- Feeling Cold -
Harm leans against the board that connects the four sinks behind him. He looks exhausted, like all energy drained from him. His shoulders are slumped, his head slightly bowed down. There is nothing left to remind me of his six feet something frame. Right now he doesn't stand any taller than I.
I focus on his face, try to read his expression. Slowly Harm runs his hand over his face to try to banish the demons that I know are ravishing in his mind. However, he obviously doesn't succeed. His face is still pale and his eyes have gone dull. When Mac had vanished she must have taken something of him with her. There is no other way to explain it.
"Could she have gone on her own?" I ask and am faced with a rushed answer.
"No!" Harm shakes his head. He doesn't want to believe in the possibility and he probably shouldn't. I know I wouldn't if this was about Charlie and me.
But I can tell from the pleading look that was there for a second when he searched my eyes that he still has doubts about it.
"Then somebody kidnapped her."
My hand comes to rest on his arm, not to offer comfort in the current situation – for I know there is none until he knows what happened – but to assure him that I'll be there. That he still has a friend by his side. We might not have known each other for long, but like Mac pointed out we do have some things in common and that forms a bond.
"Can you think of anybody doing something like this?"
"There are a few. But none of them seems likely." His response comes calmly, almost automatically. Maybe there really is nothing to find there.
But the very next moment his heads snaps up and his blue eyes – no longer dull but crystal clear – settle on me although it feels like the man looks right through me. And while I wait for him to say something there's suddenly a spark of life in his eyes. I can't place what I see though. Despair? Horror? Pain? Fear? I don't know. Maybe all combined, maybe none at all.
Then, still silent Harm pushes himself up from the board and rushes out of the door. Wondering what provoked that reaction I hurry after my lawyer. When I round the next corner I see one of the double doors of the court room fall shut.
Most people have left the room by now. Only a few lingered behind still wondering what has happened mere minutes before. I see Viper among them, standing now much nearer to the defense table than he sat. He casts me a questioning glance and starts to step out into the aisle to face me. I shake my head and raise a hand to signal him to wait. First I need to know what it was that I just saw in the ladies' room. Before that I wouldn't know what to tell the Admiral anyway.
I step up to Harm who impatiently walks up and down in front of our table his cell phone pressed to his ear. He stops as his eyes fall on me.
"Commander Rabb here, I need to know about one of your inmates." His voice is firm and urgent.
"Clark Palmer… Fine, but could you please send a guard to his cell to check if he's really in there… I know this guy… Would you send a guard?" This last sentence is no longer a question but an order. His eyes are now fixed on the prosecution table while he waits for the response.
Even for me the minutes drag out incredibly long. It takes forever for the guard to return with an answer. But finally it comes.
"Thank you." Harm says before he closes his phone and carefully lays it on the table. He places his hands on either side of it as if this piece of wood is the only thing to keep him from falling.
"Thank god," he whispers.
The next few minutes pass with neither of us saying a word. I watch as Harm takes some deep breaths to compose himself. The prospect of this Palmer guy being involved must have really gotten to him. By now Viper has arrived by my side. And we both look expectantly at Harm when he seems to get aware of us at last.
"So who's this Clark Palmer?" I ask.
Harm takes another moment before he answers.
"You could call him my nemesis if you like. He's just the type to pull such a thing."
"He would kidnap Mac, Colonel MacKenzie," I correct myself for the benefit of the Admiral, "just to get at you?"
"He did it before."
"He took Colonel MacKenzie before?" Viper asks disbelievingly.
Harm shakes his head. "No, not Mac. But he used my former girlfriend once. He positioned a mirror in front of her, so I saw him but would have shot her if I ever would have fired at him."
My mouth drops open on the evilness of such a thing. How can anybody do that?
"He goes to those lengths?"
A sad nod follows before Harm explains further. "He would. Palmer once posed as my father. Made me believe that he was still alive and calling me. He faked his believe in god just to maneuver me into a trap. And I don't want to know what else his sick brain came up with."
"And he knows that you and Mac are close?"
