Chapter 10
May 23, 2006
2252 Local
Harm was hanging up the phone as Mac stepped out of the bathroom, fresh from her shower. He watched with a tender smile as she passed by Sophie's travel crib to check on the slumbering baby. She allowed her hand to rest on her little girl's warm back for a moment, before making her way over to their bed.
"Who was on the phone?" she asked as she leaned back against the headboard and closed her eyes.
"First it was the dog kennel where Damnit's being kept, then the airport, then Bud, and that was Tom Johnson just now."
"Did you get everything worked out?"
"Yeah, I'm going to go make arrangements for the dog tomorrow morning, then I'll come back here and pick you and Sophie up. Damnit will be flying home on our flight, then Bud or Harriet will pick us all up at the airport and take us back to their house," he smiled as he continued, "and Mattie was more than insistent that she and Tom pick Damnit up as early as possible so that she could properly drool over the baby."
"Doesn't she have school?" Mac asked with her eyes still closed.
"It's exam week, and she doesn't have any tomorrow or Thursday, so Tom couldn't come up with any excuses," Harm answered, amused at Tom's predicament. He had first hand experience with Mattie's stubborn streak when it came to authority figures. She wasn't a bad kid by any means, but when she set her mind to something that she considered important, no one was going to stand in her way. Her dad never stood a chance.
Glancing over at Mac when she didn't respond, he noticed that her eyes were still closed. Assuming that her exhaustion had finally won out, he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth and change his clothes before sleep claimed him as well.
Hitting the lights to the bathroom a few minutes later, he tiptoed over to the bed only to find Mac still awake. She was sitting in the same spot on the bed staring out into nothing, the two wrinkles between her eyes indicating intense concentration. Her hands were resting in her lap with her index fingers steepled and tapping together profusely.
He sat down on 'his' side of the bed and grimaced as his back gave a sharp twinge; an aggravating reminder of all of the heavy lifting he'd done that afternoon. He leaned forward, resting one elbow on his leg and rubbing the small of his back with his other hand. He glanced over his shoulder at Mac.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he inquired softly, so as not to disturb Sophie.
"Huh? Oh, I was just thinking about the investigation," she waved her hand flippantly, offering no more in the way of an explanation.
She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Her head tilted to one side as she flashed him a look of concern. "Hey, you okay? Is your back bothering you?"
"Just a bit," he replied, smiling tiredly at her. "Lots of lifting today."
"Here, lie down," Mac pulled her legs under her and kneeled up on the mattress beside Harm. She gently pushed his shoulders toward the foot of the bed so that he was lying flat on his stomach. Straddling his hips and sitting back on his six, she began molding the skin and muscles of his lower back.
Resting his head on his forearms, Harm hummed quietly in appreciation. He let himself enjoy her wonderful ministrations for a couple of minutes before re-addressing the cause of her previously distracted state.
"Clay called while you were in the shower. They still aren't having any luck matching anyone on record with the person that our witness described. Granted, it wasn't much of a description to go on." Harm could hear the frustration in his own voice. Truth was, with Webb's limited support from the Agency, Harm wasn't sure how much more time they had to work with. Once Webb was pulled off the case, Harm's involvement would be severed right along with him.
Mac continued with his massage, a noncommittal grunt the only indication that she'd heard what he'd said. Her small hands were soft and smooth as they glided and pressed on the abused extensor muscles at the base of his spine. She knew just the right amount of pressure to exert and where he needed it the most. As his eyes began to drift shut, he finally let his mind unwind, leaving reality behind for just a moment. Slowly he felt himself relax for the first time all day.
"Harm, exactly how good is your Italian?"
His eyes popped open, unprepared for the off the cuff question. Giving a barely detectable shrug, he attempted to turn around in order to catch a glimpse of her face, but she held him in place, never ceasing her manipulations. It felt too good to argue, so Harm just relented, settling back onto the mattress before answering her question.
"Just good enough to get around here without too much help," he smiled slightly. "But my mom is fluent. She learned when she began making regular business trips over here for the gallery. I picked up a few things from her. Why?"
