ABOUT US 3: The Good And The Bad 8/14
Author: LeE
e-mail: lee_81881@yahoo.com
Classification: Romance H/M, Clay/Annika
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: If they belonged to me... no comment. :) JAG is property of DPB and CBS. I'm just having some fun while procrastinating on homework...
Author's Note: This story takes place two months after the events of About Us 2. The rest of the information related to LLNL and the different laboratories mentioned, as well as the current research on Nitrogen bond-dissociation is real, although not nearly as advanced as I make it in the story. Believe me, the world would be a whole lot different. Even though chemistry is a passion of mine, Nitrogen compounds is not my area of expertise; but if anyone is interested in further information about anything mentioned on this story, please don't hesitate to contact me.
Many thanks to my betas, who always do such a great job keeping me motivated... you're the best, guys!...
FROM PART 7
"Vranch"
"Nik!"
"Clay? Where are you? It's awful loud wherever it is" she spoke once relief coursed through her at hearing his voice.
"In a plane. Listen. I'm coming over there. I'll be there in a few hours" he rushed through the words and Annika had a hard time understanding him.
"You're coming? In a few hours? Why? What happened over there?"
"I'll tell you later...no time now...Nik...bye" the connection ended and she was left standing there staring at the phone in her hand.
"Don't even ask," she said soon as she noticed Harm and Mac's questioning stares. Holding up their hands simultaneously, they looked at each other and shook their heads as Annika turned back to finish her meal.
PART 8
LLNL
LIVERMORE, CA
TUESDAY JUNE 11, 2002
1123 PT
Michael Ashton was not one to doubt his abilities. However, the constant reappearance of those two military officers was troubling him, to say the least. Why would they keep investigating after all the clear evidence he'd made sure was provided? He was starting to think he'd made a big mistake in bringing the military into this. It was supposed to be cut and dry. No loose ends. The DNA matched, the fingerprints, the location, the motive. It was a safe bet in his mind. Now he was starting to feel apprehensive about the whole thing. Lt. Fleming was supposed to be on his way to Leavenworth by now. Not at the brig pending end of investigation.
Now, with those couple of military lawyers investigating, he wished he'd had more time to plan. More time to look at every angle, to study from every perspective. Improvisation in experiments was nothing new to researchers, but the risks were always calculated. Contrary to public belief, a research lab wasn't about mixing different colored chemicals all day long and watching out for explosions. Although that was sure fun when the opportunity arose to indulge in it, he thought with characteristic scientific humor.
Biomedical research was complex, layered, and extremely expensive, which meant months of careful planning often preceded the execution of an experiment that would only last, in theory, a few hours. The planning, the strategic thinking, had always been Michael Ashton's specialty. His father had noticed this quality in him, and had encouraged his science education from the beginning. Some would say he just wanted Michael to follow in his own footsteps. But Dr. Jeffery Ashton had known better. He knew his son and Michael owed his love for science to him.
As it went, Dr. Jones' unexpected discovery had forced Michael to improvise. A smug smile grew on his lips. He was a researcher, an investigator. Experiments never failed. They simply led you in new and exciting directions. He knew that. Without that knowledge it was impossible to survive the disappointments, and he'd seen it happen often enough to first-year students. Scientific research was unpredictable and impossible to fully control. One of the reasons he'd always loved research labs. It was fun, and exciting to attempt new strategies, and so rewarding when the results ended up as headlines in famous science journals.
The situation with Dr. Jones' had initially unnerved him. Finally, he'd decided to apply his professional knowledge, and he'd taken a calculated risk. A risk because the necessary time to strategically sketch out an outline of what he intended to do had not been available to him, as it had in the past when he'd executed his plans to perfection. Thinking over his actions the week before, he sat back in his chair and sighed. At one point, he'd believed Dr. Jones to be on his side. They'd attended several functions and conferences together, where the main attraction had been the long talks about nuclear physics, its services and disservices. Pros and cons. That's what it all boiled down to, and he was only sorry that most of the educated population didn't share his opinion on the subject; or at least weren't prepared to act on it. Well, he was. He wasn't an idiot. He was acutely aware of the benefits of scientific research. That didn't make him blind to its ugly side; like most of his colleagues.
In his calm state at work, he wished Dr. Jones hadn't interfered with his plans. He could say he had genuinely liked the old man. A week before, it hadn't seemed like much trouble to dispose of him. A call to his dear old friend Laura Smith at NCIS and all had been arranged. As it happened, he'd ended up owing Laura a few nights here and there, but he didn't mind that. It was a calculated risk he'd chosen to take, not a mistake. He had to believe that.
"Excuse me, do you have a moment?" Mac's voice cut through his thoughts and Michael attempted a calm smile as he turned towards her.
"Colonel, how good to see you. Of course I have a moment. What can I help you with?"
His tone was pleasant enough, but Mac had been an investigator for too long and she'd spotted the current below the calm waters. Maybe there was something to Harm's idea after all. She'd have to pay closer attention.
"Well, I know you didn't work directly with Dr. Jones, but we've been conducting interviews, just following procedure, and I was wondering if you could spare a few minutes" she said amiably.
"Of course" he answered at once and stood from the chair he'd been sitting on facing the bulletin board. Mac's eyes darted towards it and with investigative caution swept her eyes over the calendar that was marked and lined with different color makers. Dates, meetings, appointments, deadlines. One particular day caught her eye and as she began her routine questioning of him she strained her sight to get a good look at it. October 12. Marked in red. 'Maybe a birthday' she thought and made a mental note to ask about it when she talked to Annika.
"It sure is a shame what happened. Dr. Jones' was an excellent scientist, and I looked up to him. He and my father were good friends, so he and his family have been friends of mine for a long time" Michael answered calmly now, his nerves in check.
