickly white gleam of his teeth; all this combined to plunge the steel dagger of fear deep within her heart. As he began to speak to her, pleading with her to talk now while she still had the chance, she realized instinctively that it would all end tonight. Whether she now spoke to him or not, one way or another, she was going to die.
She didn't bother to stop the tears that ran freely down her face when he began to hit her again. She resigned herself to the fact that she would now never make it home. *Good bye, Harm. I'm sorry that I couldn't be stronger for you...I love you..I always did.*
She lost consciousness right before gunshots erupted outside in the camp.
Part 7
0200 hours May 17, 2003 Al Quaeda Camp Afghanistan
Harm felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he and the other Marines moved into the camp. The Colonel moved off to his right and jumped a guard from behind, delivering a quick chop to the back of his neck to put him out of commission. Harm glanced all around him as the other Marines were doing the same thing, quietly taking out the different guards around the camp.
Suddenly gunshots erupted off to his left, and Harm whirled around quickly. A Marine was bending over the now dead body of a rebel soldier, but the sound had wakened the entire camp. Harm looked around, taking in all of the buildings, and his gaze focused in on a building to the right that appeared to be set apart from the others. He broke off in a dead run for the building, oblivious to all of the shooting now going on around him.
He reached the building and burst through the door. He turned his flashlight on and swept it across the ground. His intent gaze took in the several puddles of dried blood in the dirt as he knelt down and picked up one of the many severed pieces rope strewn about the interior. He fingered it carefully, noting that the blood had not yet dried on the cord he held. *God, please. I know she was still alive not too long ago. Please, please, please don't let me be too late!*
He eased out of the door and pressed himself against the wall of the building. The two sides were still deeply involved in their shoot out, but the good guys appeared to be winning. Harm scanned the camp from this new angle, his eyes searching desperately for a building where Mac might be. Just then a spray of bullets ricocheted all around him off the walls; one grazed his left arm, ripping through the skin and immediately soaking his sleeve with blood.
"Shit!" he yelled as he dove to the ground for cover and returned fire, quickly taking out the tall man who had shot him. He jumped back to his feet and dashed across the camp, running blindly as he fired randomly at the dark-looking men.
He stopped in a doorway across the camp, his chest heaving. He could feel the pulse standing out in his neck as his heart thudded wildly. He turned and glanced through the window of the door he was leaning against and gasped loudly at what he saw. There, in the middle of the room, was Mac. She was obviously bound to the old wooden chair that she sat upon, and her head drooped on her chest.
Harm pushed his way into the building without thinking, his only concern to make sure that Mac was still alive. When he was only a few paces into the room, someone hit him at the base of his skull with the butt of a gun. The force of the blow knocked him to the ground in front of Mac's chair, and his large automatic weapon skidded across the floor out of his reach.
"So, you have come to save the stubborn American woman, have you? Tell me something soldier, did you know her?" Astofo taunted Harm, his weapon trained on the back of Harm's head.
Harm's head felt like it was going to explode as he lay face down in the dirt. Lifting his head slightly, he saw Mac's ankles right in front of him. They were bloody and raw from strain and days of being bound together. Dirt stuck to the open wounds in some places, making Harm wince with sympathy for her.
"Yes, I do know her," Harm replied after a moment's hesitation, emphasizing his use of the present tense. "She is my partner." At that moment, Harm realized that he had fallen on top of his right hand, a hand that was now very close to the butt of the smaller gun in his belt. Closing his fist tightly around it, he listened closely as the middle-eastern man continued speaking.
"Do me a favor then, soldier, and look up into her face for me." Astofo continued, amused at Harm's predicament and anticipating his reaction. "Tell me, do you still recognize her? What, no answer? In case you are wondering before I shoot you, I'll tell you who did it." Astofo's voice was triumphant as he said his next few words. "It was me!"
Harm had looked up when Astofo requested. Slowly and painfully he had reluctantly lifted his chin until he could look into her drooping face. What he saw enraged him beyond control. The woman that he cared about more than anything was barely recognizable beneath the colorful bruising and blood covering her face. Rage colored his vision red; his blood pounded through his ears, blocking out everything but Astofo's last words to him as he proudly took responsibility for the abuse Mac had suffered.
As if in slow motion, Harm rolled over onto his back with his gun drawn in his right hand and fired. The look of astonishment on Astofo's face faded quickly as it was replaced by pain. He looked down at his stomach where the single bullet hole was spurting blood. Glancing up again at Harm, he raised the hand that still had his gun and aimed it at Mac. Harm fired again, catching him in the chest. Astofo dropped his gun, and with a final strangled cry, fell to the ground.
Harm sat there momentarily observing the prone figure until he was brought back to reality by celebration from the American troops outside. He turned and came up on his knees before Mac, gingerly taking her chin in his hand, and lifted her face.
"Mac! Mac, honey, can you hear me? Please, Mac, please; you gotta wake up!" Harm pleaded with her in a voice husky with emotion. Silently he offered up a fervent prayer to God, imploring Him to save the woman before him. He put two fingers to her neck and found her light pulse beating faintly under her skin.
Just then she groaned, rolling her head to the side as she struggled to lift it so she could look at who was in front of her. Somewhere through the fog in her mind she recognized Harm. But no, that couldn't be right; her tortured mind must be playing a trick on her.
"Harm?" she whispered weakly. "Harm? I'm so sorry..I can't hold out any more..please, don't let him hit me again. Help me, please!"
"No, Mac, no! He won't hit you again. I'm here now, don't worry. You're safe; I won't let anyone hurt you again." Harm declared passionately to her. Blinking through his tears of relief he leaned forward and kissed her broken lips gently.
Mac lifted her head further when she felt him brush her lips softly, and this time she really saw him standing there in front of her and knew that it wasn't a dream. Relief flooded her entire body as tears streamed from her eyes. He brushed the first few away before pulling out a knife and cutting her bonds. Gently, he lifted her out of the chair, catching her when she immediately fell against him. Trying to be as tender as possible, he scooped her up in his arms to carry her to the door.
Mac squirmed and mumbled incoherently when they walked past Astofo. Pausing, Harm leaned closer to her. Her eyes were shut, but her lips were moving. He finally realized that she wanted to say something to Astofo. Turning, they faced the man on the ground; he lay there shaking in the dirt as he struggled to draw breath through the pain.
Forcing her eyes to open as far as they could, Mac leaned forward in Harm's arms and stared down at her former captor. With a wavering voice, she managed to speak when he made eye contact with her.
