'Teamwork' - Part Two Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One

[Excerpts from Harm's diary]

Jan. 4th Khofra Libya

Dear Dad,

Over the moon, down in the dumps. That about sums it up for me. Today was... wait, before I dig up all the swearwords that ever crossed my mind, let's just say that I paid for yesterday's bliss. Dearly. But unlike all the other days, it wasn't my fault, not entirely, at least.

We weren't the only team who didn't get it right today. In fact, the whole classification seems to be upside down after today's stage. Even among the top teams, only Jutta and her navigator found the right road. They are leading the whole ranking now, with more than half an hour ahead of the Japanese Masuoka. Mac and I, Gunny and Clay and - luckily - even Dunfoss and Marx, like about fifty percent of all competitors, had either navigation problems or technical defects. Or both. And in addition to that, we had our first encounter with our 'mission'. Actually, that was how, in our case, the whole mess started out. I'll get into the particulars later.

In short, Mac and I are ranked 131st now but that wouldn't matter to me if Mac and I hadn't had a fight today that exceeded everything that ever came up between us, as far as I remember. This time, though, it was her fault. We haven't made up yet, and I won't if she doesn't come to me first. You know I can take a lot, Dad, but this time, she hurt me in a way that I didn't even think her capable of. I'm still completely shaken.

I know it was probably the continuous strain that made her freak out like that. And I sensed from the start that she was obviously feeling a little awkward and unsure after coming to a mutual understanding the night before. The problem was that I couldn't really do anything to set her mind at ease during today's stage - my eyes were glued to the map more than ever or we probably wouldn't even have arrived at all. Today's was maybe the most difficult of all stages for the navigators. Imagine, even the reconnaissance team needed a full three days to find all the passes when they tried out the route!

It was the second longest stage, 859 km with 789 km of special track. We had to cross all kinds of terrain, fast track, off-road, canyons, dunes, ergs (you know, the immense sand seas)... Bensen told us to follow the road- book to the letter to find our way between the dunes that are up to 100 yards high and consist of very soft sand, or in the vast fields of small dunes in between which we had to search for the remainders of the road. The hardest task was to discover one particularly well-hidden pass between two stone massifs that you can't cross at any other point as they are 50-yard high cliffs.

We started at 0430 in the morning. When Bensen came to wake us up, Mac and I didn't really have the time to exchange good-morning smiles, let alone talk about how we felt about last night. All had to be prepared in a big hurry. I managed to throw her a quick "Good luck, Deb!" when we were already strapped in our seats. She could barely smile back, then we got our departure signal.

I felt the tension, Dad. Mac was unsure about how I was feeling. I guess she feared that I might be having second thoughts and be about to back out once more. I longed to relieve her but I didn't get the chance. It was still dark so I needed every bit of my concentration to figure out the road. We still took a few wrong turns and even had to get out and dig twice. We knew we had to do it quickly if we didn't want to lose too much time on Gunny and Webb who were glued to Dunfoss today. And Dunfoss apparently tried to recover as much of the time that he had already lost to the leading teams as possible, in order to stay in the competition. So Mac and I were digging fiercely, as fast as we could. You can't really talk about your inmost feelings in a situation like that.

Once the sun was up I thought we had covered the most difficult part but I was wrong. About halfway into the stage, we crossed the border into Libya. Clay had told us that now, action would be imminent on Dunfoss' part and that we should be prepared for the hunt. I had prayed that he would pull something off on a day when Mac and I weren't on watchdog duty, and God seems to have heard my wish. It just didn't help me very much because today was the worst possible day for it to happen. Yet it did.

We found out later that it was all a false alarm. Marx isn't immune to navigation errors any more than we are but we couldn't possibly know that the moment it occurred.

I had just relaxed a little and was thinking about how to say something encouraging to my Marine when our private comm-link cracked and Clay's frantic voice made it's way over to us.

"Doug, do you copy?"

"I read you. What's up? Over."

"Objective goes for it. Over."

I swore under my breath. "You sure? Over."

"Positive. Keep following. Over."

"Roger. Over and out." I instantly pulled out our additional map to start tracking and marking Dunfoss' whereabouts. "Mac," I addressed her without looking at her, "Prepare to leave the track."

"Sh..." I heard her swear to herself, instantly becoming Lt. Col. Mackenzie and focusing on the mission. "Direction?"

I was frantically searching for any indication that there was some kind of road that Dunfoss was following but from the data at hand, I couldn't be sure. So I just took the plunge. "276 degrees in about 800 yards."

"Okay." She inhaled audibly and quickly pushed the air out of her lungs as if to brace herself.

I kept my eyes glued to our, Webb's and Dunfoss' GPS readouts and at the point that I judged best, shouted: "Now!"

Mac yanked the wheel around and we bumped and jumped off-road, always trying to stay on what little was left of what must once have been an old caravan trail. I fired driving instructions at her in a 30-seconds rhythm, she reacted as fast as she could, but still our speed reduced with every mile that we covered. Webb continued asking us every two minutes if we were still behind them. I kept confirming that we were, yet we could detect no sign of them. All in all, we both felt we were getting increasingly worried, angry and frustrated, all on top of the tension that had existed from the start.

After about half an hour, the comm-link once again cracked.

"Doug, do you read me?" Webb's voice seemed calmer and... awkward? I immediately tried to listen more closely.

"Loud and clear, Carl," I answered warily. "What's the matter? Over."

"Objective was mislead and is now trying to return to previous position. No action. Over."

I emitted a groan and slammed my hand on the dashboard. "So what now?" I blurted out, longing to get rid of my energy by punching our favorite spook.

"Go back to the track. Objective follows a route of about 045 degrees. Try to avoid that one. Go as quickly as possible because of tomorrow's starting position. Over." Clay's voice was all business by now.

