Title: Flying High
Author: Pixie
Email: Pixie4@charter.net
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AN: As usual, thanks to Melissa and Aerogirl for your help with this. Also, special thanks to Soleil for her technical advice on the court scenes. They were the most difficult parts of the story to write, and Soleil's advice and encouragement went a long way toward helping me feel comfortable with the end result.
**** Part 6 ****
1800 Zulu (1300 Local)
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
Mac approached the witness stand where Agent Gibbs sat waiting. Somehow the man looked relaxed and yet absolutely alert at the same time, making her think of a wary panther.
"Please state your full name and position."
"Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Naval Criminal Investigative Service."
"You led the team that investigated Lieutenant Steven Mercer?"
"Yes, I did."
"Please tell the court how you proceeded."
"On January 15, we received a tip that the lieutenant was engaged in drug trafficking. Based on that information, we initiated two separate undercover operations during which Special Agent Caitlin Todd purchased Ecstasy from the suspect. We also monitored two of the lieutenant's flights, one to Vancouver, British Columbia, during the first week of February, and a second one to Copenhagen, Denmark at the end of February. Based on the results of our investigation, we obtained search and arrest warrants which we executed when Lieutenant Mercer returned from Copenhagen on the evening of March first."
"Thank you, Agent Gibbs. No further questions."
Mac submitted several documents into evidence and then sat down.
Harm approached the witness stand, struck by the change of circumstance. Once, he had been the witness, Gibbs the interrogator. Now the tables were turned.
"Just one question, Agent Gibbs. Who arranged the search warrants?"
Gibbs raised a curious eyebrow but answered the question.
"Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo."
"Thank you." Harm looked at the judge. "No further questions."
"Agent Gibbs, you may step down."
Mac called Caitlin Todd to the stand, and after dispensing with the preliminaries, began to flesh out the testimony she'd elicited from Gibbs.
"Your first meeting with Lieutenant Mercer was on..." She checked a note, even though Harm was fairly certain she had every detail of the case memorized. "January 22?"
"Yes, Ma'am. In Tukwila, Washington."
"Please tell the court what happened."
"I met the defendant at 23:30 hours at Stanford's Restaurant and bar. I wore a wire and a recording device. During our meeting, I purchased one ounce of Ecstasy from the defendant for one thousand, five hundred dollars."
"Is this the Ecstasy you purchased that night?"
Mac held up an evidence bag with a small bottle inside. Kate took it from her, examined it briefly, and handed it back.
"That looks like it, yes."
Mac entered the vial into evidence and then played the recording of the drug buy.
"Was there another occasion on which you interacted with the defendant?"
"Yes. On February twelfth."
"Tell the court what happened."
"It was another buy. This time we'd agreed on a pound, and I was to handle the further distribution."
"How much did Lieutenant Mercer charge you for the drugs?"
"Twenty one thousand, five hundred dollars."
"Cash?"
No. He gave me the routing number for his bank and insisted on a wire transfer."
"Is this a copy of the wire transfer, Agent Todd?" Mac showed her a document.
The agent nodded, then spoke. "Yes. It is."
"Tell me, Agent Todd. Why didn't you arrest the lieutenant after the first buy?"
"We suspected he was trafficking in large amounts of the drug. We wanted to test that suspicion. Also, until the second buy, we were unable to determine where Lieutenant Mercer was putting the money he made on his deals."
"And where did that turn out to be, Agent Todd?"
"An offshore account. In the Cayman Islands."
"Thank you, Agent Todd. No further questions."
The judge looked inquiringly at Harm, who stood up.
"I have no questions for this witness, Your Honor."
Mac saw Lieutenant Mercer lean over and whisper something to Harm, who shook his head, and whispered a short reply. The lieutenant sat back in his seat, a sullen expression on his face.
Mac called the forensics specialist next, and was somewhat relieved to note that Abby had attempted to dress professionally, even though Mac hadn't specifically brought it up. She had Abby state her name and position for the record, and began her questions.
"Miss Sciuto, what is Ecstasy?"
"Methylenedioxy-N-methamphetamine or MDMA is a synthetic chemical that's derived from an essential oil of the sassafras tree. Mostly comes in tablet form. Y'know, like you've seen on the news. They come with little logos - cartoon characters, happy faces, stuff like that printed on them. That's why kids like them so much."
Harm stood.
"Objection, Your Honor, speculation. The witness can't possibly know for sure why 'kids like them so much.'"
"Sustained. The witness will refrain from interjecting personal opinions into her testimony."
"Yes, Your Honor." Abby looked mildly embarrassed, but focused her attention back on Mac for the next question.
"How does it enter the system?"
"You mean how do they take it?"
"Yes."
"Pop and trip."
"Pop and trip?" Mac looked puzzled, and Abby hurried to explain.
"It's a pill. You swallow it. Pop it. Then you get high. Tripping."
"I see. And how does it affect the user?"
"Free love, totally. You're at one with humanity. Peace, love, and joy, man. You feel warm and happy and linked to the hive mind. Like the Borg, only with smiles."
There were chuckles in the courtroom, and Mac waited for them to subside before she went on.
"Who uses it?"
"Teens at parties, raves, clubs. Sometimes shrinks with really whacked out patients."
Harm was on his feet again.
"Your Honor... Whacked out?"
The judge turned to Abby again.
"Miss Sciuto, please try to keep your responses a little less...casual."
"Yes, Sir."
Mac went on.
"Please explain for the members what a rave is."
"A rave is a loud, crowded party, usually geared towards teens and young adults, for music and dancing and meeting up. Kinda like an old fashioned barn dance on crack. Or Ecstasy, as the case may be."
"I object, Your Honor," Harm again, beginning to sound exasperated. "Raves, and the types of drugs that may or may not be used there, are beyond the scope of Miss Sciuto's expertise."
Mac suppressed a grin. Abby was definitely keeping Harm busy. Judge Sebring sighed.
"Miss Sciuto. I caution you again. Please maintain a proper level of decorum in my courtroom or I will have you removed."
"I'm trying, Your Honor." She fidgeted nervously in her chair and Mac decided to shorten her list of questions before her witness jumped out of her own skin.
"Is Ecstasy addictive?"
"Kinda."
"Would you clarify your response, please?"
"It's not physically addictive, no. Not like crack or heroin. It's more that the user gets addicted to the feelings induced by the drug. It feels good, so they keep doing it because they want to, not because they have to."
"Just one more question. Did any members of Lieutenant Mercer's flight crew test positive for MDMA?"
"Yeah. They were flying the friendly skies that night."
"Objection!" Mac had to give him credit. He was fast.