"Sure he does. I guess he knows everything about me, just like I know everything about him. He once sent her a bloody knife for a wedding present. Trust me; he knows Mac and how much she means to me."
"But he's locked away, isn't he?" the Admiral wants to know.
Another deep breath. "Thank god he is. I made them check. He's still there."
"So it can't be him."
"No it can't."
For a moment we all stay silent, all of us contemplating our own thoughts about a guy like this. How can anybody become like this? How can someone build such hatred?
It's the Admiral who speaks first, "Who else then?"
Harm shrugs his shoulders.
"Could this have something to do with this hearing?"
"The hearing is almost over. What good would it do to kidnap Mac? It wouldn't change anything." Harm shakes his head.
"What are we going to do then?" I want to know.
"I don't know. I might run some names with a friend in Washington, just to be sure. And we should check with the guards at the entrance if there was something odd."
"Commander, you'd better leave this with the base NCIS," the Admiral warns.
"Sir, with all due respect, but they don't know Mac. However, I won't impose with their investigation. I'll just have my own." Harm now stands at attention in front of the Admiral with a perfect about face to demonstrate the seriousness of his reply, totally ignoring the threat this might pose to his career.
I know that there is no way keeping him from it. And obviously Viper realizes the same, as he nods. Both of us would have done the same, faced the situation.
"Okay, Commander. Did you check whether your car is still outside?"
"She wouldn't have gone sir. At least not without telling me." For a short moment his voice has once again gathered this pained tone. The same I heard within his forced "No!" when I implied the same things back in the bathroom.
"Still, we should check. To rule it out, once and for all," I try to calm Harm down and reassure him at the same time.
Waiting for Harm to get his briefcase, the three of us then leave the court room and head towards the stairs and down to the street.
"It's still there." Harm points to a blue Ford that is parked about five meters from where we stand.
-T-O-P-
-G-U-N-
And then there it is again, that voice, that tone. The despise, the coldness.
"Colonel."
The light conjures a red wall in front of my closed lids. It shots up flashes of pain to my brain. Taking another deep breath I prop open my eyes very slowly. First one, then the other. I see bright white greeting me. Everything around me is bathed in the bright light.
I close my eyes again to let them rest for a moment. Next I will them to open again. I need to fight to stare into the light. Small tears build from the brightness. My vision is blurred.
"I hope you like your new place, Colonel." My eyes fixed on a point ahead of me I hear the voice – a man's voice, a young voice – invade my ears. I don't know where it comes from. It could come from directly in front of me. It could come from my right, my left or from out of the room. I still don't see a thing.
"Why am I here?" My tone of voice is totally calm, all business.
"You're not in the position to ask questions, Colonel."
Once again the mention of my rank comes out more ragged and forced then the rest of the sentence. It confuses me. Why use my rank when my name surely is no secret? It's obviously meant to prove a point. But which point?
By now my eyes have adjusted to the light. I can now make out my surroundings. Can see the walls of the small room. It isn't big at all.
There lingers silence. He must be watching me now. Watching as I make no move. I'm still seated at the bed, my head leaned against the wall and my hands folded in my lap. If it wasn't for the circumstances I might have looked relaxed. And exactly that is what I want to portray. That I'm not a bit bothered by the situation I'm in. That I'm capable of dealing with it.
However, inside my head there's a wild raving of thoughts.
From where does he watch? I've felt no windows in the room.
Is there a camera installed somewhere? Most probably.
What kind of room is this? With the upholstered walls it kind of reminds me of a padded cell.
Is there a madhouse somewhere close to the base? It can't be a madhouse, at least not an operating one. There would be too many people.
How far am I from the base?
In a room with no windows and no door, how am I supposed to find a way out? But there has to be a door. A door he got me into this room through. I need to find it and get out of here somehow.
The voice breaks through my whirlwind of questions. "Colonel, you don't have to play it cool. I know you're scared."
"I'm not scared. I'm a Marine." My voice is firm, as is my stance when I get to my feet – a more appropriate position to make my point.
I would really like to know from where he is watching so I could direct my stare right into this cold camera eye of his. It's the best kick-ass-Marine-stare I can muster. So instead I look intently at the far wall hoping it still gets my point across.