"Where were you the afternoon of Dr. Jones' murder?" Mac asked as she scribbled something on her paper pad; a move not unnoticed by Michael. His hands came together, rubbing lightly as he answered. Mac noticed, but didn't let him know. In some cases, it helped to let the person know you were aware of their discomfort. In this case, she figured, it was best not to get into it.
"I was out, with a friend. I hadn't seen her in a while and we had a, um, lunch date that ran a little long you could say" he answered with a grin on his face and Mac smiled back.
"I see. So you weren't here that afternoon." Michael shook his head. "Do you remember anything out of the ordinary around the laboratory that day?" was her next question and she noticed Michael seemed thoughtful for a few seconds before he shook his head with a sigh.
"I've thought about that day so many times the past week. I wish I could tell you something that could help. Normally, it's pretty busy around here so unless it's a pretty obvious thing we don't notice. Researchers tend to be oblivious to everything but their own work, Colonel" he finished with a big smile which she supposed was intended to charm her out of asking the hard questions. She had enough to aid her suspicions anyway. If he didn't have anything to do with it, fine. If he did, she didn't want to make him too uneasy.
"Well, thank you for your time, Dr. Ashton"
"Michael, please"
"Michael. Have a good day"
"Same to you, Colonel" he spoke as she offered one last polite smile and turned to go.
October 12. Hmmm.
SAME TIME
DR. MARCH'S OFFICE
"I really appreciate you taking the time for this. I know your schedule is really busy" Harm spoke politely as he sat across from Dr. March.
The older man smiled easily and waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh, don't you worry about it, young man. I know you've got your job to do as well. Now, how can I help you?"
"As you know we're conducting a military investigation into Dr. Jones' death. The main suspect is a Lieutenant in the United States Navy and though he's already been turned over to us, we feel it's our duty to make sure we've got the right man," Harm said with the flourish of an experienced lawyer and investigator and Dr. March nodded with a smile. He liked the old man, Harm thought, and continued on.
"I'll just need to ask you a few routine questions."
"Shoot" Harm smiled before looking down at his notes.
"When was the last time you saw Dr. Jones?"
"We had a meeting that morning. It was around ten o'clock if I remember correctly. It was just a routine administrative meeting. We had lunch that day at the Chili's a few minutes from here as we always did after a meeting like that. Larry, that's Dr. Jones, said he had gotten an urgent page from his wife at home. He said he thought it a little odd since his wife was supposed to be away for a few days, but he went anyway. He left at around one o'clock and that was the last I saw of him. As soon as Michael, Dr. Ashton, returned that afternoon I asked him to check on Larry. That's how I found out about it all." Dr. March finished in a small voice, obviously shaken by the fate of his good friend.
"Dr. Ashton?"
"Uh, yes. Him and Dr. Jones were extremely close. I thought maybe he would know something."
"I see" Harm was thoughtful for a second. He was confused. If Ashton was that close to Dr. Jones, why hadn't he stepped forward or attempted to contact any of them about the investigation?
"Did you notice anything irregular at all that day, or maybe during the past few weeks? Any strange behavior?"
Dr. March thought for a few moments and then sighed as he shook his head. "Nothing. We've all been under a little stress because we've been trying to keep N Division going after Dr. Fleming's death last year. It hasn't been easy. So I guess everyone's been a little on edge the past few months with all the meetings and now the convention that's coming up, but nothing I would catalogue out of the ordinary for a research lab."
Harm nodded. "Well, thank you very much for your cooperation, Dr. March. We appreciate it."
Dr. March smiled sadly. "You're welcome, Commander. Anything else I can help with you let me know."
Standing up, Harm prepared to leave, and with a shake of Dr. March's hand he strode out of the office, leaving a thoughtful researcher behind in his oversized chair.
CLAY'S HOTEL ROOM
LIVERMORE, CA
Livermore wasn't a crowded place and not really a tourist city. Therefore, it had been fairly simple to find a room next to Harm and Mac. Of course, his room wasn't connected to their rooms, at his own insistent request. Looking around, Clay focused on the furniture that filled the room. It wasn't all that unique. The bed looked rather comfortable and after last night's verbal match with his partner and best friend, he thought a good nap was definitely in order.
"Oh, who am I kidding?" he murmured to himself as he walked over towards the window. Annika and him hadn't seen eye to eye at all the night before. So much that he'd left Harm's room with a pretty loud slam of the door and a few undoubtedly rude shouted words. Lately, it was all or nothing with her. They were either completely at each other's throats, or completely calm and sentimental. Closing his eyes he recalled their conversation, or fight, the night before. He had wanted so much to tell her the truth. To tell her the real reason for his fear.
*************
"Damn it, Clay. I'm staying and that's the end of it," she shouted at him, enraged at his overprotective attitude.
"Annika, listen to me..."
"No, you listen to me, Clayton Webb. I am a trained CIA agent. And I will not stand here and have you underestimate my capabilities. You either get a grip or I'm calling Don and requesting he send you back to Washington."
"Why do you have to be so damn stubborn? Someone in that lab killed Dr. Jones. And I'm willing to bet whoever did it has to do with Dr. Fleming's death as well. I'm not telling you to leave. I'm just suggesting you get some help in there." Why was she being so stubborn? He was just making a suggestion for God's sake.
"Nothing out of the ordinary has happened there. There is no need for you to be raising hell because of a hunch, Clay. If you were thinking about this reasonably you would see that." Her temper was slowly getting the best of her. She'd never raised her voice at him when personal matters were discussed. But damn it, this was her job. Why was he being such an ass about it? He had certainly not objected to any of her past assignments. She'd almost been killed in the Caribbean. He had to know *that*.