"I'm Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, United States Marine Corps." Collapsing back into Harm's arms, she watched Astofo take in his final, haggard breath and grow still. A gentle sigh of relief escaped her, her eyelids fluttering shut as she settled herself comfortably against Harm's strong chest. Harm was amazed as he stared down at the impossibly strong woman in his arms. He hugged her against him gently, so thankful that she was ok. Turning then, he walked resolutely out the door to meet the cheers of the Marines waiting them.
Summary: Just a little speculation for what the cliff-hanger might be like that involves a pregnant Mac.
**Not good with Zulu time, so I just used military time. That way, I don't mess up, and you all know what time I want it to be.
In the Hands of the Enemy
Part 1
1100 hours May 15, 2003 Somewhere in Afghanistan
Stifling heat was the first thing that Colonel Sarah MacKenzie noticed; sweat was flowing from every pore in her body, soaking the elaborate outfit that she wore. She wanted to wipe her forehead, but something was stopping her. Trying desperately to clear the cobwebs from her head, she assessed her situation. She was lying on her stomach, in a small sort of shack, with her hands bound behind her back and tied to her feet.
"Good God, I've been hog-tied!" she muttered through gritted teeth as she pulled at the cords, testing their strength. Finding herself utterly immobilized, she dropped her head back to the ground with a groan. Unfortunately, this kicked up a cloud of dry dust, causing her to cough furiously. *Great, could things get any worse? I've got a throbbing headache, which means probably a concussion, I'm hog-tied, and now I'm choking on dust.* she thought furiously.
Finally calming down, she lay there breathing in the stale air of her prison. It smelled dankly of old sweat and something sweeter...blood. Raising her head to survey the ground, she found a drying pool of the dark red liquid next to where her head had lain. Judging from its size, she knew that she had not bled enough to seriously hinder her, though head wounds were never good.
She began twisting all around, craning her neck to inspect the building and its contents, hoping desperately to find something that she could use to free herself from her bonds. But much to her dismay, she was completely alone in the shack, just her and the dirt on the ground. *Geez, they didn't even leave any rocks in here* she observed as she scanned the land around her. *At least then I could have used one to maybe saw through these ropes.*
As she lay there pondering her limited options, her mind drifted back to what had happened to get her into this mess. As usual, she was on one of Webb's damn missions, and something went wrong...only this time, Harm wasn't here to help her.
2 days earlier
She had been searching the residence of Harim Masutu, a suspected Al Quaeda player. After monitoring his activities for days in Casoto, a small desert town in Afghanistan, Webb believed that they almost had enough information to arrest and prosecute him for acts of terrorism. But first he needed someone to copy the computer files from his PC that would hopefully lead to knowledge of more Al Quaeda members and their whereabouts.
This was where Mac came into play. She had been undercover in the town for nearly a week now watching him, playing the role of a recently widowed Afghani woman staying with her brother, who just happened to be Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez. And just to "spice things up," Webb had insisted that she should play the role of a pregnant woman, to make her less conspicuous. Wearing the extra padding around her middle had only made the days more miserable inside the typically stifling middle-eastern outfit she wore.
They had surveyed Masutu leaving his house about 20 minutes ago, headed in the direction of the local café where they assumed he would be having his habitual evening coffee. This meant that Mac and the marine computer specialist assigned to go in with her should have plenty of time to break into his house, access the computer, and copy the files before he returned.
Once inside the house, Mac had to admit that the new looking computer sitting atop an old, scarred desk looked rather ridiculous inside the otherwise poverty stricken dwelling. The marine, a Major Jeff Baldwin and local computer guru/hacker, quickly went to work on the machine. Booting up the system, he immediately began scanning programs and entering password options so quickly that Mac soon lost track of what all he was doing. She instead began to search through Masutu's other rooms, heading down a narrow hall toward the back of the house to search his bedroom first.
Upon entering the room, she immediately went to the small bureau, the only other piece of furniture in the room besides the narrow bed. As she reached for the first drawer, she heard a quiet *pop* followed by silence. Drawing her firearm out from under the folds of her clothes, Mac crept to the doorway of the room. Peering down the hall, she saw Major Baldwin slumped across the keyboard of the computer, his lifeless eyes staring into her own. Fighting off the shiver that swept her body, she watched as a tall man in camouflage came to stand in her line of vision as he inspected the neat bullet hole in the back of the Major's head. Easing silently out of the room, she walked swiftly down the hall until she had reached the man.
"Don't move unless you want a pretty hole to match the Major's," she said in fluent Farsi as she placed her gun to the back of his head. She felt him immediately tense up, and she added "and get rid of the weapon I know you have."
He slowly moved his right hand to his belt and withdrew the silenced pistol he had used. As he started to drop it to the floor, Mac caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and was barely able to jump forward as a bullet whizzed by her head. Catching the first man in front of her off guard, she knocked him into the desk and the dead marine's body in her haste to avoid the bullet, causing him to accidentally fire the gun he was holding. The man fell to the ground howling in pain as he held onto his left thigh, trying desperately to stop the blood gushing from his wound. Had the situation not been so dangerous, Mac would have afforded herself more than the split second it took her to smile at the man's obvious misfortune before diving behind the minimal cover that the computer and desk offered.
Sparks erupted above her as bullets struck the computer, and she shielded her head and face with her arms to avoid harm. When the shooting paused, she swung out from behind her hiding place and fired several shots before taking cover again. A few more shots rang out, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps as many people entered the house. In the following silence, Mac was filled with dread.
"I know that you realize that there are now far more people in the room," a cultured voice rang out in Farsi. "People who are not on your side, and they all have semi-automatic weapons trained on what is left of that desk you are hiding behind. So unless you want them to make Swiss cheese out of you just like they have the desk, you will come out slowly with your weapon in plain view."
Fighting off panic and an incredible urge to swear viciously, Mac reluctantly complied with his demands. Easing out from behind the desk with both hands in the air and the warm barrel of the gun in one, she guardedly approached the half a dozen men in the room. She noted that they were all dressed identically in the camouflage uniforms, just like the guy who had killed Major Baldwin and was now glaring up at her from the floor. Smoothing away a smile at the indignant expression on his face, she turned back to face who she suspected to be the leader. He was a bit shorter in stature than the other men in the room and not quite as well-muscled, but the smug expression on his face combined with the confidence emanating from his posture separated him from the rest.
