Shenandoah Valley
Northern Virginia
1425 Local
Avis wrung out a compress and replaced the one that was there. It was her turn to take care of Sarah. Corinna had taken the morning shift. Now she was out doing what she did best, gathering information and dispensing opinions. Matt had begged off, claiming to have no aptitude for nursing. Instead, he volunteered to stay at Avis' farm and take care of things until she could get back. They were into the second day since the attack and Sarah was growing worse. Yesterday morning, she'd woken up with her arm swollen and hot. By evening, she was running a fever as well. Today, her fever had climbed higher. She'd finally fallen into a restless sleep. Avis turned her head at a soft knock and smiled when Avril quietly entered the room. "How is she?" he asked as he moved a chair up next to Avis.
"She's getting worse." Whispering, Avis looked at her fiance anxiously, "Avril, we need to do something. It's the infection in her arm - it's going to kill her."
Avril stared at her uncomfortably. Standing up, he motioned her away from the bed and they moved to a far corner. He'd seen more of this type of thing than he cared to, "Avis, once gangrene sets in, the only way to save her will be to amputate the arm. I'm sorry."
Avis looked at him in horror and then over at Mac. "No!" She stood silently for a few moments and then said more firmly, "No. Sarah told me of a way clean out an infected wound." It had been a disgusting but fascinating conversation. She'd been questioning Sarah about what her life was like in the twenty-first century. They'd digressed into the rigors of military training and Sarah had told her about her commanding officer and his training as a SEAL. She had said it was part of 'survival training'.
"What is it?" Avril frowned.
"Maggots," she stated with more authority than she felt.
He looked appalled. Unbidden, came scenes of bloated bodies on the field, the aftermath of battle. Infested with maggots, dead limbs would move on their own. "You must be joking!"
She shook her head, "No, they'll eat the diseased areas of the wound. Then we clean them out."
"Avis, no!" Avril couldn't believe she was even contemplating this.
She glared at him fiercely, "What else can we do? Wait until the only thing left to try is amputation? Do you think she'll survive if we let it go that long? I will not have her put through that agony knowing it will ultimately kill her." Her voice shook, "She has to go back to her own time, Avril. She cannot die now, not in this century."
Her words caused a chill to run down his spine. Silently, he finally nodded his agreement, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. "There'll be some where the kitchen scraps are dumped." Most scraps went to the hogs but there was always some spillage and always flies.
Avis turned and strode to the dresser where a stack of bandages lay. Grabbing a handful, she moved to a sewing basket that Corinna kept in the corner. Rummaging through, she pulled out a pair of small scissors. Looking up, she saw Avril watching her, "We'll need alcohol."
Shaking his head, Avril moved to the door. Turning, he smiled weakly, "Scotch or bourbon?" He didn't think this was going to work but she wanted to try and he didn't have any better ideas.
She rolled her eyes at him, "Whichever you like, we're not making her drink it." She'd already noticed that Sarah never imbibed, not even a sherry or wine with dinner. Not knowing if it was due to religious or moral grounds, Avis had respected her wishes without indulging in inquiry. "I want to rinse the scissors. According to Sarah, it's dirt and germs that cause infection. Alcohol kills it." Avril nodded and quietly left. Avis sat down again next to Mac and carefully began removing the blood and matter encrusted bandage.
Groaning, Mac opened her eyes. It took a few moments before she finally focused on Avis.
Avis gave her a tight smile, "Sarah... ," she took a deep breath, "Sarah, you're not getting better."
Closing her eyes, Mac nodded slowly, "Didn't think so." She could summon just enough energy to feel pissed about it. Everything she'd survived in her life and it was going to end because of some lunatic woman and the backward medical practices of the nineteenth century. Surprisingly, it was Harm she was most angry with - why couldn't he be here? Butch and Sundance - that was the deal. She shifted restlessly. Her arm was a constant source of pain, the infection must be spreading. She forced her eyes open again, "Avis, I want to thank you for everything... "
"No!" The fierceness in Avis' voice startled Mac. The young woman glared at her and brandished the scissors, "I'm going to cut open the stitches. The wound's corrupted."
Mac gave her a half-smile, "I know." What she didn't know was whether the infection had entered her bloodstream yet. Without antibiotics, it was just a matter of time.
Avis leaned in closer, "Sarah, I'm going to try to clean out the infection. Do you remember that conversation we had about survival? About one of the ways to clean out a wound?"