"Oh, so now you think it's a hunch? What about the weeks I spent in Afghanistan, huh? You think I haven't worked on this as hard as you have?" His temper was nearing the edge of the cliff, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold it in much longer.
"Yes, I know you have. Behind my back! And you know what?..." she waited for him to meet her eyes. "I don't *give* a damn!"
Clay averted his eyes immediately. This was not going well. "It wasn't meant like that. I didn't mean to go behind your back, Annika, I just wanted to..." he trailed off, but Annika knew just where he was coming from and she saw red.
"To what, Clay? To protect me? Is that it? Well, I suggest you take a loooooong look at my service record and then you come talk to me about needing protection. Damn it, Clay. I know what I'm doing. You're the one who doesn't!"
Oh, now she was asking for it. "Oh, yeah? Well, tell me partner. When did you stop trusting me and cataloguing my instinct as merely a 'hunch'?"
The anger rushed out, and disbelief inundated her. Her gaze went hazy for second. "I don't know, Clay. Maybe about the same time you stopped trusting me" The words left her mouth before she had a chance to think it through and instantly saw his eyes flash with hurt and anger.
Clay wanted to yell back. God, more than anything he wanted to lash out right back at her. She deserved it. How dare she presume he didn't trust her? Years. It had taken them years to build the trust they shared and it was his biggest source of pride. How dare she even suggest it. She'd done it a few nights ago. She'd asked him if he didn't trust her. He'd been appalled by her question and had denied it vehemently at once. But he'd known she didn't mean it. She'd asked. But she knew the answer. Now, as he looked back at her, her words ran over and over in his mind, and he could see there was a part of her that believed it. A part of her that believed their trust was gone. It hurt.
Whirling around, he dashed towards the door and with fury slammed the door shut behind him.
*************
He'd been grateful Harm and Mac hadn't been in the room when his temper had clashed with Annika's. But they knew. They'd been right outside in the hall when he'd rushed out of the room with his anger bubbling dangerously inside him. And he imagined Annika had been shaken, and Harm and Mac had been there for her. Been there for her. It should've been him. He should've been there for her.
It'd been so long since they'd had an argument like that. As a matter of fact, they hadn't had an argument like that since their second assignment seven years ago. They'd yelled, and they'd insulted each other, and doubted each other's abilities, and from that had blossomed the best and truest friendship he'd ever had. Once again they'd doubted each other, and he couldn't help but wonder what would blossom after this.
"Damn it, Annika. Why don't you get it?"
Talking to himself wasn't quite the answer, but it was the best he could come up with. She had refused to answer the phone when he'd called her the night before. He'd left messages; he'd paged her, e-mailed her. Nothing. Boy, when that woman got angry, she got angry, and there was no going around it.
"One second" Clay called halfheartedly as he heard the knock on the door.
"Well, hello Clay. You're looking beautiful this afternoon" Harm said cheerfully as Clay opened the door to let him in.
"Stuff it, Harm. I'm not in the mood" Clay murmured as he walked away from him towards the little wood table next to the window.
"Nooooo. I couldn't tell. I'm sorry" Harm was enjoying this way too much.
"Kick the spy when he's down, right?"
"Come on, Clay. I'm Navy, you're CIA. It's my moral obligation to mess with you. Now do you want to hear my take on this or are you gonna sit here in your million dollar jeans and sulk about Annika all day?"
"Annika's got nothing to do with this."
"Sure she does. But we won't get into it now. I've got better things to do than poking holes in your arguments. Now, Mac and I have been thinking..."
"Awful noisy when you think aren't you? Barely slept a wink last night listening to you two." They were on the room next door. Clay knew he was exaggerating. Oh well.
Harm beamed at him. "Don't be a smart ass"
"Too late"
"Shut up, Clay" he ordered good-naturedly. "As I was saying before you so rudely offered your opinion on our private nocturnal lives, Mac and I have been thinking, and we have a theory."
"Right" Sarcasm poured. He couldn't help it.
"Enough" Clay glared at him before sighing his assent. "Now, I know this might come as a surprise to you, but we actually agree with you. Whoever killed Dr. Jones and possibly Dr. Fleming did it from the inside. Mac and I spent the morning interviewing people at the lab."
"Where's Mac?"
"With Annika. Listen. What do you know about Dr. Fleming's death?"
"Everything there is to know. Why?"
Leave it to Clay to come up with a convoluted answer. "We believe it's related to Dr. Jones' death."
"Well, please enlighten me, Sherlock."
Harm rolled his eyes. "Mac interviewed Dr. Ashton today. He seemed awfully nervous when she kinda snuck up on him while he was staring at his calendar. She noticed a date circled in red and said she'd ask Annika about it. October 12" Harm finished and watched the recognition flood Clay's face.
"Dr. Fleming's death. It was October 12 of last year" he thought for a second, then shook his head. "That doesn't prove anything, Harm."
"Guess who else died on October 12?"
Clay looked thoughtful. His eyes opened wide suddenly and he jumped from the chair to open up his laptop. "Dr. Rasdja died October 12, 1998. One year after..."
"Bingo. We ran a background check on Ashton. There's nothing special going on that day, as far as family or important dates go. Well, nothing special but his father's death. October 12, 1997. He's not married. He doesn't have kids. His father's death could be the reason he's got it marked on his calendar."
"So what if his dad died that day? He has it marked on his calendar? Who cares? Lots of people remember dates like that. You do." Harm took the comment in stride. Clay was trying to take his attention elsewhere.
"Clay"
"What?"
"Spill it"
Clay sighed. "Okay, I agree with you. I need to show you something. I wanted to wait until we were all together, so Annika wouldn't get on my case again for doing this behind her back."
