Disclaimers in part I.

0245 Zulu/1645 Local
Headquarters, Third Marine Regiment, Marine Corps Base Hawaii

Sturgis had laughed at her when she said she wanted to pick him up after work for a change.  "You just want to see Harm in full Marine Corps dress uniform," he had teased under the noise of a radio playing "Jingle Bell Rock."

Mac hadn't bothered to deny it; the flush on her cheeks gave her away.  But she could make him squirm, too.  "I think Bobbi might be more impressed with you in that uniform than she already is with your plain old Navy dress blues."  She gestured to his own clothing, the red and blue of the world-famous Marine dress uniform, in which Sturgis really did cut a dashing figure.

He had then leaned in and kissed her cheek.  "Plain old Navy dress blues?  Oh, I forgot.  You're the one woman on whom dress whites and gold wings – or dolphins, as the case may be – have no affect."  They had both laughed and another day undercover began.

And now it was more than half over, Mac thought as she leaned against the sensible Honda Civic sedan that was the Yassins' one car watching for Sturgis and, hopefully, Harm.  She figured Sturgis might have tried to clue Harm in if he'd had a chance.

A few minutes later, it appeared he had done just that; when the two men exited the building, they were clearly arguing.  But that really didn't matter to Mac because her very own Squid stood in his usual Top Gun "I am the best in the world so don't mess with me" stance in the only uniform that, in her objective opinion, really warranted that attitude.  It did look good on him, but Sturgis was wrong.  Dress whites and gold wings – at least those items when worn by Harmon Rabb, Jr. – did affect her, right down to her toenails, and her objectivity went right out the window.  There really was only one uniform for her Squid.  She'd take him this way, however.

"Major Yassin!  Colonel Rutter!  Can I give you a lift?" she asked in a drill sergeant-worthy voice that sounded funny with the Farsi accent.

Harm and Sturgis stopped their heated discussion as they came down the steps toward the beautiful woman calling to them.  They traded a subtle look before Sturgis spoke to Mac.

"Azaki, you didn't need to come for me," he chided, not gently.

"No, I didn't.  But I thought maybe because your dress shoes hurt your feet…" she trailed off.

"What, you think I'd wimp out and not walk home?  I'm a Marine, woman.  I can stand a small blister on my toe at the end of a day."

Mac looked like she was ready to cry.  "I know you can.  I just thought I'd try to do something nice because we've had a – "

"Don't you ever air our dirty laundry in public, Azaki," Sturgis' hiss interrupted her as he stepped closer to her.  He ignored the fact that Harm was going into "protect Mac" mode beside him.  "Our problems are nobody else's business."

Colonel Waters chose that moment to leave the building.  Mac stiffened, a cue to the men that they had a more important audience than the passersby who had alternately hurried and paused at the scene.

"Major Yassin, perhaps it would be best if you allowed your wife to do this kindness for you," Harm tried to soothe, earning a smile from the woman in question.

Sturgis reared back and turned on the taller man.  "Lt. Col. Rutter, you are one of the reasons we're having difficulty.  So I'll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself."

"Are you coming with me or not?" Mac demanded, reaching out to him.

"No."  Sturgis shook her hands off his arms and got up in her face to yell at her, "No, I'm not going with you!  I'm going to the gym and then I'll figure out where to go to get some peace and quiet for a night."  With that, he stormed away, leaving Harm standing with Mac.

Damn, Sturgis is a good actor, Mac thought as the tears started.  It wasn't hard for her to summon anger and sadness enough to cry; all she had to do was think about the ferry in Sydney Harbor.

Harm didn't know what she was really thinking, but as he tried to stay in character, he wondered if he was the cause of her very authentic display.  "I'm sorry, Azaki," he said, patting her shoulder.  "I should have stayed out of it.  I think he's beginning to suspect us."

She threw herself into his arms.  "I don't care," she returned.  "He hurt me." 

A moment later, with Harm's hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, she dared to look up at the commanding officer.  He stood watching them with a tight smile as though waiting for something more to happen.

Harm must have read her mind; he opened the door and helped her into the car, then went around to the passenger side and got in beside her, motioning for her to start the vehicle.  "He won't follow us," Harm said as she pulled the car up to the street to go home.  "He's got a few friends coming for dinner."

