*********************************************
December 7
The Cabin outside Yekaterinburg
0920 local
Waking up with Mercedes Rabb was quite a pleasant experience,
Webb thought as he prepared himself a cup of dark, sweet tea. This
morning, he had awakened to the extremely pleasant sensation of her
legs intertwined with his, and the soft curves of her naked body
pressing into him. Her pale golden hair, smelling faintly of jasmine,
lay in a silken mass across his chest, and her face was pressed into
the crook of his neck, her warm breath causing slightly alarming but
extremely enjoyable sensations to shiver down his spine. Extricating
himself from her warm embrace had been a unique form of torture, he
thought, glancing over to her still-slumbering form.
Clay sighed. Dammit, he couldn't afford to get involved with
anyone, and especially not someone as potentially dangerous as Mercedes
Rabb. Christ, she was Harm's cousin! Simply being around her was
trouble...but....
Quietly, he moved from the kitchen area to the bedroom, and
studied her still-sleeping form. In the harsh brightness of daylight,
he could see the scars from her crash that he had only previously known
by touch. Thick, slightly raised, reddened and fibrous but flat, the
scars were the worst on her shoulder blades and upper back, decreasing
in severity as they moved downward. He couldn't help the slight
churning in his stomach as her looked at them; not because of
revulsion, but at the thought of the sheer pain she had been through.
He figured she had been through scar therapy; it seemed unlikely that
she hadn't. And the scars were still raised several millimeters from
the surface of her skin, and an angry-looking, flushed pink.
But that wasn't what really held Clay's interest. He'd found her
third tattoo.
It started at her shoulder joints and flowed along her spine down
to her waist, using the natural landscape of the scars to give texture
and depth to the image. A wild, magical bird, wings outstretched, was
rendered in every possible combination of reds, yellows, oranges, and
blues. The work was extremely fine and detailed; the wings and long,
flowing tail of the creature seemed to almost flicker and dance as
though aflame. The meaning of the image hit him as he realized
precisely what the creature was.
Across the back of a woman who'd survived a literal trial by
fire, and then reinvented herself, was the image of a phoenix arisen.
***********************************************************
Yekaterinburg City Jail
Same day
1136 local
Mac awoke slowly, painfully stiff from the cold of the cell and
the unforgiving metal slab. Deciding that moving greatly really wasn't
necessary at the moment, she satisfied her inherent curiosity by simply
opening her eyes.
And found herself looking straight into her partner's slightly
worse-for-wear teal ones. "Hey," she said softly, by way of greeting.
"Hey."
"How are you feeling?"
He groaned. "Like a punching bag after Mike Tyson's workout.
Other than that, I'm terrific."
She scanned his battered face. "You don't look so terrific,"
she replied, a note of worry in her voice.
"Thanks, Mac. I needed that," he answered, closing his eyes.
"I'm serious, Harm. You're sure you're all right?"
"As good as I can be, considering," he told her, before reopening
his eyes to look at her. Worry and concern were etched on her face,
and he softened. "Really, Mac. It hurts, but I've had worse."
She smiled humorlessly. "I know, Harm. I've been there for quite
a few of them. That doesn't mean I'm not worried now."
"Mac, I'll be fine," he said gently, before reaching to caress
her cheek with his knuckles. "You take good care of me."
The sentiment, said with such tenderness, caught her off guard.
At a loss for words, she simply returned the gesture, brushing her
fingertips across his roughened cheek lightly, wary of causing him
pain.
He caught her wrist gently and pressed her hand to his face,
closing his eyes briefly and drinking in the comfort of her touch. He
gazed at her, an unexpected intensity in his eyes. "I don't know how I
ever thought I could get through this without you," he whispered,
simply staring at her as though he was truly seeing her for the first
time.
They remained silent, just watching each other. Slowly, the
expression faded from his face, and he looked away. "Mac.... what do
you think happened?"
"At the lab?"
He nodded.
"I don't know, Harm. All we know at this point was what
Inspector Karpov told us. Assuming that's essentially true..."
"We have Mercedes's friend, the lab tech, apparently murdered,
the lab destroyed, and Mercedes and the remains......" His voice
trailed off as the implication hit him. "Oh, God, Mac. He's missing
again. He's gone."
"And we'll find him again, Harm. Him and Mercedes," she said
forcefully, letting her voice reach out to him, cutting through the
grief that was quickly enveloping him. She thought for a moment,
focusing her mind on the few facts they knew, and applying the same
logic that served her so well at JAG. "Something must have happened,
Harm... Maybe someone came after your Dad's remains, and they killed
Georgi Sevastinov to get to them."
"What about Mercedes?"
Mac contemplated the possibilities. "Mercedes went missing around
the same time frame as the remains and Sevatinov's murder. For the
way Karpov talked, I don't think the lab being trashed was connected to
the murder."
"I agree; it didn't sound like he thought the two were directly
connected... more like they happened independently," Harm's mind was
now focused on piecing together the mystery of that night.