"Nah, she's not talking to you." Clay glared. Harm held up his hands. "Sorry"
"Uh huh. Now, since you seem to be reading me so well these days, I'll tell you what I got..."
"What is it?"
Reaching out, Clay took hold of a folder in the table and handed it to Harm.
"When did you get this?" Harm asked as he focused on the contents. There was an eyewitness. Dorothy Garcia was the housekeeper at the Jones' residence. She'd called in the police when she'd found Dr. Jones' body. Apparently, the CIA had had a talk with her the night before, and she testified to have seen a man going out the backyard door when she'd arrived at the house that afternoon.
"Early this morning. Don faxed it through the secure line. Awfully suspicious don't you think?"
"Why didn't she come forward before? When she was interviewed right after she reported the death?" Harm said with a frown as his eyes still skimmed over the folder.
"She said she was scared. Two years ago, a gang member killed her brother after he served as witness in a murder trial in LA. Don checked out her background and when he found out about her history he had Agent Phillips fly out here and question her again. He's one of our best. Mrs. Garcia is in protective custody now."
Harm contemplated the information for a few seconds.
"Ashton said he had an alibi. A lunch date with some old girlfriend or something, Mac said. It might not have been him that Mrs. Garcia saw. Lt. Fleming was found two blocks from Dr. Jones' home. It could've been him she saw. The physical description written here matches both men. Dr. March told me this morning that he'd looked for Ashton at the lab but hadn't been able to find him around noon. We need to tell Mac and Nik."
"I still don't get it. Why are you so set on Dr. Ashton? Just 'cause he hit on Mac doesn't mean he deserves prison time, Navy" Clay finished with a smirk.
Harm narrowed his eyes. "How'd you know about that?"
Clay opened his mouth to speak, but Harm stopped him with a hand. "I don't think I want to know."
"You sure? It's quite an interesting story, you see..."
"He's the only solid lead we've got, Clayton" Harm rolled his eyes dismissing his comment. He'd never admit to Clay his discomfort at the way Ashton had looked at Mac. Not yet anyway.
"Sure, but then you could always go for the NOT so obvious bad guy, right? The one who's locked up already AND whose fingerprints were found on the weapon, AND who's story doesn't check out?"
Harm raised an exasperated eyebrow, and Clay sighed with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. It smells like a set up to me too. But damn it, Harm. Dr. Jones' death is completely unlike Rasdja's and Fleming's. There's no pattern. It doesn't make sense. Ashton might know something about their deaths, but not Dr. Jones'. We need more brains on this one. Know where the women are?" The grim smile on his face had Harm shaking his head.
"You're pathetic, Webb. And for the record, I always know where Mac is," Harm answered with a grin. "Listen, Clay. Ashton's up to something. It just feels like we're missing it. I agree, he might not have anything to do with Dr. Jones' death, but damn it, there's something going on with the guy. Dr. March said him and Jones were really close, and yet he never came forward even though he knew we were investigating. He didn't take any time off either after Jones' death. Mac said he was awfully nervous when she interviewed him. She knows how to read people" Harm finished and waited for Clay to put the pieces together in his head.
"What's Nik saying about this? She's kinda fond of Dr. Ashton herself" he finished with a sneer.
Harm ignored the latter comment. "I spoke to her a few minutes ago. She said she'd take this afternoon to poke around some more. She knows an awful lot about him, and no one's above your partner's suspicions I hear. She said he seemed a little uneasy yesterday when Mac and I went to the lab in the morning. We're supposed to meet for dinner at 1800 back here."
"Okay. So you're suggesting we give Annika some time to get more familiar with the possible killer?" Clay asked nonchalantly, annoyed to no end at the suggestion.
Harm crossed his arms. "No. I'm suggesting we give Annika some time to do her job, which she happens to be excellent at. In the mean time, we go talk to good Lt. Fleming. Someone may have paid Fleming to do it. The evidence is too overwhelming against him after all."
"You think Fleming would go for it?" Clay asked dubiously.
Harm sighed. "I can see how he would think of it as a way to get information on his father's whereabouts." Clay pierced him with an apologetic look. Harm offered a dismissive shrug. "I'm not saying I'd do it, Clay, or that I condone it. I'm just saying it wouldn't surprise me, that's all."
"You know, that time when they arrested you...I thought for a second you'd killed the guy. I know how ridiculous it sounds now, but I didn't know you all that well back then."
"I know. I understand. If it'd been you in jail I might have thought the same thing."
Clay's eyes met his. Indeed, they had more in common than they thought. Clay's father had also died in the line of duty. Harm had found out about his father's ultimate fate. Clay hadn't. And maybe there was no hope he ever would; but he'd still helped Harm when the search for his father had gotten him and Mac in trouble. He understood.
Clay sighed as he stood up slowly. He was doing his best not to let his personal life affect his work. The situation with Annika was driving him to madness. Harm felt sorry for the guy.
"Listen, Clay. You have to work it from the sidelines this time. I'm not saying you have to like it. Just live with it, okay?"
"I have a bad feeling about this, Harm"
"Yeah, well. All you can do is do your best and trust..." he paused until Clay met his eyes, "that your partner will do the same" and with a raised eyebrow Harm walked over to the little refrigerator to get out a bottle of water.
"I think I'll need something a little stronger to buy into this crazy idea of yours" Clay murmured as he accepted the bottle from Harm, who simply smiled knowingly at him.
"You can get wasted after this is all over, pal" Harm offered lightly with a pat in the back.
"You mean you're not getting wasted with me?" Clay's mouth turned up in what could be catalogued as a teasing smile.