"Understood, over and out!" I snapped and violently switched off the comm- link. "Mac, turn around. False alarm!" I then shouted in frustration.

This time, Mac didn't swear under her breath but spat out a few very unladylike expressions before stepping hard on the brakes and trying to turn our vehicle in the opposite direction. "Route?" she only called.

I didn't answer immediately as I was still searching for a course. I knew we couldn't go back where we came from as we'd lose too much time trying to climb a few descents we had made earlier. We needed a new route but I didn't see any.

"Harm! Route?" Mac shouted again, the urge evident in her voice.

"Damn, give me a minute, will you?" I shouted back, measuring, reading, calculating.

"We don't have the time!"

"God, I know that!"

"We can't risk losing too much time on Dunfoss!" Mac's rage was getting the better of her. I knew that if I didn't come up with something quickly, I'd meet her wrath. And suddenly, I felt I was getting mad at her because she was taking her frustration out on me. I knew I was reacting in the worst possible way but I couldn't bite my tongue quickly enough.

"Just shut up and let me do my job!" I burst out and tried again to calculate our next move.

I heard her suck in her breath but she remained quiet. Deadly quiet. Then suddenly I felt the car shake violently as, out of the blue and in a completely unreasonable maneuver, Mac turned left.

My head jerked up, trying to get a clear picture of what she was doing. She had apparently discovered another ancient caravan trail and had taken the initiative.

"Mac, are you crazy?" I cried at her, enraged. "You don't have a clue where the hell this leads!"

"You left me no choice!" she answered fiercely.

"I was just putting something together!" I replied. "You told me that was my job, remember? My freaking job!"

"Obviously you're incapable of doing it!"

Again, I used the dashboard as my punching ball. "And you obviously want to get us out for good!"

"Yesterday you told me you trusted me!" Her raging was actually underlined by a bitter chuckle. "I should have known from the start that it was a damned lie!"

Her words stung in my heart like very few things ever did before. I was too stunned to reply immediately. The next seconds passed like in slow motion. I was in a daze, helplessly lost to my sudden inward pain. Just what kind of impression had she gotten of me that she could suspect me of willfully deceiving her on such a crucial point of our relationship? Had she, on her part, ever really trusted me then? Dad, I haven't the slightest idea.

I was so completely out of it that I didn't see it coming. Suddenly, Mac cried out, the car's nose dropped and with a violent slam we hit the ground a few yards below our former route's level. A very loud and nasty crushing sound was heard and suddenly the car stopped, its engine still running on full power.

With all the force her lungs could muster, Mac shouted the F-word, opened her door and jumped out. I immediately followed. One look, and I knew what had happened: our front axle was broken. And I would be the one to repair it if we wanted so much as a chance to continue on our mission.

Allowing my own rage to well up in full and judging that, this time, I was entitled to, I forcefully took off my helmet and threw it down, glaring at my team partner. Team? Yeah. Great team, indeed.

"Congratulations, Mac!" I spat at her. "That was nice work!"

She, too, yanked her helmet off her sweaty hair. "If you hadn't distracted me that much with your objections this wouldn't have happened!" she shouted back, probably knowing she was being unreasonable but banishing reason from her mind entirely right now. And that was only the beginning. Before I could say another word, she took a few quick strides in my direction and locked her outraged gaze with mine.

"You should have done your job. You didn't. I took the initiative. And all you could do was try and dissuade me from saving our mission! Yeah, right, you really trust me, Harm, I can see that. Just why am I always so stupid to let you lure me into believing you again? Tell me, Harm, why?"

I only stood there, listening to her tirades, dumbfounded. I was sure that later on she would see that her words didn't make any sense at all and that she probably didn't mean them the way they came out. But she had to be convinced that there was a grain of truth in her opinion, or where the devil would all that crap come from that she kept throwing at me? And the knowledge that this deeper issue seemed to exist, cut right through my heart. This had to be the result of being pushed away once too often, I realized with horror.

Meanwhile, Mac was raging on. The plug had been pulled. She wouldn't stop now until all her doubts, her insecurities, all her hurt would have surfaced. I just listened, knowing that replying would have been of no use anyway.

"It's always been that way, hasn't it?" she rhetorically, cynically asked me, pacing up and down in front of me like in a cross examination. "First you convince me that you trust me and then, when it comes to the test, you don't. Just like our relationship in general, don't you think? First you get me to believe that I'm somehow special to you and then, wham! You just drop me like a hot potato!"

At this point, I couldn't help trying to cut her off. "Don't you think you're mixing things up here, Mac?" I shouted back but she only let out an exasperated laugh and shook her head as if in disbelief that I could be so dense. I shut up, resigned.

"No, I don't," she retorted fiercely. "It's all related and part of the same problem! Think back, Harm: we were getting pretty close after our first adventure with 'Sarah' up in the mountains. You took me back to the hospital, you gave me the feeling that you really cared and then you got hooked up with Neurotic Annie instead. Not a single thought wasted on what I might be feeling! Then you came to me for help with your murder trial. I got you out of the mess and only shortly after you let me arrive at a wrong conclusion about who killed Diane when I was only trying to help! You deliberately lied to me that night to get me out of your car and I had to figure out for myself who was the real culprit you were after! But did I learn from that? No.

"When you set off to find your father you didn't include me, you didn't even tell me what you were planning to do, after all that I'd helped you with on the USS Hornet. Still, I came after you to save you from yourself! After Russia I thought we were finally on the right road. But first your blond shrink turned up and then flying came before everything else. I tried to tell you what I was feeling when we said goodbye, but you cut me off with your damned 'I know'! I guess you were actually feeling guilty, weren't you? Because you knew how difficult it was for me to open up to anyone and yet you threw it away!