"Is he expecting you?" she asked.  They hadn't had a chance to talk directly since the previous week and some things you just couldn't put in e-mail.

Harm grinned at her.  "Maybe not now."

"But you'll go anyway, right?"

"Yeah," he sighed.  "I have to bake cornbread at your house and then go back to the BOQ on my way to his place to pick up the baked beans."

"Enough cornbread for us and you've got a deal," she agreed.  "And before you ask, Sturgis made your cornbread the other night, so yes, we do have the ingredients."

A while later, Sturgis literally crawled in the back door of the house while Harm stood at the counter mixing the cornbread batter.  "You know, buddy, some men would object to another man standing around in his t-shirt and trousers with his wife perched on the counter next to him," he announced, watching his two friends flirt from the floor before he stood up.

"I sure as hell would," Harm agreed, taking the opportunity when Mac turned her head to grin at Sturgis to stick his finger in the batter.

"Awww, Harm, that's sweet," Mac said, swiveling her face back to meet his batter-covered finger.  "And that's mean," she added, reaching her hand up to wipe her offended nose.

Harm caught both hands in one motion.  "Sturgis, you might not want to see this," he warned with a grin, leaning in toward the woman he loved.

Rolling his eyes with a long-suffering sigh at his friend's antics, the submariner went on through the kitchen just as Harm's lips made contact with Mac's nose.

"Mmmm, tasty."  He backed away only a fraction.

"Harm, you are seriously warped," Mac managed before she started giggling.

He gave her a Flyboy grin.  "But you love me anyway."

"Yeah, I do," she answered with a grin of her own.

"And I love you," he said as he dropped a soft, slow kiss on her lips.  It was a little easier to kiss her and keep it from getting out of control when circumstances prevented true privacy.

Sturgis caught the tail end of the kiss as he came back; he noted that neither Harm nor Mac looked the slightest bit embarrassed when they parted to see him standing across the breakfast bar from them.  With a smile of his own that almost met Flyboy criteria, he winked at Harm.  "So, I guess that ring really helped, huh?"

"Oh, yeah."  He went back to prepping the cornbread.

Now, Mac did flush.  She and Sturgis had a bet going as to where she'd be wearing that ring when this assignment was over.  In one way, she hoped she lost – a trip to Las Vegas over Christmas would be fun.  But she knew that she and Harm needed time to make their relationship strong enough to last forever before they could take that final step.  Before she could say anything, Harm moved on to business.

"Okay, what do we need to know?"  He slid two cast iron skillets of batter into the oven, then led Mac to the table in the dining area.  Sturgis followed.

Mac filled the two men in on her own investigation and on what Manetti and Tiner had found out.  "The one thing we can't prove to any degree of certainty is that Waters was actually physically present at any of the crime scenes.  We have a good circumstantial case against him for conspiracy, but I wouldn't take it to court."

Sturgis and Harm looked at each other and back at Mac before Sturgis spoke.  "Would Harm?"  If Mac wouldn't, they all knew Sturgis wouldn't because he was more conservative than she.  Harm, however…

"I doubt it."  She explained the connections among the six whose fingerprints had been found on the evidence in the boxes delivered to Pearl NCIS by Agent Carrollton before his death.  The only common thread was Waters; only one man had been in Third Marine while the others had been assigned to various other commands at MCB Hawaii.  Except Swift, who in Mac's mind was a wildcard.

"Nope, I wouldn't.  Not yet."  Harm checked his watch, stood up to stretch.  "I've got about 40 minutes before I need to be at Waters' place.  How are we going to play this?"

"Come back here and make a big deal of it," Sturgis responded without a pause.  "He heard me say I wasn't staying here tonight, and I made sure no one saw me come back.  If you don't come back, he'll be more suspicious than if you do."

"And in the morning?"

Sturgis smiled.  "I'll leave the same way I came in and you can leave by the front door.  I wouldn't be surprised later in the day to have a visit from the Colonel with evidence of your malfeasance."

