Okay, y'all. Final exams are sneaking up on me, and I've got 8-9 papers due in the next two weeks, so this is the last chapter I'll be able to post for a little while. A pox upon all professors! ;)
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Chapter 7:
Unreality of Time
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"Each of us is all the sums he has not counted: subtract us into nakedness and night again, and you shall see begin in Crete four thousand years ago the love that ended yesterday in Texas. . . . The seed of our destruction will blossom in the desert, the alexin of our cure grows by a mountain rock, and our lives are haunted by a Georgia slattern, because a London cutpurse went unhung. Each moment is the fruit of forty thousand years. The minute-winning days, like flies, buzz home to death, and every moment is a window on all time."
--Thomas Wolfe, Look Homeward, Angel
~*~*~*~
UNKNOWN TIME
UNKNOWN DATE
UNKNOWN LOCATION
Harm came awake slowly, his head pounding. The inside of his mouth tasted like a dirty sock, and his stomach roiled in nausea. He attempted to look around, but the complete absence of light prevented him from seeing anything. Light didn't exist where he was. He felt around him, trying to discover where he was being held. The floor was packed dirt, with a ceiling that was too low for him to stand upright and a pile of slightly moldy straw was under him. He started to shiver as the cold seeped through the earthen walls and made its way into his bare skin. Luckily, he'd been wearing pajama bottoms when he'd been taken; they were doing a decent job of protecting his skin from the prickly straw.
Harm frowned and felt for his watch. He hadn't taken it off before he lay down, so he should still have it. Gone. It was gone, so time no longer existed in his new reality. He felt the area around him once more and found a scratchy blanket near him. Snippets of Stryker's almost-forgotten advice flitted through his mind. 'If they get you, kid, lie. Tell the tallest tales you can think of, because anybody can be broken by pain. By the time that they finally get the truth out of you, they won't recognize it anymore because you've lied so much.'
"Yes, sir, Colonel," Harm muttered. He didn't know where the hell he was, but it was obvious to him that his cover had been blown. He just hoped that Beth was okay--whoever was holding him must have put her in another hole nearby. He curled up as tightly as he could in the corner and covered himself with the itchy blanket. They'd have to come for him sooner or later. He'd find out exactly how his cage opened then, and he could start planning his first duty--escape.
Harm knew that he was privy to far too much classified information to let whoever had him get any of it, so he was determined not to tell them anything that he knew. He grimaced, and hoped that whoever had him would be impatient; he was CIA now, and there was no hope of rescue... especially since they probably didn't know where he was or who had taken him. Hell, *he* didn't even have that information yet.
Harm leaned back against the cold wall and closed his eyes. Mac. He started to smile as he called up old memories of the good times between them. It was probably a good thing that he'd resigned--otherwise, she'd be with him and would probably have ended up hurt. At least she had Webb to comfort her. The knowledge that she had the inept spy was bittersweet; on one hand, he might try and be there for her, but on the other hand, Webb had a penchant for almost getting her killed. He looked up as he heard the grating of a key in a lock. Slowly, a door opened out of the wall and two large men entered.
Without speaking, the men jerked his arms and legs forward and tied them tightly with wire that cut into his skin. They grabbed hold of him and dragged him out into the light beyond his door, making him blink furiously to dispel the spots in front of his eyes. They pulled him down a hall, pushed him into a room, lifted him onto a table, and strapped him down.
Harm didn't say anything, because he knew that if he started talking now, it would set a bad precedent for later. His eyes widened in recognition when the man he'd last seen leaving Paraguay by train walked into the room. "Commander Harmon David Rabb, Junior, United States Navy," Sadik said with a smile. "You have a lot to pay for."
~*~*~*~
1100 Zulu
7 December 2003
Leticia, Columbia
Beth knocked on Harm's door. "Morning, Harm, ya decent?" She walked in and looked around the ransacked room. "Oh, shit," she muttered. "Harm?" She walked into the bathroom, but it was empty. Quickly, she made a circuit around the house hoping to find him. Empty. She was currently the sole occupant, and considering the state of Harm's room, it was possible that their cover was blown, and Sadik had taken him.
Beth took a deep breath before heading into her room to get the SAT phone. Luckily, they'd hidden it with her, otherwise whoever had taken Harm would have found it. Quickly, she dialed the number for their backup's secure line and waited.
"Jack, this is Beth," she said.
"Beth, where's the fire?" he asked. "Our check-in isn't until day after tomorrow."
"I know, but Harm's room has been ransacked, and he's gone."
"Shit," was the response. "We're lucky that they didn't take both of you--very sloppy on their part."
"I guess. Suggestions?" Beth really didn't know what to do next; in this operation, she was the rookie, and Harm was the experienced agent.
"Get out, and meet us at the rendezvous point." Jack answered immediately. "I'll do some reconnaissance, and find out who has him; there are bound to be rumors among Sadik's men, if the SOB took him. I'm the only one that he hasn't seen, and I can disguise myself more effectively than you can."
"Thanks, Jack," Beth said, glad that someone else could take over the mess she found herself in.
"Be careful, Beth, and we'll see you in an hour."
Beth hung up, grabbed the essential equipment, and hurried out the door. They *had* to rescue Harm; leaving him behind was unthinkable.
~*~*~*~
UNKNOWN TIME
UNKNOWN DATE
UNKNOWN LOCATION
Sadik loomed over Harm and smiled. "Hassim, Mohammad, you may begin." The two hulking brutes that had carried him in began to administer a thorough and professional beating. He clenched his jaw and refused to show how much it hurt--he'd seen this kind of thing before; the blows were meant to cause the most pain possible without inflicting permanent damage.
