As Rabb and Webb pulled up near the restaurant, using baseball caps to hide
their own faces from immediate recognition, they saw two figures rise from
a booth and head for the exit. The shorter of the two stopped to pay the
cashier, and then they both headed out.
Chegwidden and Mac walked directly to the back seats. As Harm began to back out, shots were fired at the vehicle.
"Damn!" the Admiral intoned as he bent down in the back seat, shielding Mac as he did so. "Get us out of here, Rabb!"
"I'm trying sir!" he responded loudly as he threw the car into drive and sped out of the parking lot. Flooring the accelerator threw all of the passengers into the backs of their seats, the shock of the pain shooting through his shoulder preventing Webb from stifling a groan.
"Clay? Are you hurt?" Mac asked as she started to reach up to him.
"Colonel, keep your head down," Chegwidden ordered as bullets continued to make their way through the glass and into the back of the Lexus.
"You know where you're headed, Harm?" Webb asked, breathing heavily as he tried to keep the impending vertigo at bay. The slam he'd sustained tore into his shoulder. He could feel the wet oozing of fresh blood beginning under the layers of bandage.
"I've got it. You alright?" Harm asked, concern evident in his face. Mac did not miss the exchange.
"Is one of you going to tell me what's going on?"
Silence from the front seat as the bullets finally failed to hit any target was about all that Sarah MacKenzie could take.
"Clay?" Harm risked a brief glance at Webb and saw that he wasn't going to be able to answer Mac fast enough. Webb had gone frighteningly pale again.
As Webb worked to get his bearings, Rabb said, "Mac, give him a minute. He took a bullet in the shoulder earlier tonight. I think I might've inflamed it speeding out of there."
"I'm okay," Webb managed. It was clear to Rabb that he was forcing himself to hide any trace of pain from his voice. It didn't fool Rabb, and he doubted it would fool Mac for very long.
"Clay, have you had it treated?" Mac asked, still concerned, but happy to hear Webb's voice sounding somewhat normal.
"It's okay, Sarah." Mac looked in the rearview mirror and saw Rabb's eyes, eyes that confirmed, for now, that Clay's words were true. But she also noticed the deep concern that even dusk turning to night could not hide.
"We're getting close Clay," Rabb reported.
"Close to what, Mr. Rabb?" Chegwidden demanded as he and Mac both checked their weapons. Nobody in the car missed the Admiral's tone: he wanted more information on why they were being shot at and he wanted it immediately.
" 'CP Imports'. Clark Palmer's import warehouse," Webb offered.
"Clark Palmer?" Mac asked, worry in her voice as she caught Rabb's eye again in the mirror.
"The man has more lives than a cat," Chegwidden commented. "You think he's going to follow us there?" The Admiral sounded skeptical at best.
"He will," Webb insisted. "We've got his last shipment and all of the manifests of previous imports of weapons. We have his books, his accountant and his sources. He knows we have him. His only way out is to get us first."
"That's good, Webb. It'd be nice if you'd somehow manage to one day involve my people in a mission that did not risk their lives."
"Sir, getting you and the Colonel involved was not Webb's idea," Rabb started in defense of his CIA partner.
"Don't defend me, Harm. I got you involved." Rabb and Webb's eyes met in the dim light filtering into the car. It was dark and overcast, and the lighting in the warehouse district was hit or miss at best. But at this moment, when these two men's eyes met in friendship, they knew that the healing of a relationship had begun.
"I'd have been pissed if you hadn't called me, Clay." Rabb left off what else he was thinking: that if he had not come he would have had to face the reality of Webb's death, the true reality of it. He was glad that he could have some say in the postponement of another meeting with Porter Webb on that topic.
Rabb parked the car and the foursome exited, Mac opening the door to help Clay out. Webb virtually fell from the seat, Mac using all of her Marine muscle to keep the spy upright.
"Clay, you should be in a hospital," Mac said, her right arm tightly about his waist, her left cupping the fevered cheek.
Clay wished he could let go; he would have liked nothing more than to give in to the pain and sickness and let Sarah MacKenzie nurse him back to health.
"This'll be over soon, Sarah. Let's get inside."
"Colonel, stick with Webb. Stay quiet. You're pretty well hidden here. Rabb and I will draw their attention." 'And their fire', though thought by all, went unsaid.
The Admiral took over the logistics, similar to his commanding presence during Tim Fawkes' rescue in Italy. Though he was still angry with Rabb for calling Mac in, Webb was grateful to have these three JAG officers working by his side.