"Then you returned but again pushed me away in Australia. Only to run to your video princess when you saw that I was considering marrying Mic. At my engagement party, you all but confessed to me that you loved me and still didn't act on it! When Mic left, you first told me to come to you and when I got up my courage and did it you said that right then, we couldn't talk! You came out all the way to the Guadal. Why? Obviously you were once again aiming at my trust. But you didn't even answer my question what you'd be willing to give up!

"And then, the last time we got close, when we'd been at the exhibition with little AJ and you again backed away, I just knew it would never work. I could handle it quietly then because I thought I'd finally accepted that your declining was definite. And yet I let you sneak into my trust again on New Year's Eve and yesterday! The situation we were in last night should have gotten me suspicious to keep up my guard. I should have known that you would never trust me against your better judgment. But deep down I refused to believe that it was all just playacting on your part. Just how do you do that, Harm? I guess I was right about the bilge switch that I once compared you with, but obviously, I underestimated its abilities. 'Cause you're not only able to turn your friendship on and off as you like, but apparently also your conscience, so it won't get in the way!!!"

With that last violent outburst, Mac fell silent and just kept glaring at me, panting. In the meantime my heart had turned to stone. Or ice. I don't know. I can't even explain how I was still able to reply reasonably when, inside me, every heartbeat hurt and my soul was screaming for justice.

I slowly took a deep breath and tried to steady my voice. "I've known all day that something was troubling you," I said as quietly and distantly as I could. "You probably had doubts about what consequences last night's conversation would have. I wanted to talk to you about it but you'll agree that today's events didn't offer me the opportunity. I'm convinced that your irrational rage was built up easily on that basis by all that happened and I'm grieved to hear about your true opinion of my character."

She took a breath and prepared to say something but I lifted up my hand. "Let me just finish, okay?" I said quietly. Oddly enough, she complied. I went on just as slowly as before, seemingly calm and composed. Making it sound like unemotional reasoning was my only hope of keeping my countenance.

"I'll admit that I didn't always act correctly when it came to us but I'd like to say one thing: you may not believe me now, and apparently you never really did, but your trust is dearer to me than my life, and I, on my part, have always trusted you blindly. You know as well as I do that for every situation you named, there's an explanation for my behavior. And it certainly isn't my wanting to violate your trust. That is all I have to say. Let's repair the car." Without looking at her any more, I turned and retrieved the tools and the spare axle from the trunk and started working.

It took me three hours to replace the part. But eventually we made it back on track and arrived at tonight's bivouac with a delay of three hours. We were lucky that many others had similar problems, so we weren't excluded from the race. But Gunny and Webb know that they must step in for us tomorrow when it comes to observing our suspect. We're too far behind right now to be able to get near him, should he try anything.

Dad, this time Mac owes me an apology. Her words hurt badly and I'm saddened to see that my unlucky choices of behavior, in combination with her deeply vulnerable disposition, could lead to a history of misunderstandings and misjudgments as this. I guess I deeply underestimated just how much her parents emotionally destroyed her. For Mac, unconditional trust doesn't even exist.

I'll try to shut off Harm completely now. Doug may be able to continue the race. Harm isn't.

I wish you could just take me in your arms and tell me that everything's gonna be okay, like when I was three years old and Jerry Jones from next door made me cry.

Harm

Jan. 6th Waw al Kebir Libya

Dad,

I'm sorry but yesterday I didn't have the nerve to write. There wouldn't have been much to tell anyway. Yesterday's stage from Khofra to Waha went well, at least technically. The stage was 647 km long, with special track sections of 610 km. The first 120 km were a little tough as we had to cross quite a few dunes and I had to find the passes by using the GPS. But then we could just roll, roll, roll. Mac went so fast that we closed in on Gunny and Webb and could actually take over our watch after about two thirds of the distance.

So far, so good. On the other hand I have to relate that, yesterday, I witnessed the desert freeze. Mac and I were icily professional. No word, no smile, no glances. Focus on the mission. That was what we did. I did get the impression, though, that somehow her conscience was stirring more than she would ever admit. She didn't apologize the whole day, and I was determined not to let her off the hook, but today I found out that I had been right in my suspicion.

Before I go into detail: yes, we did make up. I'm not quite sure where exactly we stand right now, but at least the trust issue seems to be out of the way. I think she finally understood how much she means to me. But isn't it scary that, even after we laid the cards on the table during our fight, it took her two days and more than 1000 km to see it? And more, still, because it was a life-threatening situation that finally brought it about.

Mac and I unintentionally came to be the center of all attention today. By 'true heroism', as the media immediately put it. By helping somebody, as we see it for ourselves. Whatever. Here are the facts:

We started at 0545 from the gas station at Waha, knowing that of today's 661 km, all but 4 would be special track. It was a generally fast stage, only very few dune crossings. Instead, we got smashing views of the "Black Mountains", dark stone contrasting sharply with the bright colors of the dune sand. It was gorgeous, and I actually got to see some of it because my navigation duties, while never allowing me a dull moment, were still far easier to handle than on our nightmare stage of two days ago.

The organizers obviously wanted to spoil us with today's route for they put one of our control points right into the crater of an ancient volcano. Up there we would be able to get out and admire the sight over the desert from the oasis that's situated there. It would have been paradise if Mac and I hadn't encountered hell on the way up.

We still didn't exchange any words except the most necessary ones but it's amazing just how much you can adapt to a situation if you're required to. We gave nothing less than our 100 percent. We had caught up with quite a lot of competing teams when we reached the ascent to the volcano.