"Do you know the phrase..." she paused unsurely, her pushing and kneading finally slacking off some, becoming more of a relaxing back rub. He could picture her face, strained in concentration, struggling with one of the few languages she didn't know. "Um, 'Sono rag...ragazza spiacente'..." He heard her whisper the first part of the phase to herself a couple of time, trying to jog her own memory. Finally she finished out loud, "'Spiacente e piccola'. Do you know what that means?"
Harm thought for a minute, pulling up ancient memories of his mother forcing him to practice a foreign language that he had no interest in learning. Now he wished he had paid more attention.
"I think it's an apology," he began. "'At least, I know 'spiacente' means sorry. And I'm pretty sure that 'ragazza' is girl and 'piccola' is small. So, 'I'm sorry small girl'?"
"Or baby girl," Mac mused almost to herself, her hands now a comforting caress against the skin on his back.
"Why? Where'd you hear that?"
"It's what Albina was saying to Sophie when I found them in the nursery this morning. She kept repeating it."
"So, what, you think that Albina did something to the baby?" Harm abruptly rolled over onto his back, grabbing Mac's forearms to keep her balanced and off the floor. "Do you think that's why Sophie was so upset?" Disbelief and concern were warring for control as he stared intently at Mac, who was now perched on his thighs.
Mac placed a soothing hand on his chest and patted, smiling at him calmly. "No, I don't think she hurt Sophie. Power down, Superdad."
He nodded, relieved that it was his disbelief that was validated. "So what are you saying?" He watched as his fiancée looked away, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She seemed to be debating whether or not to tell him what was on her mind.
He sat up, supporting himself on one arm with Mac still in his lap. He used his free hand to push some hair out of her face so they could look each other in the eye. "Alright, Marine, let's have it."
"Okay, okay," she rolled her eyes, but smiled warmly at him before beginning. "You're gonna think I'm crazy, but have Webb's men checked out Albina? I mean, really checked her out, not just her references."
He raised his eyebrows high on his forehead. Was Mac implying that Albina had something to do with AJ and Francesca's deaths? "Um, I don't know. I know that they checked out her employment background, just to make sure she was what she said she was."
Mac nodded as though this was the answer she expected.
"Why, what are you thinking?" he asked.
"Something's been bothering me since the movers showed up this afternoon. Do you remember having to help the tall one, Tonio, move the rocking chair out of the nursery?"
"Yeah," he replied slowly, "it was too heavy for just one man. The two of us almost needed a third guy to lift it into the truck." It was, most likely, the awkward gliding contraption that had triggered his back spasms earlier.
"That chair was in the livingroom when we left the house last night. Remember? We fed Sophie in that chair." At his affirmative answer she continued. "Anyway, I didn't think much of it until I realized this afternoon while watching you, just how difficult it was to move," she looked pointedly at Harm, "way too heavy for a little old woman to move on her own..."
"So how did it end up in the nursery this morning," Harm finished, finally following her line of thought. He sat up more fully and Mac slipped back off his lap. The severing of their physical connection, however, did nothing to weaken their intellectual one. Faces still inches apart; Harm never broke eye contact as he searched his mind for possible explanations.
"Maybe the men who broke in moved it for her." He knew how unlikely that was immediately.
"Maybe..." she conceded warily, "but Harm, you saw that house. How conscientious do you think these men were? They destroyed Francesca's home. After they killed her. And her father. And her baby's father. But they are going to take the time to move a rocking chair, a very heavy rocking chair, for an elderly woman with an infant, whom they are supposedly terrorizing?"
"Is it possible that it could have been moved in there by an agent afterwards?" Harm screwed his face up questioningly. They both knew that was against standard procedure for investigating a crime scene.
Mac shook her head. "I don't think so. Everything, with the exception of the nursery furniture, was smashed. Why would they have left the rocking chair alone?" She went on as if presenting him with a closing argument, "At the very least, if it had survived, it would have been covered in glass and debris. Not a good thing to drag into a baby's room."
"Yeah, it makes no sense. Unless..."
"Unless Albina knew the men that broke in," Mac continued his thought.
"In which case," he concluded, "they wouldn't think twice about moving the chair for her, to make her more comfortable."
Harm pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. He sighed deeply after a moment and moved his hand away from his mouth to point at Mac. "Okay, but do you honestly believe that this little old lady is involved with a terrorist group?"