Frowning, Mac tried to recall what they had talked about. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she gave Avis a startled look.
Avis nodded grimly, "The only other option is amputation. I don't know if you'd survive that." Avril walked in at that moment carrying a jug and a small mason jar.
He stopped alongside of Avis and smiled down at Mac before looking over at his fiancee, "What do we do first?" He hefted the jug, "I liberated some of Cooter Biggs' 'shine, I swear, it's practically pure alcohol. It'll take the top of your head off."
Forty-five minutes later, it was done and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Avis began cleaning up. Cutting the stitches had produced a surprising amount of discharge. No wonder the arm had been painful to the touch. Avril had had to hold Mac still so that Avis could pull the stitches out. Mac had endured it with her jaws clamped tight, determined not to cry out. As soon as they were done, she'd closed her eyes with a sigh, the fever was sapping her strength.
Despite the fact it had been her idea, Avis had had a hard time controlling her revulsion when they had added the larvae to the wound. They had re-wrapped the bandages, both to keep the larvae from dropping off and to keep them from reproducing. God only knew how Corinna would react if she found out what they'd done. Avis made a promise to herself that she'd give up this approach if there wasn't some improvement in the next twenty-four hours. Now, all they could do was wait.
She gathered the soiled bandages together. Sarah had told her before that they had to be boiled to make them clean enough to use again. Not only that, but anyone who handled the bandages after boiling had to scrub their hands thoroughly before touching them. Avis didn't trust the kitchen staff not to cut corners, she'd oversee everything herself. Avril would stay in the room and keep an eye on Sarah.
After Avis left, Avril rearranged the chairs so he could put his feet up. He knew that life with Avis Payne was never going to be dull but he had no idea it could be like this. Last night she had told him a story he would have immediately discounted if it had been anyone but Avis telling it. The necklace had been the clincher. He knew there was only one and here was a second that looked like it had been made a century ago. The worn initials of Avis' godfather could still be seen. Curious, he'd gotten Avis to agree to an experiment. He'd taken her necklace and added a small gouge next to the initials. When they checked Sarah's necklace, it had given them both chills. It now sported a slight indentation where he'd put the gouge. He stared at the woman in the bed, marveling that she could have been born over a hundred years in the future.
At first, he'd had a hard time accepting that Miss Sasha Dzurick was actually Lt. Col. Sarah MacKenzie. The time travel was difficult enough to swallow without having to believe that a woman could be a high ranking military officer. What had the world come to? He was still adjusting to the idea. It certainly helped explain how she had outmaneuvered three men. What was surprising was that she was decidedly feminine. He knew that a fair number of Northern women were agitating for an equal place with men in society. He'd dismissed them for the hoydens they were, grateful that Southern women had more sense. They exerted their influence behind the scenes. No Southern gentleman willingly crossed them, at least, not overtly. His mother was a prime example. Old Henry Cantrell might be the mayor, but it was Corinna Simpson that wielded the power in town.
It was not as much of a stretch to believe she was an attorney. Avril snorted to himself, he had the acquaintance of a number of women who could talk circles around him. They'd be perfect for lawyering. Unlike a number of his peers, he didn't think women were less endowed in intelligence. Avis had cured him of that when he was sixteen and had noticed her for the first time. He was still amazed at how deftly she had handled him and his oversized ego. He'd been intrigued rather than insulted and the intrigue had turned to attraction. Avis Payne had led him a merry chase and the pursuit had broadened his horizons. And now, here they were.
He hadn't been terribly surprised when Avis had cautiously told him what the outcome of the war would be. After all, he'd been watching the inexorable approach of the ever-growing Union army for months while battle, disease and desertions whittled the formidable Army of Virginia to a shadow of its former self. That didn't mean they weren't still dangerous. Those battle-hardened veterans would march to the gates of Hell and take on the Devil himself if Robert Lee asked. He was proud to be a member of their ranks. The only question was who still had to die before it ended.
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 2310 Local
Avis' eyes flew open and she jumped, startled out of a fitful sleep by a hand insistently shaking her shoulder. Effie stood by the bed, looking apologetic, "Miz Corinna needs you, Miss Avis."
"Oh dear Lord! It's not... she didn't... " Avis stared anxiously at the housekeeper as she threw on a robe. It had been over thirty hours since they'd applied the maggots. She had checked the wound before going to bed and been amazed at the improvement. What was worrying her was the fact that Sarah's fever still raged on. Had they waited too long?