Right now it feels like a battle of wills. His wanting to see me broken, mine meaning to keep me strong, to keep me fighting through this. And even though I don't see the man that holds me capture it still seems like we're having a silent conversation. The tension is thick in the air. I wonder if maybe I've gone too far, that maybe I pushed him to do something stupid, something I would regret later, for the silence starts to lay heavy on my shoulders. However, I continue to stare. I won't be the one to back away first. He is right, I'm a Colonel and he's done well to remind me of it.
Then suddenly the light goes out and I'm left in darkness again. I'm not sure who won now. He surely wanted to show me that he still has the power, the power to make my life worse if I choose not to cooperate. But he was the one to withdraw first. He couldn't stand our fight any longer, at least not at present. And shutting the lights down doesn't only mean that I'm no longer able to see, but that he can't see me as well. However, the fact remains that I'm still inside this room and that he has the best control over the situation.
So for a moment or two my gaze stays fixed on the wall. Only then do I slowly drop my eyes to the floor – which for that matter I don't see. I feel my heart pounding heavily in my chest. The adrenaline still runs high in my body. It feels nothing different than just having returned from an actual battlefield.
I take a few deep breaths to calm my raging nerves and straighten my mind. Then I start to walk towards the opposite wall. I need to check this room out more thorough. Beginning in one corner my hands travel over every part of the wall I can reach. Like a blind man my fingers feel over these slight bumps the wall consists of. They move along the edge where the wall meets the floor. They sense the long hairs of the carpet. They reach as far up the wall as I can, standing on tip toes. Carefully and ever so slowly I make my way along the wall. I turn when I reach the next corner. The procedure continues on the next wall. It's the one my bed is propped up against. It's not long before I feel the cold metal of the frame press against my thigh.
Dropping my hands down they as well come in contact with the cold structure. For a second I'm tempted to pull them back. After the softness of the wall the bare frame feels icy on my skin. But I hold on. The coldness quickly spreads through my body, it makes me shiver. And for the first time I realize that the cold is not only coming from the bed, but that the whole room is cold. That the metal construction of the bed only gathered up the temperature that lingered in the room.
When my body adjusted to this new realization I continue to concentrate on the work at hand. There's still the need to check more than half of the room. I'm about to let go of the bed when I decide otherwise. Leaning slightly to the left so I can press my side against the wall, I try pushing the bed into the room. Surprisingly the heavy item gives way easily. Almost soundlessly it glides over the long haired carped. Soon the bed must be standing diagonally in the room, one edge still connected with the wall, the other well into the small chamber. Feeling my way along the bed I head for the other side to as well disconnect it from the wall.
That done I drop down to the floor and skirt over so that my back is leaned against the wall. Closing my eyes I try to catch my breath. Moving the bed might have been easier than I thought but it still exhausted me. I pull my knees up to my chest and hug my arms around them for comfort.
Five minutes go by while I sit there. My breath was normal again after nothing more than two, but ever since I've been sitting here not able to move. I wonder why this has to happen now, now of all times. Why has there always to be a bump in the road? Why can't it run straight for once? Why can't we have a break?
A soft squeak pulls me from my dreadful thoughts. In any other surroundings the quiet sound would be lost, but in this room filled with nothing but silence it rings loud like horn of a passing car. Immediately my eyes snap open and fix on the point where I guess the sound came from. There it is again, the squeaking. It's more enduring now, drawn out longer.
And suddenly I understand what it is. It is the sound of a door – a creaky door. A door somebody opens.
-J-A-G-
-J-A-G-
I lean onto the hood of the Navy issued car and put away my cell phone. I used it to call Bud about the situation. For starters he will inform the General about what happened and then start to look into Mac's recent cases. It's probably a good guess to say that he won't find anything in there, yet still it will calm both our nerves to know for sure. And right now I'm glad that Bud is still willing to do such things when they for sure are no longer a part of his official work.
I meet the questioning eyes of Maverick – for the Admiral left right before my call to Head Quarters – when I let my gaze travel, searching for an answer on what to do next. What is there I can do to find her? I don't even have a clue who took her and why.