She stood there silently, not moving except to place the gun on the floor and kick it toward a swarthy looking man off to her right when she was indicated to do so. Straightening back up, she unwaveringly met the gaze of the man before her. He held her stare for several moments before breaking into a smile.
"This is very good work you did here for a woman, but very foolish at the same time. Did you honestly believe that we had no idea what your CIA was planning?" His superior tone grated on Mac's last fragile nerve, but she forced herself to be outwardly composed as she remained silent.
"What was it that you and your, uh, friend were searching for in Mr. Masutu's computer? Were you, perhaps, looking for more bits of evidence to lead you to additional members of Al Quaeda?" He had begun pacing in front of her as he spoke, gesturing with his hands to emphasize the points he was making. After another long silence from Mac, he stopped in front of her frowning. "When I ask a question, woman, I expect to receive an answer!" he shouted as he reached out to roughly rip off the veil and headpiece that covered all but Mac's eyes.
Because they were standing so close, she could see the obvious appreciation in his eyes as her face was revealed to him. Maintaining her composure even when he reached out to stroke her cheek, she met his intentionally lustful gaze with a steady glare. He slapped her then, muttering a crude epithet, and strode back to stand before his men. Motioning them toward her, two of them approached her and seized her arms. One riffled about in her robes, finding the padded middle that was her "child" and violently ripped it out of her clothing. Another came forward to pat her down for additional weapons, finding nothing despite his overly-thorough inspection.
"You realize that you are all alone here, with no cavalry awaiting you outside," the leader said in a calm, calculated voice. "We located the vehicle down the street waiting for you, filled with marines and one irritating man in a suit. It didn't take long to send them to your God. I must admit, I did quite enjoy the looks of surprise on their faces when we pulled open the back doors of the vehicle and began firing. They knew that they did not have a chance."
Mac felt the blood involuntarily drain from her face as she suddenly went very still in the arms of the men holding her. *Irritating man in a suit..oh God, he must mean Webb!*
The last thing she remembered was the sly smile on the leader's face before the butt of a gun connected with the back of her head and her entire world went black.
Part 2
1100 hours May 15, 2003 JAG Headquarters
Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. suddenly sat up at his desk where he was working and stretched his hands over his head. Absently rubbing the back of his head, he wondered when that aspirin he had taken over an hour ago was going to kick in and dispel the headache that had been nagging at him all morning.
Shuffling through the finished papers on his desk, he sighed as he glanced out into the bullpen toward the direction of Mac's darkened office. She had been over in Afghanistan for nearly two weeks total now, and he wondered how much longer her mission for Webb would last. It killed him that he wasn't a part of the investigation with her, but the Admiral had insisted that he was needed in Washington and ordered him to stay.
He actually knew very little about what it was that she was doing over there; just that it was something for Webb that involved her working undercover. With her dark good looks and vast knowledge of Farsi and the associated culture, she was a perfect candidate for the job. Unfortunately, that is also why he was not selected to go with her - his all American looks and limited knowledge would have fooled no one.
Automatically he picked up the framed picture of him and Mac that she had given him for Christmas that sat on his desk; he had been repeating this gesture several times a day, ever since she had left for the Middle East. He wondered if the Admiral had heard from either her or Webb recently to know what was going on. He made a mental note to himself to discuss it with him later.
A timid knock at his door startled him from his revere, and he looked up to see Lieutenant Harriet Sims standing in the doorway. Carefully placing the picture back in its featured place on his desk, he motioned her into the room.
Harriet had to suppress a smile as she entered at his indication. She was sure that she wasn't the only one who had noticed how lost the Commander looked with his partner gone, or how frequently he could be seen gazing at that picture of the two of them or across the bullpen to her office. Maybe, just maybe, something more would finally start to develop between those two. But then again, that could have just been the wishful speculation of her naturally romantic soul.
"Sir, the Admiral would like to see you in his office ASAP," she told him.
10 minutes later
"Sir, Commander Rabb to see you, sir." Petty Officer Tiner presented him to Admiral Chegwidden.
"Thank you, Tiner. Enter Commander," was the gruff reply heard within.
Harm walked through the door, carefully shutting it behind him, and stood at attention before his CO. After a pause, the Admiral looked up from the papers he had been studying on his desk, and Harm was surprised to see the worried and strained look in his eyes. He sat when indicated.
"Commander, I have received word from Webb's superiors who set up the mission that Colonel MacKenzie has been on," the Admiral began.
"Sir, if I may, I thought that you had previously been communicating directly with Webb?" Harm cut in curiously.
"Yes, I had, but Mr. Webb is not in a condition to do much talking right now," the Admiral explained. "It seems that the Colonel and a Major Baldwin were investigating the residence of the suspected Al Quaeda member that had been under surveillance when things went awry. The vehicle waiting them outside, with Webb and several Marines in it, was attacked by hostiles. They were all left for dead, but somehow Webb was still alive when they got to him. He is at one of our base hospitals now in Germany. He was pretty banged up, but expected to make a full recovery." The Admiral paused in his narration.
Harm sat up a little straighter in his chair, his eyes widening. "Sir, what happened with the Colonel and the Major?" Harm asked, knowing that he was not going to like the answer.
"Well Commander, I was just getting to that if you would be quiet and let me tell the story!" The tone of the Admiral's voice conveyed his frustration with the junior officer before him, but also indicated how very upset he was about the situation over seas.
"Sorry, sir," was Harm's contrite reply.
"As I was going to say," the Admiral continued with a pointed look at Harm, "the marines that found the others in the van then went into the house where the Colonel and the Major were. They found the Major, dead, and no sign of the Colonel, except for her head veil and the padding that the Colonel had been wearing to make her appear pregnant."
"Do they have any idea where she was taken, or who has her?" Harm questioned urgently.
"All that we know is she was taken by some local hostiles.." The Admiral trailed off. ".and, we suspect that the group was led by Astofo Atef, Kabir Atef's first cousin"
"Well, do they have any idea at all where they are keeping her?"
"They are working on it, Commander." The Admiral replied patiently. He really felt quiet sorry for the obviously upset young man standing in front of him. "I will keep you informed as the situation progresses. Dismissed."
"Aye, aye sir."
Part 3
1330 hours May 15, 2003 Afghanistan
"Ugh!" Mac groaned. She gradually allowed her tensed up muscles to relax, giving her fingers and her body a much needed break. She had found that if she arched her back as far as she could then she could reach the complicated knot binding her hands to her feet. But after an hour of working on it with her now bloody fingers, she knew that she had made little progress. Frustrated, she lay there catching her breath.