"No'm, it's good news. Miss Sasha's fever done broke. We jes' need help gettin' fresh sheets on de bed," Effie's eyes widened in surprise when Avis gave her a hug before racing out of the room. She followed the young woman at a more sedate pace.
Corinna looked over her shoulder and smiled as Avis flew into the room, "Slow down, young lady, I don't need you hurting yourself as well. Miss Sasha's not going anywhere. Come give me a hand. You too, Effie, if you please."
With the three women working together, it didn't take much time to get Mac into a fresh nightgown and clean sheets on the bed. Almost as soon as they'd gotten her back into bed, Sarah had closed her eyes and gone back to sleep. Avis gave Corinna a worried glance.
"It's all right," Corinna reassured her, "The fever took a lot out of her. She needs to sleep. By morning, she'll probably be awake and ready to eat. Why don't you go back to bed? You haven't had much rest, either. We can all talk in the morning."
Avis nodded slowly and then threw her arms around a startled Corinna, giving her a hug, "Thank you, for everything."
Corinna smiled, returning the hug, "You're quite welcome. Now, go on, I'll see you in the morning." She watched fondly as the young woman left the room. Having Avis as a daughter was becoming more appealing all the time. She turned back to the other woman in the room, "Effie, you go on back to bed, too. I'll stay with Miss Sasha and see you in the morning."
Dulles Airport Washington, DC 1540 Local
Harm shook hands with the crew and picking up his duffle, climbed down the steps of the Lear jet. Frank had pulled him aside just before he left and told him to call immediately if there was anything he needed in his search for Sarah. His mother had told him to remember to call as soon as he found her. Reaching the tarmac, he looked around and then spotted Sturgis leaning against the fender of his car. Quickly he made his way over.
"Sturgis, thanks for coming," Harm shook hands with the Commander, "Anything?"
Sturgis shook his head as he opened the rear door so Harm could throw his bag in the backseat. "Nothing yet, Harm. The Highway Patrol hasn't found anything. No sign of Mac or her car."
"Damn, what could have happened?" Harm dropped into the passenger seat, his frustration evident. He glanced at Sturgis, "Has anyone talked to Webb?"
"The Admiral has a call into him. Apparently, he's not in the country right now," Sturgis looked over at him, "Your place?"
"Yeah, sure... thanks," from the sound of Harm's voice, his mind was obviously elsewhere.
"What are you planning to do?" Sturgis asked cautiously, well aware of Harm's single-mindedness. Not to be callous about it, but with Mac missing, the backlog of work was growing at an alarming rate. Although Chegwidden hadn't said anything, Sturgis would be surprised if the Admiral let Harm off to conduct his own personal search.
Harm looked at him like he was out of his mind, "I'm going to find her, Sturgis. What else would I do?"
Sturgis raised an eyebrow, "Now? You're planning on driving up to the Shenandoah this afternoon? Harm, by the time you get out there, it will be dark. You won't be able to see anything. When are you due to report back in?"
"Monday at 0900. That gives me all of tomorrow to look. If I leave now, I won't waste any daylight hours in travel."
Turner concentrated on his driving for a few minutes, he was pretty sure what he would say next wasn't going to be welcomed by his friend. "Are you sure that's such a good plan? You don't have any idea where to look." His eyes narrowed and he cast a suspicious look at Rabb, "You don't, do you?" As far as he knew, Mac was the pseudo-psychic of the duo. God help them if Harm started doing it too.
Harm scowled in irritation, "For godsakes, Sturgis, you think if I knew, I'd keep it a secret?" He exhaled heavily, "I have to do something. I can't just sit home, I'll go crazy." He paused for a moment, "Are you sure Webb isn't involved somehow?"
"As sure as we can be with the CIA," Sturgis admitted. He'd had his own suspicions. If anyone could make a person vanish so completely, it would be Webb and his cohorts. The problem with that scenario would be why. Granted, Mac had been involved with cases that had had CIA connections, but so had Harm. If there was some sort of threat, wouldn't they have made Rabb disappear as well?
On the other hand, it was quite possible that the CIA might not be part of this. He hadn't forgotten how quickly Mac had vanished on her own when 'Archangel' hit the fan. He was beginning to wonder if this disappearance was more deliberate than accidental. It had been two days, and even though the area was immense, surely someone would have spotted a wrecked car. The million dollar question was: Was the person or persons behind her disappearance, friendly or unfriendly?