"We'll talk later," Mac said softly to Clay, the threat clear, the fair warning combined with his current physical disadvantage to make him shiver. The shivering instantly brought out the warm, compassionate Sarah MacKenzie: she reached out her hand to Webb's face, the touch providing the warmth of a dozen wool blankets.
"I'll position myself directly across from the door. Rabb, you take the opposite end from Mac and Webb." Chegwidden noticed Rabb's attention was directed to the affection the colonel was showing the injured operative. "Rabb, unless they manage an assault from the rear, we should be able to handle them."
"Yes sir," Rabb answered, as he watched Mac remove her hand to check her weapon one more time.
The four were in their positions for just a few minutes before the door opened. Two men entered, the door closing behind them. Both Rabb and Webb noted that neither newcomer was Palmer. The pair walked further into the room.
"Drop your weapons," the Admiral directed. Both men immediately flew to the floor, aiming their guns and firing in the direction of Chegwidden's voice.
Rabb fired at the one nearest him, his bullet embedding in the culprit's stomach. The man's gun fell to the floor, a mere split second before his body hit hard up against a ramp, and then his body stilled.
His partner changed direction and began his assault on Rabb's position. The bad guy's back now faced Webb and Mac - any shot on their part risked missing the target and hitting Harm. The decision to shoot was quickly a moot one, as the Admiral's aim proved swift and perfect, one lethal shot to the throat forced the gunman to the hard concrete floor.
The team remained in their positions, sure in the knowledge that at least one more perpetrator would make an appearance.
Occasional quiet breathing punctuated the silence, but that was all that was heard amongst the three JAG lawyers and one CIA man, tense minutes passing as they awaited their quarry.
"Nice job," the voice chimed. "And then there was one." Clark Palmer had announced his presence.
"Palmer, you may as well come out. You can't get away."
"Rabb, good buddy. Glad you could make the party. Is Webb still with us? I guess my pitch was a little high and outside."
"I'm here, Palmer. Give it up." Heavy breaths punctuated each word. Mac was worried, but she knew they had to ride this out before they could get Webb the help he needed.
"Oooh, not sounding too good there, Clay. Looks like I can leave you for last. But I want to commend you before I kill you. I thought I covered all my bases." Palmer offered a wicked laugh, followed by, "Did you see that? Another baseball metaphor. I crack myself up."
"Palmer, we're not letting you out of here, whatever it takes."
"Who's that? Another person to play with. Are you CIA, or do I have another lawyer on my hands?"
Clark Palmer was speaking from somewhere behind the Admiral, toward the front of the warehouse, back behind the office space. That put Chegwidden in the most vulnerable position. And because they were in a warehouse, the sound traveled in such a way that it would be obvious to Palmer if Rabb or the Admiral had moved once either spoke next. With Webb growing weaker and not able to get very far without assistance, Lt. Col. Sarah MacKenzie realized that she would need to perform the reconnaissance to check Palmer's position.
Easing close to Webb's ear, Mac whispered, "I'm going to go find him."
Webb, desperate to stop her, grabbed at her with his right arm, momentarily forgetting his injury, keeping Mac safe blocking out any other matter at hand. A loud, "Ah!" followed by the sounds of a body landing on the floor put all of the occupants of the building on alert.
"Webb?" Rabb called out, fairly sure about what might have transpired on the far end of the cavernous warehouse office. It was unlikely Palmer knew that Mac was with them, though that situation was likely to change swiftly. Webb's attempt to stop her from heading out to track Palmer down had resulted in Webb passing out from the effort. Rabb was impressed that he'd held out as long as he had.
"Sounds like your boy just got called out, Rabb," Palmer joked.
"Doesn't matter, Palmer. We're still going to take you."
"Sure you will, Rabb. Because you've been so good at that before. Why do you suppose that is, Harm? You're an accomplished Navy man, know how to handle yourself."
"I'm not as devious as you." Rabb's best bet, for now, was to keep Palmer talking. They had to hope as well that Palmer was indeed alone.
"I'm hurt. And you use the word as though it was a bad thing. I think there's another reason why you keep letting me 'slip away'," the last phrase delivered as though a euphemism.
"And what do you think that is?" Rabb didn't care, but Mac's chances would be best if he could keep Palmer distracted.
"I think you like it. I think you'd miss the chase. The thrill. I also think you like me. You do like me Rabb, don't you?"
"This isn't about me, Palmer. What's your game? Webb told me he shut your operation down. You've got nothing. Give it up and maybe you'll live."
"Live? I'm not living, you took care of that. No, you've got nothing I want, Rabb. Let me re-phrase: you do have something I want. Your life. So I'm taking that before I go tonight, Rabb. And making sure Webb's dead over there will be like icing on the cake."
