A/N: Told mainly from Harm's POV. Webb is… Well, you can read for yourself. And for the record, I hate the entire Sadik storyline, but for this story, his name has to come up. I'm also unfamiliar with the logistics of Kuwait, so mistakes are my own.

Secret Agent Man

CIA Headquarters
December 12, 2003
1100 Local

Harmon Rabb pulled his Corvette up to the security gate of CIA Headquarters and flashed his security badge before being waved through. Parking his car, he got out, then strolled into the lobby like he didn't have a care in the world.

It was easier to act that way, rather than let everyone know his true feelings. On the surface, he seemed the same—a cocky, self-confident pilot. The "boy scout" who always did the right thing and was always on the side of the truth.

But anyone who knew him well could see the differences. Gone was the flyboy grin. He had changed in the last six months. His time in the CIA had hardened him. Starting in Paraguay, he'd seen and done things he never thought imaginable. Clark Palmer had once pointed out the number of men he had killed, and he'd taken it in stride. It was one thing to fire a missile from an F-14 at a designated target. Quite another to break a man's neck without giving it a second thought.

But he'd done what was necessary to save Mac's life and would do it a thousand times more if it meant keeping her alive. He paused to look at the stars on the wall—a silent tribute to the fallen. Stars representing unnamed agents who didn't make it back from their missions alive. Had it not been for him, Mac's star would have surely been on that wall.

Clayton Webb's too. Harm couldn't help but sometimes wish Clay hadn't made it out of Paraguay alive. But he knew if that had happened, Mac would only blame herself.

Harm rode the elevator to the floor where Director Kershaw's office was located. His appearance caused him to be the recipient of more than a few stares from members of the opposite sex. He was clad in tight jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather bomber jacket. His hair was a bit longer than Navy regs had allowed. The beard had been a recent addition.

Kershaw's secretary looked up when he entered the room. She was old school, had been with the agency for thirty years, and had children older than Harm. Still, she wasn't immune to his charms. Her face lit up in a smile. "Mr. Rabb. Director Kershaw said to go right in."

"Thanks, Maryanne." He entered Kershaw's office to find none other than Webb there.

Harm removed his aviator glasses. "What are you doing here, Spook Boy?" He had recently begun referring to Clay by that nickname, which irritated the agent to no end.

"Well, Rabb," Webb smirked. "You're certainly dressed for the occasion."

"Hey, not everyone dresses in three-piece Armani suits and attends state functions with their mama. How is she, by the way?"

"Mother is fine, thank you. But that's not why we're here."

Harm turned to Kershaw. "Then why are we here?"

"Agent Webb has new information that could help in the search for Sadik."

Harm narrowed his eyes. "New information, huh? And how accurate would it be? Same as every other damn piece of intelligence you've provided? Let's see. I can't think of a single instance where your 'information' has helped us with anything."

"Harm, I told you the man is like a chameleon. It's not my fault he slips through the cracks."

"Not your fault, huh? Oh, now, we wouldn't want to tarnish your pretty-boy image."

"Rabb, I can have you pulled off this mission."

Kershaw spoke. "No, you can't, Agent Webb. Rabb is in this for the long-haul, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Sadik should be mine. I'm the one he tortured. I'm the one who—"

"Nearly got Mac killed because of your stupidity? Because every damn mission you've ever involved the two of us in has gone south? So help me, Webb, if anything does happen to her, I'll personally—"

"Enough!" Kershaw said. "We're all on the same side here. Sit down, both of you. Webb, tell us what you know."

Harm slumped into a chair, then shared point-blank at a man he'd once considered a friend.

"Sources say Sadik has entered Iraq. He was last seen in Basrah two days ago."

"Then why hasn't someone taken him down already?"

"Not that simple, Harm. Besides. My source provided this information at great risk to his own life. You and Beth O'Neal are to be on a plane to Kuwait City within the hour. From there, you'll receive instructions."

"From who? You?" Harm turned to Kershaw. "I thought we agreed that Webb wasn't to be a part of this. Now I'm taking orders from him?"

"No, you're taking orders from me. Webb is just providing information. If he's right, this could be our best chance at getting Fahd."

"When has Webb ever been right about anything?"

"You're saying you refuse to go?" Clay's voice held a smirk.

"No. I signed on for this mission, and I'll see it through."

"Agent O'Neal has been briefed and will be waiting for you at the airstrip. You leave in an hour," Kershaw said.

"Works for me." Harm stood to leave.

"Hey, Rabb. Get rid of the facial hair before you go."

"I don't take orders from you, Spook Boy. The beard stays."

Kuwait City
December 17, 2003
1540 Local

Harm ended the call, then slipped the secured cell phone back into his pocket. He and his partner, Beth O'Neal, had been in the city for three days without so much as a hint of contact from Webb's "reliable source."

"What's the deal?" Beth O'Neal asked.

"Kershaw says for us to pull out. They found additional info that proved Webb's intelligence was false."

Beth sneered. "Huh. I'll say. The man lacks in the brain department. Not to mention he's the FUBAR king of the agency."

"What I can't understand is why Kershaw keeps putting up with him."

"That's the million-dollar question. Probably because of his father's association."

Harm shook his head. "I've known the man for almost nine years, and I don't know of any of his missions that have gone as planned. Either that or he withholds information because he has an ulterior motive. But damn it this is the fourth time in a month he's fed us false information. Makes me wonder if he's doing it deliberately."

"You really don't think he'd do that, do you?"

"I wouldn't put anything past him. All I know is that he isn't happy about Kershaw giving the Sadik assignment to me. Spook Boy thinks it should be his."

"Spook boy?" Beth laughed.

"He hates it when I call him that."

"You do enjoy provoking him."

"Every damn chance I get. I'll never forgive him for putting— Never mind. Let's get back to the states. When we do, I'm going to talk with Kershaw. This farce has gone on long enough."

A lone figure sat several tables away and watched the man and woman walk away from the café. The man was tall, well over six feet, and the woman matched the description given perfectly.

He waited until they were out of earshot before pulling his cell phone out to make a call.

"It's me," he said when the party answered. "They're leaving. Want me to do anything?"

"Not now. Just sit tight until you hear from me. You'll see them again."

A/N: Secret Agent Man by Johnny Rivers