"Objection sustained." The judge sighed with exaggerated patience. "The members will disregard Miss Sciuto's last remark."
Mac tried again.
"In addition to Lieutenant Mercer, which members of the flight crew tested positive for Ecstasy?"
"Petty Officer First Class Randy Long, and Ensign Michael Fremont."
"Thank you, Miss Sciuto."
Mac returned to her seat and waited for Harm's cross examination. He took his time flipping through papers and checking his notes, ostensibly to make sure he didn't forget anything, but Mac knew that he was trying to give the nervous witness some time to settle down.
"Miss Sciuto, does Ecstasy have any negative side effects?"
" If it's impure, sure. Puking, tweaking, overheating, dizziness, that kind of thing."
"And by tweaking you mean..."
"Twitching."
Abby squirmed in her seat, and Mac had to resist a grin. She'd never had an expert witness like Abby before, and she was finding the experience highly entertaining. Harm was less amused, and when he asked his next question, his voice had a stern note to it that would have cowed a more observant person, but which Abby apparently missed altogether.
"Can an Ecstasy trip cause death?"
"It can, sure, but most of the cases of death from Ecstasy use come from impure hits. Ecstasy pills can be packed with caffeine, ephedrine, amphetamines, and a load of other garbage in addition to or instead of MDMA."
"Did you perform a chemical analysis on the ounce of Ecstasy that Special Agent Todd allegedly purchased from Lieutenant Mercer?"
"Of course."
"What were your findings?"
"Almost 100% pure."
"And the Ecstasy found on the Orion?"
"Also pure."
"Is it safe to say, then, that if a teenager was going to buy Ecstasy, he'd be better off purchasing that Ecstasy than something off the street?"
"Safer, anyway. And they'd get the trip of their lives."
"And the flight crew - Petty Officer Long and Ensign Fremont - did taking a single Ecstasy pill from Lieutenant Mercer endanger their lives?"
"Doubtful. I imagine it made the flight home a lot more pleasant, though."
"Thank you, Miss. Sciuto." Harm turned to the judge. "I have no further questions for this witness."
Judge Sebring turned toward a very relieved Abby, who was already stepping out of the witness box.
"You are dismissed." The note of relief in his voice had Mac holding back another grin.
Mac called the enthusiastic master chief next, fully intending to regale the members with a lengthy and detailed appraisal of the P-3C's attributes. Unfortunately, Harm knew exactly what she was up to and stood before she could get in the first question.
"Your Honor, in the interest of brevity the defense will stipulate to the configuration of the aircraft."
"So noted." Judge Sebring looked at Mac. "Do you have any other questions for this witness?"
"Just one, Your Honor." Mac turned back to her witness. "Master Chief, how much does a P-3C Orion cost?"
"Well, Ma'am, Lockheed doesn't make them anymore, so it'd be hard to say."
"Best guess."
"The last one came off the assembly line in 1990, and it cost thirty-six million then. I imagine it'd be several million more today."
Mac whistled, long and low.
"So Mercer risked the safety of a twelve man crew and a forty million dollar aircraft for an Ecstasy high."
"Objection! Defense is testifying." Harm was on his feet, looking appropriately outraged, but before the judge could say anything, Mac spoke up.
"I apologize, Your Honor." She turned back to the master chief. "Thank you for your time."
"No further questions," she said, and returned to her seat, intercepting a slight nod of competitive acknowledgement from Harm on the way.
And so another witness was released. By this time, it was late afternoon, and the judge looked at Mac.
"Colonel. You have one more witness on your list. Do you think we can finish the prosecution this afternoon?"
"Yes, Your Honor. I only have a few questions for this witness."
"Let's do it, then."
"The prosecution calls Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo."
Mac saw Harm sit forward a little in his chair, and wondered what he was up to as she started her questioning.
"Agent Dinozzo, you tracked Mercer's movements from the time NCIS received the tip until his arrest, is that correct?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"During that two month time period, how often did he leave the country?"
"Twice. On February second, he made an overnight trip to Vancouver as part of a training mission. The second flight, to Copenhagen, departed on February twenty-third and returned on the evening of March first."
"In addition to tracking his flights, did you also track his movements on land?"
"Yes. We obtained authorization to install a hidden GPS in his car. During the month of February, we observed three trips to the Seattle area and two more to Tukwila."
"Do you know what he did on those trips?"
"With the exception of the trips to Tukwila to meet with Agent Todd, I can't be sure."
"But you could guess?"
"Yes, Ma'am. If I had to guess, I'd say they were all drug deals."
"Objection," said Harm, not even bothering to get up. "Lack of evidence. You can't convict a man based on guesses and suppositions."
"Withdrawn," said Mac. "That's all I have for this witness."
Harm stood and selected two documents from a folder on the table in front of him. He approached the witness stand and handed one of them to Dinozzo.
"Do you recognize this?"
The agent scanned the document before answering.
"It's the search warrant for the Orion aircraft that Lieutenant Mercer flew to Copenhagen."
"What is the tail number listed on the warrant?"
"160258."
"Thank you."
Harm took the search warrant from Tony and handed him a photograph.
"This is a crime scene photo taken the night Lieutenant Mercer was arrested. Please tell the court the tail number of the pictured aircraft."
Clearly puzzled, Dinozzo glanced at the photograph he held in his hand...and paled.
"Agent Dinozzo?" Harm prompted.
"It's 160285."
Harm turned to the judge.
"Your Honor, it's obvious that somebody made a mistake, but I wouldn't venture to guess who. The fact of the matter is that the aircraft identified in the search warrant is not the aircraft that was searched. I move that all evidence obtained from aircraft number 160285 be ruled inadmissible."
Harm handed the photograph and the search warrant to the judge, who looked both over carefully before calling a sidebar.
"Colonel?" The judge spoke softly, one hand covering the microphone.
"Your Honor, this was obviously just a typographical error. In both cases, the squadron is clearly identified as VP-46." Mac, angry at the mistake, fought to keep her voice low.
"Mac, typo or not, the search warrant is wrong. That invalidates both the warrant and the search."
The judge sighed.
"Much as I hate to admit it, Colonel, the commander has a point. If I let this pass, it's grounds for a reversal. I'm afraid I have to disallow the search."
Mac glared at Harm before returning to her seat.
"Commander? Do you have any further questions for this witness?"
"No, Your Honor."
The judge turned to Dinozzo, who looked for all the world as though he wished he could disappear.
"Court is adjourned until 1000 hours tomorrow morning."
Judge Sebring left the room, and Mac began shoving papers into her case, her mind churning with the choice words she was preparing to unleash on the NCIS team.