Harm grunted thoughtfully, he'd do what he could to pin Webb down. It was just possible that the Agency had been responsible for Mac's disappearance. He knew Clay had a soft spot for Sarah MacKenzie and would do what he could to protect her. But if that was the case, Harm doubted the CIA operative would refuse her request to somehow let him know that she was okay - if for no other reason than that she would happily break the man's nose. What scared him was if someone had gone after Mac and she was now in no condition to contact anyone. That scenario was even more frightening if Webb hadn't been keeping an eye on her. With a sigh, Harm turned and looked out the window. He had to stop dwelling on worst-cases, it was way too early in the game to give up on her.
Sturgis did have a point, however. There was a tremendous amount of ground to cover and he had no real clue where to start. He was running on emotion, certain only of the need to find her. The thought brought a half-smile to his lips recalling a certain Marine's words at a train station in Russia. What he'd give to be able to hear her lecture him on sound mission-planning!
Harm was somewhat startled when Sturgis pulled to a halt in front of his building. He'd lost track of time. Opening the door, he looked over at his friend, "Thanks, I owe you one."
Sturgis shrugged, "Don't mention it." He looked at Harm for a moment and then came to a decision, "Want some company? I've got a packed bag in the trunk." As worried as he'd been over Mac's disappearance, he still realized how impossible the odds were of finding her without any leads to follow. Because of that, he'd sat back and waited for the police reports. It hadn't been easy - on any of Mac's friends. Having to rely on people they didn't know was grating when all the searchers reported was non-information: no sign of Mac, no sign of her car, no idea of what route she might have been on. Now that Harm was willing to gallop off in his Quixote-style quest, Sturgis decided he would happily go along as Sancho. He'd be there to give Harm a shoulder to lean on when they proved unsuccessful tomorrow and also make sure he came back in time to report in. When they eventually found Mac, or she found them, she wouldn't thank him if he hadn't kept Harm from scuttling his career.
"I can't ask you to do that," Harm replied, "Besides, what would Bobbie say? Don't you two usually have plans for the weekend?"
"Mac is Bobbie's friend too, Harm. She's worried, hell, we all are. I don't think she'll object to me helping you search. Who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky."
Harm smiled, "Maybe we will."
Avis wrung out a compress and replaced the one that was there. It was her turn to take care of Sarah. Corinna had taken the morning shift. Now she was out doing what she did best, gathering information and dispensing opinions. Matt had begged off, claiming to have no aptitude for nursing. Instead, he volunteered to stay at Avis' farm and take care of things until she could get back. They were into the second day since the attack and Sarah was growing worse. Yesterday morning, she'd woken up with her arm swollen and hot. By evening, she was running a fever as well. Today, her fever had climbed higher. She'd finally fallen into a restless sleep. Avis turned her head at a soft knock and smiled when Avril quietly entered the room. "How is she?" he asked as he moved a chair up next to Avis.
"She's getting worse." Whispering, Avis looked at her fiance anxiously, "Avril, we need to do something. It's the infection in her arm - it's going to kill her."
Avril stared at her uncomfortably. Standing up, he motioned her away from the bed and they moved to a far corner. He'd seen more of this type of thing than he cared to, "Avis, once gangrene sets in, the only way to save her will be to amputate the arm. I'm sorry."
Avis looked at him in horror and then over at Mac. "No!" She stood silently for a few moments and then said more firmly, "No. Sarah told me of a way clean out an infected wound." It had been a disgusting but fascinating conversation. She'd been questioning Sarah about what her life was like in the twenty-first century. They'd digressed into the rigors of military training and Sarah had told her about her commanding officer and his training as a SEAL. She had said it was part of 'survival training'.
"What is it?" Avril frowned.
"Maggots," she stated with more authority than she felt.
He looked appalled. Unbidden, came scenes of bloated bodies on the field, the aftermath of battle. Infested with maggots, dead limbs would move on their own. "You must be joking!"
She shook her head, "No, they'll eat the diseased areas of the wound. Then we clean them out."
"Avis, no!" Avril couldn't believe she was even contemplating this.
She glared at him fiercely, "What else can we do? Wait until the only thing left to try is amputation? Do you think she'll survive if we let it go that long? I will not have her put through that agony knowing it will ultimately kill her." Her voice shook, "She has to go back to her own time, Avril. She cannot die now, not in this century."
