Disclaimer: Don't own JAG
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Part 6
Clayton Webb sat in his office, and read through Harm's case file. Since the cause of Harm's condition was so obvious, not many tests had been performed when he first arrived at the hospital. But now that they knew Palmer probably was the perpetrator, who knows what he could have injected into Harm. The blood that was drawn from Harm had been stored, so a tox-screen could still be performed, which probably would be a wise thing to do. Palmer liked to se people suffer, he usually kept his victims conscious, but unable to move, so that he was in total control. Then he tortured them for a while, often just for fun, before he put them out of their miseries.
"Benson, get in here," Webb shouted into the intercom. Just seconds later, a fairly nervous junior-agent, with a pencil behind his ear, entered the office. "What can I do for you, sir", he said with a what-have-I-done-wrong-now expression about his face.
"No, you haven't screwed up this time," Webb remarked, he saw the worried expression in the young man's face. The junior-agent heaved a sigh of relief.
Webb continued. "We need a tox-screen in the Rabb-case. I want you down at the forensic lab personally, to see that every test possible is done. And bring the results directly up to me, no detours."
"No, sir, eh, I mean yes, sir. I'm on my way," the junior fumbled with the pencil behind his air, as he hastily went towards the door.
"And if you screw this simple task up, you will be shuffling paper in Alaska next week, or snow for that matter", Webb shouted after him, he really enjoyed scaring the heck out of the rookies.
After Webb asked for it, it didn't take long before the tox-screen of Harm's blood was performed. When CIA was in charge people seemed to work faster, Webb wasn't sure why…
An hour later the junior-agent rushed into Webb's office, he was in such a hurry he almost forgot to knock. "The results," he took a deep breath, "from the tox-screen, sir," he had been running through the corridors and was completely out of breath. Webb grabbed the sheet that was given to him. He looked at it. "A trace of pancoronium bromide, a heavy muscle relaxant, I expected something like that," he mumbled to himself. Harm would probably have been unable to move just 40 seconds after the injection, and with repeated injections, stayed that way for hours. But Palmer usually tortured his victims, so why hadn't Harm got other injuries than the bullet wounds? Had they overlooked something? A doctor should probably examine Harm once more, thoroughly this time.
To catch Palmer they had to wait until he tried again, Webb didn't like it, but he knew it was the only way. It would be impossible to try to track Palmer somewhere else. He was just too careful.
Even if Palmer had concentrated his work on Harm for the last years, it didn't mean that he was his only victim, but he was his prime victim. When he was finished with Harm, he would retire. He would leave the country, find himself a quiet small pacific island and live there for the rest of his life. It wasn't the most original plan, he knew that. But it was what he always had dreamed of, ever since he was a boy, when his mother had made him sit down in the dark basement for hours, even if he hadn't done anything wrong. A pacific island had been a precious escape from reality when he was little, but would soon be reality now. An evil smile came over his face when he thought of what he had done to Harm. He had enjoyed every minute of the tormenting and torture. And Harm had just been lying there, without being able to fight back, talk; virtually he couldn't move a muscle. Harm had deserved it. It was Harm's fault that he had to go to jail. The prison cell reminded him too much of the hellhole of a basement he had spent so much time in as a child. He would rather die, than going back to a place like that.
Palmer put on a pair of round glasses. Together with a fake mustache, some make-up and a white lab-coat no one, not even Harm, would recognize him. This was the second time he would have a look around the hospital. The first time he had checked out the exits, how to get out fast if he had too. This time the purpose, among others, was to find out when the doctors made their rounds in the unit where Harm was situated and how often they changed the guard outside Harm's room. It wouldn't be long now before he would make a new attempt. Just a couple of days… Palmer was an expert in this field. He opened the door of the supply-room he had been preparing in and went into the corridor, where he quickly blended in with the staff rushing back and fort. He looked like any other doctor.
Mac was back at Harm's side. Even if she had been resting and sleeping some hours at home the last two days, you could see fatigue and pain in her eyes. She knew too well that the longer Harm stayed in a coma, the bigger was the chance of brain damage, or that he didn't wake up at all.
"Hey, how is he", Bud appeared in the doorway.
"No changes," Mac didn't know how many times she had said those words. "It's nice with some company, Harm is probably sick and tired of hearing my voice," Mac said and tried to smile, but she didn't quite succeed. Bud found himself a chair and sat down beside Mac. They just sat there, Bud looking at Harm and Mac staring at the wall behind him. Bud broke the silence. "Do you know what happened at work today, Harm? Tiner was bringing coffee into the Admiral. His mind was otherwise occupied so he didn't notice the Gunny coming around the corner. It was a direct hit. Coffee flying everywhere. You can just imagine how Chegwidden reacted." Bud knew he was babbling, but he just had to say something. It was never silent in a room when Harm was there, and it shouldn't be now either. Since the fact that Harm was in that room at all partly was his fault, at least Bud thought it was, he felt he had to do everything to make everyone feel better. That he himself felt miserable wasn't that important, he deserved to be miserable.
Both the Police and the CIA had questioned every person that maybe could have any information. Harm had been at the party Saturday night. At approximately 1.00 a.m. he said he wanted to head home. He was tired, had been up since 5.30. He was the kind of person who liked to get up early in the morning and go early to bed. Every morning before work, and also in the weekends he used to go for a run in the park. No one that had been in the park around 6.00 a.m. Sunday morning had seen anyone that matched Harm's description. The park wasn't that big, someone should have seen him. It was highly unlikely that he would have skipped the run, so he was probably already in Palmers hands at that time. Shivers went down Webb's spine when he thought about it. If they caught Palmer alive, Webb really would have liked to be in a room alone with him, knocking him senseless. That maniac deserved a good beat. But as head of the case, he knew he had to stay professional. If he as much as touched Palmer, the case probably would be dismissed. Harm was a one of his few friends; he couldn't risk that. If Palmer got off the hook because of irregularities in the investigation, Webb knew he never could forgive himself.
Bud and Mac simultaneously turned around towards the door when they heard steps. As usual it was a doctor, but he was followed by a nursing assistant. "Hi, I'm Dr. Shapiro. We have got instructions from the CIA to take Mr. Rabb down for another examination." "The CIA?" Mac and Bud both looked like question marks. "Yes, an agent named Webb gave the order," the doctor explained. The door suddenly opened again. Webb entered the room in his usual somewhat cocky way. When he noticed Harm, he just stopped. The pen he held in his hand fell to the floor, and he stood there with his mouth open, staring at Harm. The cockiness had vanished within seconds. He hadn't visited Harm yet, and didn't realize before now how bad Harm really seemed. But after a few seconds he snapped out of it. He turned to Mac and Bud. "We have to take Harm down for another examination. The evidence points towards Palmer. God knows what he can have done to him, that wasn't detected during the first examination. We are in this minute placing a guard outside this room. No one enters or leaves without permission." Both Bud and Mac knew too well what Palmer was capable of. None of them felt like saying something. The doctor and the nursing assistant started to make Harm clear for transport down. They quickly took him of the respirator and connected him to a smaller transportable one. Then they pushed Harm out of the room at Webb's sign. A guard waited outside to follow them. Harm wouldn't go anywhere without a guard before Palmer was behind bars or other way neutralized.
Mac and Bud were left alone. The room was once again silent.