Mav holds my glance but keeps silent. He waits for me to decide what to do. After all I'm the experienced investigator. And then I realize what the most logical thing to do is.
"We should check with the posts at the gates; whether they saw something unusual this morning."
Maverick just nods his head before he walks around the car for the passenger's door. For a second I'm surprised that he wants to tag along. Then however I remember that even though he has know Mac for nothing more than a few days he still relates to her as if she were a longtime friend. And he's eager to find her, that he, just like me, can't sit at home being idle when he knows nothing about her whereabouts. So I stand up from the hood and head for my side of the car.
After I unlocked the doors I look at him to signal that he can get in. Our eyes meet over the roof of the Ford in an assuring glance. We're going to find her.
Once inside the car I turn my head and ask, "How many gates are there?"
"Two, the main gate and the south gate," Mav replies while fastening his seatbelt.
I ponder the question where to go for a moment when Mav puts his thoughts in.
"I would suggest we try the southern gate first. If anyone wants to sneak out of the base without attracting too much attention he might choose the less frequented gate."
"But it's most likely he's better remembered there if fewer cars go past there. I think we had better start with the Main Gate." So I turn the key and set the Ford back to head off.
It's not a long drive to the gate but the silence that spreads between us stretches the minutes. It's no uneasy silence, but a laden one. Laden with both our concerns about Mac. So I'm glad when we arrive at the gate and to get out of the car.
"Gunny," I start flashing my JAG ID at the man that occupies the small house by the gate. "We are searching for a female Marine Lieutenant Colonel. Did you happen to see here?"
I'm not very confident that he did. It's very unlikely that whoever kidnapped Mac drove off the base with her in plain sight. And that is given the fact that they actually left the base.
"When did this happen sir?"
"She's been missing for some fifty minutes now." I look at Maverick to confirm my guess. Mac would have known better. He nods his head. "So it could have happened any time since then."
For a long moment the Gunny stays silent, obviously checking through the minutes in question. He then speaks, "Afraid I can't help you sirs. I don't remember a female Colonel." His eyes meet mine for a second before he casts them back onto a point over my shoulder.
"Since when do you man this gate, Gunny?"
"Since 0600 hours."
"And your partner over there?"
"The Sergeant and I arrived together sir."
With a "thank you Gunnery Sergeant," Maverick and I walk over to said Sergeant who stands by the street just outside the gate.
Presenting my ID again I ask, "Did you see a female Lieutenant Colonel today?"
He waves through a car before he answers.
"I'm not sure but I might have seen her. Is she pretty?"
It would have been a normal question if it wasn't for the fact that his questioning glance mixed with a wicked grin and that he is not only speaking of an officer but about Mac all the same. Somewhere in the back of my mind I don't like the way he asked. Because of that I'm tempted to tell him off and not answer the question.
However, Maverick is faster than me and answers. "Yes she is," though in a tone of voice that makes it clear that the Sergeant better watch his tongue. Furthermore he added, "She has dark hair tied up into a bun. So did you see her?"
"I think it could have been her. She was with a Commander."
"When was that?"
"Don't know sir, an hour ago maybe."
A slight suspicion creeps into my mind. "Was she going in or out?"
Another moment of silence.
"In."
I suppress a disappointed sigh. "This Commander would have been me."
He now looks me up and down but gives no sign of any recollection whatsoever.
"Did you see her get out again?"
"No sir."
So much about the slight hope that somebody actually saw her leave the base.
"Did anything odd happen today?" I ask trying some other approach.
"Like what?"
I count down some possibilities, "Like somebody trying to force an entrance, an unusual car, papers that weren't correct. Anything."
He shrugs his shoulders. "The only thing I remember is the supplies car for the O-Club and the CPO-Club. But there was nothing wrong with their papers."
"Then what made you remember the car?" By now my impatience gets more evident in my voice.
"They normally deliver on Wednesday, not Mondays."
Sensing that we should at least check this out, I ask the Sergeant about the details of the car and the company that delivered the things. I end up with the name of a local food provider and the thorough description of the delivery van.