"Agent Gibbs."
She spoke without looking up from what she was doing, somehow absolutely certain that the agent was about to walk out the door. Her voice, cold as liquid nitrogen, effectively stopped his forward motion, and he turned back to her.
"Yes?"
"I'd like to see you and Agent Dinozzo in the conference room in five minutes."
"Yes, Ma'am."
She glanced around suspiciously at the note of sarcasm that laced Gibbs' tone, but he'd already left, and she went back to gathering her things as Harm stopped beside her.
"Are you ok?" he asked.
"You mean aside from the fact that I'm about to unleash the hounds of Hell?"
He grinned. "Yeah."
"I'm fine." Her return smile didn't quite reach her eyes, but he let it pass, wondering absently if Gibbs and company knew what was about to hit them. He suspected not.
"Good. When you're done annihilating NCIS, do you want to come to a volleyball game with me? Mattie's playing. I'll even spring for a pizza afterwards."
"Sure. That sounds like fun. I'll find you after I've finished this meeting."
"See you then." He took advantage of the empty courtroom to squeeze her shoulder lightly before picking up his case and making his way back to his office.
2212 Zulu (1712 Local)
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
Mac heard raised voices as she approached the conference room, but when she opened the door, she was greeted by stony faces and dead silence. She held her peace while she set her case on the table, her gaze settling first on one face, and then the other. Years of training and experience made her decide to remain standing, giving her a slight height advantage over the seated men. She allowed the silence to stretch, fully aware that Gibbs was a master at the game of cat and mouse, and determined to maintain the upper hand. When she finally did speak, her voice was low, each word knife edged and clearly enunciated.
"I would like an explanation."
Gibbs made a mistake then, one he never would have made had he known her better. He dared to condescend to her, to talk to her as though she were an overtired three year old. And to say that Mac was unimpressed would be like saying that it gets cold at the North Pole.
"Calm down, Colonel."
"I'll calm down when I'm satisfied that you and yours..." She paused and turned her glare on Dinozzo for a heartbeat before looking back at Gibbs, "have acquired a proper degree of respect for this office."
"Excuse me? How does a typographical error equate to disrespect?"
"That slip of the fingers was symptomatic of bigger issues. You know it, and I know it."
"How do you figure?" Gibbs, angry now, leaned forward in his chair.
"You delight in twisting the regs to suit your needs, don't you." The question was a rhetorical one, and she didn't wait for him to answer. "You barreled through here like a hurricane last year, dead certain you knew everything there was to know about Lieutenant Singer's death."
"The two cases have nothing to do with each other."
"Oh really..." Mac's voice dripped sarcasm. "As I recall, your determination to pin the crime on Commander Rabb was nearly successful."
Gibbs was on his feet, his face inches from hers, but Mac didn't back down. It wasn't in her nature to back down from a fight, and the stakes were high on this one.
"As you will recall, my team proved his innocence."
"Not until after your sloppy investigative techniques landed him in the brig!"
Dinozzo shifted nervously in his chair, but neither combatant spared him a glance.
"Your attitude when we met at Norfolk last week was just shy of rude. You were condescending, and disdainful, and about as forthcoming as a brick. I don't consider that to be conducive to a good working relationship." She glared at him, undaunted by his growing anger. "You followed that up by behaving as though JAG officers aren't to be trusted with custody of trial evidence."
She took a deep breath, consciously bringing her anger under control. When she spoke again, her words were slow, measured, and razor sharp. "I don't know what your problem is, Agent Gibbs, but you'd better knock that chip off your shoulder when you work with this office or you will live to regret it."
A heavy silence took up residence in the room then, its presence almost a living breathing thing. Mac knew Gibbs was playing mind games, trying to unnerve her into speaking, but the tactic had no impact on her except to make her even angrier. She decided to call him on it, waiting in frigid silence until he finally spoke.
"I resent your implication."
"And I resent your high handed, holier than thou attitude."
Gibbs sighed and sat down.
"Look. I'll agree that we were a bit...overzealous in our pursuit of Commander Rabb last year. Hell, I'll even agree that Agent Dinozzo should have been more careful when he prepared the search warrant for Mercer's plane." He spared a glare for the younger man, who attempted to disappear into the joints of his chair.
Mac allowed herself to relax, but only slightly. "And I will agree that if it hadn't been for you and Agent Dinozzo, the commander would probably be in Leavenworth right now." She picked up her case and moved to leave the room, then turned at the door for a parting shot. "But in the future, I expect you to pay more attention to the details."
She didn't wait for his response, but turned on her heel and left the room, not sparing a glance for the two men who still stared at her from their seats at the table.
0115 Zulu (2015 Local)
2812 M Street, Apartment 4
Washington, D.C.
Mac slowly lifted a piece of pizza out of the box, pulling ever so gently straight up. Harm and Mattie watched in tense silence. So far, Mattie held the record for pulling a slice the furthest away without breaking the string of melted Mozzarella. Could Mac do better? Only time would tell. Inch by careful inch, she lifted the slice higher while Harm kept up with the tape measure. She grinned suddenly, fully aware that this was probably the silliest contest she'd ever participated in.
She neared Mattie's seven and a half inch record, and was just about to edge past it, when a sneak attack in her rib cage made her jerk her arm down to her side, abruptly snapping the string, and nearly causing the pizza slice to end up on the floor. Mattie broke into delighted giggles at Mac's halfhearted glare.
"You cheated!" Mac accused.
Mattie shrugged unapologetically. "War's hell, Mac."
"Mattie, watch your language." Harm's rebuke was half-hearted, its power significantly lessened by his wide grin.
"Is she always this sassy when she wins a game?" Mac asked him, fighting a grin of her own.
"Forget when she wins a game. She's always this sassy...period."
"Hey!" Mattie's indignation lacked sincerity, but Harm was unrepentant.
"My turn," he said, "I'll bet I can double the record."
"You're pretty confident for somebody who barely made three inches on the first round," Mac remarked.
"That was just a practice run. This one's for real."
He eyed the remaining slices of pizza, and Mac suspected that if he could have, he'd have weighed each piece to the microgram. As it was, she and Mattie were both getting impatient by the time he finally made his selection. He'd barely lifted it out of the box when the pale yellow strands separated, and he slumped back into his chair, the undisputed loser.
"Needs a woman's touch to do it right, I guess," suggested Mattie, her tone falsely sympathetic.
"Men are just too heavy-handed for their own good," agreed Mac.
"Remind me sometime to show you just how light-handed I can be, Mac." Harm's voice slid across the table and up her spine, raising goose bumps in its wake.
