Disclaimers in part I.

1115 Zulu/0115 Local
Headquarters, Third Marine Regiment, Marine Corps Base Hawaii – 6 December 2002

Sturgis jumped when the phone rang at his elbow.  "Yassin."

"Major, this is the Provost Marshall sergeant of the watch.  You left word that you wanted to know if anyone left Colonel Waters' place, sir."

"Yes, I did," he confirmed.

"Well, Colonel Waters just staggered out of his house and we're following him toward officer country.  Should we stop him, sir?"

"Only if it appears that he is about to hurt himself, Gunny."  He had troubled himself to find out who the Marines on watch were, even if he couldn't remember their names easily.  "I had a heads up from my wife that he was seriously drunk and talking about doing a midnight march.  Just make sure he gets back home without embarrassment."

"Aye, sir."

Sturgis punched another button on the phone and dialed his new home phone number.  A very sleepy Mac answered on the third ring.

"It's me," he said to her greeting.

"Ibrahim, you woke me up," she complained, still groggy.

"Well, better me than who may be knocking on our door in about ten minutes."

She came fully awake.  "He left the house?"

"Yes."  Part of him wondered which room of the house the two were in and what state of dress, as well; that same part hoped it was in the bedroom undressed just because that was the right way of the universe.

"I'll be watching."  One never knew who might be listening, after all.

"Be careful."  That was for Mac and Harm.

"I will."

This could either get very ugly or be a non-incident.  And nothing he could do would affect it one way or the other.

=====

1127 Zulu/0127 Local
Officer's Quarters, Marine Corps Base Hawaii

Harm saw him first, watching from behind the front windows of the house Sturgis and Mac occupied as Colonel Waters lurched up the cul de sac.  "I guess it's show time," he whispered to his partner.

"Okay."

They went to the front door together; Harm waited until it was clear that Waters could be coming nowhere else but this house before he opened it and stepped outside.

Mac followed him, speaking clearly but with a lowered voice.  "You could stay, Michael," she pleaded.  "Ibrahim won't be home until 7."

"We can't risk it, Azaki.  Not yet."  He reached out to her, pulled her close.

Mac could see Waters stop and behind him, at the top of the dead end, the Military Police car stopped as well; whatever they saw their commanding officer would dismiss as falling under a need-to-know operation.  Mac had briefed the lieutenant colonel earlier in the day in Honolulu.  She nibbled at Harm's ear, earning a very real growl of arousal that benefited the charade.

When he could control his voice enough to speak, he said, "If you keep that up, you just may convince me to stay."

"That's the idea."  She worked her way from his ears to his neck where it lay exposed behind his unbuttoned collar, turning him just slightly so she could still see Waters where he stood 50 feet away.

Harm's hands moved of their own accord across her back until finally one hand slid up into her hair.  With an urgency not at all false, he tilted her head up and crushed his lips against hers, drawing her tightly against his body with his other strong arm.  This was all about Harm and Sarah; Michael James Rutter and Azizah Akilah Yassin might as well have been characters in a book for the eternity of that charged kiss.

Mac understood why Harm hadn't kissed her until now; only a very small portion of her consciousness was able to keep the investigation in focus enough to resist the urge to drag him back inside for the rest of the night.  She wasn't sure Harm had even that much control until with a ragged breath that was almost a sob he pushed her away.

"I can't stay, Ma – Azaki.  I just can't!"  Harm turned and sprinted away, brushing past the still gaping Eugene Waters as he fled, praying that his near slip of her name would go unnoticed by the hungover commanding officer.

Behind him, Mac stayed on the porch, reaching out for her fleeing lover with one long arm while she held the fingers of her other hand to her kiss-swollen lips.

Waters watched, a part of his brain barely sober enough to make a decision about how to handle this unexpected turn of events.  With a feral grin at the woman he knew as Azaki Yassin, he tossed a salute her way and turned around to walk back home.

=====

2200 Zulu/1200 Local
Colonel Waters' Quarters, Marine Corps Base Hawaii – 7 December 2002

Harm and Sturgis had spent the past day and a half on tinder hooks, waiting to see which part of the bait Colonel Waters would take – if any.  Mac's intuition was that he would go for the whole thing, but neither man was convinced of that after a perfectly normal business day on Friday.