Harm thought of Mac, and grinned. "No way, spook"
TBC
Author: LeE
e-mail: lee_81881@yahoo.com
Classification: Romance H/M, Clay/Annika
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: If they belonged to me... no comment. :) JAG is property of DPB and CBS. I'm just having some fun while procrastinating on homework...
Author's Note: This story takes place two months after the events of About Us 2. The rest of the information related to LLNL and the different laboratories mentioned, as well as the current research on Nitrogen bond-dissociation is real, although not nearly as advanced as I make it in the story. Believe me, the world would be a whole lot different. Even though chemistry is a passion of mine, Nitrogen compounds is not my area of expertise; but if anyone is interested in further information about anything mentioned on this story, please don't hesitate to contact me.
Many thanks to my betas, who always do such a great job keeping me motivated... you're the best, guys!...
FROM PART 7
"Vranch"
"Nik!"
"Clay? Where are you? It's awful loud wherever it is" she spoke once relief coursed through her at hearing his voice.
"In a plane. Listen. I'm coming over there. I'll be there in a few hours" he rushed through the words and Annika had a hard time understanding him.
"You're coming? In a few hours? Why? What happened over there?"
"I'll tell you later...no time now...Nik...bye" the connection ended and she was left standing there staring at the phone in her hand.
"Don't even ask," she said soon as she noticed Harm and Mac's questioning stares. Holding up their hands simultaneously, they looked at each other and shook their heads as Annika turned back to finish her meal.
PART 8
LLNL
LIVERMORE, CA
TUESDAY JUNE 11, 2002
1123 PT
Michael Ashton was not one to doubt his abilities. However, the constant reappearance of those two military officers was troubling him, to say the least. Why would they keep investigating after all the clear evidence he'd made sure was provided? He was starting to think he'd made a big mistake in bringing the military into this. It was supposed to be cut and dry. No loose ends. The DNA matched, the fingerprints, the location, the motive. It was a safe bet in his mind. Now he was starting to feel apprehensive about the whole thing. Lt. Fleming was supposed to be on his way to Leavenworth by now. Not at the brig pending end of investigation.
Now, with those couple of military lawyers investigating, he wished he'd had more time to plan. More time to look at every angle, to study from every perspective. Improvisation in experiments was nothing new to researchers, but the risks were always calculated. Contrary to public belief, a research lab wasn't about mixing different colored chemicals all day long and watching out for explosions. Although that was sure fun when the opportunity arose to indulge in it, he thought with characteristic scientific humor.
Biomedical research was complex, layered, and extremely expensive, which meant months of careful planning often preceded the execution of an experiment that would only last, in theory, a few hours. The planning, the strategic thinking, had always been Michael Ashton's specialty. His father had noticed this quality in him, and had encouraged his science education from the beginning. Some would say he just wanted Michael to follow in his own footsteps. But Dr. Jeffery Ashton had known better. He knew his son and Michael owed his love for science to him.
As it went, Dr. Jones' unexpected discovery had forced Michael to improvise. A smug smile grew on his lips. He was a researcher, an investigator. Experiments never failed. They simply led you in new and exciting directions. He knew that. Without that knowledge it was impossible to survive the disappointments, and he'd seen it happen often enough to first-year students. Scientific research was unpredictable and impossible to fully control. One of the reasons he'd always loved research labs. It was fun, and exciting to attempt new strategies, and so rewarding when the results ended up as headlines in famous science journals.
The situation with Dr. Jones' had initially unnerved him. Finally, he'd decided to apply his professional knowledge, and he'd taken a calculated risk. A risk because the necessary time to strategically sketch out an outline of what he intended to do had not been available to him, as it had in the past when he'd executed his plans to perfection. Thinking over his actions the week before, he sat back in his chair and sighed. At one point, he'd believed Dr. Jones to be on his side. They'd attended several functions and conferences together, where the main attraction had been the long talks about nuclear physics, its services and disservices. Pros and cons. That's what it all boiled down to, and he was only sorry that most of the educated population didn't share his opinion on the subject; or at least weren't prepared to act on it. Well, he was. He wasn't an idiot. He was acutely aware of the benefits of scientific research. That didn't make him blind to its ugly side; like most of his colleagues.
In his calm state at work, he wished Dr. Jones hadn't interfered with his plans. He could say he had genuinely liked the old man. A week before, it hadn't seemed like much trouble to dispose of him. A call to his dear old friend Laura Smith at NCIS and all had been arranged. As it happened, he'd ended up owing Laura a few nights here and there, but he didn't mind that. It was a calculated risk he'd chosen to take, not a mistake. He had to believe that.
"Excuse me, do you have a moment?" Mac's voice cut through his thoughts and Michael attempted a calm smile as he turned towards her.
"Colonel, how good to see you. Of course I have a moment. What can I help you with?"
His tone was pleasant enough, but Mac had been an investigator for too long and she'd spotted the current below the calm waters. Maybe there was something to Harm's idea after all. She'd have to pay closer attention.
"Well, I know you didn't work directly with Dr. Jones, but we've been conducting interviews, just following procedure, and I was wondering if you could spare a few minutes" she said amiably.
"Of course" he answered at once and stood from the chair he'd been sitting on facing the bulletin board. Mac's eyes darted towards it and with investigative caution swept her eyes over the calendar that was marked and lined with different color makers. Dates, meetings, appointments, deadlines. One particular day caught her eye and as she began her routine questioning of him she strained her sight to get a good look at it. October 12. Marked in red. 'Maybe a birthday' she thought and made a mental note to ask about it when she talked to Annika.
"It sure is a shame what happened. Dr. Jones' was an excellent scientist, and I looked up to him. He and my father were good friends, so he and his family have been friends of mine for a long time" Michael answered calmly now, his nerves in check.
