A/N: Totally loving the reviews! You guys are great. I know that our group efforts are normally short stories, this one isn't so the Cold War between Harm and Mac, well we can make it longer. Everyone here has come down with Bellisario Angst Syndrome; we apologize in advance, but as Steve Miller said in "Jet Airliner": "You've got to go through hell before you get to heaven."
A staff car dropped Harm off on the tarmac at Andrews. Mike and Nate were waiting for him by the Lear jet. "You got that legal position locked in?" Mike questioned as they all boarded the plane.
"Nothing's a lock." Harm replied as he climbed the steps.
"This kinda has to be." Mike fired back.
"Not for the Russians. I've been talking to Minister Petrov since you left the Pentagon and his government is in complete co-operation, it's just that if the shit hits the fan on this one, we're going to need a legitimate reason for everything we've done." Nate explained as they all took their seats.
"What you're telling me is that if we find out that Faraz has the chemical, we're going to need me to come up with a legitimate reason to bomb his compound into the Stone Age." Harm was in no mood for dealing with BS tonight.
"That's one of the more extreme measures but the likely end, yeah." Mike admitted. "I think we all need to catch some sleep. We got nine hours to Moscow and then a gas up and meet with Minister Petrov who'll accompany us on the remaining hour flight to Groznyy. Nate, please get some sleep, we're counting on you for our Russian translations tomorrow."
"I'll think about it." Nate shot back as he set up his laptop on the little table in front of him. That was one thing about Government Issue private jets, they tended to look like mobile command posts on the inside. Nate was curled up with a pillow, using his overcoat as a blanket. Harm had not thought that far ahead and was relegated to using his sea-bag as a pillow. The plane taxied down the runway out of Andrews and then after a few minutes, they were in the air over the Atlantic.
"You know what sucks? I can't fall asleep without a woman beside me anymore; I have completely lost my independent ability to sleep." Mike complained as he tossed in his seat.
"So, pack Becky the next time we decide to jump time zones. Or is Groznyy just not among her choice of vacation sites?" Harm joked.
"Hey, don't laugh at me unless you want to be teased about Meg for the whole ride." Mike tossed back. He looked over to see Nate rubbing one temple and staring down at a computer screen. "What? No witty repartee from our resident Princeton alum?"
"While you two are spouting back and forth about your experiences with the double X chromosome, I hunched over a computer trying to prevent chemical warfare. Sorry, if I care about my job." Nate rubbed his eyes.
"Listen; don't get pissy with me just because it's been eighteen months since you got laid." Mike shot back.
"Eighteen months? Now there's a long dry spell, Nate." Harm joked.
"Here's what I'm trying to figure out. In the middle of a war zone, there's a highly guarded stockpile of highly lethal chemical weapons. The guards only find out that they're on shift five minutes before they actually go on shift, all their movements are monitored between the time they wake up and the time they go on and their Lieutenant keeps a keen eye on them while they're on duty. There is every precaution taken, to prevent this kind of thing from happening so how does a canister of a rare and volatile nerve agent go missing just like that?" Nate snapped his fingers at the end.
"That was bugging the absolute hell out of me while I was leafing through treaties back at my apartment. There is no way that anyone should've been able to smuggle anything out of that compound much less out of Chechnya." Harm walked over and leaned over Nate's shoulder to get a look at the computer screen. "Why only one? If they could smuggle them out, wouldn't they try for more then one. One canister would limit them to a relatively contained attack."
"Harm, one canister of Cyclosarin, if released into a highly populated area with prevailing winds, could kill up to 80 000 people. That would make it the largest chemical strike in the history of the planet. If it was released in downtown Manhattan during rush hour, its human toll could easily equal the Nagasaki bomb. That's no contained attack, that's an assault with more carnage than Market Garden." Mike pointed out.
"Alright so basically, we have to get in their and really grind some gears. Is that what you two are telling me?" Harm questioned looking from Mike to Nate.
"That's not quite how the game is played. You and I grind gears; we're the muscle of the operation. Nate deals with the politics. Use those litigator skills we need to find the son of a bitch who sold that canister and we need to find out who he sold it to." Mike's posture and demeanour dictated a tense grit coursing through his body.