It was Mac's turn to shrug her shoulders. She moved to sit back in her original position against the headboard. "I've seen stranger. She was the only other one around yesterday when Webb told us that the portfolio found at the scene of the explosion was empty. Then last night, after two weeks, suddenly Francesca's place is ransacked? That, and the apology to Sophie...Harm..."
She really didn't need to say anything else. The evidence was beginning to speak for itself. "Alright," he sighed, moving to slump down beside her on the bed. "I'll call Webb."
He reached for the bedside phone just as Sophie decided it was feeding time. Harm watched with a grin as Mac hopped off the bed and headed over to the baby.
"Hey little one," she said in that singsong voice that Harm was quickly falling in love with. "You ready to eat?"
He was so content to watch his new little family that he almost missed the curt "Webb" on the other side of the line.
"Webb, it's Harm," he said, watching Mac grab a full bottle from the mini fridge and head toward him, holding the baby out for him to take. He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder and accepted Sophie. Mac then motioned to the bottle in her hand, and then to the bathroom. Harm's brow winkled and he shook his head slightly to communicate that he didn't know what she was trying to say.
"We don't have anything more for you Harm," Webb grumbled irritably.
Ignoring his questioning look, Mac headed into the bathroom, leaving Harm sitting on the bed with a grumpy spook on the phone and a hungry baby in his lap.
"Yeah, well, I think we may have something for you," Harm began filling Webb in on Mac's suspicions as he bounced Sophie on his shoulder. While she wasn't crying out right, the noises that were coming from the infant definitely weren't happy ones.
"So, you two think that that sixty some year old woman is behind all this?"
Taking a deep breath, Harm told himself to ignore Webb's snippy attitude. He shifted Sophie to cradle her in one arm, tucking her pacifier back in her mouth, and switched the phone to his other ear. From the bathroom, he heard the sink turn on.
"No, not behind…involved maybe…you have to admit it's fishy." When Webb didn't immediately deny this, Harm pushed forward. "Is there a possibility that one of your people moved the chair for her?" he asked diplomatically.
Webb scoffed. "Not unless they want to end up in the basement of Langley sorting mail the rest of their career."
"Well then," Harm went on, "do you think maybe you could find out when Albina was hired by Francesca?" He winced, hearing his traitorous voice slip from patient to patronizing before her could stop it.
Fortunately, Webb's only response was a sigh of reluctant cooperation. "Hold on," the agent commanded. Harm looked down at Sophie, who had contented herself with sucking on her favorite pacifier for the time being. He made some funny faces at the little girl, hoping to stave off the tears that her big, liquid brown eyes looked ready to release
He glanced up to see Mac smiling at him from the bathroom door. He noticed her empty hands and asked, "Where's the bottle?"
"What?" Webb's voice sounded distracted.
"Not you Clay," Harm rolled his eyes. Looking back up, he raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.
"I filled the sink with hot water to heat up the formula," Mac explained as she walked over to the bed with a diaper in one hand and a tub of baby wipes in the other. She set the items on the nightstand and reached down to tickle Sophie's belly. The baby squirmed around, instinctively curling her little legs up to protect herself from her mommy's wiggling fingers.
"Hey Harm..." Webb called, his voice more focused than it was a few seconds ago. "Albina was hired a month before the baby was born. Less than two weeks after Greg Mason handed the papers to Paul Jordan."
The silly expression Harm had been using to entertain Sophie melted from his face as he gave Webb his full attention. Mac apparently noticed the sudden shift from father to investigator, and reached over for the baby.
"You think she was planted there to keep an eye on Paul?" Harm handed his daughter over distractedly as he waited for an answer. This time it was Mac who shot the questioning look. He nodded, acknowledging her silent inquiry and asking for her patience with just that one gesture. She seemed to read him perfectly and turned her attention to more pressing matters; namely, the funky smell emanating from Sophie's diaper.
"Shit," Webb muttered, "if that's the case, then she also knows that we don't know the details of the attack..."
"And if she told them..."
"Then they'll definitely attempt to carry it out. Damn. Look, let me check this out. I'll order a more in depth background check on her. She's not due to leave town until the day after tomorrow anyway," Harm could tell that Webb was ready to wrap up their little tLte-B-tLte. "I'll call you when I get the results."