They both fell silent, their minds turning over various
possibilities. It was several minutes before Mac spoke again, breaking
the silence.
"Harm... Mercedes would have arrived at the lab that night,
assuming she went straight from Washington to here. What if
Sevastinov was already dead when she arrived..."
"But the killer was still there," he finished for her, eyes
wide. "And if Sevastinov was killed because he was in the way--
because he knew about the remains, and would question their
disappearance--"
"Then the killer may have still been there, retrieving the
remains when Mercedes walked in," Mac concluded. "Harm, there was no
way she would have simply let anyone walk off with your Dad. The lab
must have been trashed when they fought over the remains."
Harm interrupted her. "So there was fight in the lab, and
somehow, at the end of it, Mercedes and Dad's remains disappeared," he
stated quietly. "Mac.... they could've taken her and Dad. They
could've even killed her," he said, his voice barely a whisper as he
finished.
Mac shook her head. "Or, she could have fought them off,
temporarily disabling her attacker. She wouldn't have left without the
remains, Harm. I know it-- just from talking to her that day."
"We don't know that, Mac," he said despondently.
"We don't know that she's dead either. Besides, they left behind
Georgi's body. Why not leave hers behind, too? She was legally in the
country, working with the permission of the government. There's no
reason to leave one body behind and not the other." She fixed Harm with
a determined stare. "Mercedes is alive, Harm. And I'd bet my 'Vette
she's got your Dad with her."
Harm just looked at Mac for a moment. "I hope you're right, Mac."
***********************************************************************
The cabin
Same time
Clay returned to the kitchen to refill his mug, his mind awhirl
with thoughts of Mercedes. He poured himself another mug of the
steaming tea, absently stirring in several lumps of sugar. He leaned
back against the counter, contemplating all he had learned.
Lost in thought, it took him a minute to realize her was staring
at a radio on the counter. Somehow, it had escaped his notice before.
Idly, he put the tea glass down and inspected the small, portable
radio. Sure enough, it had batteries. A few minutes later, he had it
on at a low volume and tuned to a local news station.
He picked up his tea, only half-listening to the broadcast when one
report caught his attention.
"Local authorities have a new lead in the death of morgue technician
Georgi Sevastinov. They confirmed that a pair of Americans, a middle
age male and a female, are being detained in connection with the
investigation..."
Oh no. It couldn't be... But it had to. It was too much of a
coincidence.
A slow, dull throbbing began in Clay's forehead as he realized that
apparently, Harm and Mac were a lot closer than he'd thought.
TBC....
December 7
The Cabin outside Yekaterinburg
0920 local
Waking up with Mercedes Rabb was quite a pleasant experience,
Webb thought as he prepared himself a cup of dark, sweet tea. This
morning, he had awakened to the extremely pleasant sensation of her
legs intertwined with his, and the soft curves of her naked body
pressing into him. Her pale golden hair, smelling faintly of jasmine,
lay in a silken mass across his chest, and her face was pressed into
the crook of his neck, her warm breath causing slightly alarming but
extremely enjoyable sensations to shiver down his spine. Extricating
himself from her warm embrace had been a unique form of torture, he
thought, glancing over to her still-slumbering form.
Clay sighed. Dammit, he couldn't afford to get involved with
anyone, and especially not someone as potentially dangerous as Mercedes
Rabb. Christ, she was Harm's cousin! Simply being around her was
trouble...but....
Quietly, he moved from the kitchen area to the bedroom, and
studied her still-sleeping form. In the harsh brightness of daylight,
he could see the scars from her crash that he had only previously known
by touch. Thick, slightly raised, reddened and fibrous but flat, the
scars were the worst on her shoulder blades and upper back, decreasing
in severity as they moved downward. He couldn't help the slight
churning in his stomach as her looked at them; not because of
revulsion, but at the thought of the sheer pain she had been through.
He figured she had been through scar therapy; it seemed unlikely that
she hadn't. And the scars were still raised several millimeters from
the surface of her skin, and an angry-looking, flushed pink.
But that wasn't what really held Clay's interest. He'd found her
third tattoo.
It started at her shoulder joints and flowed along her spine down
to her waist, using the natural landscape of the scars to give texture
and depth to the image. A wild, magical bird, wings outstretched, was
rendered in every possible combination of reds, yellows, oranges, and
blues. The work was extremely fine and detailed; the wings and long,
flowing tail of the creature seemed to almost flicker and dance as
though aflame. The meaning of the image hit him as he realized
precisely what the creature was.
Across the back of a woman who'd survived a literal trial by
fire, and then reinvented herself, was the image of a phoenix arisen.
***********************************************************
Yekaterinburg City Jail
Same day
1136 local
Mac awoke slowly, painfully stiff from the cold of the cell and
the unforgiving metal slab. Deciding that moving greatly really wasn't
necessary at the moment, she satisfied her inherent curiosity by simply
opening her eyes.
And found herself looking straight into her partner's slightly
worse-for-wear teal ones. "Hey," she said softly, by way of greeting.