Absently she allowed her mind to wander, and she wondered what Harm was doing. Surely word of her disappearance had made it back to Washington by now, and she knew that her stubborn partner would try to do everything in his power to come after her. She hoped that the Admiral would be able to keep him in Washington, especially if Harm was ordered to do so, though this wouldn't be the first time he disobeyed orders for a friend.
*Friend* she thought warily. *Yes, I suppose that's all we are now, despite our mutual feelings. Face it, Sarah, you do want him to come over here looking for you. You, a United States Marine and the token damsel in distress, want to be rescued by your knight in shining armor. Ha, more like an aviator in fatigues. But I wouldn't want it to be any other aviator.."
The sound of heavy footsteps outside the shack stirred Mac from her thoughts as she glanced toward the door. It suddenly swung open, lighting up the dim interior and blinding her long enough for two faceless figures to enter the room. One of them cut the bonds binding her hands to her feet, then also the cord around her ankles. They roughly pulled her to her feet and half-drug her out of the shack. When they got outside they paused a moment, and Mac tried desperately to regain some of her composure by standing on her own. However, her body had remained in the hog-tied position for far too long, and she could not get her numb feet to work for her. A bit humiliated, she allowed the men to continue to drag her across the camp to another run-down looking building.
Crossing the threshold, they roughly threw her into the single, solitary chair in the dismal room. Tying her securely to the piece of furniture, they turned and went to guard the door as another man, the one who had led the raid on her and the Major in Masutu's house, entered. Standing before her in the at ease position, he looked down on her with the same smug expression he had worn the last time she had seen him. Though she bristled internally at his arrogance, the face she presented him was devoid of expression. Chuckling, he began pacing slowly in front of her.
"So, you are awake now. I had feared that perhaps I had allowed Hamid to hit you too hard with his gun, for he was quite angry over shooting himself in the leg because of you, and then I would not get to talk with my beautiful prisoner again. Although, as I recall, it was mostly me doing the talking last time, wasn't it?" The grin that followed sickened her, and she struggled to withhold her disgust and contempt. Carefully noting that he now was speaking fluent English to her, she vowed to remain as silent as possible by willing all emotion from her face.
Temporarily pausing in front of her, Astofo regarded the determined expression on the woman's surprisingly lovely face. *It will be a shame to have to mar such beauty, but orders are orders.*
"Well, I believe first that introductions are in order," he started as he began to pace again. "I am Astofo Atef, cousin of Kabir Atef, the man that nearly succeeded in hitting one of your warships with a nuclear weapon." He paused then, noting the brief flicker of awareness crossing her features before they settled again into their stony mask. Looking at her, he said, "This is the part in the introduction where you give me your name, preferably with your rank and division of the armed forces so that I truly understand who it is I am talking to."
Receiving dead silence for his answer, he raised his voice, "Oh come now, woman. This silence of yours is growing old rather quickly. But here, let me tell you what I already believe to know about you. You are an American, most likely a Marine because of the men also with you on the mission. However, I have been told that other branches of the military also work intimately together, so we will leave that possibility open for now. You speak our language fluently, according to Hamid, and even possess a little humor in you. And judging from your earlier reaction, you were also close to someone in that van that was killed, perhaps the man in the suit?"
At this point in his speculation, Mac's impassive countenance faltered as her eyes involuntarily widened. She had forgotten about Webb. *Oh, poor Harm. I wonder if he knows about that already too..*
Astofo watched the woman's face carefully, noting the sadness now present in her expressive brown eyes. He had struck a nerve with the mention of the man in the suit. Perhaps he had been wrong on his assessment of her being military and she was CIA, though something in her posture and determination indicated otherwise. Shrugging to himself, he acknowledged that it didn't really matter. Either way, she would die in the end once her usefulness had ceased.
Stepping forward, he roughly took her face in his hand. "You had best give up whatever silly notion in your head that keeps you in silence. I am fast losing my patience with this game you are playing, and I will see my questions answered!"
Mac felt the bruising fingers painfully digging into her flesh tighten momentarily before releasing her. He made as if to walk away from her, then whirled around swiftly, catching her off guard as he struck her across the face. Reeling from the blow, she gasped. Then, steeling herself for the next blow she saw coming, she tried to give with it as he hit her in order to minimize the pain. But she couldn't avoid the swift punch to the stomach he dealt then. Over and over he hit her, taking out his frustrations on her weakening body as she had many times done with her punching bag at home.
Though she was in great shape, she knew that her body couldn't withstand much more of his violent abuse. Reverting to a tactic that had worked as a child when her father went on one of his drunken rampages, she closed her mind to the pain and focused instead on "happy thoughts." Involuntarily, her mind went to Harm.
She could see him there in his apartment when he had insisted on making her dinner before she left. She had told him that he was acting silly, but she secretly enjoyed all of the effort he was obviously making when she saw the candlelit table and incredible amount of food laid out. His cooking had been absolutely delicious, and afterwards they had sat together on his couch talking easily with each other as they always did. When it began to get close to midnight, Mac had stood to go, and Harm walked with her to the door. He had helped her put on her light jacket in the doorway, and even followed her out in to the hall and over to the elevator. When she opened up the gate to go, he had taken hold of her hand and stopped her. Slowly, he had drawn her to him, enveloping her in a gentle, tender hug. Automatically, she had lain her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes so that she would be aware of only the man she was with. She would never forget his worried expression when she closed the gate between them, and him telling her to be careful or he would have to come over and save her Marine butt. God, how she wanted him here now. It suddenly hit her then that she may never see him again, and she wasn't prepared for the effect it had on her. Unbidden tears sparked her eyes as she silently implored God to help her get out of this mess alive.
She was brought sharply back to the present with the realization that Astofo had stopped hitting her. He stood before her angrily, still breathing heavily with exertion. Raising her pounding head, she met his gaze through her rapidly swelling eyes. *This man, who killed Webb, will surely kill me before anyone finds me..and I will never see Harm again.* A lone tear escaped her left eye, running slowly down her bruised face before dripping off of her chin. The last thing she saw before passing out was his satisfied smirk at that single tear.