The road was getting very difficult to handle, steep and narrow, pieces of rock breaking away and falling down everywhere we went. I saw the strain on Mac's face and would have let her see my compassion for what she had to go through and my admiration for how she was handling it, but still she hadn't apologized. And I'm still a man of principle. So I kept quiet and tried helping her best as I could by supplying her with detailed navigation instructions. Suddenly, I heard her suck in her breath and her determination not to talk to me seemed forgotten.

"Harm! Look!" Not daring to take her hands off the wheel, she motioned for me to look ahead by decidedly lifting her chin. The shocked tone in her voice immediately made me follow her glance. And I froze in horror.

Approximately 300 yards ahead of us, a motorbike lay crushed on the path. As the road made a concave curve around the mountain just there, we could see that its rider was hanging from a small rock shelf about 20 yards below. The mountain face was rising vertically. If the man lost his grip, he'd fall at least 150 yards.

"Oh God..." I tonelessly croaked out, terrified. Clearing my throat, I then pushed away my emotions and tried to think. The accident must have occurred just a moment before as I didn't yet see the rescue helo or any other teams around. I knew that the control point was located at the far side of the mountain. It was likely that we didn't have the time to wait for the helicopter to arrive. I made a decision.

"Pull over!"

Mac instantly did. I quickly informed the control point and was already out of the car. I ran to the edge and saw the man hanging below me, looking up at me with the eyes of someone who knew that he was literally one step from the grave.

"Au secours!" he shouted, "'Elp!" I recognized the French competitor Henri Monnet.

"Hang on!" I shouted back. "We'll get you out of this!"

Running back to our car, I started to pull the slim but strong cable off the winch that's attached at the front of our car in case we need to drag ourselves out of some thicket or something like that. Then I again rushed over to the edge and carefully let the cable slide down to Monnet while Mac continued to unroll it until it was off the winch in full.

I saw Monnet's eyes grow wide with new horror when we realized that the cable wasn't long enough. Approximately three yards were lacking but we couldn't risk getting the car nearer to the edge. We reversed the winch and pulled the cable up again.

"Mac," I yelled, "Go get the spare safety belt from the trunk!"

She did so and threw it to me. I attached it to the snap link, knowing that it would be strong enough to hold Monnet's weight. Then we again unrolled the cable... nothing. I saw Mac look at me and shook my head. We knew we had but one option.

Again we pulled up the cable. Looking at the safety belt in my hands I quickly pondered the odds. Just strapping in and getting down wouldn't cover the distance. I had to do it the hard way. Resigning, I sat down on the edge and attached the belt around both my ankles. Then I carefully let myself slide over the edge until I hung upside down.

Mac waited for my call, then started the winch again and slowly hauled me down until the cable was unrolled. "Can you reach him?" she called, the tone of her voice telling me that she was dreading the answer.

"Negative!" I shouted back, trying to ignore the abyss I kept staring at.

"Hang on!" she replied. When I felt the cable starting to swing violently, I looked up and saw her slowly slide down to me. The movements of the cable nearly made me lose my senses. I briefly squeezed my eyes shut and tried to will down the sudden urge to throw up.

"Mon Dieu!" I heard Monnet scream in panic. Daring to open my eyes again, I saw that a piece of rock that his left hand had been holding on to, had just broken off and was tumbling down.

"We'll be right with you!" I shouted, realizing how shallow my words sounded.

Shortly after, Mac had joined me and, giving me a quick encouraging glance, climbed down past my body until I could firmly encircle her thighs with my arms. Despite the neoprene upholstering, the safety belt began to cut cruelly and I began to lose the feel of my feet. Gritting my teeth, I held on to Mac.

Luckily, she was now hanging upside down face to face with Monnet, securing one of his wrists with her hand while he reached for her waist. Then she pulled him up and both wrapped their arms around each other's chest. I doubt that Monnet was aware that he was actually burying his nose between Mac's breasts. And I also doubt that she cared right then. All I could think of were my ankles that hurt like hell with triple human weight tearing at the belt stronger than ever.

"What now?" came Mac's somewhat muffled voice from below me.

"We wait," I answered simply, desperately fighting the pain that threatened to overwhelm me. But both Mac and Monnet's lives depended on my staying conscious a little longer.

Dad, when I was down in the cold water after my plane crash, the sound of the chopper that finally located me was like heavenly music to my ears. I'd always doubted that I'd ever feel that way again. Today I did, believe me.

"Hang in there, just a little longer!" Was that really Tiner's voice? I felt I was getting dizzier all the time but once again forced myself to tighten my grip at Mac's legs and looked up. My flash of anger at seeing the cameraman right beside our rescuers came and passed in an instant. I had more urgent issues to concentrate on.

Tiner had taken his cover as 'everyone's good boy' very seriously and had managed to convince the organizers that he'd already worked with helicopters (although he claimed they were medical ones, not Navy choppers, of course). So now we could rely on his military training and were amazed to see how our 'lord of the files' got into the rescue device, directed the helo over to us and pulled both Mac and Monnet in. As soon as they had been pulled up, he came back for me, sustained my weight so I could finally loosen the belt and let myself drop down in the basket. At once, the blood painfully returned to my feet, making me wince, but when I reached the chopper my feet were already feeling close to normal again.

Only then did it dawn on me what exactly we'd just done. I looked at Mac and saw her frighteningly pale but composed features. I gave her an exhausted smile and immediately her expression relaxed as she returned it, her relief evident.

Monnet shook himself from his shock and, still visibly shaking, looked over to where Mac and I were seated. "Thank you," he said, simply but sincerely.

"You're welcome," Mac replied quietly, reaching over to shake his hand. Monnet continued to look at us uneasily, obviously wanting to add something. Mac gave him an encouraging nod.

"You are a great team," Monnet said, a hint of admiration tingeing his voice. "What's your secret?"