"Then what do we do with him?" Harm asked.
"Well we could shoot him. Or we could turn him over to the Russians." Mike explained.
"And they would shoot him." Nate concluded, he punched a key on his laptop and a database came up.
"What's this?" Harm asked.
"Database of the Russian military personnel stationed at the compound near Groznyy." Nate stated.
"How did you get that?" Harm's eyebrows raised in curiosity.
"Thanks to DDCI Reid, Nate has one of the most powerful and intelligence capable laptops in the American government. The Russian databases are courtesy of a friend of Nate's. A Russian insider codenamed 'Rasputin' and Nate has been very careful about keeping his identity secret." Mike explained with an evidently annoyed tone.
"I was the best man at his wedding, there have to be some secrets that even the CIA can't know." Nate commented.
"You sound annoyed, Mike." Harm observed.
"I am annoyed. Rasputin will only talk to Nate and when he does, he's never in Russia. He's always in some place like Grand Turk where we wouldn't suspect him to be and we can't track him." Mike fumed.
"Of course this means I get to laugh." Nate was shuffling through profiles on his computer.
"What's Rasputin telling you?" Harm watched as the Cyrillic letters appeared on the screen.
"That in the three days that the canister has been missing, only three people have not shown up for their shifts at the compound and only one of them has a reasonable explanation." Nate read the text aloud as it came up on the screen.
"Who is he and what's the explanation?" Harm pushed.
"He's a corporal and he was shot between the eyes." Nate responded, indicating the part of the conversation on the screen where the question had already been asked.
"Who are the other two men?" Mike asked.
"One is Colonel Anatoly Zhermenev, ex Red Army and the other is Lieutenant Vladislav Corchinski." Nate read the information as it came up on the screen.
"Two officers." Harm noted under his breath.
"Not just officers; Zhermenev is the base CO." Mike recalled.
"Alright, we wanted the man who could have gotten those canisters out without detection or arousing suspicion, looks like we've got our prime suspect." Harm surmised.
"Mike, when was the last time you were an operations officer?" Nate questioned.
"Before I decided it was better to roll with the analysts, why?" Mike went wide-eyed, anticipating the next words out of Nate's mouth.
"We need you to dig for Zhermenev when we land in Groznyy. Harm and I will inspect the stockpile and get our questions answered by the Russian officials when it comes to Corchinski. But my gut tells me that Zhermenev is behind this, find out who he sold to." Nate paused for a second to allow the information to settle in.
"Authorization of force?" Mike questioned grimly. Everyone knew what Mike's question was meant to imply. He wanted to know the means he would have at his disposal to extract the information.
"Consider this Forces Necessary." Nate replied with a solemn nod.
"How can you give that order? I thought only the DCI or DDCI could give orders to agents in the field?" Harm questioned.
"He's got operational seniority over the DDCI; the position he holds in the State Department gives him that kind of command clearance in field situations like this." Mike explained as he pulled his 9mm firearm and holster out of his luggage and loaded a clip inside.
"Alright, that's enough espionage for one night, let's grab some shut-eye; shall we?" Harm yawned noticeably and fell back into his seat.
1023 LOCAL
MOSCOW INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
The Leer set down on the tarmac at the airport. Harm, Mike and Nate had all managed somewhere in the neighbourhood of nine hours sleep and they even managed a little scrap of breakfast before the Russian delegation was set to meet them on the plane at 1030. Nate, being ever the Marine, even after a decade in the State Department, was the first one up; followed by Harm and finally Mike.
"I can't believe you were spooning with your luggage." Harm laughed boisterously.
"It's just a shame that we didn't have a camera. That's what I call a Kodak moment." Nate was in the bathroom putting on a new suit and tie. He came out of the bathroom and saw Harm in whites. "You've obviously never seen A Few Good Men."
"What?" Harm commented, indicating his dress whites.
"Harm, I realize that you're psyched about being a diplomatic envoy on a mission of this magnitude and you're only trying to make a good impression, but we're going into a war zone. If Chechen snipers see someone in white, they might take you to be someone that they want to take a shot at. Then, you're dress whites will turn blood red and they won't have the same Top Gun effect on the beach bunnies at South Beach this summer." Nate joked with a sarcastic smile.