Astofo watched as the woman allowed a solitary tear to escape her right before she lost consciousness. He had beaten her hard, as was evident by the terrible bruising and cuts on her face. Motioning to the guards at the door, he ordered them to return her to her prison, but told them not to bother with hog-tying her this time, only to make sure her feet and hands were secure. Rubbing his swelling fist as he followed them out the door into the sunlight, he was glad that he had never been raised with the silly American idea of never hitting a girl.
1400 hours Same day JAG Headquarters
"Bud, I think you should go talk to the Commander. He must be really upset." Harriet poked her husband in the side as she looked at the closed blinds covering his office windows.
"Harriet! Of course he's upset! The Colonel has been kidnapped by terrorists, and nobody has even the slightest idea where she is!" Bud replied back in typical Bud fashion.
"Oh, Bud!" she said, slightly exasperated. "I know that you don't have the answer to the problem, but I just don't think that he should be alone right now. It's always hard when someone you love is in danger."
"Someone he loves? But he and the Colonel are just friends.." He trailed off as Harriet began pushing him toward the Commander's office.
"Bud, just go in there and talk to him. At least make sure that he isn't planning on doing something that could get him in trouble, like disobeying an order to go look for her." With that, she gave her reluctant husband a final shove to the Commander's doorway.
As Bud raised his hand to knock, he looked through one of the broken blinds to make sure that he wasn't interrupting the Commander in the middle of something important. What he saw halted his fist in mid-knock. The Commander was sitting at his desk staring intently at the framed picture of him and the Colonel. He picked up the picture and pressed it to his chest, as if hugging the image of her would keep her safe. Returning the object to its spot, his whole body seemed to slump down defeatedly as he dropped his head into his hands.
Bud felt embarrassed standing there watching him. He backed away from the glass and rapped sharply on the door. After several seconds he heard a tired "Enter" from within, and he stepped into the office. Bud noticed that Harm still had a worried look on his face, but had regained most of his broken composure.
"What is it, Bud?" Harm asked wearily.
"Well, sir," the junior officer began. "I just thought that I would stop in and see how you were doing, and also check and see if there was further word on the Colonel."
"I haven't been told anything else, Bud," Harm replied. "But the Admiral promised to keep me up to date on all news and leads that they had on her whereabouts or who might have taken her..." Bud didn't miss the fact that his gaze was now resting on the picture again. Shaking himself slightly, Harm looked up into Bud's face as he said, "In fact, I was just going to go see him about that. Excuse me, please." Harm rushed past Bud without giving him time to answer.
"Tiner, I need to see the Admiral ASAP," Harm said urgently to the young man behind the desk.
Tiner buzzed the intercom: "Sir, Commander Rabb to see you."
"Send him in, Tiner," came the reply.
Harm immediately opened the door and stepped into his superior's office. Closing the door behind him, he stood at attention before Admiral Chegwidden's desk.
"Sir, I was just wondering if there had been further word on the investigation into Colonel MacKenzie's disappearance."
The Admiral raised his eyebrows. "There is Commander; I was just going to send Tiner to get you. Have a seat." The Admiral noticed that Harm remained on the edge of the chair, his entire body tensed for whatever the Admiral had to say. It wasn't like he could blame him; the tension in the entire office had been palpable all day long. The Colonel was very well liked here, and everyone wanted her back safely.
"I have just been informed that we now believe we know who it was that took her. His name is Astofo Atef. They are still working on locating his camp, but as soon as they do, they will send in a Marine Recon unit to raid the area and find her."
"Sir, request permission to go to Afghanistan and be part of the raid." Harm asked immediately.
"Commander, by the time you get there, the raid may already be complete and they could have her back. It would be a waste of time and money to send you over seas just to turn around and come right back."
"Sir, please! Let me go over there; I could be of some help to them, and I know that the Colonel is going to want to see a friendly face after they get her out of that Hell." Harm argued passionately.
The Admiral frowned as he stared at his desktop, deliberating on all that Harm had just said. He knew that Harm would find a way to get to his partner no matter what he said, even if it came to disobeying a direct order. He didn't want to be the one to end such a brilliant career by issuing said order. Looking up to meet Harm's intense gaze, he knew that he needed to tell him something else first.
"Harm, you do realize that there is a chance that she may not be in the camp when they find it..or that she may be dead. She's already been in their custody for 2 and a half days; there's no telling what they could have done to her by now." The Admiral paused to swallow back the lump in his throat. "I want to believe that they will find her soon and alive, but we both have to be realistic. We are a nation at war, and she is a prisoner of the enemy."
Throughout the Admirals speech Harm could feel his heart drop. He hadn't allowed himself to even consider that she may not be alive when he got to her. Thinking about it now brought the unfamiliar sting of tears to his eyes, but he blinked them back rapidly before the Admiral saw them. Swallowing several times, he asked again in a voice husky with emotion. "Sir, request permission to go to Afghanistan."
"Permission granted."
Part 4
0100 hours May 16, 2003 Al Quaeda Camp Afghanistan
Mac felt like she was drowning; she was having a terrible nightmare. Harm had come to find her, and he was almost to her when he fell into a quicksand trap. Mac, suddenly free of her bonds, rushed to the edge of the pit just as his outstretched hand disappeared beneath the surface. Plunging her own hand in, she tried to find his to no avail. Leaning over further, she fell in also. She could feel herself sinking in the heavy mud as she screamed for help, crying out to Harm even though she knew that he was already gone.
The guard standing outside her shack jerked awake when he heard her cry out. Entering the building, he saw her thrashing around on the floor moaning and sobbing an English word over and over again. It sounded like she was saying "Harm," but his limited knowledge of the language didn't include that word. Squatting down beside her he grasped her shoulders and shook her roughly. Her tear streaked eyes opened as much as they could through the bruising and swelling as she tried to focus on him. She moaned and flinched away from his fingers digging into her hurt flesh. He realized that he was hurting her, and gently laid her back to the ground. Whimpering softly, she began mumbling something. He leaned down near her bloody lips and was finally able to discern the Farsi word for water. He left swiftly to retrieve a cup for her.
When he returned, he sat down next to her and tried to make her drink. Her hungry lips sucked at the edge of the cup, but she tried to take in too much. The water in her mouth tasted like blood from her lips and choked her since she was lying down. She began to cough violently. The hard movement pained her terribly, and she was now sure that she had several broken ribs. The guard felt sorry for her as he watched her struggle. He laid the cup aside and gently lifted her to an upright position to help clear her airway. Allowing her to lean against his body for support, he brought the cup back to her lips.