"Why would he do that?" Mac wondered, then the answer came to her before either man could answer her question.  "Of course.  If he wants to make a move on me himself, then he needs to escalate the already present hostility between Colonel Rutter and Major Yassin.  But what if it suits his purposes better to keep Rutter hanging?  I would think that controlling his XO gives him more options.  And he's certainly not going to help someone he doesn't like because of his skin color."

"Marines," the two men said together.  Neither of them had come from that angle.

=====

0610 Zulu/2010 Local
Colonel Waters' Quarters, Marine Corps Base Hawaii

"Damn, Colonel Rutter, but you do make fine baked beans," a crusty maverick captain said, leaning back against his chair with a satisfied grunt.

Harm smiled.  "Thanks, Warren.  Secret family recipe."

"All the best Southern recipes are," Eugene Waters added.  "So, shall we adjourn for cigars and brandy?"

The gathered men, all officers, all from the South, all WASPs for lack of a better term, laughed heartily.  Cigars, yes.  Brandy?  Not likely.

Harm declined the cigar Gene offered him.  "Lung cancer runs in my family," he explained with a shrug.  And Mac would kill him if she smelled it on his breath, since she had been the one who convinced him to give up even the occasional enjoyment of a stogie.

"Too bad.  These are Cubans."

That really was too bad, Harm admitted to himself.  Clayton Webb had once provided him with three precious Cuban cigars; at least he'd managed to enjoy them before Mac's moratorium.  "I'll get them vicariously, Gene."

Soon the room filled with the aroma of sweet tobacco and whiskey, of which Harm had only a single shot while the others enjoyed much more than that.  The nine men and the colonel, mostly staff members from three of the four battalions in Third Regiment with one or two from the base itself, seemed intent on bashing nearly every kind of human being except white men.  Until someone mentioned that he had seen the new regimental intelligence officer's wife at the commissary.

"She is one hot Arab," the young lieutenant narrated as his hands outlined exactly what he meant.  "Even under that veil thing, you can tell she's just aching for someone to show her how a woman ought to love a man."

"I think she's already had that," Waters said with a significant look at Harm.  "And after what I saw today, she may get it again tonight."

Harm shrugged in that nonchalant way men have to convey truth.  Bragging about it made it untrue – or at least exaggerated.  The others hooted and chucked his shoulders until he held up his hands and deigned to give them a little more information when they quieted.  "Let's just say that once still waters are set running deep, they aren't so still anymore.  And they get deeper."

Not one of the men had any trouble deciphering what they thought he meant and more hooting followed.  He stopped them again.  "And as stimulating as this conversation has been, I would very much like to see if I can enjoy that lake all night tonight instead of only an hour or two here and there."

And with that, the men ushered him to the door.  After the man they knew as Colonel Rutter departed, the remaining ten men turned to business.

Gene Waters had a multi-part plan.  "Gentlemen, I have a way we can have our cake and eat it – or her, in this case – too."  Ferral grins appeared around the room.  "I need two men to stake out the Yassin house with a couple of good cameras.  We want proof so that Col. Rutter won't get cold feet when it comes time to execute the second part of the plan."

"What's part two?" the captain named Warren asked.

The colonel explained for a moment, earning nods from the other men.  "And part three happens when Second Bat has some unexpected opposition during their night maneuvers and the good Colonel Rutter has to go out with the duty officer, Major Yassin, to investigate."

"What kind of unexpected opposition?"  This from the deputy ops officer who had been so rude to Major Yassin on the man's first day.

"The kind that we do best, of course.  Second Bat's got one company that's heavy with the kind of Marines who aren't quite up to snuff.  When we know where on the exercise field they will be, we'll know how to go after them.  Can Delta/First handle it?"  The colonel looked to the captain named Warren, who commanded First Battalion's Delta Company.

"Ooo rah, Colonel."  He wouldn't have to tell his platoon commanders why, just where and when.

"Good.  I'll have the battle plan tomorrow afternoon and will pass it along to you.  Who's doing the stakeout?"

The two men would have a long night, but it would be worth it, they discovered.

"Gentlemen, when this is over, we will have a celebration to remember, complete with the hottest woman in Hawaii to make sure we're very relaxed."