Her words caused a chill to run down his spine. Silently, he finally nodded his agreement, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat. "There'll be some where the kitchen scraps are dumped." Most scraps went to the hogs but there was always some spillage and always flies.
Avis turned and strode to the dresser where a stack of bandages lay. Grabbing a handful, she moved to a sewing basket that Corinna kept in the corner. Rummaging through, she pulled out a pair of small scissors. Looking up, she saw Avril watching her, "We'll need alcohol."
Shaking his head, Avril moved to the door. Turning, he smiled weakly, "Scotch or bourbon?" He didn't think this was going to work but she wanted to try and he didn't have any better ideas.
She rolled her eyes at him, "Whichever you like, we're not making her drink it." She'd already noticed that Sarah never imbibed, not even a sherry or wine with dinner. Not knowing if it was due to religious or moral grounds, Avis had respected her wishes without indulging in inquiry. "I want to rinse the scissors. According to Sarah, it's dirt and germs that cause infection. Alcohol kills it." Avril nodded and quietly left. Avis sat down again next to Mac and carefully began removing the blood and matter encrusted bandage.
Groaning, Mac opened her eyes. It took a few moments before she finally focused on Avis.
Avis gave her a tight smile, "Sarah... ," she took a deep breath, "Sarah, you're not getting better."
Closing her eyes, Mac nodded slowly, "Didn't think so." She could summon just enough energy to feel pissed about it. Everything she'd survived in her life and it was going to end because of some lunatic woman and the backward medical practices of the nineteenth century. Surprisingly, it was Harm she was most angry with - why couldn't he be here? Butch and Sundance - that was the deal. She shifted restlessly. Her arm was a constant source of pain, the infection must be spreading. She forced her eyes open again, "Avis, I want to thank you for everything... "
"No!" The fierceness in Avis' voice startled Mac. The young woman glared at her and brandished the scissors, "I'm going to cut open the stitches. The wound's corrupted."
Mac gave her a half-smile, "I know." What she didn't know was whether the infection had entered her bloodstream yet. Without antibiotics, it was just a matter of time.
Avis leaned in closer, "Sarah, I'm going to try to clean out the infection. Do you remember that conversation we had about survival? About one of the ways to clean out a wound?"
Frowning, Mac tried to recall what they had talked about. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she gave Avis a startled look.
Avis nodded grimly, "The only other option is amputation. I don't know if you'd survive that." Avril walked in at that moment carrying a jug and a small mason jar.
He stopped alongside of Avis and smiled down at Mac before looking over at his fiancee, "What do we do first?" He hefted the jug, "I liberated some of Cooter Biggs' 'shine, I swear, it's practically pure alcohol. It'll take the top of your head off."
Forty-five minutes later, it was done and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Avis began cleaning up. Cutting the stitches had produced a surprising amount of discharge. No wonder the arm had been painful to the touch. Avril had had to hold Mac still so that Avis could pull the stitches out. Mac had endured it with her jaws clamped tight, determined not to cry out. As soon as they were done, she'd closed her eyes with a sigh, the fever was sapping her strength.
Despite the fact it had been her idea, Avis had had a hard time controlling her revulsion when they had added the larvae to the wound. They had re-wrapped the bandages, both to keep the larvae from dropping off and to keep them from reproducing. God only knew how Corinna would react if she found out what they'd done. Avis made a promise to herself that she'd give up this approach if there wasn't some improvement in the next twenty-four hours. Now, all they could do was wait.
She gathered the soiled bandages together. Sarah had told her before that they had to be boiled to make them clean enough to use again. Not only that, but anyone who handled the bandages after boiling had to scrub their hands thoroughly before touching them. Avis didn't trust the kitchen staff not to cut corners, she'd oversee everything herself. Avril would stay in the room and keep an eye on Sarah.
After Avis left, Avril rearranged the chairs so he could put his feet up. He knew that life with Avis Payne was never going to be dull but he had no idea it could be like this. Last night she had told him a story he would have immediately discounted if it had been anyone but Avis telling it. The necklace had been the clincher. He knew there was only one and here was a second that looked like it had been made a century ago. The worn initials of Avis' godfather could still be seen. Curious, he'd gotten Avis to agree to an experiment. He'd taken her necklace and added a small gouge next to the initials. When they checked Sarah's necklace, it had given them both chills. It now sported a slight indentation where he'd put the gouge. He stared at the woman in the bed, marveling that she could have been born over a hundred years in the future.
