'Teamwork' - Part Three
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One
[Excerpts from Harm's diary]
Jan. 8th Dirkon, Niger
Dad,
I hate sand. Right now I'm covered with it from head to toe. It's in my shoes, in my socks, inside my driver's suit, under my t-shirt, in my... no, I won't go there. It's in my hair, in my ears, in my nostrils, between my teeth. You have to give me credit - I'm a real gentleman. I let Mac take a shower first. And since I know that I won't have the energy to take a pen in my hand once I'll be all cleaned up and relaxed, I'm writing these lines now while Mac's getting cleaned up herself. Besides, my head hurts quite a bit, and after my shower, all I want is an aspirin and a good-night's sleep.
I loved reading "The One-Thousand-and-One Nights" (yes, Dad, all of it, not just the steamy stuff) so I'm familiar with the concept of getting caught in the middle of a sandstorm in the desert. But, as always, there's a major difference between imagining and experiencing it. Today was insufferable. And yet - I'm kind of lighthearted and content because the sandstorm gave me the opportunity to hold Mac close to me for quite some time as we were waiting it out. It wasn't really romantic. You know, romance doesn't come with the crunching sound of sand between your teeth every time you move your jaw. Still, it was special somehow and I wouldn't have missed it.
Apart from our personal issues, we're all getting extremely worried about the mission by now. Today we crossed the border to Niger, and still Dunfoss doesn't seem to do anything than continue the race. Clay seems to have reconsidered his options - apparently Dunfoss' wife's family being Libyan hadn't had too much influence on his choice of meeting point.
Last night, Clay and I met up with Tiner who took us to Dunfoss' car. His new buddy, you know, Dunfoss' maintenance clerk, seems to get drunk rather easily, so Tiner could procure us a little technical information about the vehicle and get us near it. While he kept his 'friend' occupied, Clay and I searched the car for any hints of the grenades. Nothing. When I carefully hinted to Webb that maybe the Agency had been wrong about the whole thing, he started to contradict me forcefully, claiming that their information had been very clear and that they had to be around somewhere.
I asked him about the nature of the information, and after trying a few 'That's-classified!'s', he explained to me that they had sat photos of the grenades at Erhac, an informant's testimony that he'd seen Dunfoss' brother, you know, the Marine corporal, at night rummaging around between them, that the next morning, they'd been gone, that they had tracked them down to some car repair near the base and that there was evidence that Will Dunfoss had his car checked out there.
While, as a lawyer, I'd say that this would be absolutely insufficient evidence for any kind of conviction, I have to concede that the chain of 'coincidences' is a little too strong not to become suspicious. So the Agency came up with our little hide-and-seek scenario. Still, something doesn't feel right about all this. Problem is: I can't put my finger on what it is, neither can Mac. But she seconds my uneasiness. We'll have to wait and see.
Today's stage would have been difficult enough if the weather had been favorable. The whole distance of 707 km counted as special track. It was a generally fast route, intermixed with twisty sections across rocky sand plateaus that were really hard to cross. We did a lot of skidding and Mac's arms must be all sore by now from yanking the wheel from one side to the other and back all the time.
The skidding eventually did it for my delicate stomach. Even the chewing gum didn't help and I had to get out and be sick after about two thirds of the distance. Luckily we had a thermos with unsweetened peppermint tea with us that Bensen had supplied us with - maybe he expected something of the kind would happen on this stage. Anyway, besides the calming effect that the tea had on my stomach's nerves, I was really grateful to have something fresh to rinse my mouth with afterwards. Much as I despise that man for his attraction to Mac, I owe him now.
Just as I was about to get back into the car, I cast a casual glance at the sky - and froze. From the southwest, an incredibly dark wall of clouds was nearing. I quickly turned around and found my dreadful suspicion confirmed: in the northeast, the sky was of a strangely pale ginger yellow. The rest of the sky in between the black and the yellow seemed to be covered with a peculiar milky-white mist up high in the stratosphere. All senses alert, I glanced at our surroundings and noticed that all wind had died down. No other teams were near. Deep silence reigned around us. Death silence. Unconsciously, I swallowed.
"Uh... Mac?"
"Yeah? You alright?"
"Yeah... ah... could you check Gunny and Webb's position, please?"
Mac must have heard the apprehension ringing in my voice because when she answered, hers was very sober and concerned. She got out and took off her helmet. "Harm, I'm afraid you made a navigation mistake earlier." Still she didn't notice the reason for my own preoccupation.
"I had a suspicion," I confirmed. "How far off are we?"
"Not much. I think it's that downhill section that we did that got us off- track. The other teams should still be up on the plateau somewhere." Only then did she see what I was frowningly staring at. She followed the direction of my eyes and spotted the black cloud layer that was, as I noted with sudden panic, approaching far too fast for my liking.
"Oh sh..." she swore very low, eyes wide. "Any ideas?"
"None, really... go as fast as we can?" I suggested, feeling helpless.
"Bought." She put on her helmet and quickly climbed inside again. I immediately followed and we sped off.
The tense silence subdued both our minds, I guess. This time, though, it wasn't some kind of silence that hung in between us. It surrounded both of us, closing in, threatening to choke us, as outside, the sunlight began to fade away and the first heavy gusts began to shake the car. Yet, odd as it seems, the knowledge that we were in this together, somehow eased my fears.
I noticed that on Mac's head, just under the brim of her helmet, small beads of perspiration had begun to form. She was pressing her lips shut and speeding on, staring in front of her, slightly bowing forward as the visibility was more and more reduced by flying sand - as if her change of posture could procure her any better sight. But that's how the human psyche works.
I looked down again and kept my eyes glued to the road book and my GPS, plotting a course back to the original route. As it turned out, we would have to go on down where we were for another 40 km roughly before there would be any possibility of trying an ascent to the plateau.
When I next lifted my head, visibility was down to almost zero. Our car was rocking hard from the heavy side winds and the sand and little pebbles that hit us were making an ever-increasing noise that, together with the steady howling of the wind and the pale remainders of daylight, created a gruesome atmosphere.