I was clueless how to reply but Mac's answer caught me completely off- guard. Casting me the slightest of apologetic smiles, one that was barely perceptible to anyone else but, to me, shone with pure sincerity and the honest plea for my forgiveness, she took my hand and squeezed it.

"It's all a matter of trust," she answered Monnet's question. Tiner quickly tried to hide his surprise.

Theoretically, we'd have been excluded from the race after accepting the help of the rescue helo. But no one kicks out the heroes of the day. So, while we were waiting at the control point, Tiner and Bensen went to retrieve our car so we'd be able to continue the stage.

We had hoped for a few moments of relaxation to get the adrenaline out of our systems but, of course, as soon as we got off the helo, half a dozen TV teams encircled us and wanted the whole story. Mac and I exchanged yet another quick squeeze of hands and prepared to face the world.

A zealous young redhead with extremely short pants and hiking boots managed to address us first. "Miss Kellerman, Mr. Vandenberg! What you did was extraordinary! How do you feel?"

A microphone nearly poked me in the eye. I drew back a little, trying not to let my annoyance show.

"Tired," I said.

"Yeah," Mac agreed.

The redhead obviously wasn't too content with our eloquence but already a meager young man with thick sunglasses pushed her away and positioned his mike in front of Mac. 'If, in Mac's eyes, I'm a stickboy, what's he then?' I thought distractedly.

"Deb," he shouted, not caring that he didn't know Mac at all, "What does it feel like to be a hero?"

Mac expertly hid her frown. "I'm glad we could help," she replied with a weary smile.

"Doug," a blonde woman of the Renée-ish type then addressed me, trying a look that she maybe thought was sexy. "Have you ever saved a person's life before?"

Drat those journalists. Were they ever trained on interviewing decently? I resolved to give her something to chew. "Yeah, several, at work," I said, keeping my features kind of disinterested.

"Wow! What's your job?" Now, the blonde had a decided journalist-snooping- for-sensation look on her face. I don't like those people at all, Dad, but I fear I don't get a vote.

"I'm a lawyer," I calmly replied. Next to me, Mac was seized by a sudden attack of coughing.

I could clearly see that the woman had expected anything but that. Her expression told me that the paper-shuffling Armani-suit guy didn't fit into the image that she'd gotten of me so far. Just to say something so that no one could take over the interview while she was reorganizing her thoughts, she turned to Mac.

"Oh... well, who'd have guessed? Uhm... Deb, what do you do then?" She gave a high-pitched, uneasy laugh. "Emergency medic driver? Or a National Park ranger, maybe?"

"No. I'm a lawyer, like Doug." This time it was me who had to turn away and sneeze at seeing her poker face.

"Uh... ahm... er... working for the same firm?" The reporter's smile had turned very strained by now.

I suppressed a chuckle. 'You could say that,' I thought.

"Yup," Mac acknowledged with an all-too-sweet smile.

"Good Lord," the blonde gave another uneasy laugh, "Must be one hell of a firm then. Uh... what kind of cases are you specialized in?" By now, the other TV teams were just filming, making no attempt at introducing any other topics.

Mac and I exchanged a quick look. This was getting into dangerous territory. We needed to find a way out of this line of questioning, the sooner the better. Yet, for now I still had a safe comeback. Giving the woman a brilliant smile, I said: "We normally represent greenies or blue people in whatever matters they turn to us with."

Again there was a sudden violent fit of coughing, this time coming from Tiner who, in time, had pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, big enough to hide all of his face. While the reporters apparently tried to understand the sense of my answer, help was nearing from an unexpected side.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, excuse me, please." Harriet squeezed herself between the cameras until she came to stand in front of us. "Miss Kellerman, Mr. Vandenberg, may I remind you that you agreed not to give away any details about your private lives before the exclusive interview that your team agreed upon with ZBS?"

The ZBS reporter who happened to stand just beside her, turned his head in utter surprise and inhaled as if to say something. Harriet, by "pure accident", decidedly stepped on his foot and shot him a quick stare that would have made the admiral proud. The reporter winced and immediately shut his mouth, taken aback. Harriet can be very perceptive of situations that need action, Dad. You know it's due to this ability of hers that I came by this very booklet.

Anyway, we were very grateful to her for showing us a way out. "Of course," Mac instantly agreed. "Uh..." she ventured, "When's the appointment?"

Harriet didn't even blink. "Tonight, 9.30 p.m. I'll let you know about the location."

We acknowledged, sensing that Harriet had something in mind. I cast the TV teams an apologetic smile. "If you'll excuse us..." With that I put my hand on the small of Mac's back and guided her away from the crowd.

I was determined to seize the day. I knew I had to clarify where we stood, the tension was killing me. We wandered over to the other side of the crater and settled down to admire the incredible view that opened before us, both being silent for quite some time. I was still determined to wait for Mac to start the conversation. She owed me that much.

Eventually she did. "I meant it," she began.

Start with something neutral and have your vis-à-vis get to the crucial points. I know that strategy very well, believe me. But today it wouldn't work for her.

"What?" I only asked, not looking at her.

"What I said about it being a matter of trust." Her voice was firm but I could tell that her mind wasn't.

"Should I trust you then?" I quietly replied. "What tells me that you don't think I'll let you down again whenever it's convenient for me to do so?"

"I... I didn't mean it that way." It was obvious that she herself didn't really know just how she'd meant it. Nevertheless, I wanted her to elaborate. We've already had too many miscommunications, we need to get the words out, right? At least that's the way I feel. And that's what scares me about the situation. I've never been one of the straightforward kind when it comes to my feelings. Why now? No idea.

"Then how did you mean it?" I asked.

"I..." she broke off, shrugging helplessly. I turned my head to face her, meeting her glance. I think she understood that I wanted the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth. Sighing, she let her eyes wander out over the desert again.