"Where were you the afternoon of Dr. Jones' murder?" Mac asked as she scribbled something on her paper pad; a move not unnoticed by Michael. His hands came together, rubbing lightly as he answered. Mac noticed, but didn't let him know. In some cases, it helped to let the person know you were aware of their discomfort. In this case, she figured, it was best not to get into it.
"I was out, with a friend. I hadn't seen her in a while and we had a, um, lunch date that ran a little long you could say" he answered with a grin on his face and Mac smiled back.
"I see. So you weren't here that afternoon." Michael shook his head. "Do you remember anything out of the ordinary around the laboratory that day?" was her next question and she noticed Michael seemed thoughtful for a few seconds before he shook his head with a sigh.
"I've thought about that day so many times the past week. I wish I could tell you something that could help. Normally, it's pretty busy around here so unless it's a pretty obvious thing we don't notice. Researchers tend to be oblivious to everything but their own work, Colonel" he finished with a big smile which she supposed was intended to charm her out of asking the hard questions. She had enough to aid her suspicions anyway. If he didn't have anything to do with it, fine. If he did, she didn't want to make him too uneasy.
"Well, thank you for your time, Dr. Ashton"
"Michael, please"
"Michael. Have a good day"
"Same to you, Colonel" he spoke as she offered one last polite smile and turned to go.
October 12. Hmmm.
SAME TIME
DR. MARCH'S OFFICE
"I really appreciate you taking the time for this. I know your schedule is really busy" Harm spoke politely as he sat across from Dr. March.
The older man smiled easily and waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh, don't you worry about it, young man. I know you've got your job to do as well. Now, how can I help you?"
"As you know we're conducting a military investigation into Dr. Jones' death. The main suspect is a Lieutenant in the United States Navy and though he's already been turned over to us, we feel it's our duty to make sure we've got the right man," Harm said with the flourish of an experienced lawyer and investigator and Dr. March nodded with a smile. He liked the old man, Harm thought, and continued on.
"I'll just need to ask you a few routine questions."
"Shoot" Harm smiled before looking down at his notes.
"When was the last time you saw Dr. Jones?"
"We had a meeting that morning. It was around ten o'clock if I remember correctly. It was just a routine administrative meeting. We had lunch that day at the Chili's a few minutes from here as we always did after a meeting like that. Larry, that's Dr. Jones, said he had gotten an urgent page from his wife at home. He said he thought it a little odd since his wife was supposed to be away for a few days, but he went anyway. He left at around one o'clock and that was the last I saw of him. As soon as Michael, Dr. Ashton, returned that afternoon I asked him to check on Larry. That's how I found out about it all." Dr. March finished in a small voice, obviously shaken by the fate of his good friend.
"Dr. Ashton?"
"Uh, yes. Him and Dr. Jones were extremely close. I thought maybe he would know something."
"I see" Harm was thoughtful for a second. He was confused. If Ashton was that close to Dr. Jones, why hadn't he stepped forward or attempted to contact any of them about the investigation?
"Did you notice anything irregular at all that day, or maybe during the past few weeks? Any strange behavior?"
Dr. March thought for a few moments and then sighed as he shook his head. "Nothing. We've all been under a little stress because we've been trying to keep N Division going after Dr. Fleming's death last year. It hasn't been easy. So I guess everyone's been a little on edge the past few months with all the meetings and now the convention that's coming up, but nothing I would catalogue out of the ordinary for a research lab."
Harm nodded. "Well, thank you very much for your cooperation, Dr. March. We appreciate it."
Dr. March smiled sadly. "You're welcome, Commander. Anything else I can help with you let me know."
Standing up, Harm prepared to leave, and with a shake of Dr. March's hand he strode out of the office, leaving a thoughtful researcher behind in his oversized chair.
CLAY'S HOTEL ROOM
LIVERMORE, CA
Livermore wasn't a crowded place and not really a tourist city. Therefore, it had been fairly simple to find a room next to Harm and Mac. Of course, his room wasn't connected to their rooms, at his own insistent request. Looking around, Clay focused on the furniture that filled the room. It wasn't all that unique. The bed looked rather comfortable and after last night's verbal match with his partner and best friend, he thought a good nap was definitely in order.
"Oh, who am I kidding?" he murmured to himself as he walked over towards the window. Annika and him hadn't seen eye to eye at all the night before. So much that he'd left Harm's room with a pretty loud slam of the door and a few undoubtedly rude shouted words. Lately, it was all or nothing with her. They were either completely at each other's throats, or completely calm and sentimental. Closing his eyes he recalled their conversation, or fight, the night before. He had wanted so much to tell her the truth. To tell her the real reason for his fear.
*************
"Damn it, Clay. I'm staying and that's the end of it," she shouted at him, enraged at his overprotective attitude.
"Annika, listen to me..."
"No, you listen to me, Clayton Webb. I am a trained CIA agent. And I will not stand here and have you underestimate my capabilities. You either get a grip or I'm calling Don and requesting he send you back to Washington."
"Why do you have to be so damn stubborn? Someone in that lab killed Dr. Jones. And I'm willing to bet whoever did it has to do with Dr. Fleming's death as well. I'm not telling you to leave. I'm just suggesting you get some help in there." Why was she being so stubborn? He was just making a suggestion for God's sake.
"Nothing out of the ordinary has happened there. There is no need for you to be raising hell because of a hunch, Clay. If you were thinking about this reasonably you would see that." Her temper was slowly getting the best of her. She'd never raised her voice at him when personal matters were discussed. But damn it, this was her job. Why was he being such an ass about it? He had certainly not objected to any of her past assignments. She'd almost been killed in the Caribbean. He had to know *that*.