Mac was still holding up admirably. The sweat was beginning to trickle down her temples but she didn't wipe it away, keeping the wheel in a death grip to maintain control over our vehicle while she was trying to get closer to the mountain face that we were following. I reached for a Kleenex, softly touched her arm first so as not to startle her and then, seeing her smile briefly as she understood what I was about to do, gently dabbed the beads from her forehead.
It was then that a sudden small avalanche of pebbles came down on us from the cliff above. We gasped, startled, and then... Dad, I don't recall exactly what happened but one of the bigger rocks must have broken my side window and hit me on the forehead, lucky as I am, just where the helmet ended. I felt a searing pain and everything went black.
When I eventually regained consciousness, I realized that Mac had parked the car near the mountain face and was holding my face between her hands, having removed our helmets, her eyes overflowing with worry. With her left hand, she was pressing a folded tissue to my right eyebrow. And she was obviously talking to me in a soothing voice, although I didn't quite get what she was saying.
I could see her relief once she noticed that I was back - and although my head was pounding like a jack hammer, I felt great being taken care of by her.
"Thanks." I had found my voice and even managed a slight smile.
"Anytime," she answered simply, handing me my water bottle. "How do you feel?" She had to almost shout as the wind kept howling. I noticed that she had half wrapped me in our anti-fire blanket to protect me against the sand that was blown into the car through the destroyed window.
"Not too bad, thanks," I called back, "Just a little sandy."
"There's a small outcrop in the mountain face, just big enough for two people to crouch in," she told me. "How about trying to wait it out there?"
I looked at her dubiously, shading my eyes against any sand with my right hand. "You don't know how long this is gonna take."
"Do we have an alternative?" she asked back. "Over there, we can protect ourselves more efficiently against the gusts and the sand. In the car it's of no use right now. My window's broken, too, and the wind comes right through without mercy."
"I see your point. Let's get out of here." Slowly coming back to my senses, I took the water bottles and the blanket while Mac retrieved the radio, the medic case and what was left of our lunch box. Together, we made a beeline for the small cave and settled down inside, wrapping the blanket around us. The howling was actually a little lower and we were safe from the flying sand.
Mac switched on the flashlight and examined my head. "Whoo, that's a nasty gash that you've got there," she murmured, wetting a gauze bandage with a little bottled water and gently cleaning my wound. I closed my eyes - Dad, even though it hurt, her movements felt like caresses. Right then I wouldn't have wanted her to stop.
When she had applied a bandage to my brow, reassuring me that it was small and wouldn't get in the way of my helmet, I leaned back against the rock wall, made her sit in my lap and wrapped the blanket around both of us. She leaned into my embrace and let her head rest against my shoulder.
After a while, she spoke up somewhat drowsily. "Harm?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you mind if I dozed off a little?"
I chuckled. "Not at all."
"Thanks. You're the best." She snuggled up a little closer and we fell silent. Yet it was again her to eventually break the silence.
"Harm?"
"Hmmm?"
"I'm glad I didn't take the Brussels assignment."
Her choice of topic caught me a little off-guard. I had completely forgotten about it. "Uh... yeah, me, too. Did you ever consider taking it?"
To my surprise, I heard her acknowledge. "Yeah, I did. When I was out in Nevada, training for the rally, I had a lot of time to think things through. You know, doing the Dakar, I would have missed the deadline but the Secnav was so urgent in offering me the post that I'm sure I could have gotten it anyway if I'd resolved to go for it."
"Would you have wanted it?" I don't think I really managed to sound as uninvolved as I had intended to. The possibility of Mac transferring to another continent outright scared me, even though I already knew that she had decided against it.
"No, I don't think so." Her voice was a little too thoughtful for my liking but I decided not to allude to that right then. She went on. "I mean, it sure would have been a great opportunity, Harm. It would have been only me, practically, to do the main part of the negotiating with the Russian officials behind the scenes. And without my legal approval, no deals would have been cut. I really could have done something to make the world a little safer."
Dreading the whole topic, I still forced myself to keep up the conversation. If this was what she wanted to talk to me about, then I'd be her sounding board. "Then why didn't you take the assignment in the first place?"
I felt her breath caress my throat when she silently chuckled. "Can't you guess?" was all she answered.
My heart turned a somersault and an incredible warmth began to well up inside me. I tightened my embrace, unable to stop smiling in the dark. "Thanks, Mac." My voice was suddenly somewhat hoarse and shaky.
"You're welcome."
Once more falling silent, we sat cuddled up for another two hours, feeling each other's heartbeat. Mac was absentmindedly running her hand up and down my chest, nearly driving me crazy and making me fight a sudden desire to lower her on her back and... Taking a deep breath that bore the sweet scent of her hair, I refrained from acting on my instincts. Having her this close to me and being allowed to hold her was all I truly needed right then.
Eventually we became aware that the storm had quieted down. Mac checked on my wound and when she found that I was doing quite well, we quickly made our way back to our car and covered the remaining distance to bivouac without substantial problems - apart from the sand that continuously entered our drivers' cabin through the broken windows.
Bensen, Gunny and Webb were anxiously awaiting us. We certainly weren't the last team to arrive as many others had encountered problems similar to ours. But we could still see their relief once we disembarked more or less unscathed. Bensen immediately went over to Mac, only to stop short when he apparently became aware of the somehow more intense aura of easy intimacy that surrounded Mac and me. He met my eye and knew. I have to give him credit for his decency - his glance reassured me that he'd never again try to win Mac's affection.
Tomorrow, we'll be doing a 'Dakar Classic' as Jutta explained to us when we met her earlier today. Tomorrow's finish will be at Agades, the ancient caravan town where we'll get to spend our day off, which is the day after tomorrow. If Dunfoss doesn't get us into trouble, tomorrow should be fatiguing, yes, but routine driving by now. We'll see. Let's just hope our techs get our car fixed.
There's Mac, back from the shower. It's my turn now, Dad, finally! I'll get back to you soon, I promise. Harm
Jan. 10th Agades, Niger
Dad!
Two! Deux! Dos! Due! Dwa! Zwei! Yay!!! There's two little brick stones in my lap as I write to you! Yes, Dad, you heard me right: two!! That means... (drum roll) ...I'm up to five now!!! T minus two and counting!