"Anybody need more soda?" Mattie stood suddenly and grabbed her glass, her movements jerky.
"No, thanks." Harm and Mac answered simultaneously, but Mattie was already gone. Obviously, the teenager hadn't liked their interchange and wanted to make sure they knew it.
While Mattie banged about the kitchen, making her irritation known to the entire building, Harm and Mac held one of those silent conversations that lovers are so good at. They'd talked about her on the way to the game and decided it was time to let her know about the change in their relationship. Now seemed like as good a time as any to get that over with. Mattie finally sat back down at the table and reached for a piece of the rapidly cooling pizza.
"Mattie," Harm said, a nervous tone to his voice that Mac found somehow endearing. "We need to talk."
"About?" The girl wasn't going to make this easy on them, and Mac felt a twinge of annoyance.
"About Mac and I."
Mattie looked from one to the other of them and took a bite of pizza. They waited patiently while she chewed and swallowed. They were lawyers. They could outwait the most obstinate of witnesses.
"What about you?" Stubborn inflexibility. The definition of teenager.
"Things have...changed between us."
"Changed how?" Denial. The second definition of teenager.
Mac wanted to speak up, but she knew it wasn't her place. Harm had to handle this one on his own. All she could offer was silent support.
"Changed as in we've decided we want more than friendship." Harm's voice was firm now, the trace of nervousness gone.
Mattie stopped chewing and looked from one to the other of them. Harm took Mac's hand, and Mattie watched the movement, then dropped her slice of pizza and stood.
"I guess it's time for me to go back to my dad, then, huh?"
"Why would you say that?"
"Harm, you barely have time for me as it is. Now you'll be wanting to spend what little of it there is with her." She indicated Mac with a dismissive wave of the hand.
"I thought you liked Mac."
"I do. I just like her better as your friend."
Mac felt it necessary to speak up, tired of being talked about in the third person.
"Hey, folks. Remember me? I'm right here. You can talk to me rather than about me."
"Fine," said Mattie, turning to her angrily. "From what I've heard, you two worked together for years without anything ever happening between you. Why now? You had your chance and didn't do anything about it. Now it's supposed to be my turn."
Harm spoke again, his voice angry.
"Mattie, your tone of voice is inappropriate and disrespectful. Mac and I are adults, and our relationship is our business. Now, I think you owe Mac an apology."
Mac could have told him if he'd asked that it was probably just about the worst thing you could say to an adolescent. She knew Mattie was at that point in her life when she would insist upon a certain amount of control in their dealings with other people - adults or otherwise. Pointing out her lack of power in an area of her life that was close to her heart was tantamount to committing heresy.
Mattie glared from one adult to the other, then stormed to the door.
"I can't believe this is happening. Just when I thought my life was settling down, you turn it on end again. It's not fair!"
"Mattie..."
The door slammed behind her before he could finish the thought, and he turned to Mac, a helpless expression on his face.
"What just happened?" he asked her.
"An angry teenager just happened."
"Wow."
"Yeah. Not a pretty sight."
"Or sound either. I think the windows are still rattling." He sighed. "I'll have to go talk to her later, but I'd better get this mess cleaned up first." He gestured to the remains of their dinner. "Give me a hand?"
"You bet."
The worked companionably for a while, putting the leftovers away and rinsing the few dishes before loading them into the dishwasher.
"You know," Mac said, as she closed the door and latched it, "Out of three at bats, we've already struck out twice. Not good odds."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the admiral seems ok with the idea of an 'us,' but Mattie and Clay sure aren't too impressed."
"Speaking of Webb, have you heard from him?"
"Not since he stormed out of here that day." She hung up the towel to dry and turned to look at Harm, allowing the worry that had been building all week to show on her face. "I've tried to call him several times since we've been back. He doesn't answer the phone. His answering machine doesn't even pick up."
"Did you call his mother? She always seems to know where he is."
"Tried it. No answer."
"That's odd. She's got servants. You'd think somebody would be there." He pulled her into a hug. "I'm sure he's fine, Mac. The guy's made of rubber. He always bounces back."
Mac pushed out of his arms.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Come on, Mac. You know what I mean. We've known Webb for years. Nothing gets him down for long."
"You didn't see him in Paraguay, Harm. I did."
"Yes I did. I saw him kissing you."
Mac sighed in exasperation. "Can't you let that go?"
He sighed. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."
"You're right. It was."
It was Harm's turn to get angry.
"Mac, he had no business dragging you down there. I'm sure the CIA has plenty of highly trained agents who could have handled the job just fine, but Webb had to have you. Why do you suppose that is?"
"I don't know. Maybe because he thought I was the best person for the job?"
"I don't think so."
"Tell me then, Harm. Why do you think he did it?"
"You honestly don't know?" He leaned against the counter, folding his arms across his chest in a manner that Mac, even angry, found distracting.
"No."
"Do you remember the party at the Sudanese Embassy all those years ago?"
"The one that started out as an intelligence mission and turned into a hostage situation? That party?"
"Yeah. As I recall, it was another one of Webb's brilliant ideas."
Mac sighed. "Enough with the sarcasm already. What about the party?"
"Didn't it strike you as odd that Webb knew your measurements?"
"He's CIA, Harm. It stuck me as odd for all of five seconds."
"I'm telling you, Mac, the man's had a thing for you for a long time."
"You're implying that he requested me for the Paraguay mission because he 'had a thing for me'?"
"Maybe not consciously, but yeah. I think it was at the back of his mind."
"That's sick, Harm."
"Maybe, but I think it's true."
"Even if that were the case, what does it have to do with the fact that I can't find him now?"
"He's licking his wounds, Mac. He'll come back when he's ready."
"You know what? I think it's time for me to go."
She picked up her purse and jacket.
"Wait. Don't leave mad. We've both done that too many times."
"I'm not mad. I just need some time to think."
"I'll walk you out."
"Harm. I'm a Marine." Exasperation laced her voice. She hated it when men felt like they had to protect her.
"I know. Humor me."
She gave in, too tired and frustrated at this point to fight him on it.
"Let's go then."
A few minutes later, they stood by her car in the dark parking lot. He kissed her gently.
"Goodnight, Mac. I'll see you in the morning. Call if you need anything."
"You know I will. Goodnight."
She squeezed his shoulder before climbing into the car and closing the door. When she glanced in her rearview mirror just before turning the corner, he was still standing where she'd left him, his body a lonely outline in the deserted lot.
**** End Part 6 ****
Author: Pixie
Email: Pixie4@charter.net
Disclaimers, Rating...yadda yadda...You know where to look, I'm sure.