"Okay," she admitted, "I meant it. God, Harm, don't you see what kind of impression your behavior makes with those who can't see whatever is inside that thick head of yours?"

"I have my reasons, Mac, and believe me, it's for the better." Did you ever give Mom such a lame answer to one of her important questions, Dad? Yet, I didn't know what else to reply.

"It's for the better to hurt me over and over again by first getting my hopes up and then letting me down?" she asked just as quietly as I'd answered before.

It hurt having my actions interpreted in such a way. "Would you stop putting it that way, please, Mac?" I said in a low, pained voice.

She let out another exasperated sigh. "How should I put it then?"

"I wouldn't really know, Mac. I just want you to understand that I'd never ever do anything to intentionally hurt you. That trust you were speaking of - I'd like to know that at least it included this point, if you can't go as far and trust me as unconditionally as I do you."

For a minute she seemed to contemplate what I had said. Then she drew a deep breath and took the decisive step that's always so difficult for her.

"I'm sorry."

I waited.

"I'm sorry about what I said two days ago. You were doing your job and I was just acting foolishly. I never doubted your sincerity about trusting me. It's just... the tension was tearing at my nerves, Harm. I was waiting for so much as a sign that our conversation from the night before was still valid. My frustration about the fact that we couldn't talk about it must have gotten the better of me."

"It did." I was still reluctant to let her off the hook although I knew that prolonging the process wasn't exactly beneficial.

"And I was mean to accuse you of willfully deceiving me. Although you did just that the night you told me about Diane." Her voice had taken up a slightly accusing edge.

"All I wanted was to protect you, Mac. I didn't want you to get involved in the crime that I was about to commit."

"And I wanted to save you from yourself."

"I know. You did."

Again we fell silent. I could almost feel how the wheels in her head kept turning and turning until she spoke up again.

"Okay, let's leave that night aside," she resolved, as if speaking to herself rather than to me. Then she looked up at me. "It was wrong of me to claim that you hadn't been sincere the night before. I knew it all along, and yet I did it. I just lost it. I'm really sorry about that. I said a few very ugly things to you. They were totally uncalled for and I... I apologize."

"Apology accepted," I simply stated, giving her a slight smile and feeling her relax with relief. Then I sobered. "I know you put your life in my hands earlier without thinking twice, Mac," I said earnestly. "In spite of the situation, it felt incredibly good to see just to what extent you were relying on me. But when it comes to trusting me in personal matters... Mac, did you ever fully believe me when I said that I'd be there for you, no matter what?"

She inhaled deeply and let the air stream out very slowly. "As a friend, yes. But by now you should have gathered that I'd wish for more than that. And on this higher level of intimacy - " she faced me with a pained expression, "No, Harm. I could never fully trust you with my heart. At first because it takes me a long time to get to know a person well enough to open up. When I finally felt I had gotten there, after our unlucky tour with 'Sarah', you eventually got involved with Annie. Then all the other things that I mentioned happened. And as much as I wanted to believe you: you yourself prove my suspicions right every time I got my courage up to overcome them."

Dad, it was terrible to see how she'd perceived my actions, but on the other hand I'm grateful to finally understand her reactions a little better. I felt it was my turn now. "I'm so sorry, Mac," I said in a low voice.

"So am I," came her resigned answer.

Pictures of a sunny autumn day came to my mind, with me and Mac standing under a tree, recovering from the ten-mile run that we'd just completed. Going back to the beginning had seemed so easy back then. Now I just get the impression that we're moving in circles.

"So where does that leave us?" I turned the question back to her that she'd asked me back then.

"At a point where you know exactly where I stand," she replied, looking intently at me. "Now it's up to you to decide if you want to let me in and tell me what's driving you to react the way you do whenever I threaten to get too close."

I already knew the answer to that one. "I do want you to know why I behaved the way I did and I'm working on letting you in," I said very low. "I can accept that, for the time being, the trust issue is a one-way street. As long as you tell me that you believe me if I say that I trust you unconditionally."

For the first time in days, she gave me a real smile. It felt like the sun breaking through the clouds after a particularly heavy thunderstorm. "I believe you," she said simply.

I put my arm around her shoulders and we looked out at the desert again. Any more words would have been superfluous.

Shortly after, Tiner and Bensen arrived with our car and the official permission to continue the race. A doctor quickly looked us over and when he didn't find any real injuries besides a few cuts and bruises and the red marks that the belt had left around my ankles, he gave us a "go". Five minutes later, Mac and I were on the road again.

When we arrived we were rather exhausted, physically as well as emotionally but we still had to do the interview that Harriet had arranged. This time we were prepared as we had thought about a few details of Deb and Doug's private lives. The reporter was keen on discovering if we had any kind of personal relationship going on. Somehow we managed to evade the topic until he gave up, his frustration evident. As soon as the reporter had left, Harriet, Tiner, Gunny and Webb joined us.

How did you react whenever you were out on a mission but didn't get a hint that anything would happen? I despise this feeling of hanging and waiting for the other to make the first move. As a pilot, you'll understand me when I tell you that I'm the one to attack rather than react, Dad. Well, it seems that in this operation, we won't get that chance.

Tiner managed to befriend Dunfoss' maintenance buddy and was able to take a closer look at his car. He didn't find the slightest hint as to where the grenades might be hidden. Webb is slowly losing his mind, I guess. In two days, we'll be leaving Libya and will drive into the state of Niger. So Dunfoss is due to act tomorrow or the day after. If he doesn't, we have a problem.

Mac just reminded me that we'll be on watch duty tomorrow. So I think I'd better get going now and get some sleep. Let's just hope, the armistice holds this time, Dad. I'm afraid to think in what way I might break it.