"That's a really backhanded way of telling me that you're trying to stop me from getting myself killed." Harm commented as he headed for the bathroom to change yet again. Harm sequestered himself in the bathroom to change and Nate stepped over to talk to Mike.
"After you get the information from him, hand him over to the Russians, I don't want you responsible for a death." Nate stated quietly.
"Alright, it might take some pretty extreme measures to get the answers out of him though." Mike finally raised his gaze from the floor.
"Everyone uses them, just not everyone broadcasts it. Get the information and hand him over to the Russians……preferably, in one piece." Nate finished. The pilot came out and lowered the staircase for the jet and at that moment, Harm rejoined his colleagues in the main compartment of the jet. The three men walked down the staircase of the jet and out on to the open tarmac, with Nate leading the way.
"Nathan, my boy!" A stout, white-haired Russian man in his mid-fifties called to Nate who was walking over to shake his hand. The older Russian pulled Nate in for a big bear hug.
"Rasputin?" Harm questioned under his breath to Mike.
"No, that's Russian Minister of Defence Alexander Petrov. His whereabouts are always accounted for when Nate makes contact with Rasputin. I'm sure if you checked the logs at Langley for last night, they would tell you the same thing." Mike answered. "This does raise certain questions about how Nate could know Petrov this well."
Nate guided Minister Petrov over to the plane where Harm and Mike were waiting. Nate made the introductions in Russian and both Harm and Mike shook the minister's hand before they all boarded the plane. The gentlemen settled into their seats and the planed taxied down the runway, making more Groznyy. "Nathan, my son Nikolai sends his regards. He does so wish that you would come and visit your godchildren more often. They do miss their godfather."
"I believe that they only miss the American candy that I tend to bring with me, Alexander." Nate joked.
"No, no, this is not so!" Petrov boasted with a heavy Russian laugh. "Pavel is already playing hockey, they believe he will play for Russia soon enough."
"Well, Nikolai always did have a fearsome wrist shot; it's nice to know that he gave something to the next generation." Nate replied smugly.
"Excuse me, how do you two know each other?" Mike questioned.
"Nathan, was roommate with my son Nikolai at Princeton. He introduced my son to his wife and as a result, my grandson Nathaniel bears his name." Petrov was grinning from ear to ear.
"Extended Russian family, Nate?" Harm laughed slightly.
"I happen to know that I'm not the only one, Captain." Nate returned and Harm froze in his seat. Of course, these guys obviously had their way of knowing certain things. It didn't exactly surprise him that Nate and certainly Mike would know about Sergei. For the remainder of the plane ride, the guys took turns filling Minister Petrov in on the events of the day, carefully omitting parts so that they would be able to have Mike operate in Chechnya under the Russian radar.
When they landed on a Russian Army airstrip outside of Groznyy, their Army escort was there to meet with them. "Alright Mike, why don't you go consult with the UN Human Rights team on site, we'll meet back here at 1900?" Mike nods and takes off away from the base. Petrov turned to Nate and asked a question about where Mike was going and Nate gave him some stock answer which seemed to appease the Russian politician.
"How's he going to find Zhermenev?" Harm questioned Nate in a whisper.
"I learned a long time ago that it's better not to question how the Company gets things done." Nate responded as there escort led them deep into the inner sanctum of the compound.
"You are hungry, yes?" Petrov asked cheerily.
"Marines are always hungry, Minister Petrov. I have no doubt that Nate's stomach is rumbling as we speak." Harm joked, even making Nate laugh.
"Good; the how you say Mess Hall, is serving our soldiers right now. We will join them." Petrov motioned for the driver to stop at the Mess.
"Oh great, Borscht on a shingle." Nate quipped as the vehicle pulled to a stop and everyone hopped out. When Petrov opened the door to the mess and stepped in, all the soldier came to attention out of respect. Petrov put them at ease and he sent two of their escort to pick up some food for Harm and Nate.
"Brother!" A soldier called from the end of one table.
"Sergei?" Harm questioned, bounding down the aisle to find his brother. Sergei stood up and wrapped his brother in a big hug. "I thought the Chechens had you prisoner?"
"Mr. Webb arranged a switch from what I understand; he also made sure I was included. This was as far as I got." Sergei explained as if reciting lines.