Feedback: Like my story? Feel free to tell the world. Not so sure? Feel free email me.
AN: As usual, thanks to Melissa and Aerogirl for your help with this. Also, special thanks to Soleil for her technical advice on the court scenes. They were the most difficult parts of the story to write, and Soleil's advice and encouragement went a long way toward helping me feel comfortable with the end result.
**** Part 6 ****
1800 Zulu (1300 Local)
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
Mac approached the witness stand where Agent Gibbs sat waiting. Somehow the man looked relaxed and yet absolutely alert at the same time, making her think of a wary panther.
"Please state your full name and position."
"Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Naval Criminal Investigative Service."
"You led the team that investigated Lieutenant Steven Mercer?"
"Yes, I did."
"Please tell the court how you proceeded."
"On January 15, we received a tip that the lieutenant was engaged in drug trafficking. Based on that information, we initiated two separate undercover operations during which Special Agent Caitlin Todd purchased Ecstasy from the suspect. We also monitored two of the lieutenant's flights, one to Vancouver, British Columbia, during the first week of February, and a second one to Copenhagen, Denmark at the end of February. Based on the results of our investigation, we obtained search and arrest warrants which we executed when Lieutenant Mercer returned from Copenhagen on the evening of March first."
"Thank you, Agent Gibbs. No further questions."
Mac submitted several documents into evidence and then sat down.
Harm approached the witness stand, struck by the change of circumstance. Once, he had been the witness, Gibbs the interrogator. Now the tables were turned.
"Just one question, Agent Gibbs. Who arranged the search warrants?"
Gibbs raised a curious eyebrow but answered the question.
"Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo."
"Thank you." Harm looked at the judge. "No further questions."
"Agent Gibbs, you may step down."
Mac called Caitlin Todd to the stand, and after dispensing with the preliminaries, began to flesh out the testimony she'd elicited from Gibbs.
"Your first meeting with Lieutenant Mercer was on..." She checked a note, even though Harm was fairly certain she had every detail of the case memorized. "January 22?"
"Yes, Ma'am. In Tukwila, Washington."
"Please tell the court what happened."
"I met the defendant at 23:30 hours at Stanford's Restaurant and bar. I wore a wire and a recording device. During our meeting, I purchased one ounce of Ecstasy from the defendant for one thousand, five hundred dollars."
"Is this the Ecstasy you purchased that night?"
Mac held up an evidence bag with a small bottle inside. Kate took it from her, examined it briefly, and handed it back.
"That looks like it, yes."
Mac entered the vial into evidence and then played the recording of the drug buy.
"Was there another occasion on which you interacted with the defendant?"
"Yes. On February twelfth."
"Tell the court what happened."
"It was another buy. This time we'd agreed on a pound, and I was to handle the further distribution."
"How much did Lieutenant Mercer charge you for the drugs?"
"Twenty one thousand, five hundred dollars."
"Cash?"
No. He gave me the routing number for his bank and insisted on a wire transfer."
"Is this a copy of the wire transfer, Agent Todd?" Mac showed her a document.
The agent nodded, then spoke. "Yes. It is."
"Tell me, Agent Todd. Why didn't you arrest the lieutenant after the first buy?"
"We suspected he was trafficking in large amounts of the drug. We wanted to test that suspicion. Also, until the second buy, we were unable to determine where Lieutenant Mercer was putting the money he made on his deals."
"And where did that turn out to be, Agent Todd?"
"An offshore account. In the Cayman Islands."
"Thank you, Agent Todd. No further questions."
The judge looked inquiringly at Harm, who stood up.
"I have no questions for this witness, Your Honor."
Mac saw Lieutenant Mercer lean over and whisper something to Harm, who shook his head, and whispered a short reply. The lieutenant sat back in his seat, a sullen expression on his face.
Mac called the forensics specialist next, and was somewhat relieved to note that Abby had attempted to dress professionally, even though Mac hadn't specifically brought it up. She had Abby state her name and position for the record, and began her questions.
"Miss Sciuto, what is Ecstasy?"
"Methylenedioxy-N-methamphetamine or MDMA is a synthetic chemical that's derived from an essential oil of the sassafras tree. Mostly comes in tablet form. Y'know, like you've seen on the news. They come with little logos - cartoon characters, happy faces, stuff like that printed on them. That's why kids like them so much."
Harm stood.
"Objection, Your Honor, speculation. The witness can't possibly know for sure why 'kids like them so much.'"
"Sustained. The witness will refrain from interjecting personal opinions into her testimony."
"Yes, Your Honor." Abby looked mildly embarrassed, but focused her attention back on Mac for the next question.
"How does it enter the system?"
"You mean how do they take it?"
"Yes."
"Pop and trip."
"Pop and trip?" Mac looked puzzled, and Abby hurried to explain.
"It's a pill. You swallow it. Pop it. Then you get high. Tripping."
"I see. And how does it affect the user?"
"Free love, totally. You're at one with humanity. Peace, love, and joy, man. You feel warm and happy and linked to the hive mind. Like the Borg, only with smiles."
There were chuckles in the courtroom, and Mac waited for them to subside before she went on.
"Who uses it?"
"Teens at parties, raves, clubs. Sometimes shrinks with really whacked out patients."
Harm was on his feet again.
"Your Honor... Whacked out?"
The judge turned to Abby again.
"Miss Sciuto, please try to keep your responses a little less...casual."
"Yes, Sir."
Mac went on.
"Please explain for the members what a rave is."
"A rave is a loud, crowded party, usually geared towards teens and young adults, for music and dancing and meeting up. Kinda like an old fashioned barn dance on crack. Or Ecstasy, as the case may be."
"I object, Your Honor," Harm again, beginning to sound exasperated. "Raves, and the types of drugs that may or may not be used there, are beyond the scope of Miss Sciuto's expertise."
Mac suppressed a grin. Abby was definitely keeping Harm busy. Judge Sebring sighed.
"Miss Sciuto. I caution you again. Please maintain a proper level of decorum in my courtroom or I will have you removed."
"I'm trying, Your Honor." She fidgeted nervously in her chair and Mac decided to shorten her list of questions before her witness jumped out of her own skin.
"Is Ecstasy addictive?"
"Kinda."
"Would you clarify your response, please?"
"It's not physically addictive, no. Not like crack or heroin. It's more that the user gets addicted to the feelings induced by the drug. It feels good, so they keep doing it because they want to, not because they have to."
"Just one more question. Did any members of Lieutenant Mercer's flight crew test positive for MDMA?"