Not until after the regimental evolution for Pearl Harbor Day observances did Waters make a move; it was, as Mac predicted, toward Harm.  "Colonel Rutter," the man began, catching up with his XO as soon as the final command to dismiss had been issued, "I'd like to invite you back to my place for some down home barbequed ribs this afternoon."

"That's very generous of you, sir.  I'd be delighted," Harm replied, lying through his teeth and trying not to think of the meat involved in this bargain.  "Can I bring the beer?"

"Now that's generous, Mike.  A good American, of course."

Harm laughed.  "Sam Adams okay?"

"Of course."

Harm arrived exactly on time – he had to as Michael Rutter, something Mac had hammered home to him back in La Jolla – with two six packs, not knowing if others had been invited.  It turned out it was just for male bonding between CO and XO, which meant that a lot of really good beer was going to wind up on the lush Hawaiian grass over the course of the afternoon.

"So, Mike, you're from Alabama, I noticed.  Where's the accent?"  Waters himself had lost a lot of what had been a thick Mississippi drawl over the years, but he had never really paid attention to the change.  He ushered Harm to his back yard and indicated a chair, allowing Harm to set the beer down before he snagged a bottle.

"I was a drama minor in college, sir, just for the fun of it."  He smiled from his chair, then went on in full Southern voice.  "Them Vikin's up thar in Minnesota lacked to have dahed tryin' t'get me to speak prop'ly, Eugene."

Waters had only just unscrewed the top to his beer or he might have had a mouthful to spit out.  "Why in God's name did you go to Minnesota?"

"Football scholarship," Harm shrugged.  "Second string quarterback for three years, even played in a bowl game my senior year."

"Well, at least it's not quite such a diverse part of the country as Mississippi or Alabama.  Or Hawaii for that matter."

Harm fought to stay in character.  The man was so prejudiced.  "Not so much anymore, I'm afraid," he commented with as much sadness in his voice as he could muster.

It must have done the trick.  "Well, some of us are still fighting for what we know is right.  Little battles in a war almost everyone else has given up, but something nonetheless."

"Really?"  Harm opened his first bottle of beer as his host struck a match and lit the charcoal in the grill.

"Absolutely.  Why do you think Major Yassin had duty Thursday night and Captain Goldstein last night?"

The lawyer tipped his head in thought.  "I just kind of assumed it was the standard duty rotation."

Waters sat down and laid a finger beside his nose in the universal "this is a secret" gesture.  "Oh, no, Colonel.  Thursday was the end of Ramadan – a big two-day festival to mark the end of that ridiculous fast those people do.  And yesterday, in addition to being the Sabbath, was the end of Hanukkah.  Yassin is the ranking ra – Muslim and Goldstein the ranking Yi – Jew."

At least the man used the proper terms, Harm thought, really not wanting to have to listen to the crap he was sure Waters would spew over the afternoon.  It was bad enough that the first syllables of derogatory words had been uttered.  Steeling himself and praying that God would understand it was all an act designed for a higher purpose, he answered.  "That's extraordinary!  And you can get away with it because you have Christians working on Christmas and Easter, right?"

"Since most people agree that Catholics are Christians, it works out well," the other man admitted.

"What do you do about…ethnic celebrations?" Harm asked casually.

"Oh, if it's your holiday, you work it.  Unless, of course, you're one of us true red-blooded native sons."

He said it so smoothly, Harm thought.  But how could someone this blatantly racist get so far up the chain of command?  "I noticed that there are no women in the headquarters company of the unit."

"Women have no place in this man's Marine Corps, and I have made that abundantly clear to the detailers who handle this regiment.  The last one in HQ comp transferred out in March."

The man whose female partner was a lieutenant colonel in "this man's" Marine Corps struggled to keep a straight face and his temper.  He'd let Mac go after Waters for that remark later.  "Preachin' to the choir here, Colonel.  They weaken the Corps and the whole military."  For which remark, even said undercover, the aforementioned Marine lieutenant colonel would kick his six into the next decade to remind him that, push come to shove, she was tougher than he.

"Women are good for two things:  bedrooms and kitchens."  Waters turned a big grin to his XO.  "And some are especially good for the former, right, Lt. Col. Rutter?"

Harm eyed him warily.  "I presume so."