Sorry, I think I got a little carried away here but you'll have to concede that I'm entitled to feel great. Mac and I had a long talk today, "the" talk, I guess, it was. And although I'm still not daring to believe that we sailed all the rapids, I think that today was the closest that we ever got to starting something serious.
After a totally uneventful yesterday's stage (just for the record: 644 km, 637 km of special track, across the Erg of Ténéré in a wide circle around the impressive Aïr mountains, flat rear tire all-inclusive), we had our well-deserved break today at the fairytale-like caravan town of Agades. Mac and I went sightseeing together and at some point we began to feel like being part of the fairytale ourselves.
It already started with seeing Mac when she was ready to leave bivouac. She was dressed in white, from head to toe. Rules of society being conservative out here, she wore a wide, white cotton dress with a high collar and long sleeves. The skirt went down to a mere inch above the ground so no one noticed that the Nikes she wore underneath weren't exactly the traditional shoe wear that the original style would have required. Around her shoulders and head, she had loosely draped a broad, soft white cotton shawl, having made sure that she was allowed to leave her face uncovered. (They're not quite as strict in Niger as they are in Saudi Arabia.) Just below the brim of her makeshift hood, the slightest bit of her brown hair was visible, framing her face. Dad, she looked so lovely. I couldn't take my eyes off her.
I felt a little out of place in my khaki slacks and long-sleeved white cotton shirt but I quickly forgot about my appearance as we were walking through the old quarters of the town. The houses were pastel-colored, the styles varying between white, beige, rosé and light blue. In the narrow streets there was no traffic besides a few donkey carts and an occasional camel walking by. And there were refreshingly few tourists to be seen. I guess, Agades is just too far from any African coast worth visiting. So what we got was genuine Maghreb, Muslim northern Africa.
After making use of the opportunity to sleep in a little, Mac and I first visited the ancient mosque and strolled a little across the bazaar, always being careful to maintain a proper distance between us. Then we found a little teahouse where men and women weren't as severely banished to different corners as in some others. We settled down cross-legged at a low shady table in the courtyard and silently enjoyed our sugary tea.
"Hello!" I suddenly heard someone greet us. We looked up and saw two young men walking over, waving a smiling greeting. I recognized the Turkish rally driver Erkan Celebi with his navigator, Taifun Kir.
Returning their greetings, Mac and I invited them to join us for a cup of tea.
"Enjoying your day off?" Celebi asked Mac.
She smiled. "Yes, I am. Very much so," she added with a pathetic sigh that made us all laugh a little.
Celebi nodded with a knowing grin. "So am I. My arms are still sore from two days ago."
"Tell me about it," Mac agreed.
"First time in 'de Dakar?" the Turkish driver wanted to know.
"Yeah," I acknowledged. "We wanted to see if we could do it. We're more the office types back home."
Again, Celebi grinned widely. "I know. 'De wild lawyers from Washington. We all saw your interview."
Mac and I exchanged a mock frown. "We'll never live that one down, will we?" she asked with more than just a little irony in her voice.
"No chance," Celebi laughed compassionately.
"So, where are you from?" I was eager to change the subject.
"I grew up near Erhac," he answered.
This time, the look that passed between Mac and me was meaningful but went unnoticed by our company. "Do you still live there?" I casually inquired.
"Yes, I do," Celebi answered in his open, friendly way. "Actually, it was quite convenient for 'de rally preparations. My bro'der works for a maintenance firm near 'de airbase."
"What does he do?" Mac asked in the same tone that she'd have used to inquire after the flowers on his balcony.
"More convenient still," Celebi answered, his wide grin audible. "He's a car mechanic."
"Wow, you're lucky!" Mac exclaimed. "Then you surely got to know quite a few Dakar stars beforehand, right? That's so great!"
Celebi seemed almost embarrassed. "Yes, I did. Some of 'dose who went from Turkey to Africa by ship had 'deir vehicles looked at in my bro'der's firm. I even got an autograph from Henri Monnet, 'de guy you saved."
"Did you get to know Will Dunfoss, too?" Mac asked eagerly, acting like a fan who asked about her idol.
"Yes, his bro'der works at 'de base. He's in 'de military and my bro'der's firm cooperates wid' 'dem."
"Wow! Did you get to see his car? I bet he's got quite a few extra features that we don't know of!" Mac's playacting was hilarious. I had to fight to keep my expression in check.
"Oh, I don't know about 'dat," Celebi answered with a smile. "You'd have to ask my bro'der back home. I only drive. Taifun does all 'de technical stuff on 'de rally course." His navigator acknowledged with a nod and a grin.
Mac didn't even have to feign disappointment. Another lead on the grenades had just evaporated into nothing. "Pity," she said with an endearing pout.
Celebi patted her on the shoulder. "I'll arrange for a meeting if you come again next year."
"That would be great." Mac gave him a one-billion-watts smile in return that actually made the young man blush a little.
"You're welcome." The Turkish team had finished their tea and rose. "Well, I guess, we'll see you around," Celebi greeted us, "Have a nice day."
"You, too."
"Damn," I murmured under my breath when they were gone.
"I second that," Mac sighed. Then she turned to me with a threatening grin. "But don't you dare let that spoil our day off, do you hear me?"
Chuckling, I made a gesture of surrender. "You're the boss."
"Good to see you understood that." The corners of Mac's mouth were twitching.
"Oh, shut up, Marine," I replied in mock exasperation, making her smile in full.
Mac leaned back against the whitewashed wall, her eyes closed. She was savoring the relaxation after the strain and stress of the last days. I just sat and observed her, wanting nothing more than to preserve everything as it was right at that moment. I was happy.
After a little while, Mac turned her head and found me looking at her, unable to keep the smile off my face.
"What?" she said with a low, slightly embarrassed chuckle.
"Nothing," I replied. "Just looking."
For a moment, she looked down, smiling. Then she again met my eye. "See anything fascinating?" she asked in a low, amused voice.
"Yeah," I just said.
"What?" she inquired, curious.
"You."
I could see that I had caught her off-guard. She averted her eyes with yet another embarrassed smile, choosing not to comment.