"Palmer, even if you get Rabb and Webb, you still have to deal with me."
"No, not really. I'll have gotten the two I wanted. By then I'll be feeling pretty magnanimous, I should think. Chances are I'll let you go."
"You really think you have the upper hand, don't you Palmer?"
"Rabb, this conversation really has grown tiresome."
"I agree."
Sarah MacKenzie now stood behind Clark Palmer, gun leveled directly at his head. "Put your weapon down."
"Look who it is. The beautiful Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie."
"Put the gun down, Palmer. I won't mind shooting you in the back."
"That's not a very nice thing to hear coming from a Marine lawyer." Palmer shifted slightly. "I could be taping this conversation."
"Move again with that gun in your hand and I will shoot you. Put the gun down. Now."
"Okay, okay. Looks like that's the only way I'll get myself an up close look at Rabb's Marine babe. Besides, I like a woman who orders me around. It makes me hard."
Palmer bent down to the side and placed the gun on the floor. As he rose, he turned fast and dove for Mac's legs, slamming her up against a rack of boxes. Mac's own weapon flew, banging hard up against the metal frame of the shelving and discharged.
Palmer's face tightened in confusion and blood showed on his forehead, trickling first and then gushing from the home that the stray bullet had found in his brain. He fell to the floor, a puddle forming instantly about his head.
Rabb and Chegwidden showed up as Mac checked Palmer for other weapons.
"Is he dead?" Rabb asked, pulling Mac to him to assure that she was all in one piece.
"I didn't check. He jumped me. My weapon flew. It discharged when it hit the shelf, and Palmer caught it in the head."
Chegwidden kneeled down to check for a pulse. "He's dead."
"Good." Webb stood behind them, leaning heavily against a stack of crates.
"Clay," Mac said softly, moving to him as she stowed her weapon. Webb was shaking and sweating, and his pallor seemed too close to that of the dead former DSD agent on the floor.
"Sarah!" Webb yelled as he raised his weapon and aimed it in Mac's direction. Mac's eyes went wide as she watched Webb pull the trigger, a mere arm's length in front of her; the deafening blast from Webb's Glock and the sound of a body slamming hard against the wall behind her clear indications that Webb had just saved her life.
The weapon fell from Webb's hand as he tumbled to the floor, his fall cushioned by Sarah MacKenzie's arms.
Chegwidden and Mac walked directly to the back seats. As Harm began to back out, shots were fired at the vehicle.
"Damn!" the Admiral intoned as he bent down in the back seat, shielding Mac as he did so. "Get us out of here, Rabb!"
"I'm trying sir!" he responded loudly as he threw the car into drive and sped out of the parking lot. Flooring the accelerator threw all of the passengers into the backs of their seats, the shock of the pain shooting through his shoulder preventing Webb from stifling a groan.
"Clay? Are you hurt?" Mac asked as she started to reach up to him.
"Colonel, keep your head down," Chegwidden ordered as bullets continued to make their way through the glass and into the back of the Lexus.
"You know where you're headed, Harm?" Webb asked, breathing heavily as he tried to keep the impending vertigo at bay. The slam he'd sustained tore into his shoulder. He could feel the wet oozing of fresh blood beginning under the layers of bandage.
"I've got it. You alright?" Harm asked, concern evident in his face. Mac did not miss the exchange.
"Is one of you going to tell me what's going on?"
Silence from the front seat as the bullets finally failed to hit any target was about all that Sarah MacKenzie could take.
"Clay?" Harm risked a brief glance at Webb and saw that he wasn't going to be able to answer Mac fast enough. Webb had gone frighteningly pale again.
As Webb worked to get his bearings, Rabb said, "Mac, give him a minute. He took a bullet in the shoulder earlier tonight. I think I might've inflamed it speeding out of there."
"I'm okay," Webb managed. It was clear to Rabb that he was forcing himself to hide any trace of pain from his voice. It didn't fool Rabb, and he doubted it would fool Mac for very long.
"Clay, have you had it treated?" Mac asked, still concerned, but happy to hear Webb's voice sounding somewhat normal.
"It's okay, Sarah." Mac looked in the rearview mirror and saw Rabb's eyes, eyes that confirmed, for now, that Clay's words were true. But she also noticed the deep concern that even dusk turning to night could not hide.
"We're getting close Clay," Rabb reported.
"Close to what, Mr. Rabb?" Chegwidden demanded as he and Mac both checked their weapons. Nobody in the car missed the Admiral's tone: he wanted more information on why they were being shot at and he wanted it immediately.