The other man punched his shoulder in a manly gesture.  "I saw you leaving her yesterday morning, Mike.  You two have it bad."

If you really knew…  Harm sat in silence for a moment as though contemplating just how much to trust his new CO.  Then he flashed his own trademark Flyboy grin.  "Azaki is, as you said the other night, one damned fine distraction."

"As well as a chargeable offense."

Hook, line, and sinker, just like Mac said.  Why do I even bother to doubt her?  "I suppose that's true," he admitted hesitantly after another long moment.

"I get the feeling that Major Yassin would not take kindly to finding out that he's been cuckolded."

"I suppose that's also true."

Waters let the subject drop while he checked the coals and found a pro football game on the portable radio beside him on the table.  He grabbed his second beer and swigged half of it before he spoke again.

"So, your file makes interesting reading, Mike.  Something about a medic with a messiah complex who nearly cut your vocal cords out you while your last unit was embarked with the George Washington battle group?"

He'd get Admiral Chegwidden for making him relive the harrowing incident on the U.S.S. Watertown, however far removed the twisted version was.  "Well, we had a female Marine who wasn't entire useless on staff – Ops, actually – and she started to notice a pattern in the injury reports, so she decided to do a little investigating.  In the process, she nearly got me killed when the bastard came after me with a scalpel and did get herself killed – technically, anyway, by an overdose of morphine.  The Silver Cross is for saving her life."  He suppressed the shudder that wanted to come with the memory of Mac's lifeless body in his arms as he tried to get her breathing again.

"Nice.  At least she got you something."

"Well, she was also very grateful," he added with a sly smile.  "Until the day she transferred out."

"Another damned fine distraction?"

Harm shrugged.  "Gratitude only goes so far.  I was tired of her anyway."

"And she wasn't Azaki Yassin."

Waters was persistent.  "No," "Rutter" admitted, "she wasn't Azaki Yassin."

Over the next two hours, the talk centered on the pro football season, the action in Afghanistan, the situation in Iraq, and the Republican takeover of Congress.  And, by the time the meal was over, the secret to perfect barbecue.

"You sure grill up some mighty fine ribs," Harm admitted to the colonel, meaning it even as he wondered how long it would be before his body rebelled at the invading animal product.  "I don't know which was better, the beef or the pork."

"Well, thanks, Mike.  It's all in the dry rub.  Meat tenderizer, salt, black and red pepper, onion and garlic powders, fresh cilantro and basil in top secret proportions.  Twelve hours, then slow grilled and basted with a top secret formula barbecue sauce during the last twenty minutes of cooking."  Waters looked smug and satisfied as he opened his fifth beer of the day.  "You must do some barbecue, too."

Harm shook his head.  "Nah, my daddy is the master of the fire around our house.  I'm a vegetable and bread man, actually."  At the other man's questioning look, he continued.  "Mom taught me how to make all of Dad's favorite side dishes before she died when I was a teenager.  I've got the blue ribbons from the state fair to prove I make the best baked beans, hominy grits, and buttermilk cornbread in Alabama."  He popped the top off of the fourth beer he'd opened for the day, although it would only be the beginning of his second actual drink.

"Well, in that case, how about bringing some baked beans and cornbread over on Thursday night?  Me and some good friends of mine have some planning to do for some good old Southern fun and I think you'd fit right in.  And Major Yassin doesn't have duty that night."

Harm didn't take the invitation as a suggestion.  "Sir, I'd be delighted."

=====

1910 Zulu/0910 Local
NCIS Office, Pearl Harbor Naval Station, Hawaii – 11 December 2002

Mac had gotten precisely nowhere since her return from California in her investigation into the murder of NCIS Agent Kenneth Carrollton.  She was also investigating the hate crimes because that's what he'd been focused on when he was killed; she wasn't much farther along on that.  Six teens had been implicated before Colonel Waters had pressed for the hate crimes case to be closed; four had since moved away with their families and the remaining two were doing Oscar-worthy imitations of clams.  That they refused to talk even with promises of immunity from any state and federal charges told her that someone with a much bigger stick than life in prison held them in sway.

She was looking over a series of photos from the scenes of seven different racially based crimes and the murder site when a young clerk knocked on the edge of the fabric cubicle wall and waited for her to look up before he spoke.  "Uh, Mrs. Yassin, I think I found something that might help you."