Dad, there have been very few moments in my life when I felt so much at ease as I did right then. Whatever I might have been afraid of just didn't seem important anymore. The warm breeze was caressing my face, my eyes beheld the beautiful sight of my very best friend beside me, the spicy tea had eased the fatigue away... before I even became aware of what I was doing, the first words were out.
"Mac?"
"Hmmm?"
"I... guess I still owe you an explanation."
She looked at me, just a little surprised, but I could tell it was positive surprise that she felt. "You do," she answered quietly, her tone encouraging, "But only if you really feel you want to talk about it, Harm."
"I do."
Her expression lit up in silent joy and she only reached out and, for a moment, squeezed my hand with hers, before she drew back again into the customary demeanor of a good Muslim woman.
"I... uh..." I looked down on my hands that were toying with my teacup, chuckling a little, "I don't know where to start."
"That bad, huh?" Her voice was pure sympathy.
"I'm afraid so." I met her glance. "All this goes way back, Mac."
"I know. I was at the pier in Norfolk, remember?"
I nodded briefly, sighing. "But it isn't what you think."
"What do I think?" She scrutinized my features challengingly.
"I suppose you think I'm still seeing Diane in you," I answered.
"Aren't you?"
"No. I see you, Mac."
Her brow furrowed slightly, yet her gaze remained compassionate and open. "Do you?"
"Yeah."
"Then I don't really see the problem. If this isn't about Diane..."
"I didn't say that it had nothing to do with Diane," I cut her off gently. Her furrow increased.
"I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate, sailor."
Heaving a deep sigh, I straightened a little and gazed into the big nothing. "I won't deny that I did see Diane in you for quite some time," I began, my voice distant as memories were surfacing. "Actually, that was what brought us this close in so little time. Like I told you in Red Rock Mesa: I tended to forget that I didn't know you. But eventually, that changed."
I could see she was following me. "Norfolk..." she murmured.
Nodding slowly, I went on. "That night was the turning point, Mac. When you showed up, I saw Diane but..." I swallowed, not sure how to go on.
"I've always been wondering about something," Mac thoughtfully addressed me. "Harm... can I... can I ask you a personal question?"
I let out a low chuckle. "What is this if not a personal conversation, Mac?"
She, too, laughed silently. "True," she sheepishly acknowledged. Then her expression sobered and I think I even detected the slightest trace of dread in her eyes. "Whom did you really kiss that night, Harm?" Her voice was very low.
"You, Mac," I whispered, unable to look at her. "Although I didn't know it until you made that remark about me kissing Diane. But it was you."
She remained silent. I still didn't dare to face her but I went on. "And that's where the problems started."
I heard her suck in her breath at my statement and I knew how it must have hurt her, but I could only hope that my further explanations would set the picture right. I went on. "Then we were growing closer all the time, especially after Russia, and I found that you were the one person that I loved spending my time with." I finally managed to meet her glance that was an unreadable mixture between wonder, hurt and fear. "You were about to become the center of my life, and what was scaring me most was that, most of the time, it didn't seem to scare me at all. After Diane there's never been a woman whom I'd really granted access to my heart. It would have been too much to take. And I was determined to maintain the same policy with you. But you somehow managed to sneak your way in and I was very much in danger of losing myself in you."
Mac's huge eyes had turned incredibly sad. "Would that have been so terrible?" she whispered.
I swallowed. "If we had gotten involved it wouldn't have been just a casual affair, Mac," I tried to explain, "At least not from my side. That's why I'm grateful that you're so similar to Diane. Although I didn't see her in you, your likeness always reminded me of what was at stake. Losing Diane all but killed me. I damn near lost you more than once, too. I felt I just couldn't live through it. If I'd opened up completely, if I'd let go and then lost you..." I couldn't complete the thought. Confused, I wiped my face with my hand, looking everywhere but at her.
"So you saved yourself by drawing back whenever you felt we were about to leave the safety of our platonic friendship," Mac quietly concluded, carefully masking whatever emotion lay behind her words.
I nodded.
"And now? What's different?"
"I don't know, Mac. Nothing, really. I... I just feel I can't go on like that anymore. I have to get past the fear. Or die trying."
"What tells me that you won't draw back again?" She had asked neutrally but I knew her too well not to hear the dread behind her calm words.
"All I can promise is to try and fight the demons of my past with all my might," I told her, locking my gaze with hers. "During the last few weeks I understood two things: if there's anyone who's worth the fight it's you, Mac, and if there's anything that'll get me through this, it's the strength that I find in your affection. And that's what has become the source of my growing faith that this time, I'll make it. We'll make it."
"I'll take you up on that promise, squid," Mac replied softly, smiling ever so slightly.
"Good," I stated, mirroring her smile and taking her hand.
After once again losing ourselves in desert sunset cinema, we returned to bivouac and began to prepare for the night. Just as I had gotten out my diary, sitting cross-legged on my sleeping-bag, Mac settled down in front of me, gently touching my shoulder with her hand. I looked up.
"What's up?" I asked.
Wordlessly she held out her hand, a slightly self-conscious smile on her face. On her palm lay the two little bricks. I gaped at her. "Two?" My heart started beating wildly.
"Yeah," she whispered.
"But..."
"You deserve them, Harm." With her free hand, she picked up one brick and put it in my hand. "This one is for opening up in the first place. I didn't even think about asking. You did it all by yourself. And this one," she placed the second one in my hand, "Is for going through with it and promising to try and put your fears behind you. That's just too much to equal only one stone."
I had to swallow heavily as I was studying the two little pieces of wood on my palm. "Thank you." My voice caught slightly in my throat.
"My pleasure," Mac replied, her smile audible. "Do I get my goodnight kiss?" she added shyly.
I couldn't help grinning widely. "Sure," I whispered before I cupped her face with both my hands and kissed her just a little more intense than the other night. She didn't seem to mind. "Good night, Mac."
"Good night." Giving me one last quick smile, she got into her sleeping-bag and turned away from me, clearly just as unsure as I am feeling right now but happy nevertheless.
Five stones, Dad, I still can't believe I've made it this far! Right now I'm convinced I can do anything. Please, God, make it work! Dad, pray for me.
I love you, Dad. I just wish you could have met her.