=====

1255 Zulu/0755 EST/0255 Local
Officer's Quarters, Marine Corps Base Hawaii – 13 December 2002

After Harm's debriefing, the three undercover JAG officers had decided that sleep early on was a necessity.  Sturgis didn't bat an eye when Harm followed Mac into the front bedroom, nor did he say anything at the sight of mussed hair on the aviator's head when the three met again for a conference call with their commanding officer, who was supposed to call them when Bud and Tracy were available.  Speakerphones were valuable enough tools that Tiner had suggested sending one out to Hawaii – in a box labeled "Dry Ice – Contents Perishable" so as not to arouse suspicion.  Harm had run the phone line to the little black spidery box before the trio went to bed.

"You know, it's better for some of us to still be awake at o'dark fifty-five," Mac joked with a yawn as she ruffled Harm's hair further.

Sturgis laughed at Harm's grimace before he turned serious.  "Coffee, or are we going to try to sleep again for a couple of hours after the call?"

"I don't have to be anywhere until 0900, so I'm going to try to sleep."  Mac's statement elicited a groan from the men.

"We have staff call at 0745.  Are you ready to leave from here, Harm, or do you have to go back to the BOQ?"

The man in question stretched and reached his arms up behind his head to capture Mac to him where he sat.  "I'm good, but I think some attempt at subtlety would be appropriate.  I should be out of here at 0715 to be early at the office."

"Pull your chair out, Sailor," Mac demanded, swatting Harm's shoulder.  "I need to sit."  Which she proceeded to do, in his lap.

"You two are just too much," Sturgis muttered, but the smile on his face took the sting out of his words.

The phone finally rang; Mac answered with a push of the receiver button.  "Mackenzie."

"That was a risk, Colonel.  What if it hadn't been us?"  Admiral Chegwidden's voice came clearly through the tiny amplifier.

"Then it would have been a telemarketer or a fax machine, sir," Harm spoke.  "We gave you the second line number that Mac and Sturgis use for internet."

"Good morning, Commander Rabb, Commander Turner.  Now, what's up?"  Mac's brief call late in the previous evening had made him nervous; the admiral didn't like it when his people had to get involved in dirty operations in order to stop them.

Harm did most of the talking; Bud asked a number of astute questions as Tracy provided valuable insight from her own experience as a Southerner of mixed heritage.

"Why can't we just find proof that these men belong to the KKK and be done with it?" Mac whined.  "It would be so much easier."

"Somebody went to sleep too early," a dry chuckle from the admiral teased.

"Yes, sir, I did."  That she had been wrapped in Harm's arms only made the sleep better, which was ultimately a bad thing for a woman used to sleeping from 0230 to 0630 if she were lucky.  "I'm sorry, sir, that was out of line.  I'm getting closer on the hate crimes cases to having enough for indictments, but we don't have Colonel Waters yet.  I also don't have any leads on Agent Carrollton's death except the new ballistics match between the bullet found at the last hate crime site and the one that killed him five months later."  That piece of information had been delivered with a flourish by a detective from Hawaii Five-0 who then asked her out, oblivious to the gold band on her finger until she waved it at him.  Sturgis had been amused; Harm had not.

"Ma'am, what kind of gun was it?" Bud asked.

"Nine millimeter Browning Short cartridge without rifling, so it's a good bet that the shooter used a semi-automatic pistol.  The ballistics expert at 5-0 said he'd bet a Heckler and Koch or possibly a Glock.  There are no other matches in NCIC; with your permission, sir, I'd like to get checks done in every state Colonel Waters has lived in."  She turned to glare at Harm, who had started caressing her arms while she talked.

"Granted," AJ replied without missing a beat.  "Have them get duplicates to this office while you're at it, Colonel."

Harm chose that moment to breathe on her neck; she held herself in check and squeaked out "Aye, sir,"  in as normal a tone as she could before she stepped on Harm's toes with her bare feet.

"Commander Rabb," Chegwidden started, and Harm wondered for an instant if they were really on a videoconference because of the man's timing, "I trust that you can handle whatever Colonel Waters throws your way without breaking any laws."

Unless he hurts Mac, he didn't say.  "Yes, sir."

"And you're holding up well, Commander Turner?"

He smiled at Harm and Mac.  "I have my distractions from the stress, sir."