"Anything else?"
"No sir," he says as he waves by another car after a short glance at the offered ID.
"Thank you Sergeant."
"You think they could have kidnapped Mac?" Mav asks once we're on the way back to our car.
"They could have easily put her into the back of the van. Nobody would have seen her. And they came by out of the ordinary schedule."
"So we give it a shot?" I can tell that Mav isn't very much convinced that we already have our kidnapper.
And to tell the truth, neither am I but "It's the only hint we have. So we'll give it a shot." Plus, I never leave something unchecked just because it seems unlikely.
-T-O-P-
-G-U-N-
I often roam the house, look at the pictures. The pictures are all over the place. Some in the master bedroom, a few in the two kids' rooms, but most are displayed in each of the three corridors. They speak of a happy past, of a perfect family. I like looking at them. They show everything I want in my life, everything I'm still searching for.
Once again I pass the decorated wall when I climb the stairs from the cellar. I've just spend another hour in the recording room that is attached to the in-house music studio. Down there I can totally forget about time. Now however I have to report back for duty in half an hour and I need to hurry. Taking two steps at a time I take the stairs further up to the first floor. I head into the second room on the right, the one where my makeshift bed was for the past six weeks. As always when I enter the room I have to smile about the colorful posters of Barney that are all over the place. The first night I wondered how some four year old boy could be sleeping in all this pink and violet. Now I've got used to it.
The bag containing my flight gear and some other stuff stands atop a little children's table in the middle of the room. One day a room like this will belong to one of my children and I'd be no guest in such a house but have all of this of my own – a desirable and devoted wife and a bunch of kids.
When I come back down into the hall of the ground floor I stop my tracks at the top of the downward stairs and listen for a moment. Everything is silent in the house. There's not a sound that could be heard. Satisfied I continue my way to work, closing the door behind me and making sure to lock it twice.
It's almost midday and the streets are relatively empty, making it possible for me to let my thoughts drift some. I think back to the video. The video that captures her movements, that records her day so I can watch when mine is done. I'll know about every tiny thing she does.
Though in the one hour I already spent in front of the screen monitoring her, she hasn't moved much. Ever since I switched the light back on, she remained sitting leaned against the wall starring ahead. She might have played the brave Marine when she first woke up, but as I've zoomed in now, to capture her face she looked lost. I'm sure, that by now she has understood that there is no way out of this room and that I'm the one to be in control – exactly how it should be, how it's destined to be since ancient times.
I saw her move her lips but I couldn't capture her words. I wondered whether she prayed, prayed that I set her free. But I won't, not before she had completely learned her lesson. And that she will. Given the time she will break, she will understand that she is in no way up to me. That no matter how hard she tries to keep up her façade, she's just not strong enough – never was in the first place. I don't know why nobody else sees these things.
However, while I watched her so closely I came to the realization that she is beautiful. I have to admit that much. Have to acknowledge that I like to watch her. Yet this makes her decision all the more wrong. She's not supposed to lead such a life.
I show my ID to the Sergeant at the gate and am free to drive onto the base to blend into the crowd of my brothers in arms while at home the video records her every move.
-J-A-G-
-J-A-G-
When we arrive at the given address somewhere on the western side of Fallon, there's no van to be seen.
"You think that's a good sign or a bad?" I ask Harm once I step up to him beside the car.
He just shrugs his shoulders. He doesn't care. All he cares for right now is to get hold of anybody – and I mean anybody – that might be able to tell him where Mac is. I can tell that he places all his hopes onto this one. That this van, which happened to deliver out of schedule, is the one piece missing to find her.
With quick strides we cross the street and walk up to the door that's nestled at the right corner of the warehouse. A bright sign reads 'Weston Food Supply, the freshest food in the area'. Harm tries the handle and the door isn't locked. He opens it with such a force that it almost slams against the wall.
"Harm!" I try to calm him but he shrugs my hand off of his arm and pushes forward.
Yet despite his hurry and the anxiousness he's probably feeling he still checks his surroundings quickly. But everything is calm, nobody seems to be around.