Harm
To be continued...
[Excerpts from Harm's diary]
Jan. 8th Dirkon, Niger
Dad,
I hate sand. Right now I'm covered with it from head to toe. It's in my shoes, in my socks, inside my driver's suit, under my t-shirt, in my... no, I won't go there. It's in my hair, in my ears, in my nostrils, between my teeth. You have to give me credit - I'm a real gentleman. I let Mac take a shower first. And since I know that I won't have the energy to take a pen in my hand once I'll be all cleaned up and relaxed, I'm writing these lines now while Mac's getting cleaned up herself. Besides, my head hurts quite a bit, and after my shower, all I want is an aspirin and a good-night's sleep.
I loved reading "The One-Thousand-and-One Nights" (yes, Dad, all of it, not just the steamy stuff) so I'm familiar with the concept of getting caught in the middle of a sandstorm in the desert. But, as always, there's a major difference between imagining and experiencing it. Today was insufferable. And yet - I'm kind of lighthearted and content because the sandstorm gave me the opportunity to hold Mac close to me for quite some time as we were waiting it out. It wasn't really romantic. You know, romance doesn't come with the crunching sound of sand between your teeth every time you move your jaw. Still, it was special somehow and I wouldn't have missed it.
Apart from our personal issues, we're all getting extremely worried about the mission by now. Today we crossed the border to Niger, and still Dunfoss doesn't seem to do anything than continue the race. Clay seems to have reconsidered his options - apparently Dunfoss' wife's family being Libyan hadn't had too much influence on his choice of meeting point.
Last night, Clay and I met up with Tiner who took us to Dunfoss' car. His new buddy, you know, Dunfoss' maintenance clerk, seems to get drunk rather easily, so Tiner could procure us a little technical information about the vehicle and get us near it. While he kept his 'friend' occupied, Clay and I searched the car for any hints of the grenades. Nothing. When I carefully hinted to Webb that maybe the Agency had been wrong about the whole thing, he started to contradict me forcefully, claiming that their information had been very clear and that they had to be around somewhere.
I asked him about the nature of the information, and after trying a few 'That's-classified!'s', he explained to me that they had sat photos of the grenades at Erhac, an informant's testimony that he'd seen Dunfoss' brother, you know, the Marine corporal, at night rummaging around between them, that the next morning, they'd been gone, that they had tracked them down to some car repair near the base and that there was evidence that Will Dunfoss had his car checked out there.
While, as a lawyer, I'd say that this would be absolutely insufficient evidence for any kind of conviction, I have to concede that the chain of 'coincidences' is a little too strong not to become suspicious. So the Agency came up with our little hide-and-seek scenario. Still, something doesn't feel right about all this. Problem is: I can't put my finger on what it is, neither can Mac. But she seconds my uneasiness. We'll have to wait and see.
Today's stage would have been difficult enough if the weather had been favorable. The whole distance of 707 km counted as special track. It was a generally fast route, intermixed with twisty sections across rocky sand plateaus that were really hard to cross. We did a lot of skidding and Mac's arms must be all sore by now from yanking the wheel from one side to the other and back all the time.
The skidding eventually did it for my delicate stomach. Even the chewing gum didn't help and I had to get out and be sick after about two thirds of the distance. Luckily we had a thermos with unsweetened peppermint tea with us that Bensen had supplied us with - maybe he expected something of the kind would happen on this stage. Anyway, besides the calming effect that the tea had on my stomach's nerves, I was really grateful to have something fresh to rinse my mouth with afterwards. Much as I despise that man for his attraction to Mac, I owe him now.
Just as I was about to get back into the car, I cast a casual glance at the sky - and froze. From the southwest, an incredibly dark wall of clouds was nearing. I quickly turned around and found my dreadful suspicion confirmed: in the northeast, the sky was of a strangely pale ginger yellow. The rest of the sky in between the black and the yellow seemed to be covered with a peculiar milky-white mist up high in the stratosphere. All senses alert, I glanced at our surroundings and noticed that all wind had died down. No other teams were near. Deep silence reigned around us. Death silence. Unconsciously, I swallowed.
"Uh... Mac?"
"Yeah? You alright?"
"Yeah... ah... could you check Gunny and Webb's position, please?"
Mac must have heard the apprehension ringing in my voice because when she answered, hers was very sober and concerned. She got out and took off her helmet. "Harm, I'm afraid you made a navigation mistake earlier." Still she didn't notice the reason for my own preoccupation.
"I had a suspicion," I confirmed. "How far off are we?"
"Not much. I think it's that downhill section that we did that got us off- track. The other teams should still be up on the plateau somewhere." Only then did she see what I was frowningly staring at. She followed the direction of my eyes and spotted the black cloud layer that was, as I noted with sudden panic, approaching far too fast for my liking.
"Oh sh..." she swore very low, eyes wide. "Any ideas?"
"None, really... go as fast as we can?" I suggested, feeling helpless.
"Bought." She put on her helmet and quickly climbed inside again. I immediately followed and we sped off.
The tense silence subdued both our minds, I guess. This time, though, it wasn't some kind of silence that hung in between us. It surrounded both of us, closing in, threatening to choke us, as outside, the sunlight began to fade away and the first heavy gusts began to shake the car. Yet, odd as it seems, the knowledge that we were in this together, somehow eased my fears.
I noticed that on Mac's head, just under the brim of her helmet, small beads of perspiration had begun to form. She was pressing her lips shut and speeding on, staring in front of her, slightly bowing forward as the visibility was more and more reduced by flying sand - as if her change of posture could procure her any better sight. But that's how the human psyche works.
I looked down again and kept my eyes glued to the road book and my GPS, plotting a course back to the original route. As it turned out, we would have to go on down where we were for another 40 km roughly before there would be any possibility of trying an ascent to the plateau.
When I next lifted my head, visibility was down to almost zero. Our car was rocking hard from the heavy side winds and the sand and little pebbles that hit us were making an ever-increasing noise that, together with the steady howling of the wind and the pale remainders of daylight, created a gruesome atmosphere.