" 'CP Imports'. Clark Palmer's import warehouse," Webb offered.
"Clark Palmer?" Mac asked, worry in her voice as she caught Rabb's eye again in the mirror.
"The man has more lives than a cat," Chegwidden commented. "You think he's going to follow us there?" The Admiral sounded skeptical at best.
"He will," Webb insisted. "We've got his last shipment and all of the manifests of previous imports of weapons. We have his books, his accountant and his sources. He knows we have him. His only way out is to get us first."
"That's good, Webb. It'd be nice if you'd somehow manage to one day involve my people in a mission that did not risk their lives."
"Sir, getting you and the Colonel involved was not Webb's idea," Rabb started in defense of his CIA partner.
"Don't defend me, Harm. I got you involved." Rabb and Webb's eyes met in the dim light filtering into the car. It was dark and overcast, and the lighting in the warehouse district was hit or miss at best. But at this moment, when these two men's eyes met in friendship, they knew that the healing of a relationship had begun.
"I'd have been pissed if you hadn't called me, Clay." Rabb left off what else he was thinking: that if he had not come he would have had to face the reality of Webb's death, the true reality of it. He was glad that he could have some say in the postponement of another meeting with Porter Webb on that topic.
Rabb parked the car and the foursome exited, Mac opening the door to help Clay out. Webb virtually fell from the seat, Mac using all of her Marine muscle to keep the spy upright.
"Clay, you should be in a hospital," Mac said, her right arm tightly about his waist, her left cupping the fevered cheek.
Clay wished he could let go; he would have liked nothing more than to give in to the pain and sickness and let Sarah MacKenzie nurse him back to health.
"This'll be over soon, Sarah. Let's get inside."
"Colonel, stick with Webb. Stay quiet. You're pretty well hidden here. Rabb and I will draw their attention." 'And their fire', though thought by all, went unsaid.
The Admiral took over the logistics, similar to his commanding presence during Tim Fawkes' rescue in Italy. Though he was still angry with Rabb for calling Mac in, Webb was grateful to have these three JAG officers working by his side.
"We'll talk later," Mac said softly to Clay, the threat clear, the fair warning combined with his current physical disadvantage to make him shiver. The shivering instantly brought out the warm, compassionate Sarah MacKenzie: she reached out her hand to Webb's face, the touch providing the warmth of a dozen wool blankets.
"I'll position myself directly across from the door. Rabb, you take the opposite end from Mac and Webb." Chegwidden noticed Rabb's attention was directed to the affection the colonel was showing the injured operative. "Rabb, unless they manage an assault from the rear, we should be able to handle them."
"Yes sir," Rabb answered, as he watched Mac remove her hand to check her weapon one more time.
The four were in their positions for just a few minutes before the door opened. Two men entered, the door closing behind them. Both Rabb and Webb noted that neither newcomer was Palmer. The pair walked further into the room.
"Drop your weapons," the Admiral directed. Both men immediately flew to the floor, aiming their guns and firing in the direction of Chegwidden's voice.
Rabb fired at the one nearest him, his bullet embedding in the culprit's stomach. The man's gun fell to the floor, a mere split second before his body hit hard up against a ramp, and then his body stilled.
His partner changed direction and began his assault on Rabb's position. The bad guy's back now faced Webb and Mac - any shot on their part risked missing the target and hitting Harm. The decision to shoot was quickly a moot one, as the Admiral's aim proved swift and perfect, one lethal shot to the throat forced the gunman to the hard concrete floor.
The team remained in their positions, sure in the knowledge that at least one more perpetrator would make an appearance.
Occasional quiet breathing punctuated the silence, but that was all that was heard amongst the three JAG lawyers and one CIA man, tense minutes passing as they awaited their quarry.
"Nice job," the voice chimed. "And then there was one." Clark Palmer had announced his presence.
"Palmer, you may as well come out. You can't get away."
"Rabb, good buddy. Glad you could make the party. Is Webb still with us? I guess my pitch was a little high and outside."
"I'm here, Palmer. Give it up." Heavy breaths punctuated each word. Mac was worried, but she knew they had to ride this out before they could get Webb the help he needed.
"Oooh, not sounding too good there, Clay. Looks like I can leave you for last. But I want to commend you before I kill you. I thought I covered all my bases." Palmer offered a wicked laugh, followed by, "Did you see that? Another baseball metaphor. I crack myself up."
"Palmer, we're not letting you out of here, whatever it takes."
"Who's that? Another person to play with. Are you CIA, or do I have another lawyer on my hands?"