By the back of the hall I find a room with big glass windows covering most of the walls.
"Harm, over there."
We follow the widest of the passages through the numerous boxes. It leads us right to our desired destination. A man sits slumped behind a desk, obviously asleep. A swift glance around tells me that he's still the only one, apart from us, in this building.
This door opens in our direction and Harm operates it slowly. The man hasn't woken yet, he's still oblivious to our presence. I follow my friend into the room but remain standing near the door while he continues until he is right in front of the desk. For a moment he waits to see if the man would wake up on his own, but when it seems obvious that he won't, Harm slams his flat hand down onto the desk. This produces the desired effect. The man wakes with a start, his eyes darting through the room unfocused. Then they first settle onto me before they finally come to rest on Harm right before him.
"What… what do you want?" The man backs off slightly, pushing his chair away from his desk and Harm.
"Where is your delivery van?" Harm wants to know.
"Why?"
"Just tell me where it is!" Harm's voice is brisk and cold. I've never heard something alike from him.
The man simply shakes his head. Maybe he's all hardened and used to something like that or he's too nervous and shaken to answer.
I go with the nervous and shaken and take a careful step in the man's direction to get his attention before I search for his eyes and say, "This is a Navy investigation. And we need your help." I'm mindful that my voice is calm. I'm merely asking, not demanding. "Can you tell us where your delivery van is?"
For a moment his eyes divert between Harm and me before they settle on me.
"On the tour," he answers slowly.
"You sure?" The tone of Harm's voice jerks the man's attention back towards him.
A simple nod is the reply while his eyes have taken on a panicked look once more.
Silence fills the room after that. I wait for Harm to pose the next question, but there comes none. Unsure about what is happening I glance at Harm and find him looking at me briefly. Then he nods. Is it really that he wants me to go on? I'm no trained investigator, hell I'm not even interested in crime novels. How the heck am I supposed to know how to continue?
Uncertain about what to do next I cast my eyes to the floor to think about something. When I raise them back up and clear my throat I meet the questioning glance of the man behind the desk. Maybe Harm is right, it's probably better for me to carry on.
"Ahm… Why did you supply the Navy base today and not on Wednesday as you used to?" I pose the first question that comes to mind.
"We are closing down for a week, taking a vacation, starting on Wednesday. So we had to reschedule all the appointments for the rest of the week."
This sounds logical to me. So, what else to ask?
"Can you tell me when your appointment with the base was?"
The man nods his head in confirmation and then slowly rolls forward back to his desk, eyeing Harm suspiciously as if he could jump on him any second. We wait a moment with only the clicking of the keyboard cutting through the returned silence.
"Here it is. It was scheduled for 8.20 am."
I calculate the time. 0820 seems pretty early.
"Can you confirm whether your driver was on time?"
"We're always on time," the man states matter-of-factly.
"I believe you. But is there a way to make sure? It's really important."
"Couldn't you guys just call your gate? When I drove the tour it was hell getting on base. All the paper work one had to fill out. You sure still do that, don't you?"
I look at Harm. Why haven't we thought of this? Maybe this was why Viper suggested that Harm had better not investigate the matter himself. We were too close, we can't think straight and get the obvious, not even me.
Slowly Harm pulls out his cell phone and types in the numbers. We all wait for an answer.
"Sergeant, this is Commander Rabb. About the delivery van from earlier this morning, could you look up when it got on base?"
Another moment passed then Harm continued. "And when did it leave? – Thank you Sergeant."
I watch as Harm shuts the phone off and drops his arm to his side. Anxiously I wait for the answer.
"The driver signed out at fifteen minutes to nine." Harm's voice is no longer brisk but sounds defeated.
About the time that Harm and Mac arrived on base? The unvoiced question in my eyes I look at Harm and get a nod. I'm right about the time. They might even have seen the van on their way to base. At quarter to nine Mac was still with Harm. So that pretty much rules the driver of the van out.
"Thank you for your help, sir."
Harm just nods at the man and then walks past me out of the office. I quickly follow.