Mac was still holding up admirably. The sweat was beginning to trickle down her temples but she didn't wipe it away, keeping the wheel in a death grip to maintain control over our vehicle while she was trying to get closer to the mountain face that we were following. I reached for a Kleenex, softly touched her arm first so as not to startle her and then, seeing her smile briefly as she understood what I was about to do, gently dabbed the beads from her forehead.
It was then that a sudden small avalanche of pebbles came down on us from the cliff above. We gasped, startled, and then... Dad, I don't recall exactly what happened but one of the bigger rocks must have broken my side window and hit me on the forehead, lucky as I am, just where the helmet ended. I felt a searing pain and everything went black.
When I eventually regained consciousness, I realized that Mac had parked the car near the mountain face and was holding my face between her hands, having removed our helmets, her eyes overflowing with worry. With her left hand, she was pressing a folded tissue to my right eyebrow. And she was obviously talking to me in a soothing voice, although I didn't quite get what she was saying.
I could see her relief once she noticed that I was back - and although my head was pounding like a jack hammer, I felt great being taken care of by her.
"Thanks." I had found my voice and even managed a slight smile.
"Anytime," she answered simply, handing me my water bottle. "How do you feel?" She had to almost shout as the wind kept howling. I noticed that she had half wrapped me in our anti-fire blanket to protect me against the sand that was blown into the car through the destroyed window.
"Not too bad, thanks," I called back, "Just a little sandy."
"There's a small outcrop in the mountain face, just big enough for two people to crouch in," she told me. "How about trying to wait it out there?"
I looked at her dubiously, shading my eyes against any sand with my right hand. "You don't know how long this is gonna take."
"Do we have an alternative?" she asked back. "Over there, we can protect ourselves more efficiently against the gusts and the sand. In the car it's of no use right now. My window's broken, too, and the wind comes right through without mercy."
"I see your point. Let's get out of here." Slowly coming back to my senses, I took the water bottles and the blanket while Mac retrieved the radio, the medic case and what was left of our lunch box. Together, we made a beeline for the small cave and settled down inside, wrapping the blanket around us. The howling was actually a little lower and we were safe from the flying sand.
Mac switched on the flashlight and examined my head. "Whoo, that's a nasty gash that you've got there," she murmured, wetting a gauze bandage with a little bottled water and gently cleaning my wound. I closed my eyes - Dad, even though it hurt, her movements felt like caresses. Right then I wouldn't have wanted her to stop.
When she had applied a bandage to my brow, reassuring me that it was small and wouldn't get in the way of my helmet, I leaned back against the rock wall, made her sit in my lap and wrapped the blanket around both of us. She leaned into my embrace and let her head rest against my shoulder.
After a while, she spoke up somewhat drowsily. "Harm?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you mind if I dozed off a little?"
I chuckled. "Not at all."
"Thanks. You're the best." She snuggled up a little closer and we fell silent. Yet it was again her to eventually break the silence.
"Harm?"
"Hmmm?"
"I'm glad I didn't take the Brussels assignment."
Her choice of topic caught me a little off-guard. I had completely forgotten about it. "Uh... yeah, me, too. Did you ever consider taking it?"
To my surprise, I heard her acknowledge. "Yeah, I did. When I was out in Nevada, training for the rally, I had a lot of time to think things through. You know, doing the Dakar, I would have missed the deadline but the Secnav was so urgent in offering me the post that I'm sure I could have gotten it anyway if I'd resolved to go for it."
"Would you have wanted it?" I don't think I really managed to sound as uninvolved as I had intended to. The possibility of Mac transferring to another continent outright scared me, even though I already knew that she had decided against it.
"No, I don't think so." Her voice was a little too thoughtful for my liking but I decided not to allude to that right then. She went on. "I mean, it sure would have been a great opportunity, Harm. It would have been only me, practically, to do the main part of the negotiating with the Russian officials behind the scenes. And without my legal approval, no deals would have been cut. I really could have done something to make the world a little safer."
Dreading the whole topic, I still forced myself to keep up the conversation. If this was what she wanted to talk to me about, then I'd be her sounding board. "Then why didn't you take the assignment in the first place?"
I felt her breath caress my throat when she silently chuckled. "Can't you guess?" was all she answered.
My heart turned a somersault and an incredible warmth began to well up inside me. I tightened my embrace, unable to stop smiling in the dark. "Thanks, Mac." My voice was suddenly somewhat hoarse and shaky.
"You're welcome."
Once more falling silent, we sat cuddled up for another two hours, feeling each other's heartbeat. Mac was absentmindedly running her hand up and down my chest, nearly driving me crazy and making me fight a sudden desire to lower her on her back and... Taking a deep breath that bore the sweet scent of her hair, I refrained from acting on my instincts. Having her this close to me and being allowed to hold her was all I truly needed right then.
Eventually we became aware that the storm had quieted down. Mac checked on my wound and when she found that I was doing quite well, we quickly made our way back to our car and covered the remaining distance to bivouac without substantial problems - apart from the sand that continuously entered our drivers' cabin through the broken windows.
Bensen, Gunny and Webb were anxiously awaiting us. We certainly weren't the last team to arrive as many others had encountered problems similar to ours. But we could still see their relief once we disembarked more or less unscathed. Bensen immediately went over to Mac, only to stop short when he apparently became aware of the somehow more intense aura of easy intimacy that surrounded Mac and me. He met my eye and knew. I have to give him credit for his decency - his glance reassured me that he'd never again try to win Mac's affection.
Tomorrow, we'll be doing a 'Dakar Classic' as Jutta explained to us when we met her earlier today. Tomorrow's finish will be at Agades, the ancient caravan town where we'll get to spend our day off, which is the day after tomorrow. If Dunfoss doesn't get us into trouble, tomorrow should be fatiguing, yes, but routine driving by now. We'll see. Let's just hope our techs get our car fixed.
There's Mac, back from the shower. It's my turn now, Dad, finally! I'll get back to you soon, I promise. Harm
Jan. 10th Agades, Niger
Dad!
Two! Deux! Dos! Due! Dwa! Zwei! Yay!!! There's two little brick stones in my lap as I write to you! Yes, Dad, you heard me right: two!! That means... (drum roll) ...I'm up to five now!!! T minus two and counting!