It seemed like forever before Sadik's thugs finished their work. With a gesture, Sadik dismissed them, then leaned over Harm's prone body. Bruises were beginning to form, the dusky black and blue marks stood out against his pale skin in the dark room. "So, a simple beating has no effect," he began conversationally. "I suppose I shall have to resort to more... imaginative means of settling your debt."
Harm watched the terrorist in stony silence. He knew better than to say anything; it would only encourage the man. "I know where young AJ Roberts and his brother, Jimmy, go to daycare."
Harm closed his eyes. He knew that Sadik had to be lying. It was standard to threaten loved ones to get results. "And that woman you saved--Sarah, her name was? I know where she lives, and so do my lieutenants. She's beautiful, yes? Perhaps not so much in a little while. Perhaps not so much after we finish with her. Her heritage makes her one of us, you know." Sadik smiled and smacked one of Harm's bruises. "She can easily belong to us if we wish."
Harm shivered as much as his restraints would allow, but still said nothing.
"Your mother owns an art gallery in La Jolla, California... She and your stepfather live in a very nice house due to his substantial salary. It's too bad that the wiring is going bad. It would be such a shame if it burned down one night while they were sleeping."
Harm bit his lip and still refused to speak.
"Now, Commander Harmon David Rabb, Junior, tell me, what were you doing in Leticia? Why did you come to Columbia?"
Harm shook his head slightly.
"No? Your grandmother lives all alone on a farm in Bealsville, Pennsylvania, and old people are *so* frail."
Sadik smiled and ran his hand up Harm's bare arm. "There are always Renee Peterson's children, all three of your godsons, and what was the name of the little girl you saved? Oh, yes... Darlyn Lewis. By the time I finish, Commander Harmon Rabb, you will have told me everything you ever learned, and you will have paid me back in full; one piece of flesh at a time."
Harm shivered again. He would die here. He knew that. At least his presence would keep the terrorist busy. Perhaps busy enough to not kill the students. At least his death would serve a purpose.
Two different guards walked back in the room and stood, waiting for their orders. "Hang him up in the other room, and wait for my orders." Sadik watched as they dragged Harm to yet another room and hung him from his wire-bound wrists.
Harm closed his eyes and focused on happy memories as the wire cut deeply into his wrists. Dimly, he heard Sadik start speaking. "We were in a hurry with Clayton Webb, but I think I shall not hurry with you. You, my dear Commander, will be with us for a very long time."
~*~*~*~
1545 Zulu
9 December 2003
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
Mac walked into Coates's office. "Coates, is the admiral free?" she said softly.
Coates smiled, then hit the intercom button. "Sir, Colonel Mackenzie is here to see you."
"Send her in," was the immediate response.
"He'll see you now, ma'am," Coates said cheerfully.
"Thank you, Petty Officer." Mac drew on every bit of military discipline she had to keep from falling apart, then turned, walked into the admiral's office, and came to attention in front of his desk.
"At ease, Colonel." The admiral paused long enough for her to relax, then gestured towards one of the chairs. "Have a seat. Now, what is it you wanted to see me about?"
Mac drew in a deep breath. "I just got off the phone with Beth O'Neil, Harm's CIA partner," she said, her voice shaking. "Harm has been... taken."
The admiral's hands closed around the sides of his desk. "Please explain, Colonel," his voice barely audible.
"She said that he went to bed, and the next morning, his room had been ransacked, and he was missing." Mac clasped her hands together, barely noticing when her knuckles turned white. "That was three *days* ago, sir. Ms. O'Neil called to see if I'd heard from him; she said that they were hoping that he'd been able to get away."
"Do we even know where they were?" he asked.
Mac shook her head. "No, sir. She said it was classified. Admiral, I have some contacts within the Company, and I'm sure I can find out where they were." She bit her lip, wanting nothing more than to rush to Harm's rescue. "I was hoping that you'd let me take leave to go find him, sir."
The admiral shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mac, but I just can't let you do that. Rabb is *CIA* now, and as much as I want to, I can't let an active duty officer run off to save a CIA agent."
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Granted."
"Sir, if you hadn't cut Harm loose and chewed him out like that, he wouldn't *be* in this position now." Mac reached up and shoved her hair behind her ear. "If I'd been there to watch his six, *none* of this would be happening, and we all know the CIA's non-existent track record for rescuing operatives when things go south."
"I was under orders, Mac," he said gently. The admiral got up, walked around his desk, and patted her shoulder awkwardly.
"Under *orders*, sir? But *why*?"
The admiral dropped into the other chair. "The SECNAV wanted Harm to use in special operations, and that's all I know."
"The SECNAV, sir?" she questioned. "Does that mean that Harm is still Navy, and we can try to rescue him?"
"The rescuing part, no, and as for the other, I'm not sure," he admitted. "I'm sorry, Mac, but we're now playing a waiting game. If his partner and her back-up are looking for him, then we'll just have to hope for the best."
"But *sir*."
"I'm sorry, Mac," he said. "Take the rest of the day off, and *don't* go haring off to find him. I'll see if I can find out what's being done."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Mac stood up, came to attention, then left the room, and headed towards her office. She wanted Harm back. It was even worse this time, because now he was *missing*. How many lives could he use up before death finally caught up to him? How many times could he survive these kind of situations?
Mac grabbed her things and headed out to her car. She needed time to drive and think; perhaps she could figure out *some* way to help without disobeying orders.
~*~*~*~
TBC...