"Rabb and Mackenzie, sir?"  Bud's question could have been interpreted differently by others, but almost everyone involved knew exactly what he meant.

"How would they be a distraction?" the three in Hawaii heard Lt. Cmdr. Manetti ask.

Harm yawned.  "Are we done, sir?  I'd like to go back to bed."

"You notice, Tracy, that he said 'bed', not 'sleep.'  Yes, Harm, we're done.  Don't keep your partner awake."  With that, the call ended abruptly.

"What in heaven's name did that mean?"

"Harm!"  Mac and Sturgis looked at each other; Mac motioned for the amused Navy officer to go on, sure he would say basically the same thing she would.

He had to work not to laugh.  "You're busted, Harm.  You told Bud, Tracy, and the admiral exactly where you're sleeping."

Harm gave Mac an alarmed glance, but since she was smiling, he figured it wasn't a career-breaker.  "Oh.  Come on, Sarah.  Let's go back to bed."  Then it was his turn to smile.

=====

2200 Zulu/1000 Local
Headquarters, Third Marine Regiment, Marine Corps Base Hawaii

Eugene Waters was in an evilly good mood.  Major Yassin looked a lot worse for wear after what Waters had to assume was a sleepless night in a hotel off base wondering if his wife was enjoying the company of another man.  The colonel could have answered that question for him, but it served his purposes better to deal directly with the other man.  Colonel Rutter, for his part, was all but whistling "Dixie" through the insufferable grin on his face; Waters suspected that the photographic proof of the man's misdeeds would only dim the smile by one or two degrees.  The bargain that came along with keeping that proof to himself, however, might be enough to deflate the monstrous ego.  Time to find out.

He punched the extension on the intercom.  "Colonel Rutter, may I see you in my office, please?"

"Certainly sir," the voice came back.  "I'll be there directly."

And he was, Waters noted.  "Please, have a seat, Mike."  He waited while the man followed instructions.  "Have you approved the Second Battalion exercise OB?" he asked, referring to the Order of Battle plan that would be tested over the weekend.

"Yes, sir," Harm replied, thankful for all the times he had been privy to ground combat planning, particularly in Afghanistan this past year.  "They've got some creative tacticians over there."

"Good to hear, I suppose.  You'll observe?"

"Yes, sir.  I'm flying out to the exercise field Sunday morning."

Waters nodded.  "Good.  I need your help with something Saturday night."

Harm froze momentarily, wondering where this might lead.  "With what, sir?" he hedged.

"Relax, Colonel.  It's a party.  And I want Mrs. Yassin to be my hostess."

That wasn't in anybody else's playbook, Harm thought with a touch of panic.  "Why would she want to do that, sir?  And won't it look funny for you to host a party with another officer's wife?"

Keeping his attitude relaxed, the commanding officer smiled at his executive officer.  "In answer to the second question, it is a little-used but perfectly valid tradition when the ranking officer is unmarried to have a dutiful staff wife serve as hostess at any unit function."

Harm nodded reluctantly; Admiral Chegwidden had never taken advantage of the tradition and probably would have asked Mac to hostess as Chief of Staff, anyway.  He motioned for the other man to continue.

"As to why," Gene pulled out an envelope of pictures and tossed them across the desk.

With a raised eyebrow, Harm picked up the package and opened it.  There were seven clear photos inside, each taken that morning when he was saying good-bye to the woman everyone knew as Azaki Yassin.  The last one showed Mac on the front porch of the house, eyes and lips smiling with what only the most cynical might not recognize as pure love, her arm raised as if reaching out to pull the object of her desire back to her.  Idly, he wondered if he could get a copy of that picture when this odious assignment was over, but then he pulled his head back into the game and looked up at Waters with a glare.  "What's the meaning of this?"

"Major Yassin might have his suspicions, but he doesn't yet have proof.  Otherwise, as he said, he'd have you up on charges."  Waters shrugged.  "Have Mrs. Yassin at my house at 1830 tomorrow.  Or at 1835, Major Yassin will have his proof."

Harm debated, but in the end he had to give in.  Going back to his office, though, he pondered Waters' move.  It just didn't make any sense at all.

