Thank for the feedback, y'all. Here's this week's chapter.

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Chapter Five:

Spy Games

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"If you've a story, make sure it's a whole one, with details close to hand. It's the difference between a successful lie and getting caught."

--Tamora Pierce, Workbook for a Young Spy

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2230 Zulu

3 November 2003

Harm's Apartment

North of Union Station

Washington DC

Harm stuck one last shirt in his seabag and zipped it up. He hauled it out to the living room and dumped it by the couch before going to the fridge to get a bottle of water. He grabbed the drink and twisted off the cap as he heard a knock on the door. "It's open," he called.

Beth walked in and dumped her own seabag next to his. "You ready?" she asked.

"I guess," Harm said as he walked over to the couch and flopped on it. "I hoped that I'd seen the last of this guy back in Paraguay."

"It stinks, doesn't it?" Beth asked. "I mean, you thought he was out of your life for good, and now we're being sent after him to stop him from blowing up a bunch of college kids."

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. "I thought that the SOB wouldn't be coming back to bite me in the ass. I mean, Mac and I destroyed his weapons stash, and I figured it'd take him a long time to rebuild it."

Before Beth could answer, a knock sounded at the door. Harm got up to answer it. "Webb," he said with a tense nod.

"Rabb," Webb answered back. "This is my new senior partner, Jack Olsen," he nodded towards the graying man behind him.

"My condolences, Olsen," Harm said, extending his hand towards the agent. "I'm sorry you're the poor SOB that got pulled to babysit the FUBAR King here."

"Hey," Webb protested, "That's not--"

"Nice to meet you too, Rabb. I hear that you keep rescuing this screw-up's sorry ass." Olsen ignored Webb and shook Harm's hand.

"Unfortunate side effect. I only went to save Mac... too bad our relationship and my career ended up being blown to hell as a result. Come on in." Harm motioned for Olsen to take a seat and briefly considered shutting the door in Webb's face.

Olsen took a seat on the couch and winced. "Ouch. If it helps, I know the feeling; my family was collateral damage from my career." He pulled out two file folders and handed one to Harm and the other to Beth. "Sadik is planning an attack on most of the major universities on the East Coast."

Beth examined the list and let out a slow whistle. "West Point, the Naval Academy, Harvard, MIT, Yale, Duke, Georgia Tech... this is a long list."

Webb nodded. "Yes."

Olsen shot him a look that clearly said to shut up, then took up the thread. "Georgia Tech even has an inactive nuclear reactor on campus; blowing that up would probably take most of Atlanta with it."

"We have two tickets for you to go to Colombia, under assumed identities, of course, because we have intel that he's hiding there." Webb pulled a packet out of his briefcase and handed it to Beth.

"He's also stockpiling weapons, including some old Russian MiGs, and the pilots to fly them. Word is that he's sending them to either kamikaze or drop bombs. You two are to get in there, destroy the stockpiles, kill Sadik Fahd, and get out." Olsen quirked a smile. "I'll make sure that the kid here doesn't intervene."

"Thanks," Beth said with a grimace. "We might actually stand a chance of surviving if you do."

"Wait just a second--" Webb began.

"Don't you know, Webb? You own the Company record of surviving the most FUBAR'd missions." Harm dropped down on the couch and leaned back.

"Rabb is right," Olsen said with a smirk. "He has a better record than you do and he'd only been TAD to the Company a few times before seven months ago."

Harm glanced over at Jack. "Jack, if you've got a girlfriend, keep Webb away from her."

Webb grimaced and leaned back against the door. "What do you mean, girlfriend, Rabb? Last I heard, Mac was just your friend."

"I wouldn't have gone haring off to Paraguay unless it was for her, Webb. But you knew that, didn't you? You wouldn't have told Gunny to expect me if you didn't think otherwise." Harm fixed Webb with a glare. "You hurt her, there won't be a place on earth that I can't find you to make sure you pay--and *that's* a promise."

Webb rolled his eyes. "Like you were actually going to say anything after all these years. I gave you time, Rabb."

Harm folded his arms over his chest and glowered at the spook. "Suuure. You waited until she was vulnerable and at her lowest point to say anything, and you walked in on us just before I was about to kiss her to make sure that nothing would happen."

Before Webb could answer back, Beth jumped in between them. "Hold it, boys."

"Webb, you're even slimier than I was led to believe. From now on, kid, you're going to be too busy to romance Rabb's girl," Olsen said with a smirk. He grinned at Harm. "I like you, Rabb; you remind me of a very young Jack Olsen."

"I never wanted to be a spook," Harm muttered, still shooting dark looks at Webb.

"Neither did I," Jack admitted. "But it was the family business, and I'm good at it--I made damn sure to keep my son out of it." He handed Beth a card. "We'll get out of your hair; your plane leaves in an hour, and that's my secure cell phone number if you need anything, including rescue."

"But that's not--"

"I'm *NIA*, not CIA, kid. I can save Rabb if I want to, and you *owe* him for saving your skin so many times."

Webb stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Whatever," he mumbled, heading towards the door.

"Thanks, Jack," Harm said with a smile. "Maybe you can teach Webb here some things so that he survives to become an old spy."

Jack grinned. "That, I believe, is the reason why I'm his babysitter. See you on the other side, Rabb." He got up and sauntered out the door, pulling Webb with him.