Once inside the car Harm slams his fist on the steering wheel and exclaims a loud "Damn!"
I remain motionless, just eying him from the side to wait till his anger ebbs away.
"I haven't a clue in the world where to look. How am I supposed to find her now?"
"Harm you're not alone. NCIS is looking into this. And I'm still here to help you."
"Yeah," he waves me off. "But this damn van was the only hint we had and now that went puff. Nobody saw anything. And NCIS isn't much of a help. They know nothing more than we do."
"I know how much you want to find Mac, but you need to calm down. It won't do any good to rage. You can't think straight when your anger controls you."
Harm now turns his head to look at me. For a moment he seems to study me and ponder what I said.
Then he answers. "Yes, you're right. And I'm sorry for what happened in there." He gestures to the warehouse.
"I understand."
"But you were good. Thank you."
"Let's not talk about it. I just wanted to help. Though in the end it turned out to be in vain."
"But that wasn't your fault," he replies while he turns the key and gets us going.
Nearly an hour later, after we checked the southern gate as well and found nothing prosperous, we sit in the O-Club waiting for our lunch.
Harm is lost in planning what to do next. He still rethinks every minute of the day to see if there's something he missed. So far he hasn't come up with anything.
I on my part scan the restaurant to pass the time away. It is relatively empty as of yet, it's still a little early for lunch after all. After a while I see a group of Lieutenants enter. Almost immediately I recognize them as part of what used to my group of the Top Gun course before this whole ordeal started. Upon spotting me and Harm they come over.
"Sirs," Lieutenant Spanks greets.
Behind him I see Sammer and his side kick Frenks, as well as two others. But what surprises me most is that Lieutenant Reese is with them and that it has been her who talked the men into coming over, at least as far as I could tell from watching them.
"Lieutenants." Hearing me respond Harm just looks up and tries a polite smile that doesn't quite work. "Don't you have classes?"
"Not yet sir. We wanted to grab a quick bite before the first one starts," Spanks answers for all of them.
"Then go ahead."
Most of the men already turned around and were about to go when Sammer poses a question. "May we ask if there is any news on Colonel MacKenzie yet?"
I look at Harm but he doesn't look as though he's about to answer so I do. "Nothing yet."
"We're sorry to hear that, sirs." It's Lieutenant Reese who speaks now.
"Thank you." Harm looks up at her.
"Is there anything we can do to help? Question some people; go from door to door to ask if anybody has seen anything?" It's Sammer who offers their help while the others look rather astonished about it.
"I'm not quite sure this will result in anything," Harm says doubt evident in his voice.
"We can still check, just to make sure. We would really like to help." Sammer looks at his friends for confirmation and reluctantly gets them from each of men and quite willingly from Lieutenant Reese.
Harm sighs silently, I more see than hear it though. "Alright. Tell me if you find anything."
"Aye, aye sir." And with that the group of them salutes and then turns around to find a table for lunch.
"You think they might find anything?" I ask once the Lieutenants are settled out of earshot.
"Nope. But I can't think of anything we can do. And if they really want to help they should do it."
"We gonna find her Harm."
He just nods his head.
-T-O-P-
-G-U-N-
It's late, really late. Late enough so the light of day must have given way to the dark of night. But inside this room the light is still bright. If it wasn't for my inner clock I wouldn't know that I'm trapped in this room for more than thirteen hours already. Thirteen hours that passed ever so slowly and in which I haven't come a tad closer to finding a way out. Though by now I at least know what kind of room this is.
When I heard the squeaking earlier this day my eyes diverted to the source of the sound in an instant. What I found took me by surprise. It wasn't exactly a door. It looked more like those doors for cats you install in the actual door. A hand pushed a plate of food through it. I could have jumped up and crossed the room in a few easy strides and grabbed for the exposed arm. But I didn't. I don't know why, but I remained sitting on the floor and just watched. And all too soon the hand was drawn back, the flap closing behind it. I missed my chance. So I stayed at my place, cursing me for my hesitation and starring at the sandwich. I wondered whether it might be poisoned. I wasn't hungry, so I needn't have found out, at least not back then.