"Oh, so now you think it's a hunch? What about the weeks I spent in Afghanistan, huh? You think I haven't worked on this as hard as you have?" His temper was nearing the edge of the cliff, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold it in much longer.
"Yes, I know you have. Behind my back! And you know what?..." she waited for him to meet her eyes. "I don't *give* a damn!"
Clay averted his eyes immediately. This was not going well. "It wasn't meant like that. I didn't mean to go behind your back, Annika, I just wanted to..." he trailed off, but Annika knew just where he was coming from and she saw red.
"To what, Clay? To protect me? Is that it? Well, I suggest you take a loooooong look at my service record and then you come talk to me about needing protection. Damn it, Clay. I know what I'm doing. You're the one who doesn't!"
Oh, now she was asking for it. "Oh, yeah? Well, tell me partner. When did you stop trusting me and cataloguing my instinct as merely a 'hunch'?"
The anger rushed out, and disbelief inundated her. Her gaze went hazy for second. "I don't know, Clay. Maybe about the same time you stopped trusting me" The words left her mouth before she had a chance to think it through and instantly saw his eyes flash with hurt and anger.
Clay wanted to yell back. God, more than anything he wanted to lash out right back at her. She deserved it. How dare she presume he didn't trust her? Years. It had taken them years to build the trust they shared and it was his biggest source of pride. How dare she even suggest it. She'd done it a few nights ago. She'd asked him if he didn't trust her. He'd been appalled by her question and had denied it vehemently at once. But he'd known she didn't mean it. She'd asked. But she knew the answer. Now, as he looked back at her, her words ran over and over in his mind, and he could see there was a part of her that believed it. A part of her that believed their trust was gone. It hurt.
Whirling around, he dashed towards the door and with fury slammed the door shut behind him.
*************
He'd been grateful Harm and Mac hadn't been in the room when his temper had clashed with Annika's. But they knew. They'd been right outside in the hall when he'd rushed out of the room with his anger bubbling dangerously inside him. And he imagined Annika had been shaken, and Harm and Mac had been there for her. Been there for her. It should've been him. He should've been there for her.
It'd been so long since they'd had an argument like that. As a matter of fact, they hadn't had an argument like that since their second assignment seven years ago. They'd yelled, and they'd insulted each other, and doubted each other's abilities, and from that had blossomed the best and truest friendship he'd ever had. Once again they'd doubted each other, and he couldn't help but wonder what would blossom after this.
"Damn it, Annika. Why don't you get it?"
Talking to himself wasn't quite the answer, but it was the best he could come up with. She had refused to answer the phone when he'd called her the night before. He'd left messages; he'd paged her, e-mailed her. Nothing. Boy, when that woman got angry, she got angry, and there was no going around it.
"One second" Clay called halfheartedly as he heard the knock on the door.
"Well, hello Clay. You're looking beautiful this afternoon" Harm said cheerfully as Clay opened the door to let him in.
"Stuff it, Harm. I'm not in the mood" Clay murmured as he walked away from him towards the little wood table next to the window.
"Nooooo. I couldn't tell. I'm sorry" Harm was enjoying this way too much.
"Kick the spy when he's down, right?"
"Come on, Clay. I'm Navy, you're CIA. It's my moral obligation to mess with you. Now do you want to hear my take on this or are you gonna sit here in your million dollar jeans and sulk about Annika all day?"
"Annika's got nothing to do with this."
"Sure she does. But we won't get into it now. I've got better things to do than poking holes in your arguments. Now, Mac and I have been thinking..."
"Awful noisy when you think aren't you? Barely slept a wink last night listening to you two." They were on the room next door. Clay knew he was exaggerating. Oh well.
Harm beamed at him. "Don't be a smart ass"
"Too late"
"Shut up, Clay" he ordered good-naturedly. "As I was saying before you so rudely offered your opinion on our private nocturnal lives, Mac and I have been thinking, and we have a theory."
"Right" Sarcasm poured. He couldn't help it.
"Enough" Clay glared at him before sighing his assent. "Now, I know this might come as a surprise to you, but we actually agree with you. Whoever killed Dr. Jones and possibly Dr. Fleming did it from the inside. Mac and I spent the morning interviewing people at the lab."
"Where's Mac?"
"With Annika. Listen. What do you know about Dr. Fleming's death?"
"Everything there is to know. Why?"
Leave it to Clay to come up with a convoluted answer. "We believe it's related to Dr. Jones' death."
"Well, please enlighten me, Sherlock."
Harm rolled his eyes. "Mac interviewed Dr. Ashton today. He seemed awfully nervous when she kinda snuck up on him while he was staring at his calendar. She noticed a date circled in red and said she'd ask Annika about it. October 12" Harm finished and watched the recognition flood Clay's face.
"Dr. Fleming's death. It was October 12 of last year" he thought for a second, then shook his head. "That doesn't prove anything, Harm."
"Guess who else died on October 12?"
Clay looked thoughtful. His eyes opened wide suddenly and he jumped from the chair to open up his laptop. "Dr. Rasdja died October 12, 1998. One year after..."
"Bingo. We ran a background check on Ashton. There's nothing special going on that day, as far as family or important dates go. Well, nothing special but his father's death. October 12, 1997. He's not married. He doesn't have kids. His father's death could be the reason he's got it marked on his calendar."
"So what if his dad died that day? He has it marked on his calendar? Who cares? Lots of people remember dates like that. You do." Harm took the comment in stride. Clay was trying to take his attention elsewhere.
"Clay"
"What?"
"Spill it"
Clay sighed. "Okay, I agree with you. I need to show you something. I wanted to wait until we were all together, so Annika wouldn't get on my case again for doing this behind her back."
