The Spider and the Fly XIX

Harm held the small cell phone to his ear with one hand. The other hand he placed over his other ear. He glanced skyward briefly. The Blue Angels were passing overhead. He absently catalogued the pass as a Farvel formation, observing the tight diamond grouping with the leader inverted.

He was already walking up the grassy bank of the WWII monument park in the direction of his vehicle. As the noise of the jet engines passed he turned his attention to Clay's voice in his ear. He had heard scattered words. 'Mac and I'; 'Saddiq'; 'boat'; and 'Annapolis Harbor'. What the hell were Mac and Webb doing in Annapolis?

He shouted into the cell, "Where are you? I'll be there in 15 minutes." His mind raced quickly forward. Wait, that wasn't right. The Naval Academy Bridge was closed for the air show. That meant backtracking toward the busier Highway 50 bridge over the Severn. Harm groaned. It would take at least half an hour through traffic to reach their location.

He thought about Gibbs. He was somewhere on the Academy grounds watching the air show from a different vantage. He looked up again. The jets were now only small specs on the horizon. He could talk now.

Lowering his voice, he continued. "Wait, Clay, I'm too far away. I'll call Gibbs. He's closer. Where are you?"

Harm could hear the exasperation in Webb's voice. "Rabb, we're not in trouble here. We see Saddiq. He hasn't seen us. He is in a 40 to 50 foot, white speedboat cruising slowly out of the harbor with two other men. Mac is trying to follow him along the shoreline right now to get the registration number of the boat. Where exactly are you?"

Harm watched the airborne specs on the horizon grow steadily larger. It was going to get hard to speak again soon. He quickly said. "I'm on the north shore of the Severn, near the Naval Station watching the air show."

Harm brought up a map of the area in his mind. Any boat coming out of the anchorage at Annapolis would exit the harbor directly across from the Naval Station about two miles down river of his present location. If the boat was at the city wharf now, Harm estimated he had maybe ten minutes to catch it. The harbor would be clogged with traffic because of the air show. Saddiq couldn't open the throttle on his engines until he reached the Chesapeake.

He heard Clay's voice. "Do you think you could intercept him from your location?" Webb had the same mental picture.

"Probably," said Harm. He looked around for transportation.

"With a boat?" said Clay.

Harm shook his head. That probably wouldn't be an option. He spoke quickly into the phone. "No. But if I can get down river a bit, maybe I can see where he's headed. Clay, it's going to be hard to speak soon. Call Gibbs. Let him know what you saw. I'll do what I can. And keep Mac out of trouble." He flipped the cell closed and jammed it into his back pocket.

He stood still for a minute. Going back to the Lexus would be useless. Police barricades and clogged roadways ruled out using his vehicle. It would just take too long. He looked down the grassy bank towards the shoreline. Beyond the edge of parkland, there was a police barricade blocking entry to the bridge at the stoplights. Further up the shoreline were North Severn Beach and the boundary of the Naval Station. For the performance, a marine sentry had been posted to prevent spectators from spilling over into the Naval Station. Harm could see the sentry's government issued vehicle parked on the road leading into the Naval Station. It was a stretch but maybe...

Harm broke into a full run, dodging people in the loosely knit crowd. Soon he was on the roadway, leading down to the beach. He slowed down as he approached the alert marine.

Twenty years in the military gave Harm insight on how to handle this. In a command voice that expected no other outcome he said, "Corporal, I'm Commander Rabb with the JAG corps out of Washington. I need to borrow your vehicle. Quickly." Harm hoped both God and Chegwidden would forgive him for twisting the facts.

"Sir?" The marine narrowed his eyes.

"Corporal, now! There is a terrorist escaping." Harm gestured down the shoreline and tried to illustrate the urgency. He grabbed his wallet and pulled out his expired military ID. The sentry peered at the document.

Harm smiled as the guard handed over the keys with only slight hesitation.

He was breathing heavily both from adrenaline and his half mile sprint. He slammed the car into reverse, turned and then drove up Beach Road toward the main docks of the Naval Station. He had a pretty clear idea of the layout of the base in his mind. He and Gibbs had just gone through it yesterday. It would be a quick trip towards the docks.

As he drove, his mental map flashed again. Greenbury Point was a low marshy tip of land that jutted out into the Chesapeake. It marked the end of the river as it spilled into the big bay. Anyone standing on the point would have an expansive view of Chesapeake, as well as the mouth of the Severn and Annapolis Harbor.

He glanced at his watch. He would need to backtrack a bit. He turned the car onto the deserted Greenbury Point Road. Although the vantage point was much better, he knew the remote location would give Saddiq more time to escape. He pressed down on the accelerator. He hoped he hadn't made a poor trade-off.

It was a full fifteen minutes later when he finally stopped on an uninhabited stretch of road at the point. He grabbed his binoculars and ran towards the shoreline.