"Sip it," he ordered gruffly, and she obeyed. Taking very slow swallows, she managed to finish the rest of the cup. Trying hard to smile appreciatively through the pain as he laid her back down, she whispered thanks before losing consciousness again. The guard just shook his head at her, feeling great sympathy for this American woman who looked and spoke just like him. She made it hard for him to hate her.
1030 hours
Mac struggled to open her eyes. At first she thought that maybe they had blindfolded her, but then realized that her eyes were practically swollen shut. Her entire body ached, each breath bringing a new wave of pain. Fighting off panic, Mac forced her breathing to be shallow. In, out. In, out. She concentrated on keeping a steady, slow rhythm while she tried to assess the rest of her body. Though she was no longer hog-tied, her arms and legs were still numb from being tied in the same position for so long. Where she hurt the most was her mid-section and her head. She remembered the majority of the blows landing in those two places the night before during her interrogation. Astofo had beat her much harder than she had expected him to during her first questioning, and she desperately hoped that he wouldn't subject her to another round again today.
The guard on duty outside came in then, and she flinched away from him. As he got closer to her she could see that it was the same man she dimly remembered from last night. Her hopes raised as she searched both his hands for a cup of water. What she saw was a blade, and he knelt down to cut her ankle bonds. Looking into her eyes he watched the panic set in as she realized what was happening. He lifted her, and with the help of another guard, they escorted her back to the same building she had been in before.
Mac offered up a quick, desperate prayer to God for strength as they crossed the threshold. Once seated and tied in the chair, she lifted her head to look resolutely into Astofo's cold, hard eyes.
"Are we playing the same game again, woman?" He questioned tiredly. He rubbed the sore knuckles of his right hand, now enclosed in a leather glove to cushion them. After being answered with only her heavy silence, he sighed, "Ah, well. We will see how much longer you hold out with this game. For your sake, I do hope it ends soon."
And then the beating began.
When it was finally over, the guards returned her, barely conscious, to her prison. She was dimly aware of being laid roughly on the ground, and the feel of the coarse rope used to retie her ankles biting into the open sores on her skin. She passed out temporarily from the pain.
She woke again 10 minutes later when the guard gently nudged her. He had water in his hand again, and Mac longed to feel the cool liquid on her broken lips. When he sat her up as before and placed it to her bloody lips, she tried calmly to sip it. But there was so much blood in her mouth, and she began to choke. Bending away from him, she started to vomit. She hadn't eaten in several days, and her stomach had long since digested all that was in it. The guard mercifully held her up from the ground when she would have fallen face down in the dirt as she dry heaved.
When her stomach finally stopped heaving, she opened her eyes. Looking down in the dirt, she saw that she had vomited blood. Knowing that wasn't good, but also realizing that there was nothing at all she could do about it, she indicated to the guard that she didn't want any more water. He laid her down in the dirt, away from the spot where she had vomited, and left the tent.
*Oh God, please help me. Harm, I need you. Please find me..hurry.*
Part 5
2330 hours May 16, 2003 US Marine camp Casoto, Afghanistan
Harm leapt out of the jeep as it squealed to a halt outside of the main tent. Entering the tent, he headed straight for the highest ranking person he saw present.
"Evening, Colonel. I'm Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., JAG Corps and Colonel MacKenzie's partner." Harm introduced himself.
The stern looking Colonel raised one eyebrow at Harm and pulled his cigarette out of his mouth to speak. "Nice to meet you Commander. I'm Colonel Thomas Jackson. What can I do for you?"
"Sir, I'm here to assist you in any way possible during the rescue of Colonel Mackenzie."
Looking him over for several seconds, the Colonel seemed to decide that he liked what he saw. "Nice to have you on board, Commander. Let me tell you what we know."
Speaking as he walked, he led Harm over to a table with a large map spread out on it. "We now are certain that Astofo Atef's troops are the ones who took her. According to our intel, we believe that his camp is located here." He indicated a circled area of desert on his map. "This is about 30 miles west of here. The suits in Washington wanted to wait longer in order to be sure that we weren't on some wild goose chase, but I didn't agree with them. I know what those people can do to a prisoner, especially a woman, and I didn't want her to be with them any longer than necessary. She's already been with them too damn long as it is, and I'm afraid to think about what we may find." He trailed off, carefully studying his cigarette butt before stubbing it out in an ashtray.
"Sir, the Colonel is very tough and can handle herself. She's taken my butt to the mat several times in the past. I'm sure that she is holding her own, though I agree that it is past time to get her out of there." Harm stated with more confidence than he actually felt.
Colonel Jackson regarded him closely, before leading him deeper into the tent. "We go in tonight to capture suspected Al Quaeda and retrieve her. I am assuming you will want to be part of the effort." At Harm's nod, he continued. "We leave in 2 hours, so if you want to grab a quick nap, the Corporal here will lead you to an available cot."
"Thank you, sir." Harm nodded to the Colonel as he left, following the sandy haired Corporal to another tent full of cots.
"I will come back to wake you when it's time to get ready for the raid," he said.
"Thanks. I appreciate it." Harm stretched out on the cot as the Corporal left the tent and tried to sleep. Though his mind was wired, his body was exhausted from the hard day of travel, and he soon fell into a troubled sleep.
He was in a desert camp all alone. Looking around him he saw neither friend nor foe, only the empty buildings and tent flaps moving in the light breeze. He was gripped with a sense of urgency as he ran from building to building searching desperately for Mac.
Finally, he had been in every structure but one, and he stood before it looking up at the formidable building. Entering the building he was presented with a corridor. He began to run, racing down the bending hallways. Left. Right. Right. Left. Frantically he continued his crazy journey, becoming hopelessly lost in the maze. But he couldn't turn back, and he couldn't stop.
He rounded a final bend and stopped in front of the closed door before him. When he stretched out his hand to turn the knob, he saw that it was trembling. He pushed open the door slowly. The room was in total darkness, the only bit of light being the rectangular glow from the hall. His heart stopped at what he saw.
Mac was lying on the floor in the small patch of light, a puddle of blood surrounding her. He fell to his knees next to her and gathered her limp body in his arms. As he looked into her beautiful, bruised face, he felt tears stinging his eyes. One tear slipped out as he leaned down to kiss her forehead gently. When he looked at her again, his tear was on her cheek, running slowly down her still face.
He was struck by how beautiful she appeared, even in death, and suddenly he could no longer withhold his tears. He gathered her closer to him, kissing her cheek, her closed eyelids, her nose, and finally her mouth. A harsh sob escaped him as he remembered what that sweet mouth had tasted like in life, so warm and soft, so unlike the cold, pale skin he tasted now.