=====

0015 Zulu/1215 Local
Hawaii Five-0 Headquarters, Honolulu, Hawaii

The  5-0 military liaison officer grinned at Mac when the printer behind him started spewing paper at a rapid clip.  "Ma'am, whenever you want to take those instincts to the track, let me know."

Mac laughed and sipped at the can of Coke in her hand.  "Well, we'll see, Captain.  This is only one facet.  If I'd had as much luck with young misters Cody and Randolph, I'd be much happier."

Police Captain Holcomb opened his mouth to say something, then closed it in thought.  When he opened it again, something entirely different than his original thought came out.  "Cody and Randolph?"

"The two remaining teenage miscreants," she shrugged.  "They aren't talking and whatever's glued their mouths shut is a lot stronger than the threat of prison time."

"I know those names," the man mused.  "Kerry Randolph and Derek Cody, right?"

Now it was Mac's turn to open and close her mouth, surprised at the turn of events.  "Yes."

"They were participants in a small group mentoring program I helped to administer last year through the young offenders program.  The JAG at MCB helped us find Marines to work with the military kids."

Playing a hunch, Mac gave him the names of the other four teens who had been fingered in the hate crimes.

"Yes, all of them."  Holcomb's affirmation came with another grin before he turned to snare the sheaf of printer output behind him.

"What was the punishment if the participants in this mentoring program were caught again?" Mac asked, thinking she might have the key to both cases now.

"Well, all the participants were 15 or 16 and were in custody for non-violent crimes of one sort or another.  In lieu of adult court adjudication, the young men agreed to plead guilty in juvenile court and to participate in the mentoring program.  Successful completion of the program and a year's concurrent probation means a clean record to start adult life."  He handed the papers over to the undercover Marine.

"So if they truly participated in these hate crimes, what would have happened?"  Mac took the information but did nothing with it as she waited for the answer.

"Their cases would have gone to adult court."

Mac nodded.  "I need to think this through on the back burner," she admitted.  "Meanwhile, let's see what we have here."  She spread the three state crime lab reports out across Holcomb's desk and the two leaned over them, she reading upside down to his amused amazement.

"That 9mm has some interesting company, Mrs. Yassin," he noted after three minutes and 34 seconds of reading.

"Yes, it does," she murmured in reply.  "A possible match in Gulfport, Mississippi, from a 1998 home invasion, suspect never identified; a definite match in Alexandria, Virginia, to the bullet that killed a homeless man in 1995, suspect never identified; and a definite match to two bullets found in Kingston, Rhode Island, in 2001 after the manager of an apartment complex reported shots fired in the woods behind the buildings."

"Match your suspect's timeline?"

Mac looked up at him in surprise.  She'd said nothing about a suspect.

"It's not too hard to figure out, Mrs. Yassin," he said by way of answer to her unspoken question.  You asked for specific states, which tells me you have something more than just the bullet itself to go on."

She shrugged.  "Probably," she admitted.  "I'll have to check the exact dates, and this Mississippi thing is probably a visit rather than a domicile."

"Marine or Navy?"

"Marine."

Holcomb studied the wall for a moment.  "Quantico or Marine Barracks, maybe the Pentagon for the Alexandria.  Naval War College for Kingston – although it's not impossible for it to be security detail at Groton.  He's from Mississippi, I take it?"

"You used to be NCIS, didn't you?" she asked in return with an upturned grimace.

"Guilty – back in the days when more of the investigators were in uniform than out."

"Why would the kids let someone finger them for the hate crimes if they didn't do it?"  It was a curve ball, but Mac thought maybe she had an answer.

"They didn't really get the blame.  Someone convinced NCIS to back off…Oh, my.  Whomever got NCIS to back off either has evidence to prove that they were involved or has let them think that."

Mac nodded.  "Exactly," she crowed, standing up.  "But the evidence we found at NCIS now proves that the kids weren't  involved, so I should be able to get Cody and Randolph to talk."

"Unless whomever it is that has them silenced has a bigger threat than just the hit for the crime."

"Which he just might.  Thank you, Captain Holcomb.  You have been most helpful."

Driving back to Pearl, Mac decided to take one more try at getting the kids to break.  But first, she would work on the corroboration of the ballistics matches with Colonel Waters' known whereabouts.