"Leon, that's great.  What is it?"

"Well, ma'am, I found a log book that indicates that Agent Carrollton made a delivery to the evidence locker early in the day before he was killed.  Seven boxes."

Mac stood up without thinking about the action and motioned for Leon to move.  "Lead on, Leon.  Can you find it?"

The eager young man nodded.  "Yes, ma'am.  The catalog numbers are in the delivery log."  He took her down to a secured vault on the ground floor of the building.  "According to the map of the room, these boxes should be along the left wall about half way down, somewhere on the fourth or fifth shelf from the bottom."

Mac smiled at him, eliciting an embarrassed grin in return as he spun the lock open and let her into the immense room.  They found and retrieved the seven boxes, exchanging excited looks when they realized the boxes had been sealed and marked at the crime scenes but never opened for testing.

"So, Mrs. Yassin, if these boxes are from the original crime scenes, then the evidence that Agent Carrollton used to build his case was stuff he developed on his own after the whole case was closed."  Leon bounced on his toes as he began to grasp what he had discovered.

"Go on," Mac encouraged, having decided on first meeting the recent college graduate that he had the stuff of a great investigator and analyst.

"His evidence wouldn't be admissible in a court.  But all seven bear the original Military Police, NCIS, and 5-0 marks and dates, so if we can show that Agent Carrollton had signed them out for delivery to us – even if it was months before he actually got them here – then the chain of custody is reasonably secure."

"That's right.  What else?"

"There's got to be substantive evidence in here that's never been properly examined.  Probably – hopefully – enough to develop an indictment."

Mac patted his shoulder.  "Leon, I hope you get into law school.  You'll do just fine."

"Thank you, ma'am.  What do we do with this now?"

"Let's call 5-0 to see if we can get them to put a rush on this stuff.  If it's in here, I want to know where its components were manufactured, milled, or mined.  And I want as many fingerprints as possible, although the oldest stuff is almost a year old."

"Well, Mrs. Yassin, we might get some prints off of the last material gathered – the Passover attacks.  That was just the end of March and early April."

"Maybe.  Okay, you get on to 5-0.  I'm going back to the photos.  Maybe they'll tell me what those kids aren't."

=====

1230 Zulu/0730 Local/0230 Hawaii
JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia – 12 December 2002

Jason Tiner didn't really have to be at his post until 0750, but with Lt. Col. Mackenzie, Cmdrs. Rabb and Turner, and Lt. Singer away, Admiral Chegwidden had been giving him more responsibilities of late.  He could tell that the owner of the tired voice on the other end of the phone had been intending to leave a voice mail message when she answered his greeting with a yawn.

"Col. Mackenzie, ma'am, it's 2:30 in the morning where you are.  Is everything okay?"

"Yes, Tiner, it's fine," she assured him in her kindest voice.  "I just want a business day's jump on this.  Anyone in yet other than you?"

"No, ma'am – oh, wait, I'm going to put you on hold; I just heard the elevator start down."  He pushed the hold button and dashed out of the admiral's reception area to the lobby.

The doors opened a few seconds later, revealing Lt. Cmdr. Manetti.  "Tiner!  You're here early."

"Yes, ma'am.  I have the colonel on line 1 and she's looking for the first attorney to arrive."

"I'll get it in my office," the genteel Virginian replied, moving off down the hall with her regulation heels tattooing along the highly glossed tile floor.  A moment later, before she even set her briefcase down or took off her overcoat, Tracy picked up her receiver and punched the line live in one swift movement.  "JAG Headquarters, Lt. Cdr. Manetti."  Just in case it wasn't really the chief of staff.

"Tracy!  Great timing."

"Good morning, Colonel.  How are you?"

"Honestly?  Tired and frustrated, but I'm hoping you can help me with the later so I can get over the former," replied the voice from Hawaii.

"Yes, ma'am, I'll do my best."  She listened to Mac for three full minutes, taking notes on a convenient pad as the senior officer spoke.  "I think I understand, ma'am.  I'll enlist Tiner's help and try to have an answer for you before the end of our business day."

Mac sighed in apparent relief 4,800 miles away.  "Thanks, Commander.  Call NCIS at Pearl and ask for me under my cover name when you have information for me."