There were literally hundreds of white boats spread across the mouth of the Severn River. Harm mentally reviewed the description Webb had given him. He moved the binoculars slowly across the bobbing shapes on the water. Overhead, there was silence. Harm wondered if the air show was over.

He was getting nowhere with this. Needing more information, he reached into his back pocket and opened his cell.

He continued to scan the water as he listened to the cell bleep out Webb's number. Webb answered on the third ring.

"Clay, got anything more on that boat? There must be at least a hundred white boats out here," said Harm.

"Rabb! Where are you?" said Webb.

"See three tall radio towers on a stretch of low-lying, deserted land off in the distance? That's where I am. Where is Saddiq?"

"Gibbs is standing on the breakwater at the Academy. He can see Saddiq, moving slowly, watching the last of the air show about 200 yards out," said Webb. "Mac and I are opposite Gibbs across the harbor in Eastport. Mac is up a ways watching the boat. Saddiq must be about a hundred yards from her."

"What is Mac doing here, Webb?" Harm felt angry at the chain of events that had again put her so close to this madman. "And what are you doing out of the hospital?"

"Relax, Rabb. I don't think Saddiq can see her. I was released from the hospital and she picked me up. I thought Annapolis might be an interesting place for lunch, especially since I needed to talk to you." Webb said. "Can you see the boat yet?"

"No." Harm tried to triangulate the position from Webb's description. "Describe the boat again to me."

"I was able to get a complete description of the boat from the registration number Mac got. It is a 40 foot PowerQuest Avenger with duo Mercruiser 500 hp engines. Long, white, slim boat with yellow and brown detailing on the side. You know, one those boats right out of Miami Vice. Top speed is over 70 mph."

"Owner?"

"The boat was purchased from a marina on Kent Island last week. Bogus name. Paid cash up front."

"Any help from local authorities?"

"I didn't try. There is nothing to arrest and hold them on. All we are going on is what we know from Paraguay. We could break this whole organization apart, if we get some real evidence. That has implications for not only this one but future attacks as well. Harm, if we just arrest with nothing and deport him, it won't solve anything."

Harm didn't answer. No possibility of help from local harbor patrol or police was a little disquieting. He continued to scan the area trying to connect with the boat. He heard Webb speak again "Harm? Still there?"

"Yeah?"

"Found him yet?"

Harm continued to look. Suddenly in the restricted view of his binoculars, he saw a powerboat that matched Webb's description. One, two, three dark-haired men. He briefly moved his view out from the binoculars' eyepiece and studied the harbor and the Academy. Yeah, the location seemed correct. This was the boat.

"I've got them," said Harm. He watched as the boat's rumbling engines started to move it forward. It made a slow gentle arc as it gained momentum. It was turning away from the harbor and heading toward open water. Harm watched as it moved up and hit planning speed. "Webb, he's coming my way. I gotta go."

"Later," Webb said and he hung up.

#

Mac made her way slowly down the maze of docks towards Webb's table at the restaurant. She glanced back toward the harbor, watching the small white spec that was Saddiq's boat. Despite the cloudless sky, there was a muggy haze on the water that seemed to swallow the boat as it receded in the distance.

She sat down at the table. "What's happening?" From her own cell conversations with Clay, she knew he had been in touch with both Harm and Gibbs.

"Well," he said slowly. "Harm's position is the best if we want to figure out where he's going. But if he heads out to the bay, we've lost him."

"Saddiq really is planning an attack on the Blue Angels," said Mac.

"I'd bet on it."

Mac was silent. Clay looked at her, wondering what she was thinking. "Sarah?"

She shook her head. "I can't believe he was this close and we didn't just take him out." She thought about Harm. "Do you think Harm could get into any trouble?"

Clay scoffed at the idea. "Saddiq's on a boat. Harm can't even get close."

#

Harm fixed the binoculars on the image of the speeding boat. Judging direction on the featureless expanse of open water was often difficult, but Harm believed that the boat's tangent would take it close to the Broadneck Peninsula. As he followed the boat with his eyes around the leeside of the small point, he knew he was right. Saddiq wasn't heading out into the larger bay. He was pointing the powerboat toward the narrow inlet that bisected this large peninsula.

Maybe, just maybe, thought Harm. He jogged over to the parked vehicle. Starting the engine, he turned the car onto a side road that followed the water. Harm set the pace of his car to match the moderate speed of the boat as it entered the small bay. The road was separated from the waterfront by a row of trees along the bank. The image of the white boat flashed in a strobe-like fashion as thick trunks passed in and out of view. Harm maintained a discrete distance.

Occasionally the road deviated inland from its waterside path. But the boat's speed had decreased considerably and Harm was able to regain sight of the craft as the road turned once again toward the water.

They had been traveling this way for about twenty minutes when Saddiq slowed the watercraft to a stop. The wake from the boat reverberated off the nearby bank, making the speedboat bob momentarily like a cork. Harm stopped his vehicle and climbed out. He crept toward the shoreline and hid behind two sycamore trees slumping into the water.