At first, he'd had a hard time accepting that Miss Sasha Dzurick was actually Lt. Col. Sarah MacKenzie. The time travel was difficult enough to swallow without having to believe that a woman could be a high ranking military officer. What had the world come to? He was still adjusting to the idea. It certainly helped explain how she had outmaneuvered three men. What was surprising was that she was decidedly feminine. He knew that a fair number of Northern women were agitating for an equal place with men in society. He'd dismissed them for the hoydens they were, grateful that Southern women had more sense. They exerted their influence behind the scenes. No Southern gentleman willingly crossed them, at least, not overtly. His mother was a prime example. Old Henry Cantrell might be the mayor, but it was Corinna Simpson that wielded the power in town.
It was not as much of a stretch to believe she was an attorney. Avril snorted to himself, he had the acquaintance of a number of women who could talk circles around him. They'd be perfect for lawyering. Unlike a number of his peers, he didn't think women were less endowed in intelligence. Avis had cured him of that when he was sixteen and had noticed her for the first time. He was still amazed at how deftly she had handled him and his oversized ego. He'd been intrigued rather than insulted and the intrigue had turned to attraction. Avis Payne had led him a merry chase and the pursuit had broadened his horizons. And now, here they were.
He hadn't been terribly surprised when Avis had cautiously told him what the outcome of the war would be. After all, he'd been watching the inexorable approach of the ever-growing Union army for months while battle, disease and desertions whittled the formidable Army of Virginia to a shadow of its former self. That didn't mean they weren't still dangerous. Those battle-hardened veterans would march to the gates of Hell and take on the Devil himself if Robert Lee asked. He was proud to be a member of their ranks. The only question was who still had to die before it ended.
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 2310 Local
Avis' eyes flew open and she jumped, startled out of a fitful sleep by a hand insistently shaking her shoulder. Effie stood by the bed, looking apologetic, "Miz Corinna needs you, Miss Avis."
"Oh dear Lord! It's not... she didn't... " Avis stared anxiously at the housekeeper as she threw on a robe. It had been over thirty hours since they'd applied the maggots. She had checked the wound before going to bed and been amazed at the improvement. What was worrying her was the fact that Sarah's fever still raged on. Had they waited too long?
"No'm, it's good news. Miss Sasha's fever done broke. We jes' need help gettin' fresh sheets on de bed," Effie's eyes widened in surprise when Avis gave her a hug before racing out of the room. She followed the young woman at a more sedate pace.
Corinna looked over her shoulder and smiled as Avis flew into the room, "Slow down, young lady, I don't need you hurting yourself as well. Miss Sasha's not going anywhere. Come give me a hand. You too, Effie, if you please."
With the three women working together, it didn't take much time to get Mac into a fresh nightgown and clean sheets on the bed. Almost as soon as they'd gotten her back into bed, Sarah had closed her eyes and gone back to sleep. Avis gave Corinna a worried glance.
"It's all right," Corinna reassured her, "The fever took a lot out of her. She needs to sleep. By morning, she'll probably be awake and ready to eat. Why don't you go back to bed? You haven't had much rest, either. We can all talk in the morning."
Avis nodded slowly and then threw her arms around a startled Corinna, giving her a hug, "Thank you, for everything."
Corinna smiled, returning the hug, "You're quite welcome. Now, go on, I'll see you in the morning." She watched fondly as the young woman left the room. Having Avis as a daughter was becoming more appealing all the time. She turned back to the other woman in the room, "Effie, you go on back to bed, too. I'll stay with Miss Sasha and see you in the morning."
Dulles Airport Washington, DC 1540 Local
Harm shook hands with the crew and picking up his duffle, climbed down the steps of the Lear jet. Frank had pulled him aside just before he left and told him to call immediately if there was anything he needed in his search for Sarah. His mother had told him to remember to call as soon as he found her. Reaching the tarmac, he looked around and then spotted Sturgis leaning against the fender of his car. Quickly he made his way over.
"Sturgis, thanks for coming," Harm shook hands with the Commander, "Anything?"
Sturgis shook his head as he opened the rear door so Harm could throw his bag in the backseat. "Nothing yet, Harm. The Highway Patrol hasn't found anything. No sign of Mac or her car."
"Damn, what could have happened?" Harm dropped into the passenger seat, his frustration evident. He glanced at Sturgis, "Has anyone talked to Webb?"
"The Admiral has a call into him. Apparently, he's not in the country right now," Sturgis looked over at him, "Your place?"