"Tomorrow will do just fine," Harm corrected. They had all had a long, trying day. Already exhausted, he knew that the baby would be up at least twice more before morning. He didn't think that they need any interruptions between feedings. "I'll be headed to the kennel around nine-thirty,"
"Fine, I'll be in touch." Then the call abruptly ended and Harm wasn't sure if he was insulted or relieved. Placing the phone back in the cradle, he turned back to Mac and Sophie.
"You know, Daddy," she began before he could say anything, "eventually you're gonna have to do one of these too." Finishing up the snaps between the legs of Sophie's pink and white onesie, she looked up at Harm with a sickeningly sweet smile and handed him the little purple plastic bag containing one poopy diaper. He accepted it with the trepidation of someone who was asked to hold a live grenade. She laughed at the look on his face. "It's secure Sailor, I promise."
He swung his arm around, keeping a decent distance between the diaper and his face, and dropped the offending item in the bedside trash.
"Watch her," she nodded to the baby lying on a blanket on the bed. "I'm gonna wash my hands and grab her bottle." As she stood up and headed toward the bathroom, she asked, "So, what'd Webb say?"
"Well, he was a little skeptical in the beginning," he said, as he played with Sophie's bare little foot. "Then he checked Albina's date of hire. It was less than two weeks after Paul Jordan returned to Italy from his conference."
"So, what, she's sent in to see if Jordan has the file?" She walked back into the room with a warmed baby bottle. "Who the hell is she? How is a sixty-plus-year old Italian housekeeper slash nanny involved with Al Qaeda?"
"Hey, this was your wild theory this time, not mine," he replied in jest.
"Ha-ha," she shot back, her nose scrunched up at him good-naturedly. She settled back on the bed with her knees bent up and the baby leaning back against her legs. Popping the pacifier out of Sophie's mouth, Mac replaced it with the nipple of the bottle quickly to prevent any verbal objections from her daughter.
Harm slid down on the bed and rested his chin on Mac shoulder, the two of them watching, captivated, as Sophie enjoyed her midnight snack. For her part, Sophie stared at her new parents intently, focusing as best as her young eyes would allow while sucking eagerly at her bottle. Harm reached a finger out and swiped at a drop of formula that dribbled down from the corner of her mouth.
"She's adjusting to all of this extremely well considering all the changes she's been through recently," he remarked, running his hand up and down Mac's arm from elbow to shoulder.
"You know what I think," Mac said softly, stroking the smooth skin on the baby's cheek and running her hand over her dark hair. "I think that she knows that we're here to take care of her. She feels safe and loved. And that's what's most important to her right now." Harm watched Mac's hand stroke Sophie's hair rhythmically. The little girl's eyes were beginning to droop, even as she continued to eat vigorously.
"She must have been so scared this morning," she whispered. "All that noise and violence. She shouldn't have had to witness that." Mac shuddered slightly; remembering the vicious way that the apartment had been demolished.
"Hey," Harm turned his head toward her neck, planting a kiss on her warm skin, and whispered in her ear, "She's fine now. She's here with us. And as you just so astutely pointed out, this is where she feels safe…with us." He turned his head back toward Sophie, who was still struggling to keep her eyes open. "You hear that Princess?" he asked, nudging her little hand with his finger and smiling when she gripped it tightly. "Everything is going to be okay now. Daddy promises."
As if she was just waiting for his reassurance, Sophie let her eyes slip shut, her mouth going slack around the nipple; Mac jiggled it slightly and the sucking recommenced, but her eyes remained closed. For a moment, the only noises in the room were the grunts and slurps coming from the little girl's mouth.
"It's humbling, how trusting she is of us already." Harm's whisper carried a note of awe. He felt Mac sigh contently against him and he turned his face into her hair, breathing in her scent. He smiled when he realized that while her unique 'Mac' smell was still present, it was now intermingled with a new fragrance; a mixture of baby lotion and talcum powder. Closing his own eyes and inhaling the new aroma once again, Harm was taken aback by the feelings that washed over him, positive in that moment that he'd just fallen even deeper in love with her.
As if reading his thoughts, he heard Mac whisper, "We love you too, Flyboy."
TBC