"Nah, she's not talking to you." Clay glared. Harm held up his hands. "Sorry"
"Uh huh. Now, since you seem to be reading me so well these days, I'll tell you what I got..."
"What is it?"
Reaching out, Clay took hold of a folder in the table and handed it to Harm.
"When did you get this?" Harm asked as he focused on the contents. There was an eyewitness. Dorothy Garcia was the housekeeper at the Jones' residence. She'd called in the police when she'd found Dr. Jones' body. Apparently, the CIA had had a talk with her the night before, and she testified to have seen a man going out the backyard door when she'd arrived at the house that afternoon.
"Early this morning. Don faxed it through the secure line. Awfully suspicious don't you think?"
"Why didn't she come forward before? When she was interviewed right after she reported the death?" Harm said with a frown as his eyes still skimmed over the folder.
"She said she was scared. Two years ago, a gang member killed her brother after he served as witness in a murder trial in LA. Don checked out her background and when he found out about her history he had Agent Phillips fly out here and question her again. He's one of our best. Mrs. Garcia is in protective custody now."
Harm contemplated the information for a few seconds.
"Ashton said he had an alibi. A lunch date with some old girlfriend or something, Mac said. It might not have been him that Mrs. Garcia saw. Lt. Fleming was found two blocks from Dr. Jones' home. It could've been him she saw. The physical description written here matches both men. Dr. March told me this morning that he'd looked for Ashton at the lab but hadn't been able to find him around noon. We need to tell Mac and Nik."
"I still don't get it. Why are you so set on Dr. Ashton? Just 'cause he hit on Mac doesn't mean he deserves prison time, Navy" Clay finished with a smirk.
Harm narrowed his eyes. "How'd you know about that?"
Clay opened his mouth to speak, but Harm stopped him with a hand. "I don't think I want to know."
"You sure? It's quite an interesting story, you see..."
"He's the only solid lead we've got, Clayton" Harm rolled his eyes dismissing his comment. He'd never admit to Clay his discomfort at the way Ashton had looked at Mac. Not yet anyway.
"Sure, but then you could always go for the NOT so obvious bad guy, right? The one who's locked up already AND whose fingerprints were found on the weapon, AND who's story doesn't check out?"
Harm raised an exasperated eyebrow, and Clay sighed with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. It smells like a set up to me too. But damn it, Harm. Dr. Jones' death is completely unlike Rasdja's and Fleming's. There's no pattern. It doesn't make sense. Ashton might know something about their deaths, but not Dr. Jones'. We need more brains on this one. Know where the women are?" The grim smile on his face had Harm shaking his head.
"You're pathetic, Webb. And for the record, I always know where Mac is," Harm answered with a grin. "Listen, Clay. Ashton's up to something. It just feels like we're missing it. I agree, he might not have anything to do with Dr. Jones' death, but damn it, there's something going on with the guy. Dr. March said him and Jones were really close, and yet he never came forward even though he knew we were investigating. He didn't take any time off either after Jones' death. Mac said he was awfully nervous when she interviewed him. She knows how to read people" Harm finished and waited for Clay to put the pieces together in his head.
"What's Nik saying about this? She's kinda fond of Dr. Ashton herself" he finished with a sneer.
Harm ignored the latter comment. "I spoke to her a few minutes ago. She said she'd take this afternoon to poke around some more. She knows an awful lot about him, and no one's above your partner's suspicions I hear. She said he seemed a little uneasy yesterday when Mac and I went to the lab in the morning. We're supposed to meet for dinner at 1800 back here."
"Okay. So you're suggesting we give Annika some time to get more familiar with the possible killer?" Clay asked nonchalantly, annoyed to no end at the suggestion.
Harm crossed his arms. "No. I'm suggesting we give Annika some time to do her job, which she happens to be excellent at. In the mean time, we go talk to good Lt. Fleming. Someone may have paid Fleming to do it. The evidence is too overwhelming against him after all."
"You think Fleming would go for it?" Clay asked dubiously.
Harm sighed. "I can see how he would think of it as a way to get information on his father's whereabouts." Clay pierced him with an apologetic look. Harm offered a dismissive shrug. "I'm not saying I'd do it, Clay, or that I condone it. I'm just saying it wouldn't surprise me, that's all."
"You know, that time when they arrested you...I thought for a second you'd killed the guy. I know how ridiculous it sounds now, but I didn't know you all that well back then."
"I know. I understand. If it'd been you in jail I might have thought the same thing."
Clay's eyes met his. Indeed, they had more in common than they thought. Clay's father had also died in the line of duty. Harm had found out about his father's ultimate fate. Clay hadn't. And maybe there was no hope he ever would; but he'd still helped Harm when the search for his father had gotten him and Mac in trouble. He understood.
Clay sighed as he stood up slowly. He was doing his best not to let his personal life affect his work. The situation with Annika was driving him to madness. Harm felt sorry for the guy.
"Listen, Clay. You have to work it from the sidelines this time. I'm not saying you have to like it. Just live with it, okay?"
"I have a bad feeling about this, Harm"
"Yeah, well. All you can do is do your best and trust..." he paused until Clay met his eyes, "that your partner will do the same" and with a raised eyebrow Harm walked over to the little refrigerator to get out a bottle of water.
"I think I'll need something a little stronger to buy into this crazy idea of yours" Clay murmured as he accepted the bottle from Harm, who simply smiled knowingly at him.
"You can get wasted after this is all over, pal" Harm offered lightly with a pat in the back.
"You mean you're not getting wasted with me?" Clay's mouth turned up in what could be catalogued as a teasing smile.
Harm thought of Mac, and grinned. "No way, spook"
TBC