"With pleasure, ma'am.  Please give the commanders my best.  We miss you."

"I'll bet," Mac's dry answer came.  "Feel free to raid my inbox if you get bored."  She waited for the other woman's equally dry chuckles to stop before she signed off.

Tracy leapt from her desk and sprinted back down the hall to Tiner's desk, where she laid out their research assignment for the day.  "Can you handle this, Petty Officer?"

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"  Gunnery Sergeant Galindez had been teaching the young enlisted man to do exactly this kind of thing before the Marine left for combat duty.

=====

2130 Zulu/1130 Local
Headquarters, Third Marine Regiment, Marine Corps Base Hawaii

"Major Yassin, you've made a lot of assumptions here about the technology we might have access to outside of Kandahar," Harm prodded loudly.  The two stood in full dress uniform with the rest of the regimental command staff on the parade ground awaiting Colonel Waters.

"For now, sir, yes I have.  That is based on the reports of the units currently assigned to the region.  My staff and I are preparing alternative plans as well."  Sturgis kept his voice level.

"Work faster, Major.  We have to pick these plans apart."  Harm stabbed a finger at his Academy roommate.  "And I'm sure we'll have some slack to pick up before we're ready to train for them."

The accusation hurt even though Sturgis knew it was all an act.  He hated being told he was incompetent for any reason, even when it was true.  So he replied in the only way allowable with a gritty tone.  "Aye, sir."

A few minutes passed before Harm spoke again, this time at a lower volume.  "You have the 48 hour duty rotation Saturday and Sunday, correct, Major?"

"Yes, sir, Colonel Rutter."

"I presume you will follow standard protocol and stay at the headquarters building since Second Battalion will be in the field."

"Yes, sir."  If this situation hadn't been a cover, Sturgis might be thinking seriously of decking the senior officer simply for what he was implying in his tone.  But the last thing they could afford in this investigation at this point was a disciplinary hearing, so he simply allowed himself to look angrily at Harm and spoke as clearly as he possibly could.  "If you think that my watch duty gives you an excuse to entertain my wife, you are sadly mistaken, Colonel.  I have my suspicions about what happened after your father died and if I could get one shred of conclusive proof, I'd have you up on charges so fast you'd wish you'd died then, too."

Harm just looked at him, playing the cool womanizer to the hilt.  "Major, that kind of possessiveness can get more than one person hurt."  He ought to know; Bud Roberts had suffered a badly broken jaw because he stepped between a possessive Michael Brumby and a jealous Harmon Rabb and the incident still rankled the senior American officer because of the lack of discipline it showed.  The beating he'd given Brumby later as part of the non-judicial punishment for the broken jaw, however, was another story, one he was beginning to wish he could relive with Eugene Waters.

Sturgis was saved from a reply when the regimental commander arrived.  The full battalion parade drill evolution commenced under the watchful eyes of CINCPACFLT, the Assistant Chief of Naval Operations, CINC-Fifth Fleet, the Commandant of Marine Operations in the Pacific, and four or five other admirals and generals.

Only CINCPAC himself knew that two Navy lawyers were among the men on the field and why they were there.  It pained him to know that men such as Colonel Waters existed; it pained him even more to know that the system had allowed the man to get as far up as it had.  The regiment before him was one of the very best in the entire military, but it would be better if the colonel hadn't been so adamant about the exclusion of women from the command staff and if the transfer request rates for Marines of any non-white ethnic background weren't the highest in the military.  Waters kept driving the best of the best away, but one didn't summarily remove a proven, proficient officer at these levels without substantial documentation of wrongdoing.  Maybe the beautiful Marine lawyer working with NCIS would provide the evidence so they could all enjoy a happy holiday season.  He prayed.

=====

0105 Zulu/2005 EST/1505 Local
NCIS Office, Pear Harbor Naval Station, Hawaii

"Mrs. Yassin, you have a call on line three," the receptionist announced over Mac's intercom, interrupting her train of thought.

"Thank you, Marie."  She sighed, hoping it would be Tiner or Manetti with preliminary results of their research.  She picked up the handset without looking up from her crime scene photos.  "Azaki Yassin."