"Yeah. They were flying the friendly skies that night."
"Objection!" Mac had to give him credit. He was fast.
"Objection sustained." The judge sighed with exaggerated patience. "The members will disregard Miss Sciuto's last remark."
Mac tried again.
"In addition to Lieutenant Mercer, which members of the flight crew tested positive for Ecstasy?"
"Petty Officer First Class Randy Long, and Ensign Michael Fremont."
"Thank you, Miss Sciuto."
Mac returned to her seat and waited for Harm's cross examination. He took his time flipping through papers and checking his notes, ostensibly to make sure he didn't forget anything, but Mac knew that he was trying to give the nervous witness some time to settle down.
"Miss Sciuto, does Ecstasy have any negative side effects?"
" If it's impure, sure. Puking, tweaking, overheating, dizziness, that kind of thing."
"And by tweaking you mean..."
"Twitching."
Abby squirmed in her seat, and Mac had to resist a grin. She'd never had an expert witness like Abby before, and she was finding the experience highly entertaining. Harm was less amused, and when he asked his next question, his voice had a stern note to it that would have cowed a more observant person, but which Abby apparently missed altogether.
"Can an Ecstasy trip cause death?"
"It can, sure, but most of the cases of death from Ecstasy use come from impure hits. Ecstasy pills can be packed with caffeine, ephedrine, amphetamines, and a load of other garbage in addition to or instead of MDMA."
"Did you perform a chemical analysis on the ounce of Ecstasy that Special Agent Todd allegedly purchased from Lieutenant Mercer?"
"Of course."
"What were your findings?"
"Almost 100% pure."
"And the Ecstasy found on the Orion?"
"Also pure."
"Is it safe to say, then, that if a teenager was going to buy Ecstasy, he'd be better off purchasing that Ecstasy than something off the street?"
"Safer, anyway. And they'd get the trip of their lives."
"And the flight crew - Petty Officer Long and Ensign Fremont - did taking a single Ecstasy pill from Lieutenant Mercer endanger their lives?"
"Doubtful. I imagine it made the flight home a lot more pleasant, though."
"Thank you, Miss. Sciuto." Harm turned to the judge. "I have no further questions for this witness."
Judge Sebring turned toward a very relieved Abby, who was already stepping out of the witness box.
"You are dismissed." The note of relief in his voice had Mac holding back another grin.
Mac called the enthusiastic master chief next, fully intending to regale the members with a lengthy and detailed appraisal of the P-3C's attributes. Unfortunately, Harm knew exactly what she was up to and stood before she could get in the first question.
"Your Honor, in the interest of brevity the defense will stipulate to the configuration of the aircraft."
"So noted." Judge Sebring looked at Mac. "Do you have any other questions for this witness?"
"Just one, Your Honor." Mac turned back to her witness. "Master Chief, how much does a P-3C Orion cost?"
"Well, Ma'am, Lockheed doesn't make them anymore, so it'd be hard to say."
"Best guess."
"The last one came off the assembly line in 1990, and it cost thirty-six million then. I imagine it'd be several million more today."
Mac whistled, long and low.
"So Mercer risked the safety of a twelve man crew and a forty million dollar aircraft for an Ecstasy high."
"Objection! Defense is testifying." Harm was on his feet, looking appropriately outraged, but before the judge could say anything, Mac spoke up.
"I apologize, Your Honor." She turned back to the master chief. "Thank you for your time."
"No further questions," she said, and returned to her seat, intercepting a slight nod of competitive acknowledgement from Harm on the way.
And so another witness was released. By this time, it was late afternoon, and the judge looked at Mac.
"Colonel. You have one more witness on your list. Do you think we can finish the prosecution this afternoon?"
"Yes, Your Honor. I only have a few questions for this witness."
"Let's do it, then."
"The prosecution calls Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo."
Mac saw Harm sit forward a little in his chair, and wondered what he was up to as she started her questioning.
"Agent Dinozzo, you tracked Mercer's movements from the time NCIS received the tip until his arrest, is that correct?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"During that two month time period, how often did he leave the country?"
"Twice. On February second, he made an overnight trip to Vancouver as part of a training mission. The second flight, to Copenhagen, departed on February twenty-third and returned on the evening of March first."
"In addition to tracking his flights, did you also track his movements on land?"
"Yes. We obtained authorization to install a hidden GPS in his car. During the month of February, we observed three trips to the Seattle area and two more to Tukwila."
"Do you know what he did on those trips?"
"With the exception of the trips to Tukwila to meet with Agent Todd, I can't be sure."
"But you could guess?"
"Yes, Ma'am. If I had to guess, I'd say they were all drug deals."
"Objection," said Harm, not even bothering to get up. "Lack of evidence. You can't convict a man based on guesses and suppositions."
"Withdrawn," said Mac. "That's all I have for this witness."
Harm stood and selected two documents from a folder on the table in front of him. He approached the witness stand and handed one of them to Dinozzo.
"Do you recognize this?"
The agent scanned the document before answering.
"It's the search warrant for the Orion aircraft that Lieutenant Mercer flew to Copenhagen."
"What is the tail number listed on the warrant?"
"160258."
"Thank you."
Harm took the search warrant from Tony and handed him a photograph.
"This is a crime scene photo taken the night Lieutenant Mercer was arrested. Please tell the court the tail number of the pictured aircraft."
Clearly puzzled, Dinozzo glanced at the photograph he held in his hand...and paled.
"Agent Dinozzo?" Harm prompted.
"It's 160285."
Harm turned to the judge.
"Your Honor, it's obvious that somebody made a mistake, but I wouldn't venture to guess who. The fact of the matter is that the aircraft identified in the search warrant is not the aircraft that was searched. I move that all evidence obtained from aircraft number 160285 be ruled inadmissible."
Harm handed the photograph and the search warrant to the judge, who looked both over carefully before calling a sidebar.
"Colonel?" The judge spoke softly, one hand covering the microphone.
"Your Honor, this was obviously just a typographical error. In both cases, the squadron is clearly identified as VP-46." Mac, angry at the mistake, fought to keep her voice low.
"Mac, typo or not, the search warrant is wrong. That invalidates both the warrant and the search."
The judge sighed.
"Much as I hate to admit it, Colonel, the commander has a point. If I let this pass, it's grounds for a reversal. I'm afraid I have to disallow the search."
Mac glared at Harm before returning to her seat.
"Commander? Do you have any further questions for this witness?"
"No, Your Honor."
The judge turned to Dinozzo, who looked for all the world as though he wished he could disappear.
"Court is adjourned until 1000 hours tomorrow morning."