Overcome with his grief he sat there holding her in his lap, her head cradled gently against his chest that shook with sobs. He rested his cheek against her still soft hair, soaking the strands with the tears coursing down his face.
"Sarah! I love you, Sarah. Please...I'm sorry. Please forgive me, Sarah. Sarah.."
0045 hours May 17, 2003 Al Quaeda Camp Afghanistan
Mac's eyes fluttered open slowly. She looked around, disoriented by the absolute darkness around her. She tried to move and searing pain racked her body; with it came a flooding remembrance of the past few days. She groaned softly to herself.
*Oh, Harm. Where are you? Why haven't you found me yet? I don't know how much longer I can hold out, and I know that Astofo grows tired of my silence. I know he's going to kill me soon. Please, come quickly, Harm.*
As she began to slip into unconsciousness again, she heard them coming for her once more. She began to tremble uncontrollably, trying desperately to keep from crying out all the pain and fear welling up inside as they picked her up and drug her out of the shack. But despite her resolve the tears came, coursing down her face in rivulets to sting her many open cuts and bruises.
Sobbing, she cried out, "Harm! Harm!" When they threw her into the same chair as before, her abused body finally gave up, and she mercifully slipped into unconsciousness.
0045 hours May 17, 2003 Marine Camp Afghanistan
"SARAH!!" Harm yelled as he shot straight up in his cot. "Sarah...Sarah.." he whispered, struggling to catch his breath. He collapsed back against his pillow with his chest heaving. Reaching up to wipe his face he felt the tears still running down his cheeks. He wiped at his eyes, drying away the moisture while his mind raced.
What was his subconscious trying to tell him? He knew Mac was still alive; deep in his heart, he just knew that she was. But a strong anxiety was now gripping him, urging him to get to her quicker. He stood up then, rushing out of the tent and right past the Corporal coming to wake him.
He found the Colonel in the same tent he had been in when he left him, smoking a cigarette as he studied the map on the table. The older man looked up and was shocked to see the wild look on the Commander's face.
"Sir, we have to leave now! If we don't get there soon, it will be too late!" Harm implored the Colonel. The man regarded Harm, shocked by the urgency in his voice and expression. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and looked at him closely. Without warning, he turned and yelled.
"Corporal, tell all the men they've got 10 minutes to suit up if they want to join us in the effort to kick some ass and save Colonel Mackenzie. We are leaving now!"
The wide-eyed Corporal turned and ran in the direction of another tent where the marines in the camp were gathered. Soon, they all scattered, each heading out in search of the required gear for the night raid.
"Son, I think that you had better find yourself some different clothes if you plan on participating," the Colonel observed quietly. Looking down, Harm realized that he was still in his wrinkled khaki uniform. He glanced up and nodded before following the other men in the camp.
*Hold on, Mac. I'm coming!*
Part 6
0130 hours May 17, 2003 Al Quaeda Camp Afghanistan
Astofo paced angrily in front of Mac's unmoving body tied to the chair. She had been unconscious for almost an hour now, and he was growing impatient for her to wake up. He lightly slapped her cheek repeatedly, calling out "Woman" each time, but she didn't move. For the second time in three minutes he pressed his two fingers to her neck, checking for a pulse. It was still there, a faint, thready beat under his finger tips. She was still alive, for now.
With a frustrated yell, he backed away from her. It wouldn't do for him to beat her when she wasn't awake; then he could not receive any answers if she was now ready to talk. But his superiors were growing impatient waiting for him to make the American woman talk. He would give her one more chance when she woke up, if she woke up. He would explain that it was her last chance to save herself by telling him what he wanted to know. It would be the only way she would receive a quick, painless death. If she still refused, then he would kill her anyway, but it would be much, much worse than the bullet to her head that he had planned. There were many men in his camp who knew very slow, painful means of dying, and he would turn her over to them. Though he didn't always approve of their methods, it would be out of his hands.
Turning to leave, he stopped only to make sure the guard let him know the moment she woke up. Astofo was beginning to feel anxious, as if something was going to happen soon that he didn't know about. He just wanted to get done with this business concerning the woman as soon as possible. Then maybe they would receive new orders and move their camp somewhere else. Angrily, he stormed out of the building and headed out into the night sky.
0145 May 17, 2003 Afghanistan
Several Marine jeeps were racing across the desert, leaving plumes of dust in the night sky. Stopping about a mile from the enemy camp, they set off on foot the rest of the way. When they reached the outer perimeter of the camp, they stopped.
Harm lay in the dirt next to Colonel Jackson, watching the older man's face closely as he observed the camp through a pair of night vision binoculars. He quietly stated positions of guards and other men awake in the camp, which were then repeated down the line of soldiers laying in the darkness.
"On my word, we move in. Let's be as quiet about this as we can for as long as possible. We are to take prisoners when we can, but shoot to kill when threatened." The Colonel reviewed his orders to his men one last time. Then, glancing once more through the binoculars, he whispered emphatically, "Let's go!"
0145 hours May 17, 2003 Al Quaeda Camp Afghanistan
Mac lifted her head slowly to look at the man standing before her. She was in the interrogation room again, but this time it was different. Every other time she had been in here, it had been during the day. Now, at night, she realized that there was no electricity in here; the only light came from three candles placed on the ground throughout the room. The obvious malice on Astofo's shadowed face made her stomach turn and clenched her heart with fear. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his eyes filled with hatred for her as they glowed in the dim light.
He stepped toward her slowly, deliberately, determined. Involuntarily, her body began to quake, imperceptibly at first but quickly increasing in severity the closer he got until the chair was making a faint scratching sound against the ground. His grin got wider when he observed this. If Mac could have painted a picture of the Devil at this moment, she would have described his face as it was now. The hatred in his dark eyes, the shadows flickering over his face from the candles in the room, the sickly white gleam of his teeth; all this combined to plunge the steel dagger of fear deep within her heart. As he began to speak to her, pleading with her to talk now while she still had the chance, she realized instinctively that it would all end tonight. Whether she now spoke to him or not, one way or another, she was going to die.
She didn't bother to stop the tears that ran freely down her face when he began to hit her again. She resigned herself to the fact that she would now never make it home. *Good bye, Harm. I'm sorry that I couldn't be stronger for you...I love you..I always did.*
She lost consciousness right before gunshots erupted outside in the camp.