Talk to you soon! Harm

Jan. 7th Sabha, Libya

Dear Dad,

Another hard day's over and you won't believe it: I had fun. We had fun. Big time. No, I mean it. And for me, it kind of paid off. Right now, I'm lying flat on my belly, comfortably wrapped in my sleeping bag, writing to you. And right before me is a little wooden brick stone. The third one.

I'd just taken my cherished shower in Bensen's camper. (He's got a flow heater, you know. I wouldn't have guessed but the evening chill creeps up so quickly once the sun is gone that you actually need one.) When I joined Mac in our tent, she smiled, seeing me rummage through my bag for this booklet.

"'Dear Diary' time again?" she softly teased.

I just grinned. "Dear Dad," I corrected her.

She cocked her head with the sweetest smile. "Awww..."

I grunted good-naturedly, shaking my head.

Sobering a little, Mac looked at me for a second. "Say hello for me, will you?" This time, there was no teasing undertone detectible in her voice. I felt my smile broaden.

"I will."

She quickly leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Good night, Harm."

I'm just glad it's rather dark in here 'cause I guess I was blushing. "Good night, Mac. Sleep tight."

"You too." Casting me another quick smile, she turned to lie on her other side so my flashlight wouldn't bother her.

It was only then that I noticed the little pack on my pillow. I carefully removed the handkerchief she had wrapped the brick in and a small sheet of paper fell out. It read:

Harm,

Today was great. Much better than just finishing each other's sentences. To me, it felt like we were thinking in phase.

I won't give you this personally because I'm afraid that whatever conversation might follow might lead to the same results as the last. So, right now, I think it's safer this way, although I'll dreadfully miss the goodnight kiss, but hey... you can't get everything you want, right?

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that today, we gave Gunny and Webb a demo lesson on teamwork and I'm damned proud of the result. Thank you so much, Harm. I had a fantastic time.

Good night, sailor! Mac

Touched, I hesitated only for the briefest moment. "Mac?"

She didn't move but the tone of her voice told me that she was still wide- awake. "Yeah?"

"Turn around," I suggested softly.

"Why?" Her voice was a little wary.

"Because," I said with a slight smile.

With a barely audible chuckle, she turned her head in my direction, her features serene but her eyes silently begging me to respect her wish not to talk about it. I complied.

"You can get whatever you want," I just told her in a low voice, still smiling. Without waiting for her reaction, I brought my lips to hers and let them linger for a second or two. When I drew back, she smiled slightly, holding my glance.

"Good night again," I whispered, reaching out with my hand and gently brushing a little sand out of the hair over her forehead.

Her smile deepened. "Good night," she whispered back before turning her head.

It's so wonderful that somehow, we got back to being this easy with one another. Maybe we just improved our understanding of how the other's mind works.

So, I promised Mac that I'd say hello to you for her: Dad, Mac says hello. (I know you can see me grinning, wherever you are.) Now I bet you want details about what happened earlier, right? Okay, I'll tell you.

Actually, Dunfoss started it. Mac and I were his bodyguards today and as soon as we were off, we noticed from my GPS readouts that he was obviously going for today's stage victory. We had to cover 469 km with only 146 km of special track. The whole course was extremely twisty and bumpy as we were passing from dune valley to dune valley. We were mostly going off-track, crossing the 100 km long Erg de Timsah with its 40-yard dunes. The stage was incredibly fast and Mac did miracles with her driving. My nausea returned a little but my chewing-gum stock is still well equipped so I could hold it in check.

When Mac and I had been driving for about 15 minutes, the comm-link cracked.

"Doug, do you copy?" Clay was speaking fast and seemed agitated. 'Not again,' I thought.

"Loud and clear, Carl," I answered warily.

"Listen, our target is going so fast today that I'm sure he'll try something. You must follow him at any cost, do you understand? Try to get as close as you can, we'll do the same. Over."

"Got it," I acknowledged, "Over and out." Then I turned to Mac. "Seems we get lucky today, Mac," I said lightly. "Go as fast as you can."

"You sure?" Mac asked me with an almost mischievous smile. After yesterday's clearing tempest, she'd been very much at ease all morning. I still didn't completely trust the situation but I admit that it felt really good for a change.

"Positive," I answered.

"Okay..." she said with a grin, the slightest nasty edge in her voice. Then she stepped on the accelerator. Immediately, the sudden acceleration pressed me into my seat. I gasped.

"Catapult feeling?" she only commented.

"Yeah, kind of..." I murmured, chuckling and again concentrating on my readouts.

"Doug?" Clay's voice again.

"Yeah?"

"You know Al Brady, the ZBS boy, right?"

"Sure, he helped to pull us on board the helicopter." Frowning, I waited for Clay to elaborate why he had brought up Tiner.

"He... uhm..." Clay seemed to think too hard about what he was going to say. 'Okay, let's play 'crack the code',' I silently resolved. Theoretically, our comm-link was safe but in real life, nothing turns out as it does in theory as I've painfully noticed a few times. Hence the use of our cover names. Clay tried again. "I had Al bring your lunch boxes to your car today. And I told him to pack a second green pepper sandwich." I noticed that Clay had slightly stressed the last words. Frowning deeper, I listened on. "We have a second green pepper sandwich, too," Clay explained after a moment. So we can eat together, sort of. Over and out."

Green pepper sandwich? Green pep... Suddenly I burst out laughing. Mac shot me a quizzical look. Putting my finger to my lips, I reached for the lunch box and opened it. In it lay a little black GPS transmitter, already processing data. 'Green Pepper Sandwich,' I thought, shaking my head as I copied the data on the map. I instantly understood that Clay had somehow managed to provide each of our teams with the means to locate the other. I showed the device to Mac and she immediately nodded understanding.