"Well, Hammer, old buddy," Beth said. "That was certainly interesting." She picked up her kit and headed towards the door. "Let's get going; the sooner we leave, the sooner you can talk to Mac."

"Yes, ma'am," Harm said, picking up his seabag and following her. "Since Olsen will be keeping Webb busy, I might actually have a chance to talk to her."

"That's the idea, sailor," Beth said. "Let's go."

Harm nodded and locked the door behind them. Together, they left the building, climbed into Harm's Lexus and headed for the airport. If they were lucky, they might be able to be back within the week, but he wasn't counting on it. The words 'lucky' and 'CIA operation' rarely seemed to go together, and this assignment probably wouldn't be any different. At least they had the chance to save the lives of thousands of civilians. No matter what happened, this mission had the potential to make a difference, and that was what really mattered.

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1245 Zulu

6 November 2003

SECNAV's Office

Washington, DC

Sheffield leaned forward on his desk, looked at Kershaw and steeped his fingers. "So how is Rabb working out?"

"Just fine," Kershaw replied with a smile. "He's a gifted pilot, and he makes a better field agent than most."

Sheffield graced Kershaw with a smug smile. "I know," he said. "I've seen his unedited files; with the time he spent in Vietnam and Laos as a teenager, he's suited for this kind of work."

Kershaw leaned back in his chair, his smile mirroring Sheffield's. "Why do you think that Webb tapped him for so many missions?" he asked.

"I'd wondered," Sheffield said. "I'm thinking that we can send him to Quantico for some sniper training."

"A man who can move as quietly as Rabb does through thick undergrowth could be useful as a sniper," Kershaw mused.

"Exactly. Now, when is Rabb expected back?"

Kershaw sat up and smiled again. "If everything goes well, next month. If not..." he shrugged.

"Keep me informed?"

"Only of Rabb's return," Kershaw said curtly. "The rest is need to know."

Sheffield flipped his hand towards the other man. "I know, I know. My security clearance isn't high enough to know about all the ongoing CIA ops."

"Right. Now if you'll excuse me--" Kershaw stood up and smoothed down his suit.

Sheffield stood up and offered the other man his hand. They shook, then he sank back into the embrace of his leather chair as Kershaw left the office. The more he thought about it, the better he liked the idea of training Rabb as a sniper. Perhaps they could send him for SEAL training after that. He had a feeling that the man would prove useful to have under his command.

After all, there were more places for a man with as... flexible talents as the commander than the CIA. Perhaps he should reassign him to Naval Intelligence after he got back. He was sure that Rabb could cause enough damage to the other side to justify it, when properly controlled, of course.

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1450 Zulu

9 December 2003

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, Virginia

Mac walked into the bullpen, scanning the room for her prey. Her mouth curved into a smile as she found her intended target. "Bud," she said, coming up to him. "Have you heard from Harm lately?"

Bud shook his head. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but I haven't--Harriet mentioned that he started calling during the day quite some time ago, you could ask her."

"Thanks, Bud," Mac said, then walked quickly towards her office. She picked up the phone, called Harriet, and made arrangements to meet somewhere for lunch. Perhaps he'd called to talk to little AJ. She had all but been haunting his building, but so far, he hadn't been home since she left the note.

Mac looked up as Coates poked her head into the room. "Ma'am, the Admiral wants to see you."

"I'll be there in a minute, Petty Officer," Mac answered. She stood up and hurried to the Admiral's office. "Colonel Mackenzie reporting as ordered, sir," she said, bracing to attention.

The admiral leaned forward, his elbows resting on his blotter. "At ease, Mac--have a seat."

Mac sat in one of the chair in front of his desk and folded her hands in her lap. AJ picked up a folder and handed it to her. "Mac, the investigation on this one was handled by NCIS, and the accused has retained civilian council. General Sherridan murdered his wife and child two weeks ago, and he was found standing over the bodies. You're to prosecute, and I want you to nail his ass to the wall. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," she replied automatically.

"Have you managed to contact Harm yet?" he asked, softening his voice.

Mac shook her head. "No, sir. Harm hasn't been home at all in the past month or so."

"Do you know of anyone else he's still talking to?" he asked.

"Bud said that he sometimes calls to talk to Little AJ, sir, but he doesn't know if he's called lately. I'm meeting Harriet for lunch today to find out, and I'm going to dinner with Webb to pump him for information, sir." Mac bit the inside of her cheek and tried not to show how worried she was.

"Thank you, Colonel. Dismissed."

Mac stood up, braced to attention, and left his office. Coates stopped her on the way out the door. "Ma'am, Beth O'Neil is waiting for you on line two."

"Thank you, Petty Officer, I'll take it in my office." Mac hurried back to her office, picked up the phone, and punched line two. "Lt. Colonel Sarah Mackenzie," she said briskly.

"Colonel, this is Beth O'Neil, Harm's partner. I wanted to know if you'd heard from him."

Mac drew in a deep breath, trying to quell the sudden surge of fear that rose within her. "No, I haven't. What's the problem?"

"Harm is missing. Three days ago, we came back here, and the next morning, his room was a mess, and he was gone. I've tried everything, ma'am, but he's just... vanished. I was hoping that, maybe..."

Mac's legs gave out, and she collapsed into her chair. She heard Beth's voice in the background saying her rank but she didn't pay attention. Her last words to Harm echoed in her ears, and if he didn't survive, she'd never get to apologize. She'd never get to tell him the truth; that he was the *most* important person in her life.

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