After a while the absolute silence started to get on my nerves. Inside this room not a sound could be heard. Even the rustling of my clothes or my sighs were damped down. It felt eerie. And it drove me nuts. Therefore I decided to continue what I had begun before the light had distracted me.
Searching through the room was much easier with the light on. I once again checked the wall I already completed to make sure I hadn't missed anything in the dark. For right now I didn't care whether he saw me searching for a way out. I needed to do something – this much was for sure.
Arriving at the flap I shoved away the plate with the sandwich and the drink to further investigate the opening. It could be operated both ways, but it was way too small for me to crawl through. It was the size I imagined a normal cat flap. A young child might have passed through, but I for sure couldn't. So all that was left for me to do was opening it wide enough to look through and maybe find a hint on where I was. Consequently I lay down flat on my stomach and pulled the flap up so I could see what lay beyond. But behind the door was only darkness. Carefully I stretched out my hand and inched it forward through the door always ready to pull it back if something should happen. But nothing did and I finally came in contact with something solid. Feeling around I figured that he must have build some kind of box around the cat's door, something I couldn't open.
Unnerved I withdraw my hand and backed away. I still had one wall to cover but I was sure to find nothing there as well. The door had been my biggest hope. Slowly I got back up and started on the remaining wall. Cautiously my fingers ran over the soft covering.
Suddenly doubting my chances I leaned my forehead against the wall and closed my eyes. What if nobody would find me? If I didn't find a way out? Would I need to stay here forever? Or would he set me free one day? Kill me?
Taking a deep breath I tried to clear my mind. I shouldn't think about that right now. I needed to concentrate. When I opened my eyes again something caught my eyes. The wall to my right seemed to change its color slightly as it continued towards the door. I took a step back and looked again. Nothing. I leaned my head against the wall. The color definitely changed, and not continuously. I walked along the wall to where I saw the color change. But when I stood in front of it, there was nothing to see again.
Attributing it to the reflection of light I continued further along. However, after just a few moments I found something else. There, right beneath my fingers was a slight joint in the material. I followed it with my finger. Just above the height of my waist the joint formed a right angled and continued further along. Another right angle followed where I had first spotted the change in color. It seemed as if this part of the wall was patched into the rest after everything else had been completed.
For a second I contemplated whether I should try to peel it away with the video camera still watching. But I shot my concerns into the wind, I had already hesitated once too often. Carefully I tried to stick my index finger into the joint to lift up part of the material.
Working concentrated for a long time I finally got enough of the substance peeled off so I could see what lay beneath. My fingers felt the cool surface of glass, something I hadn't expected in the least. More feverishly I started to rip off something more. I needed to see what lay behind the window. Maybe this was my way out.
When I got enough space at last so I could look through, I placed my hands on either side of my face and strained my eyes to see something through the glass.
Slowly my eyes set on a chair first, then a monitor. They roamed the room further but didn't find anything else. This wasn't outside. There was another room, most probably the one where my kidnapper watched me from, though right now he wasn't there. When I was about to withdraw my eyes I spotted something right at the wall to the room I was in. Placed against the wall stood something that looked like a mixer for music. So now at least I knew where I was – in an old music studio.
I looked around the room to see if I could find something to smash the window with but found nothing. The plate would shatter if I throw it against the window and I won't be able to pull the bed against the window so it sprung to pieces.
So here I am, late at night after finally surrendering to the danger of poisoned food when my stomach complained for hours and surviving it. Later I found the plastic potty beneath my bed to relieve myself and happily reached for the drink I had ignored so far.
Now I am lying on the bed that still stands diagonally into the room. I still ponder on how to break the window, but haven't come up with anything. The voice hasn't returned either. Maybe he's out.
Slowly I drift off to sleep, while my beaten mind conjures Harm's picture before my eyes. I want to call out to him, want him to find me and take me home, like he'd done before. In my mind I start to chant his name, over and over again, hoping that maybe it is enough to build a connection between us.
Silently I wonder. 'Can you hear that voice inside of me calling out your name?'
-J-A-G-
-J-A-G-