Don't think life became any easier for me now, Dad. My tracking workload had just doubled but it's reassuring to be able to know beforehand where our reinforcements will arrive from, should we ever need them.

I started plotting their course in one-minute intervals. "Mac," I called.

"Yes?"

"They're closing in on us." Somehow the fact bothered me. Mac was doing so great. Why was the Gunny still faster?

I rather heard than saw her frown. "Just you wait..." she murmured and once again forcefully stepped on the accelerator.

Ten minutes later, they drove past us, smirking. "Sons of a..." I murmured.

After a few moments, Clay spoke up again, his smirk clearly audible. "Distance about 500 yards and growing..."

I immediately checked the latest readouts. Dunfoss was speeding as if his life depended on it. Well, maybe Al Qaeda had reminded him that it actually did? But strangely, he didn't make the slightest effort to get away from the track. He seemed determined to win and nothing else. Much as that preoccupied us, the situation enabled us to concentrate on the given course. Which was what we did.

"Damn, they're really fast!" I called in Mac's direction.

"Look for any possible shortcuts in the off-track sections!" I had to grin at the determination in her voice. 'Okay, we're in for a personal race today.'

"Aye, ma'am," I acknowledged. Then I buried myself in my work once again.

All of a sudden, I had an idea. "Mac, if we turn to 225 degrees now, there should be a possibility to avoid at least two minor dune valleys. They'd only slow us down. The new route is a little longer but we should be able to move faster."

"Got it!" The moment the words were out, she saw the small opening in the dunes and steered us right through it. "Details?" she called in my direction.

I had tasted blood and felt the adrenaline stir up my system. "In about 500 yards turn to 278 degrees," I told her. She looked, calculated, waited and turned.

"To avoid the too steep descent: back to 260 in 120 yards!"

Mac did just that. I looked at the GPS readouts. Gunny and Webb were still ahead but the distance had stabilized at about 2000 yards. "Distance still 2000 yards," I told Clay.

"I know. Keep trying." Dad, I honestly didn't like that gloating sound in his voice.

"Mac," I tried something else that I'd just discovered. "In about 260 yards turn to 310 and go..."

"...already uphill to avoid the steep ascent to the next dune pass." She had spotted the point that I had discovered on my map and did what I told her. I measured again.

"Distance approximately 1750 yards and closing in," I told Clay, satisfaction ringing in my voice. My next data told me, though, that they seemed to be following a shortcut, too.

"Distance 1930 yards and increasing." Clay was enjoying himself way too much.

I looked at Mac: "Can we go across one of the higher situated valleys?"

Simultaneously, she said: "Let's go across one of the higher situated valleys."

We blinked and shared a short laugh, then I sobered. "Isn't the sand too deep?"

Mac shrugged merrily. "Not if we're lucky."

"Great..."

Dad, I know that what we did was rather foolish because we could easily have gotten stuck for good up there. But I suddenly realized that for once, we might be able to get a little payback for all that Webb made us endure, and be it only by beating him and Gunny today. He has his pride, you know... Anyway, I decided it was a risk worth taking.

"Mac, turn to 305 degrees in..."

"...about 200 yards. I see the route."

"Good."

We turned and moved up the dune until, about halfway up, a pass opened before us.

"Get..." I started.

"...in there!" Mac took up and pulled around the wheel.

"Hey, stop finishing my sentences!" I shot her a grin, knowing well that she remembered the time when I'd first said this to her.

"You know what I was gonna say," she said instead of replying directly, grinning back at me. I again checked the GPS data and a grin spread over my face.

"Distance about 950 yards and closing in," I announced pompously over the comm-link, enjoying the low swearing that was my answer.

Dad, the whole stage went on like that. Gunny and Webb managed to increase the distance a few times, but Mac and I were merciless! Dunfoss kind of pushed all of us - we nearly couldn't believe our ears when, at the second control point, Bensen told us that for today's stage ranking, Mac and I were currently ranked 21st and Gunny and Webb ranked 20th.

I think I finally figured out how you can pull useful details out of an ordinary road map. As soon as one of my ideas had been carried out, the next one followed. It's really all on the map, you just have to know how to read between the roads, so to say. I'm glad about my progress. Tomorrow's stage will once again be hell for the navigators and maybe this time, we'll stand a chance not to lose our friend, although it's not us who're in for watching him tomorrow.

After the last control point, racing fever once again got the better of us. The rest of the stage track was downhill and fast and the rush felt great.

Webb and Gunny had taken a wrong turn once and although it hadn't been too much of a problem to go on, we could sense they were nervous and they had now ended up following a more difficult route in order to reach the bivouac. What substantially added to Clay's state of mind was the frustration and worry that he felt because Dunfoss still hasn't acted on whatever he's planning. And tomorrow we'll leave Libya.

We spotted Gunny and Clay when they were just trying to regain full speed after a particularly tricky descent that they'd had to make in order to reach the original route from where they were. Mac and I were still rolling on high speed.

I waited and counted down... 200 yards, 150, 100, 80, 60, 40, 15... then I switched on the comm-link. "Distance zero and increasing," I merrily called over to a very frustrated Clay, just as we roared past them at their starboard side.

Mac quickly held up her hand, laughing. I gave her five, joining in her laughter. Two minutes later, we passed the finish line, Clay and Gunny a full 300 yards behind us.

Mac let the car roll until it eventually came to a halt. Letting out a deep relieved breath, she faced me with a smile. "That was fun!"

I chuckled, suddenly remembering yesterday's interview. "One hell of a law firm, indeed."

Mac just looked at me. "No," she said quietly. "One hell of a team."

You already know what followed. Dad, I hope I'm not too early in declaring it but I think this time, Mac and I are finally getting it right. Knock on wood.

Harm

To be continued...