"Leave it to Webb to leave a job half finished." Nate caught up to them.
"What means half finished?" Sergei questioned in obvious confusion. Nate pulled Harm aside for a second to talk.
"You want me to get him out of here? I can make it amicable." Nate questioned in a whisper.
"Are you sure? He's stubborn; he'll want to stay in the Army and fight." Harm responded in the same whispered tone.
"I'll arrange everything with Papa Petrov; I've already got the ideal situation worked out." Nate concluded with a reassuring nod.
"Why are you doing this?" Harm questioned, realizing that he and Nate weren't exactly on the best terms.
"He's half American, right? That entitles him to the same chances at Freedom that the rest of us are afforded." Nate responded and they turned back to talk with Sergei and Minister Petrov. After a conversation held in Russian, which Harm couldn't understand to save his life, Minister Petrov agreed to make Sergei part of their escort for the inspection and he further agreed to fix Sergei's transfer to the Russian Embassy guard at the embassy in Washington. When Harm heard the latter news, his respect for Nate Ross went up quite a few pegs.
They were about halfway through the inspection at 1600 when they decided to break for ten minutes. Nate pulled out his phone and dialled a call back home. After a few rings, someone picked up the other end of the line. "MacKenzie."
"You know, I think I need to work on my Russian." Nate joked when he heard Mac's voice.
"I heard that you guys weren't at the Pentagon today. What are you doing in Russia?" Mac questioned, glad to finally have social contact for the first time since lunch yesterday.
"Ask the President, if he tells you, then I'll tell you." Nate quipped.
"If he tells me then I'll already know and I won't need you to tell me." Mac was smiling on the other end of the phone.
"Funny how that works. What's new at JAG?" Nate questioned, trying to shift the focus off of his job.
"Nothing really, it's funny that I never noticed how dull this place can be without –" Mac stopped there.
"Without Harm to liven the place up?" Nate concluded.
"Yeah." Mac admitted sounding drained. "Enough about that, I promised to plan something to prevent you from going into work on Sunday and that's what I'm going to do." Mac steeled her resolve. "How about going for a run?"
"You're going to entice me away from work with promises of exercise? Now, I know why I became a reservist, you active duty Marines have a really odd sense of fun." Nate chortled happily.
"So that's a no to the jogging?" Mac questioned.
"Nah, I'll go, should be good for me." Nate let out a heavy breath and he heard the heavy Russian accent tell him that they were going to continue the inspection. "I have to go, Mac. Take care."
"You too, Nate." Mac replied before hanging up her phone.
The rest of the afternoon was spent occupying Russian officials with this inspection while Mike worked on getting the truth. Nate had no doubt that by the time they made it back to the tarmac at 1900, Mike would be there waiting for them.
When 1900 rolled around, Harm and Nate loaded up into the escort with Sergei and Minister Petrov and headed back for the airstrip. The rain began to beat down as they made their way to the airfield. When they pulled up to the Leer, sure enough, Mike was standing there without an umbrella waiting for them. "You know, I always forget something when we pack for these trips." Mike stated as he walked over.
"How did your conference with the Human Rights people go?" Nate questioned cryptically.
"I got the truth out of them, it took a little intense goading. Our suspicions were confirmed." Mike's voice took on a grizzled quality. Everyone hurried on to the plane and Nate patched an emergency call through to Secretary of State Malcolm Anderson.
"Secretary Anderson's office." The receptionist replied.
"Maude, this is Nate Ross, where's Malcolm now?" Nate was hurried.
"He's out at extended lunch and he won't be back until 4:30pm, Mr. Ross." Maude replied. "Do you need anything else?"
"No, Maude, thank you." Nate's voice was dripping with spite as he slammed his phone shut. "80 000 lives at risk and Malcolm Anderson is fucking golfing!" Nate shouted.
"Call the President." Harm suggested.
"I don't like springing these kind of things on him when he doesn't have anyone there to advise him on what to do." Nate retorted.
"Mike, you call Deputy Director Reid. Nate, he'll have you to advise him. Just remember that you're setting policy that's going to save the lives of countless Americans and be good." Harm was now doing the leading. This was the first time that either of them had seen Nate Ross nervous and it wasn't the most reassuring sight.