Judge Sebring left the room, and Mac began shoving papers into her case, her mind churning with the choice words she was preparing to unleash on the NCIS team.
"Agent Gibbs."
She spoke without looking up from what she was doing, somehow absolutely certain that the agent was about to walk out the door. Her voice, cold as liquid nitrogen, effectively stopped his forward motion, and he turned back to her.
"Yes?"
"I'd like to see you and Agent Dinozzo in the conference room in five minutes."
"Yes, Ma'am."
She glanced around suspiciously at the note of sarcasm that laced Gibbs' tone, but he'd already left, and she went back to gathering her things as Harm stopped beside her.
"Are you ok?" he asked.
"You mean aside from the fact that I'm about to unleash the hounds of Hell?"
He grinned. "Yeah."
"I'm fine." Her return smile didn't quite reach her eyes, but he let it pass, wondering absently if Gibbs and company knew what was about to hit them. He suspected not.
"Good. When you're done annihilating NCIS, do you want to come to a volleyball game with me? Mattie's playing. I'll even spring for a pizza afterwards."
"Sure. That sounds like fun. I'll find you after I've finished this meeting."
"See you then." He took advantage of the empty courtroom to squeeze her shoulder lightly before picking up his case and making his way back to his office.
2212 Zulu (1712 Local)
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
Mac heard raised voices as she approached the conference room, but when she opened the door, she was greeted by stony faces and dead silence. She held her peace while she set her case on the table, her gaze settling first on one face, and then the other. Years of training and experience made her decide to remain standing, giving her a slight height advantage over the seated men. She allowed the silence to stretch, fully aware that Gibbs was a master at the game of cat and mouse, and determined to maintain the upper hand. When she finally did speak, her voice was low, each word knife edged and clearly enunciated.
"I would like an explanation."
Gibbs made a mistake then, one he never would have made had he known her better. He dared to condescend to her, to talk to her as though she were an overtired three year old. And to say that Mac was unimpressed would be like saying that it gets cold at the North Pole.
"Calm down, Colonel."
"I'll calm down when I'm satisfied that you and yours..." She paused and turned her glare on Dinozzo for a heartbeat before looking back at Gibbs, "have acquired a proper degree of respect for this office."
"Excuse me? How does a typographical error equate to disrespect?"
"That slip of the fingers was symptomatic of bigger issues. You know it, and I know it."
"How do you figure?" Gibbs, angry now, leaned forward in his chair.
"You delight in twisting the regs to suit your needs, don't you." The question was a rhetorical one, and she didn't wait for him to answer. "You barreled through here like a hurricane last year, dead certain you knew everything there was to know about Lieutenant Singer's death."
"The two cases have nothing to do with each other."
"Oh really..." Mac's voice dripped sarcasm. "As I recall, your determination to pin the crime on Commander Rabb was nearly successful."
Gibbs was on his feet, his face inches from hers, but Mac didn't back down. It wasn't in her nature to back down from a fight, and the stakes were high on this one.
"As you will recall, my team proved his innocence."
"Not until after your sloppy investigative techniques landed him in the brig!"
Dinozzo shifted nervously in his chair, but neither combatant spared him a glance.
"Your attitude when we met at Norfolk last week was just shy of rude. You were condescending, and disdainful, and about as forthcoming as a brick. I don't consider that to be conducive to a good working relationship." She glared at him, undaunted by his growing anger. "You followed that up by behaving as though JAG officers aren't to be trusted with custody of trial evidence."
She took a deep breath, consciously bringing her anger under control. When she spoke again, her words were slow, measured, and razor sharp. "I don't know what your problem is, Agent Gibbs, but you'd better knock that chip off your shoulder when you work with this office or you will live to regret it."
A heavy silence took up residence in the room then, its presence almost a living breathing thing. Mac knew Gibbs was playing mind games, trying to unnerve her into speaking, but the tactic had no impact on her except to make her even angrier. She decided to call him on it, waiting in frigid silence until he finally spoke.
"I resent your implication."
"And I resent your high handed, holier than thou attitude."
Gibbs sighed and sat down.
"Look. I'll agree that we were a bit...overzealous in our pursuit of Commander Rabb last year. Hell, I'll even agree that Agent Dinozzo should have been more careful when he prepared the search warrant for Mercer's plane." He spared a glare for the younger man, who attempted to disappear into the joints of his chair.
Mac allowed herself to relax, but only slightly. "And I will agree that if it hadn't been for you and Agent Dinozzo, the commander would probably be in Leavenworth right now." She picked up her case and moved to leave the room, then turned at the door for a parting shot. "But in the future, I expect you to pay more attention to the details."
She didn't wait for his response, but turned on her heel and left the room, not sparing a glance for the two men who still stared at her from their seats at the table.
0115 Zulu (2015 Local)
2812 M Street, Apartment 4
Washington, D.C.
Mac slowly lifted a piece of pizza out of the box, pulling ever so gently straight up. Harm and Mattie watched in tense silence. So far, Mattie held the record for pulling a slice the furthest away without breaking the string of melted Mozzarella. Could Mac do better? Only time would tell. Inch by careful inch, she lifted the slice higher while Harm kept up with the tape measure. She grinned suddenly, fully aware that this was probably the silliest contest she'd ever participated in.
She neared Mattie's seven and a half inch record, and was just about to edge past it, when a sneak attack in her rib cage made her jerk her arm down to her side, abruptly snapping the string, and nearly causing the pizza slice to end up on the floor. Mattie broke into delighted giggles at Mac's halfhearted glare.
"You cheated!" Mac accused.
Mattie shrugged unapologetically. "War's hell, Mac."
"Mattie, watch your language." Harm's rebuke was half-hearted, its power significantly lessened by his wide grin.
"Is she always this sassy when she wins a game?" Mac asked him, fighting a grin of her own.
"Forget when she wins a game. She's always this sassy...period."
"Hey!" Mattie's indignation lacked sincerity, but Harm was unrepentant.
"My turn," he said, "I'll bet I can double the record."
"You're pretty confident for somebody who barely made three inches on the first round," Mac remarked.
"That was just a practice run. This one's for real."
He eyed the remaining slices of pizza, and Mac suspected that if he could have, he'd have weighed each piece to the microgram. As it was, she and Mattie were both getting impatient by the time he finally made his selection. He'd barely lifted it out of the box when the pale yellow strands separated, and he slumped back into his chair, the undisputed loser.
"Needs a woman's touch to do it right, I guess," suggested Mattie, her tone falsely sympathetic.
"Men are just too heavy-handed for their own good," agreed Mac.