Sorry, I think I got a little carried away here but you'll have to concede that I'm entitled to feel great. Mac and I had a long talk today, "the" talk, I guess, it was. And although I'm still not daring to believe that we sailed all the rapids, I think that today was the closest that we ever got to starting something serious.
After a totally uneventful yesterday's stage (just for the record: 644 km, 637 km of special track, across the Erg of Ténéré in a wide circle around the impressive Aïr mountains, flat rear tire all-inclusive), we had our well-deserved break today at the fairytale-like caravan town of Agades. Mac and I went sightseeing together and at some point we began to feel like being part of the fairytale ourselves.
It already started with seeing Mac when she was ready to leave bivouac. She was dressed in white, from head to toe. Rules of society being conservative out here, she wore a wide, white cotton dress with a high collar and long sleeves. The skirt went down to a mere inch above the ground so no one noticed that the Nikes she wore underneath weren't exactly the traditional shoe wear that the original style would have required. Around her shoulders and head, she had loosely draped a broad, soft white cotton shawl, having made sure that she was allowed to leave her face uncovered. (They're not quite as strict in Niger as they are in Saudi Arabia.) Just below the brim of her makeshift hood, the slightest bit of her brown hair was visible, framing her face. Dad, she looked so lovely. I couldn't take my eyes off her.
I felt a little out of place in my khaki slacks and long-sleeved white cotton shirt but I quickly forgot about my appearance as we were walking through the old quarters of the town. The houses were pastel-colored, the styles varying between white, beige, rosé and light blue. In the narrow streets there was no traffic besides a few donkey carts and an occasional camel walking by. And there were refreshingly few tourists to be seen. I guess, Agades is just too far from any African coast worth visiting. So what we got was genuine Maghreb, Muslim northern Africa.
After making use of the opportunity to sleep in a little, Mac and I first visited the ancient mosque and strolled a little across the bazaar, always being careful to maintain a proper distance between us. Then we found a little teahouse where men and women weren't as severely banished to different corners as in some others. We settled down cross-legged at a low shady table in the courtyard and silently enjoyed our sugary tea.
"Hello!" I suddenly heard someone greet us. We looked up and saw two young men walking over, waving a smiling greeting. I recognized the Turkish rally driver Erkan Celebi with his navigator, Taifun Kir.
Returning their greetings, Mac and I invited them to join us for a cup of tea.
"Enjoying your day off?" Celebi asked Mac.
She smiled. "Yes, I am. Very much so," she added with a pathetic sigh that made us all laugh a little.
Celebi nodded with a knowing grin. "So am I. My arms are still sore from two days ago."
"Tell me about it," Mac agreed.
"First time in 'de Dakar?" the Turkish driver wanted to know.
"Yeah," I acknowledged. "We wanted to see if we could do it. We're more the office types back home."
Again, Celebi grinned widely. "I know. 'De wild lawyers from Washington. We all saw your interview."
Mac and I exchanged a mock frown. "We'll never live that one down, will we?" she asked with more than just a little irony in her voice.
"No chance," Celebi laughed compassionately.
"So, where are you from?" I was eager to change the subject.
"I grew up near Erhac," he answered.
This time, the look that passed between Mac and me was meaningful but went unnoticed by our company. "Do you still live there?" I casually inquired.
"Yes, I do," Celebi answered in his open, friendly way. "Actually, it was quite convenient for 'de rally preparations. My bro'der works for a maintenance firm near 'de airbase."
"What does he do?" Mac asked in the same tone that she'd have used to inquire after the flowers on his balcony.
"More convenient still," Celebi answered, his wide grin audible. "He's a car mechanic."
"Wow, you're lucky!" Mac exclaimed. "Then you surely got to know quite a few Dakar stars beforehand, right? That's so great!"
Celebi seemed almost embarrassed. "Yes, I did. Some of 'dose who went from Turkey to Africa by ship had 'deir vehicles looked at in my bro'der's firm. I even got an autograph from Henri Monnet, 'de guy you saved."
"Did you get to know Will Dunfoss, too?" Mac asked eagerly, acting like a fan who asked about her idol.
"Yes, his bro'der works at 'de base. He's in 'de military and my bro'der's firm cooperates wid' 'dem."
"Wow! Did you get to see his car? I bet he's got quite a few extra features that we don't know of!" Mac's playacting was hilarious. I had to fight to keep my expression in check.
"Oh, I don't know about 'dat," Celebi answered with a smile. "You'd have to ask my bro'der back home. I only drive. Taifun does all 'de technical stuff on 'de rally course." His navigator acknowledged with a nod and a grin.
Mac didn't even have to feign disappointment. Another lead on the grenades had just evaporated into nothing. "Pity," she said with an endearing pout.
Celebi patted her on the shoulder. "I'll arrange for a meeting if you come again next year."
"That would be great." Mac gave him a one-billion-watts smile in return that actually made the young man blush a little.
"You're welcome." The Turkish team had finished their tea and rose. "Well, I guess, we'll see you around," Celebi greeted us, "Have a nice day."
"You, too."
"Damn," I murmured under my breath when they were gone.
"I second that," Mac sighed. Then she turned to me with a threatening grin. "But don't you dare let that spoil our day off, do you hear me?"
Chuckling, I made a gesture of surrender. "You're the boss."
"Good to see you understood that." The corners of Mac's mouth were twitching.
"Oh, shut up, Marine," I replied in mock exasperation, making her smile in full.
Mac leaned back against the whitewashed wall, her eyes closed. She was savoring the relaxation after the strain and stress of the last days. I just sat and observed her, wanting nothing more than to preserve everything as it was right at that moment. I was happy.
After a little while, Mac turned her head and found me looking at her, unable to keep the smile off my face.
"What?" she said with a low, slightly embarrassed chuckle.
"Nothing," I replied. "Just looking."
For a moment, she looked down, smiling. Then she again met my eye. "See anything fascinating?" she asked in a low, amused voice.
"Yeah," I just said.
"What?" she inquired, curious.
"You."
I could see that I had caught her off-guard. She averted her eyes with yet another embarrassed smile, choosing not to comment.