Part 7
0200 hours May 17, 2003 Al Quaeda Camp Afghanistan
Harm felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he and the other Marines moved into the camp. The Colonel moved off to his right and jumped a guard from behind, delivering a quick chop to the back of his neck to put him out of commission. Harm glanced all around him as the other Marines were doing the same thing, quietly taking out the different guards around the camp.
Suddenly gunshots erupted off to his left, and Harm whirled around quickly. A Marine was bending over the now dead body of a rebel soldier, but the sound had wakened the entire camp. Harm looked around, taking in all of the buildings, and his gaze focused in on a building to the right that appeared to be set apart from the others. He broke off in a dead run for the building, oblivious to all of the shooting now going on around him.
He reached the building and burst through the door. He turned his flashlight on and swept it across the ground. His intent gaze took in the several puddles of dried blood in the dirt as he knelt down and picked up one of the many severed pieces rope strewn about the interior. He fingered it carefully, noting that the blood had not yet dried on the cord he held. *God, please. I know she was still alive not too long ago. Please, please, please don't let me be too late!*
He eased out of the door and pressed himself against the wall of the building. The two sides were still deeply involved in their shoot out, but the good guys appeared to be winning. Harm scanned the camp from this new angle, his eyes searching desperately for a building where Mac might be. Just then a spray of bullets ricocheted all around him off the walls; one grazed his left arm, ripping through the skin and immediately soaking his sleeve with blood.
"Shit!" he yelled as he dove to the ground for cover and returned fire, quickly taking out the tall man who had shot him. He jumped back to his feet and dashed across the camp, running blindly as he fired randomly at the dark-looking men.
He stopped in a doorway across the camp, his chest heaving. He could feel the pulse standing out in his neck as his heart thudded wildly. He turned and glanced through the window of the door he was leaning against and gasped loudly at what he saw. There, in the middle of the room, was Mac. She was obviously bound to the old wooden chair that she sat upon, and her head drooped on her chest.
Harm pushed his way into the building without thinking, his only concern to make sure that Mac was still alive. When he was only a few paces into the room, someone hit him at the base of his skull with the butt of a gun. The force of the blow knocked him to the ground in front of Mac's chair, and his large automatic weapon skidded across the floor out of his reach.
"So, you have come to save the stubborn American woman, have you? Tell me something soldier, did you know her?" Astofo taunted Harm, his weapon trained on the back of Harm's head.
Harm's head felt like it was going to explode as he lay face down in the dirt. Lifting his head slightly, he saw Mac's ankles right in front of him. They were bloody and raw from strain and days of being bound together. Dirt stuck to the open wounds in some places, making Harm wince with sympathy for her.
"Yes, I do know her," Harm replied after a moment's hesitation, emphasizing his use of the present tense. "She is my partner." At that moment, Harm realized that he had fallen on top of his right hand, a hand that was now very close to the butt of the smaller gun in his belt. Closing his fist tightly around it, he listened closely as the middle-eastern man continued speaking.
"Do me a favor then, soldier, and look up into her face for me." Astofo continued, amused at Harm's predicament and anticipating his reaction. "Tell me, do you still recognize her? What, no answer? In case you are wondering before I shoot you, I'll tell you who did it." Astofo's voice was triumphant as he said his next few words. "It was me!"
Harm had looked up when Astofo requested. Slowly and painfully he had reluctantly lifted his chin until he could look into her drooping face. What he saw enraged him beyond control. The woman that he cared about more than anything was barely recognizable beneath the colorful bruising and blood covering her face. Rage colored his vision red; his blood pounded through his ears, blocking out everything but Astofo's last words to him as he proudly took responsibility for the abuse Mac had suffered.
As if in slow motion, Harm rolled over onto his back with his gun drawn in his right hand and fired. The look of astonishment on Astofo's face faded quickly as it was replaced by pain. He looked down at his stomach where the single bullet hole was spurting blood. Glancing up again at Harm, he raised the hand that still had his gun and aimed it at Mac. Harm fired again, catching him in the chest. Astofo dropped his gun, and with a final strangled cry, fell to the ground.
Harm sat there momentarily observing the prone figure until he was brought back to reality by celebration from the American troops outside. He turned and came up on his knees before Mac, gingerly taking her chin in his hand, and lifted her face.
"Mac! Mac, honey, can you hear me? Please, Mac, please; you gotta wake up!" Harm pleaded with her in a voice husky with emotion. Silently he offered up a fervent prayer to God, imploring Him to save the woman before him. He put two fingers to her neck and found her light pulse beating faintly under her skin.
Just then she groaned, rolling her head to the side as she struggled to lift it so she could look at who was in front of her. Somewhere through the fog in her mind she recognized Harm. But no, that couldn't be right; her tortured mind must be playing a trick on her.
"Harm?" she whispered weakly. "Harm? I'm so sorry..I can't hold out any more..please, don't let him hit me again. Help me, please!"
"No, Mac, no! He won't hit you again. I'm here now, don't worry. You're safe; I won't let anyone hurt you again." Harm declared passionately to her. Blinking through his tears of relief he leaned forward and kissed her broken lips gently.
Mac lifted her head further when she felt him brush her lips softly, and this time she really saw him standing there in front of her and knew that it wasn't a dream. Relief flooded her entire body as tears streamed from her eyes. He brushed the first few away before pulling out a knife and cutting her bonds. Gently, he lifted her out of the chair, catching her when she immediately fell against him. Trying to be as tender as possible, he scooped her up in his arms to carry her to the door.
Mac squirmed and mumbled incoherently when they walked past Astofo. Pausing, Harm leaned closer to her. Her eyes were shut, but her lips were moving. He finally realized that she wanted to say something to Astofo. Turning, they faced the man on the ground; he lay there shaking in the dirt as he struggled to draw breath through the pain.
Forcing her eyes to open as far as they could, Mac leaned forward in Harm's arms and stared down at her former captor. With a wavering voice, she managed to speak when he made eye contact with her.
"I'm Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, United States Marine Corps." Collapsing back into Harm's arms, she watched Astofo take in his final, haggard breath and grow still. A gentle sigh of relief escaped her, her eyelids fluttering shut as she settled herself comfortably against Harm's strong chest. Harm was amazed as he stared down at the impossibly strong woman in his arms. He hugged her against him gently, so thankful that she was ok. Turning then, he walked resolutely out the door to meet the cheers of the Marines waiting them.