"Hey."
"How are you feeling?"
He groaned. "Like a punching bag after Mike Tyson's workout.
Other than that, I'm terrific."
She scanned his battered face. "You don't look so terrific,"
she replied, a note of worry in her voice.
"Thanks, Mac. I needed that," he answered, closing his eyes.
"I'm serious, Harm. You're sure you're all right?"
"As good as I can be, considering," he told her, before reopening
his eyes to look at her. Worry and concern were etched on her face,
and he softened. "Really, Mac. It hurts, but I've had worse."
She smiled humorlessly. "I know, Harm. I've been there for quite
a few of them. That doesn't mean I'm not worried now."
"Mac, I'll be fine," he said gently, before reaching to caress
her cheek with his knuckles. "You take good care of me."
The sentiment, said with such tenderness, caught her off guard.
At a loss for words, she simply returned the gesture, brushing her
fingertips across his roughened cheek lightly, wary of causing him
pain.
He caught her wrist gently and pressed her hand to his face,
closing his eyes briefly and drinking in the comfort of her touch. He
gazed at her, an unexpected intensity in his eyes. "I don't know how I
ever thought I could get through this without you," he whispered,
simply staring at her as though he was truly seeing her for the first
time.
They remained silent, just watching each other. Slowly, the
expression faded from his face, and he looked away. "Mac.... what do
you think happened?"
"At the lab?"
He nodded.
"I don't know, Harm. All we know at this point was what
Inspector Karpov told us. Assuming that's essentially true..."
"We have Mercedes's friend, the lab tech, apparently murdered,
the lab destroyed, and Mercedes and the remains......" His voice
trailed off as the implication hit him. "Oh, God, Mac. He's missing
again. He's gone."
"And we'll find him again, Harm. Him and Mercedes," she said
forcefully, letting her voice reach out to him, cutting through the
grief that was quickly enveloping him. She thought for a moment,
focusing her mind on the few facts they knew, and applying the same
logic that served her so well at JAG. "Something must have happened,
Harm... Maybe someone came after your Dad's remains, and they killed
Georgi Sevastinov to get to them."
"What about Mercedes?"
Mac contemplated the possibilities. "Mercedes went missing around
the same time frame as the remains and Sevatinov's murder. For the
way Karpov talked, I don't think the lab being trashed was connected to
the murder."
"I agree; it didn't sound like he thought the two were directly
connected... more like they happened independently," Harm's mind was
now focused on piecing together the mystery of that night.
They both fell silent, their minds turning over various
possibilities. It was several minutes before Mac spoke again, breaking
the silence.
"Harm... Mercedes would have arrived at the lab that night,
assuming she went straight from Washington to here. What if
Sevastinov was already dead when she arrived..."
"But the killer was still there," he finished for her, eyes
wide. "And if Sevastinov was killed because he was in the way--
because he knew about the remains, and would question their
disappearance--"
"Then the killer may have still been there, retrieving the
remains when Mercedes walked in," Mac concluded. "Harm, there was no
way she would have simply let anyone walk off with your Dad. The lab
must have been trashed when they fought over the remains."
Harm interrupted her. "So there was fight in the lab, and
somehow, at the end of it, Mercedes and Dad's remains disappeared," he
stated quietly. "Mac.... they could've taken her and Dad. They
could've even killed her," he said, his voice barely a whisper as he
finished.
Mac shook her head. "Or, she could have fought them off,
temporarily disabling her attacker. She wouldn't have left without the
remains, Harm. I know it-- just from talking to her that day."
"We don't know that, Mac," he said despondently.
"We don't know that she's dead either. Besides, they left behind
Georgi's body. Why not leave hers behind, too? She was legally in the
country, working with the permission of the government. There's no
reason to leave one body behind and not the other." She fixed Harm with
a determined stare. "Mercedes is alive, Harm. And I'd bet my 'Vette
she's got your Dad with her."
Harm just looked at Mac for a moment. "I hope you're right, Mac."
***********************************************************************
The cabin
Same time
Clay returned to the kitchen to refill his mug, his mind awhirl
with thoughts of Mercedes. He poured himself another mug of the
steaming tea, absently stirring in several lumps of sugar. He leaned
back against the counter, contemplating all he had learned.
Lost in thought, it took him a minute to realize her was staring
at a radio on the counter. Somehow, it had escaped his notice before.
Idly, he put the tea glass down and inspected the small, portable
radio. Sure enough, it had batteries. A few minutes later, he had it
on at a low volume and tuned to a local news station.
He picked up his tea, only half-listening to the broadcast when one
report caught his attention.
"Local authorities have a new lead in the death of morgue technician
Georgi Sevastinov. They confirmed that a pair of Americans, a middle
age male and a female, are being detained in connection with the
investigation..."
Oh no. It couldn't be... But it had to. It was too much of a
coincidence.
A slow, dull throbbing began in Clay's forehead as he realized that
apparently, Harm and Mac were a lot closer than he'd thought.
TBC....