"Yeah, sure... thanks," from the sound of Harm's voice, his mind was obviously elsewhere.
"What are you planning to do?" Sturgis asked cautiously, well aware of Harm's single-mindedness. Not to be callous about it, but with Mac missing, the backlog of work was growing at an alarming rate. Although Chegwidden hadn't said anything, Sturgis would be surprised if the Admiral let Harm off to conduct his own personal search.
Harm looked at him like he was out of his mind, "I'm going to find her, Sturgis. What else would I do?"
Sturgis raised an eyebrow, "Now? You're planning on driving up to the Shenandoah this afternoon? Harm, by the time you get out there, it will be dark. You won't be able to see anything. When are you due to report back in?"
"Monday at 0900. That gives me all of tomorrow to look. If I leave now, I won't waste any daylight hours in travel."
Turner concentrated on his driving for a few minutes, he was pretty sure what he would say next wasn't going to be welcomed by his friend. "Are you sure that's such a good plan? You don't have any idea where to look." His eyes narrowed and he cast a suspicious look at Rabb, "You don't, do you?" As far as he knew, Mac was the pseudo-psychic of the duo. God help them if Harm started doing it too.
Harm scowled in irritation, "For godsakes, Sturgis, you think if I knew, I'd keep it a secret?" He exhaled heavily, "I have to do something. I can't just sit home, I'll go crazy." He paused for a moment, "Are you sure Webb isn't involved somehow?"
"As sure as we can be with the CIA," Sturgis admitted. He'd had his own suspicions. If anyone could make a person vanish so completely, it would be Webb and his cohorts. The problem with that scenario would be why. Granted, Mac had been involved with cases that had had CIA connections, but so had Harm. If there was some sort of threat, wouldn't they have made Rabb disappear as well?
On the other hand, it was quite possible that the CIA might not be part of this. He hadn't forgotten how quickly Mac had vanished on her own when 'Archangel' hit the fan. He was beginning to wonder if this disappearance was more deliberate than accidental. It had been two days, and even though the area was immense, surely someone would have spotted a wrecked car. The million dollar question was: Was the person or persons behind her disappearance, friendly or unfriendly?
Harm grunted thoughtfully, he'd do what he could to pin Webb down. It was just possible that the Agency had been responsible for Mac's disappearance. He knew Clay had a soft spot for Sarah MacKenzie and would do what he could to protect her. But if that was the case, Harm doubted the CIA operative would refuse her request to somehow let him know that she was okay - if for no other reason than that she would happily break the man's nose. What scared him was if someone had gone after Mac and she was now in no condition to contact anyone. That scenario was even more frightening if Webb hadn't been keeping an eye on her. With a sigh, Harm turned and looked out the window. He had to stop dwelling on worst-cases, it was way too early in the game to give up on her.
Sturgis did have a point, however. There was a tremendous amount of ground to cover and he had no real clue where to start. He was running on emotion, certain only of the need to find her. The thought brought a half-smile to his lips recalling a certain Marine's words at a train station in Russia. What he'd give to be able to hear her lecture him on sound mission-planning!
Harm was somewhat startled when Sturgis pulled to a halt in front of his building. He'd lost track of time. Opening the door, he looked over at his friend, "Thanks, I owe you one."
Sturgis shrugged, "Don't mention it." He looked at Harm for a moment and then came to a decision, "Want some company? I've got a packed bag in the trunk." As worried as he'd been over Mac's disappearance, he still realized how impossible the odds were of finding her without any leads to follow. Because of that, he'd sat back and waited for the police reports. It hadn't been easy - on any of Mac's friends. Having to rely on people they didn't know was grating when all the searchers reported was non-information: no sign of Mac, no sign of her car, no idea of what route she might have been on. Now that Harm was willing to gallop off in his Quixote-style quest, Sturgis decided he would happily go along as Sancho. He'd be there to give Harm a shoulder to lean on when they proved unsuccessful tomorrow and also make sure he came back in time to report in. When they eventually found Mac, or she found them, she wouldn't thank him if he hadn't kept Harm from scuttling his career.
"I can't ask you to do that," Harm replied, "Besides, what would Bobbie say? Don't you two usually have plans for the weekend?"
"Mac is Bobbie's friend too, Harm. She's worried, hell, we all are. I don't think she'll object to me helping you search. Who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky."
Harm smiled, "Maybe we will."