Dad, there have been very few moments in my life when I felt so much at ease as I did right then. Whatever I might have been afraid of just didn't seem important anymore. The warm breeze was caressing my face, my eyes beheld the beautiful sight of my very best friend beside me, the spicy tea had eased the fatigue away... before I even became aware of what I was doing, the first words were out.
"Mac?"
"Hmmm?"
"I... guess I still owe you an explanation."
She looked at me, just a little surprised, but I could tell it was positive surprise that she felt. "You do," she answered quietly, her tone encouraging, "But only if you really feel you want to talk about it, Harm."
"I do."
Her expression lit up in silent joy and she only reached out and, for a moment, squeezed my hand with hers, before she drew back again into the customary demeanor of a good Muslim woman.
"I... uh..." I looked down on my hands that were toying with my teacup, chuckling a little, "I don't know where to start."
"That bad, huh?" Her voice was pure sympathy.
"I'm afraid so." I met her glance. "All this goes way back, Mac."
"I know. I was at the pier in Norfolk, remember?"
I nodded briefly, sighing. "But it isn't what you think."
"What do I think?" She scrutinized my features challengingly.
"I suppose you think I'm still seeing Diane in you," I answered.
"Aren't you?"
"No. I see you, Mac."
Her brow furrowed slightly, yet her gaze remained compassionate and open. "Do you?"
"Yeah."
"Then I don't really see the problem. If this isn't about Diane..."
"I didn't say that it had nothing to do with Diane," I cut her off gently. Her furrow increased.
"I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate, sailor."
Heaving a deep sigh, I straightened a little and gazed into the big nothing. "I won't deny that I did see Diane in you for quite some time," I began, my voice distant as memories were surfacing. "Actually, that was what brought us this close in so little time. Like I told you in Red Rock Mesa: I tended to forget that I didn't know you. But eventually, that changed."
I could see she was following me. "Norfolk..." she murmured.
Nodding slowly, I went on. "That night was the turning point, Mac. When you showed up, I saw Diane but..." I swallowed, not sure how to go on.
"I've always been wondering about something," Mac thoughtfully addressed me. "Harm... can I... can I ask you a personal question?"
I let out a low chuckle. "What is this if not a personal conversation, Mac?"
She, too, laughed silently. "True," she sheepishly acknowledged. Then her expression sobered and I think I even detected the slightest trace of dread in her eyes. "Whom did you really kiss that night, Harm?" Her voice was very low.
"You, Mac," I whispered, unable to look at her. "Although I didn't know it until you made that remark about me kissing Diane. But it was you."
She remained silent. I still didn't dare to face her but I went on. "And that's where the problems started."
I heard her suck in her breath at my statement and I knew how it must have hurt her, but I could only hope that my further explanations would set the picture right. I went on. "Then we were growing closer all the time, especially after Russia, and I found that you were the one person that I loved spending my time with." I finally managed to meet her glance that was an unreadable mixture between wonder, hurt and fear. "You were about to become the center of my life, and what was scaring me most was that, most of the time, it didn't seem to scare me at all. After Diane there's never been a woman whom I'd really granted access to my heart. It would have been too much to take. And I was determined to maintain the same policy with you. But you somehow managed to sneak your way in and I was very much in danger of losing myself in you."
Mac's huge eyes had turned incredibly sad. "Would that have been so terrible?" she whispered.
I swallowed. "If we had gotten involved it wouldn't have been just a casual affair, Mac," I tried to explain, "At least not from my side. That's why I'm grateful that you're so similar to Diane. Although I didn't see her in you, your likeness always reminded me of what was at stake. Losing Diane all but killed me. I damn near lost you more than once, too. I felt I just couldn't live through it. If I'd opened up completely, if I'd let go and then lost you..." I couldn't complete the thought. Confused, I wiped my face with my hand, looking everywhere but at her.
"So you saved yourself by drawing back whenever you felt we were about to leave the safety of our platonic friendship," Mac quietly concluded, carefully masking whatever emotion lay behind her words.
I nodded.
"And now? What's different?"
"I don't know, Mac. Nothing, really. I... I just feel I can't go on like that anymore. I have to get past the fear. Or die trying."
"What tells me that you won't draw back again?" She had asked neutrally but I knew her too well not to hear the dread behind her calm words.
"All I can promise is to try and fight the demons of my past with all my might," I told her, locking my gaze with hers. "During the last few weeks I understood two things: if there's anyone who's worth the fight it's you, Mac, and if there's anything that'll get me through this, it's the strength that I find in your affection. And that's what has become the source of my growing faith that this time, I'll make it. We'll make it."
"I'll take you up on that promise, squid," Mac replied softly, smiling ever so slightly.
"Good," I stated, mirroring her smile and taking her hand.
After once again losing ourselves in desert sunset cinema, we returned to bivouac and began to prepare for the night. Just as I had gotten out my diary, sitting cross-legged on my sleeping-bag, Mac settled down in front of me, gently touching my shoulder with her hand. I looked up.
"What's up?" I asked.
Wordlessly she held out her hand, a slightly self-conscious smile on her face. On her palm lay the two little bricks. I gaped at her. "Two?" My heart started beating wildly.
"Yeah," she whispered.
"But..."
"You deserve them, Harm." With her free hand, she picked up one brick and put it in my hand. "This one is for opening up in the first place. I didn't even think about asking. You did it all by yourself. And this one," she placed the second one in my hand, "Is for going through with it and promising to try and put your fears behind you. That's just too much to equal only one stone."
I had to swallow heavily as I was studying the two little pieces of wood on my palm. "Thank you." My voice caught slightly in my throat.
"My pleasure," Mac replied, her smile audible. "Do I get my goodnight kiss?" she added shyly.
I couldn't help grinning widely. "Sure," I whispered before I cupped her face with both my hands and kissed her just a little more intense than the other night. She didn't seem to mind. "Good night, Mac."
"Good night." Giving me one last quick smile, she got into her sleeping-bag and turned away from me, clearly just as unsure as I am feeling right now but happy nevertheless.
Five stones, Dad, I still can't believe I've made it this far! Right now I'm convinced I can do anything. Please, God, make it work! Dad, pray for me.
I love you, Dad. I just wish you could have met her.
Harm
To be continued...