Clark Palmer was speaking from somewhere behind the Admiral, toward the front of the warehouse, back behind the office space. That put Chegwidden in the most vulnerable position. And because they were in a warehouse, the sound traveled in such a way that it would be obvious to Palmer if Rabb or the Admiral had moved once either spoke next. With Webb growing weaker and not able to get very far without assistance, Lt. Col. Sarah MacKenzie realized that she would need to perform the reconnaissance to check Palmer's position.
Easing close to Webb's ear, Mac whispered, "I'm going to go find him."
Webb, desperate to stop her, grabbed at her with his right arm, momentarily forgetting his injury, keeping Mac safe blocking out any other matter at hand. A loud, "Ah!" followed by the sounds of a body landing on the floor put all of the occupants of the building on alert.
"Webb?" Rabb called out, fairly sure about what might have transpired on the far end of the cavernous warehouse office. It was unlikely Palmer knew that Mac was with them, though that situation was likely to change swiftly. Webb's attempt to stop her from heading out to track Palmer down had resulted in Webb passing out from the effort. Rabb was impressed that he'd held out as long as he had.
"Sounds like your boy just got called out, Rabb," Palmer joked.
"Doesn't matter, Palmer. We're still going to take you."
"Sure you will, Rabb. Because you've been so good at that before. Why do you suppose that is, Harm? You're an accomplished Navy man, know how to handle yourself."
"I'm not as devious as you." Rabb's best bet, for now, was to keep Palmer talking. They had to hope as well that Palmer was indeed alone.
"I'm hurt. And you use the word as though it was a bad thing. I think there's another reason why you keep letting me 'slip away'," the last phrase delivered as though a euphemism.
"And what do you think that is?" Rabb didn't care, but Mac's chances would be best if he could keep Palmer distracted.
"I think you like it. I think you'd miss the chase. The thrill. I also think you like me. You do like me Rabb, don't you?"
"This isn't about me, Palmer. What's your game? Webb told me he shut your operation down. You've got nothing. Give it up and maybe you'll live."
"Live? I'm not living, you took care of that. No, you've got nothing I want, Rabb. Let me re-phrase: you do have something I want. Your life. So I'm taking that before I go tonight, Rabb. And making sure Webb's dead over there will be like icing on the cake."
"Palmer, even if you get Rabb and Webb, you still have to deal with me."
"No, not really. I'll have gotten the two I wanted. By then I'll be feeling pretty magnanimous, I should think. Chances are I'll let you go."
"You really think you have the upper hand, don't you Palmer?"
"Rabb, this conversation really has grown tiresome."
"I agree."
Sarah MacKenzie now stood behind Clark Palmer, gun leveled directly at his head. "Put your weapon down."
"Look who it is. The beautiful Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie."
"Put the gun down, Palmer. I won't mind shooting you in the back."
"That's not a very nice thing to hear coming from a Marine lawyer." Palmer shifted slightly. "I could be taping this conversation."
"Move again with that gun in your hand and I will shoot you. Put the gun down. Now."
"Okay, okay. Looks like that's the only way I'll get myself an up close look at Rabb's Marine babe. Besides, I like a woman who orders me around. It makes me hard."
Palmer bent down to the side and placed the gun on the floor. As he rose, he turned fast and dove for Mac's legs, slamming her up against a rack of boxes. Mac's own weapon flew, banging hard up against the metal frame of the shelving and discharged.
Palmer's face tightened in confusion and blood showed on his forehead, trickling first and then gushing from the home that the stray bullet had found in his brain. He fell to the floor, a puddle forming instantly about his head.
Rabb and Chegwidden showed up as Mac checked Palmer for other weapons.
"Is he dead?" Rabb asked, pulling Mac to him to assure that she was all in one piece.
"I didn't check. He jumped me. My weapon flew. It discharged when it hit the shelf, and Palmer caught it in the head."
Chegwidden kneeled down to check for a pulse. "He's dead."
"Good." Webb stood behind them, leaning heavily against a stack of crates.
"Clay," Mac said softly, moving to him as she stowed her weapon. Webb was shaking and sweating, and his pallor seemed too close to that of the dead former DSD agent on the floor.
"Sarah!" Webb yelled as he raised his weapon and aimed it in Mac's direction. Mac's eyes went wide as she watched Webb pull the trigger, a mere arm's length in front of her; the deafening blast from Webb's Glock and the sound of a body slamming hard against the wall behind her clear indications that Webb had just saved her life.
The weapon fell from Webb's hand as he tumbled to the floor, his fall cushioned by Sarah MacKenzie's arms.