"Remind me sometime to show you just how light-handed I can be, Mac." Harm's voice slid across the table and up her spine, raising goose bumps in its wake.
"Anybody need more soda?" Mattie stood suddenly and grabbed her glass, her movements jerky.
"No, thanks." Harm and Mac answered simultaneously, but Mattie was already gone. Obviously, the teenager hadn't liked their interchange and wanted to make sure they knew it.
While Mattie banged about the kitchen, making her irritation known to the entire building, Harm and Mac held one of those silent conversations that lovers are so good at. They'd talked about her on the way to the game and decided it was time to let her know about the change in their relationship. Now seemed like as good a time as any to get that over with. Mattie finally sat back down at the table and reached for a piece of the rapidly cooling pizza.
"Mattie," Harm said, a nervous tone to his voice that Mac found somehow endearing. "We need to talk."
"About?" The girl wasn't going to make this easy on them, and Mac felt a twinge of annoyance.
"About Mac and I."
Mattie looked from one to the other of them and took a bite of pizza. They waited patiently while she chewed and swallowed. They were lawyers. They could outwait the most obstinate of witnesses.
"What about you?" Stubborn inflexibility. The definition of teenager.
"Things have...changed between us."
"Changed how?" Denial. The second definition of teenager.
Mac wanted to speak up, but she knew it wasn't her place. Harm had to handle this one on his own. All she could offer was silent support.
"Changed as in we've decided we want more than friendship." Harm's voice was firm now, the trace of nervousness gone.
Mattie stopped chewing and looked from one to the other of them. Harm took Mac's hand, and Mattie watched the movement, then dropped her slice of pizza and stood.
"I guess it's time for me to go back to my dad, then, huh?"
"Why would you say that?"
"Harm, you barely have time for me as it is. Now you'll be wanting to spend what little of it there is with her." She indicated Mac with a dismissive wave of the hand.
"I thought you liked Mac."
"I do. I just like her better as your friend."
Mac felt it necessary to speak up, tired of being talked about in the third person.
"Hey, folks. Remember me? I'm right here. You can talk to me rather than about me."
"Fine," said Mattie, turning to her angrily. "From what I've heard, you two worked together for years without anything ever happening between you. Why now? You had your chance and didn't do anything about it. Now it's supposed to be my turn."
Harm spoke again, his voice angry.
"Mattie, your tone of voice is inappropriate and disrespectful. Mac and I are adults, and our relationship is our business. Now, I think you owe Mac an apology."
Mac could have told him if he'd asked that it was probably just about the worst thing you could say to an adolescent. She knew Mattie was at that point in her life when she would insist upon a certain amount of control in their dealings with other people - adults or otherwise. Pointing out her lack of power in an area of her life that was close to her heart was tantamount to committing heresy.
Mattie glared from one adult to the other, then stormed to the door.
"I can't believe this is happening. Just when I thought my life was settling down, you turn it on end again. It's not fair!"
"Mattie..."
The door slammed behind her before he could finish the thought, and he turned to Mac, a helpless expression on his face.
"What just happened?" he asked her.
"An angry teenager just happened."
"Wow."
"Yeah. Not a pretty sight."
"Or sound either. I think the windows are still rattling." He sighed. "I'll have to go talk to her later, but I'd better get this mess cleaned up first." He gestured to the remains of their dinner. "Give me a hand?"
"You bet."
The worked companionably for a while, putting the leftovers away and rinsing the few dishes before loading them into the dishwasher.
"You know," Mac said, as she closed the door and latched it, "Out of three at bats, we've already struck out twice. Not good odds."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the admiral seems ok with the idea of an 'us,' but Mattie and Clay sure aren't too impressed."
"Speaking of Webb, have you heard from him?"
"Not since he stormed out of here that day." She hung up the towel to dry and turned to look at Harm, allowing the worry that had been building all week to show on her face. "I've tried to call him several times since we've been back. He doesn't answer the phone. His answering machine doesn't even pick up."
"Did you call his mother? She always seems to know where he is."
"Tried it. No answer."
"That's odd. She's got servants. You'd think somebody would be there." He pulled her into a hug. "I'm sure he's fine, Mac. The guy's made of rubber. He always bounces back."
Mac pushed out of his arms.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Come on, Mac. You know what I mean. We've known Webb for years. Nothing gets him down for long."
"You didn't see him in Paraguay, Harm. I did."
"Yes I did. I saw him kissing you."
Mac sighed in exasperation. "Can't you let that go?"
He sighed. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."
"You're right. It was."
It was Harm's turn to get angry.
"Mac, he had no business dragging you down there. I'm sure the CIA has plenty of highly trained agents who could have handled the job just fine, but Webb had to have you. Why do you suppose that is?"
"I don't know. Maybe because he thought I was the best person for the job?"
"I don't think so."
"Tell me then, Harm. Why do you think he did it?"
"You honestly don't know?" He leaned against the counter, folding his arms across his chest in a manner that Mac, even angry, found distracting.
"No."
"Do you remember the party at the Sudanese Embassy all those years ago?"
"The one that started out as an intelligence mission and turned into a hostage situation? That party?"
"Yeah. As I recall, it was another one of Webb's brilliant ideas."
Mac sighed. "Enough with the sarcasm already. What about the party?"
"Didn't it strike you as odd that Webb knew your measurements?"
"He's CIA, Harm. It stuck me as odd for all of five seconds."
"I'm telling you, Mac, the man's had a thing for you for a long time."
"You're implying that he requested me for the Paraguay mission because he 'had a thing for me'?"
"Maybe not consciously, but yeah. I think it was at the back of his mind."
"That's sick, Harm."
"Maybe, but I think it's true."
"Even if that were the case, what does it have to do with the fact that I can't find him now?"
"He's licking his wounds, Mac. He'll come back when he's ready."
"You know what? I think it's time for me to go."
She picked up her purse and jacket.
"Wait. Don't leave mad. We've both done that too many times."
"I'm not mad. I just need some time to think."
"I'll walk you out."
"Harm. I'm a Marine." Exasperation laced her voice. She hated it when men felt like they had to protect her.
"I know. Humor me."
She gave in, too tired and frustrated at this point to fight him on it.
"Let's go then."
A few minutes later, they stood by her car in the dark parking lot. He kissed her gently.
"Goodnight, Mac. I'll see you in the morning. Call if you need anything."
"You know I will. Goodnight."
She squeezed his shoulder before climbing into the car and closing the door. When she glanced in her rearview mirror just before turning the corner, he was still standing where she'd left him, his body a lonely outline in the deserted lot.
**** End Part 6 ****