Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.


- Clayton Webb's car, somewhere in Washington

"Why did you have to delete all messages?" Harm grumbled still angry from the passenger seat. "What was your visit for? Erase the evidence? I can't believe it you've actually worn those transparent 'spy'-gloves! Avoiding fingerprints?"

Webb, unaware of his sulky company, concentrated on the traffic and his cell phone.

"Yeah, I've got that. Peter Callahan."

"Callahan, Peter Callahan? I can't remember that guy," Harm mused aloud.

"You're sure of the address? I'll remind you of that. No, I know where ... Okay. Anything else? Navy? Why did they sack him?"

"We sacked him?"

"Then find out! I don't care how! Just move your ass! No, I can't use my usual source. Because there are probably some people waiting to hit me!"

Harm grinned. "You can bet on that!"

"What do you think is the reason for this mess?! What do you mean - 'when was the last time I've had something to eat'?! Get me the information!" Webb slammed the phone down.

"God, Harm, I'm going to strangle you with my own hands if you're still alive!" He exhaled with a deep sigh. "You better be. And maybe he's right." He gave the car a sharp turn to the side and stopped.

Harm joined him on the pavement. "Remind me to feed you well the next time we're working together. Ah, where are you going? Don't get me wrong, but I hope you're not going to sit in a restaurant while I'm somewhere out there, presumably dead and ... Webb? Don't tell me you're going in there. Webb? W - Webb?! - A hamburger?! You're buying a HAMBURGER?!"

Stunned he watched the spy walking back to the car, chewing busily.

"What happened to 'the first soft shell crab of the season'?" He shook his head in wonder. "Things will never be the same again. A hamburger. And a milkshake!"


- Outside Peter Callahan's flat, 30 minutes later -

Webb knocked for the second time and kept knocking for the next minutes. Harm watched with growing amusement. He brought his mouth near Webb's ear.

"I know how stubborn you are, but it seems our friend isn't at home. You're going to hurt your hand."

A door opened to the left and an old woman peer out. She gave Webb's clothes a quick look and licked her lips. The spy stopped knocking and nailed her with a stare.

"He's not in there," the woman finally announced. She licked her lips again.

Webb raised a brow. "You know where I can find him?"

The woman shrugged. "Maybe."

With a blank expression Webb fished a bill out of his pocket and held it up. The woman's eyes were drawn by the money. She reached for it but Webb shook his head.

"The bar. Down the street."

Webb gave her the bill. "Have you seen a Navy Officer today? Tall, dark hair, handsome?"

"Oh, thank you, Webb. It must have been killing you to say that." Harm grinned widely.

"Maybe." There were almost dollar marks visible in the woman's eyes.

Webb took another bill out.

"Yes."

"When?"

She tried to grab the bill. "This afternoon. Around half past two." The money disappeared into her pocket.

Webb started to leave but turned back once more. "The bar. He usually goes there?"

She smirked, saw the look in his eyes and changed her mind. "Yes." The door closed and they heard the sound of the lock.

"Well, that was that." Webb sighed and went downstairs. Harm followed closely. They walked down the almost dark street, guided by the flashing lights of neon signs. The dirty, greasy looking entrance of the bar wasn't very inviting.

Webb considered the surroundings and grimaced.

Harm shrugged. "You have to see things positive. It can't get much worse now. Right?"

After taking a deep breath the spy reached for the door. It opened before he could touch it and he found himself nose to nose with Sarah Mackenzie.

"Uh-oh, I've said nothing," gasped Harm.


To be continued ...