"I wish you'd let us call you later at home," the voice on the other end growled with something of a smile detectable.  "That damned accent…"

"Admiral Chegwidden, I'm surprised to hear directly from you."  She was, too.

"I have Petty Officer Tiner and Lt. Cmdr. Manetti here with me, Mac.  They brought me some very interesting information, which is why I decided I'd better be part of this call."  Mac might have to maintain cover, but her colleagues in Falls Church didn't.

"Oh?"

Manetti spoke next.  "Yes, ma'am.  You gave us six names to run through NCIC and military criminal files.  We got hits on five of them in either NCIC or military files."

Mac sat back in her chair and began to chew on the top of her pen.  "Go on, Commander."

"Yes, ma'am.  Corporal du Lancie is from New Orleans.  He has a juvenile rap sheet that's still sealed and an adult record with two charges on it, both dropped in exchange for his testimony against two friends who are now serving life sentences in state prison for rape and attempted murder."

"He was involved in that crime?"  Most recruiters would have marched someone with that suspicion right out of the station.

"No, ma'am, he was accused of felony assault and arson; when he rolled on his friends, he gave the DA enough to go after them for the more extensive crimes."  Tiner read off the fax from New Orleans District Court when he continued.  "'In exchange for his cooperation and testimony, upon the conviction of Gerald H. Fox and William Le Grainge all charged against the accused are dropped and the record ordered to be expunged 5 years from this date.'  The order is signed by the chief justice of the court and dated 4 February 1999."

Mac nodded, unseen by her colleagues.  "Let me guess.  The victims were African American."

"In one.  There's more, Mac," the admiral answered.

"Yes, ma'am."  Jason Tiner shuffled some paper before he started again.  "Staff Sergeant Wander enlisted rather than face jail time for a felony assault charge, as well; there's no indication of the race of his victim in the record but it took place in south central Los Angeles in May, 1992."

"The riots," Mac said immediately.  "That's two.  The others?"

Manetti picked up.  "Dillard, Reeves, and Houston were all previously assigned to MCB Cherry Point together, where they were part of a Marine Recon unit.  Apparently, they traveled to Fayetteville one night and met up with some members of the 82nd Airborne.  Words were exchanged, a fight ensued, and three members of the 82nd Airborne were hospitalized overnight for concussions, contusions, and other minor injuries."

"Were charges filed?"

"Yes, ma'am.  The three men were convicted of misdemeanor property destruction in a civilian court; a court martial convicted them of felony assault in the third degree and sentenced each of them to thirty days' confinement, loss of rate, and three months' loss of pay.  Their CO revoked their status as Force Recon eligible, as well, and released them to the general assignment pool after their confinement."

"And about the sixth man, ma'am, he's a first-year midshipman at Annapolis.  He received a SecNav nomination after a glowing recommendation from Colonel Waters."  Tiner obviously didn't like that fact.

Neither did Mac; Mikey Roberts deserved better than to be in the same classification as anyone involved in the crimes she was investigating.  "Did you check his record there, Mr. Tiner?"  She had to force herself to be more formal than usual; after all, she wasn't supposed to know these people.

"Yes, ma'am.  He's on behavioral probation due to significant problems with authority, particularly with his company commander, who is of Asian descent."

Mac chewed on her pen and on this information for a moment.  "Admiral Chegwidden, don't you think it odd that Colonel Waters would write a persuasive recommendation for Annapolis after only knowing a Marine for one month?"

Before Admiral Chegwidden could reply, Cmdr. Manetti did.  "Oh, no, ma'am.  Midshipman Swift was a petty officer third class on board the U.S.S. LaSalle while Colonel Waters was on staff with the Persian Gulf Marine Task Force.  He went right from the LaSalle to the Academy."

And Waters came to Third Marine directly from PGMTF, Mac mused.  "Petty Officer Tiner, I want you to check something else for me – first thing in the morning your time, find out if Waters and Swift are related.  Otherwise, it makes no sense for an enlisted man to visit an officer, especially since he was involved in both an event at Christmas time and one around Easter."

"Yes, ma'am.  Shall I call you?"

"No, Petty Officer, an e-mail will be fine."  She gave him her official NCIS address.  "Thank you for your assistance, Admiral, Commander, Petty Officer.  I hope this will be over soon."

"So do we, Mac , so do we."