They were speaking Farsi, he realized, or some other Middle Eastern dialect. Although he didn't understand what they were saying, he knew that they were looking for something along the side of the small inlet.

Saddiq nudged the throttle to give the boat some forward momentum. Its slow progress meant that Harm could keep pace on foot. The path had dwindled to nothing and he dodged brush and climbed over fallen logs in his effort to keep up. Stopping often, he watched as Saddiq and his crew searched the shoreline.

Harm crouched behind a mixed thicket of bushes blanketed by a spreading vine. Suddenly, he heard a shout and he looked to see a blue shirted man climb onto the long narrow bow of the boat and work his way forward. Saddiq turned the boat and nudged it towards the shore. Bowline in hand, the man in the blue shirt leaped onto a wet sand bar hauling the big boat with him. He quickly cast the line around the trunk of a tree and anchored the boat to the land. Saddiq and the third man scrambled off the boat and onto the sand bar.

Harm lay back, hidden in the bush. He let out a long slow breath. He was less than ten yards from the terrorists. But because of the unusual sequence of events, he was empty handed. No sidearm. No nothing. His options looked pretty limited.

They were walking now, traversing the bank on a formerly unseen path inland. Harm watched until they were almost out of sight and crept forward to follow. He concentrated on every step, stealthily moving ahead.

They were approaching some sort of clearing. No, not a clearing but a large gravel parking lot. He looked across the lot and saw the low buildings of a restaurant and the sparkling water of the inlet beyond. It was 'Chandlers', the country seafood restaurant Harm had shown Gibbs just a few nights ago. The one mentioned by the immigration detainee in Baltimore.

Saddiq and his companions did not approach the restaurant. Instead they kept to the periphery of the parking lot until they came to a small, isolated fishing shack. Wire crab traps were stacked neatly against the weather beaten building. Harm watched as they unlocked the door to the shack. Single file, they stepped through the opening. Harm could hear muffled voices. A short time later, two men exited the building carrying a long slender packing crate. It was a stinger missile.

They set the missile down a few feet from the door, and then returned to the small shack. Harm tried to guess what they were going to do next. He thought about the boat hidden in the deserted bay. They were going to transport the stingers in the boat.

There was only one way he could stop them. He glanced around. Saddiq was still in the shack. Harm started to move quietly through the thick brush towards the boat. A few more yards and he was safely out of sight. He ran down the small path. Reaching the sand bar, he pulled himself onto the moored boat. Moving aft, he searched the deck of the boat for the door to the engine compartment. Flipping open a fiberglass cover on the first engine, he bent down to look for the spark plugs. He fumbled trying to twist off the greasy silver plugs. The engine was still warm from recent use.

He stopped, suddenly aware of voices, behind him, coming from the path. It was Saddiq returning to the boat with his two men. A quick glance and Harm saw they were carrying two long missile crates. There was no time to remove the next set of plugs from the second engine. He looked up again and he could see the three men stop. They had seen him.

One man reached for a handgun tucked into the back of his pants. Harm crouched down trying to keep a low profile within the walls of the boat's hull. He was trapped. Harm looked around. There was only one avenue of escape. As he made a dive for the water, he could hear the angry ping of a bullet as it hit the white deck behind him.

Harm dove deep as he could into the murky water, praying that there was no unseen hazard. As he moved past the boat he could feel the sharp blade of a propeller scrape roughly against his leg. Aaaahhhh. He quickly turned his mind away from the sharp pain. He couldn't concentrate on that now. Needing air, he came up against the boat, trying to keep the hull between himself and Saddiq's men.

Ping! Another bullet hit the water near his head. He dove deep again swimming towards the tree choked bank downstream from the sandbar. He thought could hear the muffled bark of gun. He angled toward a slumping bank of partially fallen trees and deadfall. He kept his eyes on the blurry dark shape ahead hoping it would offer the protection he needed.

Lungs bursting, he emerged behind the twisted trunk of a semi-submerged tree about twenty yards down the shoreline. All was quiet. He peered cautiously around his leafy cover and saw two men now standing in the boat peering into the depths of the water, guns drawn. Saddiq was bent over the exposed engine. He stood up and signaled them to get the crates left on the shore.

Helplessly, Harm saw Saddiq sit in the driver's seat and turned the engine over. The undamaged motor sprang to life with a throaty rumble. Harm was still hidden in the brushy deadfall by the water's edge a few minutes later as Saddiq and his companions powered the boat out of the small bay.

Harm waited until they were out of sight. He swam over towards the small sand bar and stood up in the waist deep water. The calf of his right leg was throbbing from the propeller cut. He watched as the remnants of the wake from the receding boat bounced off the shore. He swiped angrily at the water with the open palm of his hand. He'd been that close.

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