Nate flipped open his cell and dialled the number for the White House switchboard. "This is Assistant Secretary of State Nathan Ross, I need to speak with the President immediately, it's a matter of National Security." A busy signal came on the line. "She's seeing if the President wants to talk to me."
"Oh good God. Do the words National Security not mean anything?" Harm questioned in frustration. A few seconds later, the President had assented to Nate's call.
"Mr. President, this is Nathan Ross. Listen, sir, in a few minutes Deputy Director Reid and Director Blake are going to walk through your door and give you a full update on the situation. The fact is, you need to order a complete inspection of any and all luggage coming in from Libya now. If we don't, there are going to be a lot of dead Americans some time in the near future." Nate's gift for saying what needed to be said was starting to prove handy.
"What are you telling me, Mr. Ross?" The President questioned.
"What I'm telling you, sir, is that Captain Rabb, Agent Bradley and I have uncovered the fact that there is a terrorist in Libya named Yassir Faraz who is in possession of the nerve agent Cyclosarin. We have substantial reason to believe that he's planning a chemical strike on the continental United States." Nate couldn't believe the sentence that he had just used.
"Holy Mother of God, Mr. Ross. I need you and your team back in Washington ASAP, where are you now and how soon can you get here?" The President questioned.
"We're taxing down the runway into Moscow International to drop off Minister Petrov, then we're going to refuel. Best guess is that we should be in Washington sometime around 0430 tomorrow morning." Nate stated.
"I'll have a staff car waiting for you on the tarmac at Andrews. It will take you right to the White House. I'm going to need you three in the Situation Room. Get some sleep, Mr. Ross, we're going to need you and your team tomorrow." The President hung up the phone.
"Director Blake was already on his way to the White House when I called. He'll be there briefing the President until we can get there. Anderson and the National Security Advisor have been called back in and the Joint Chiefs are on there way to the Sit Room. The SECDEF is at NATO HQ in Brussels for a summit that he can't walk out of the middle of without raising suspicions." Mike supplied as he closed his own phone.
"Yeah, that figures. We're running all over hell trying to prevent a chemical strike and they're worried about appearances." Harm's voice was dripping with sarcasm. Sergei couldn't understand the rapid and frantic English that was being spoken by those around him.
"Brother, I do not understand." Sergei voiced his complaint.
"You speak Russian, talk to him." Harm looked over at Nate.
"I'm running on a long day, a lot of stress and little sleep and you expect me to explain the words 'chemical holocaust' to a Russian Helo pilot from the taiga? Keep dreaming. The only language my brain can use right now is English." Nate collapsed in his chair.
"Sergei, if we don't get back to Washington very soon, a lot of people's lives are going to be in danger." Harm explained simply.
"And this has turned your friends into raving madmen?" Sergei questioned.
"Well, they're normally like this but the situation has only intensified it." Harm smiled at his brother's description.
"I am afraid I still do not really understand." Sergei stated pointedly.
"It's okay, none of us really understand either." Mike concluded. "Now everybody get some shuteye. We'll be of no use to anyone tomorrow if we're running on no sleep."
0930 ZULU
ANDREW'S AFB
MORNINGSIDE, MARYLAND
Harm had called Meg the second he found out that they were over American waters. Someone had to come and pick up Sergei and after bribing her with countless promises of foot-rubs and dinners, she eventually consented. She still threatened to make him pay for waking her up at 0330 in the morning. The plane landed at Andrews and Meg was waiting on the tarmac, as was a Helo instead of a staff car that was ready to take them to the White House. Harm ran over to talk to Meg for a few seconds and introduce Sergei.
"Meg, I hate to run out but this really is an emergency. This is my brother Sergei, Sergei, this is Meg. She's my friend; she'll get you settled in at my apartment." Harm gave Sergei a pat on the back.
"She's very pretty, you've done well, brother." Sergei replied as he climbed into the car and Harm went running over to the Helo.
"I'm glad you approve." Meg joked as she pulled the car off the tarmac.
The Helo soared over DC on their way to the White House. The three wise men were at the top of their respective professions and now, they were being tested as to whether that would be enough to win another battle in the War on Terror.