21
Given that she hated being dragged away from the office when everything was so busy Mac was in a surprisingly cheerful mood, well, she reflected, it surprised her anyway. In the couple of hours she'd been at her desk she had accomplished a fair amount of work, due she acknowledged, in no small part to the assistance provided by Jennifer Coates, who had also come in early and apparently for no other reason than to help Mac.
Now as she slotted her Corvette into once of the 'visitors' parking bays she realised that even with the hike across the acres of parking lot to the entrance, she had left herself plenty of time, so that she wouldn't appear hot and flustered on arrival at the SecNav's suite of offices.
Arriving at the CP, she signed in and receiving her Visitors' Badge pinned it carefully to the lapel of her Service Alphas, and turned to check her presentation in the full length mirror provided for that purpose.
Satisfied that other than a couple of creases across the front of her skirt that she was properly turned out, she turned to the Gunnery Sergeant at the CP desk, "Thank you Gunny, I don't need an escort," she smiled wryly, "I know the way!" Oh she knew the way, alright, just like she had known the way to the principal's office when she had been at High School, but why, oh why, whenever she received a summons to the SecNav's world did she feel just like that nervous and errant teenager. Especially when she had been summoned for an unknown reason!
Reaching the door to the SecNav's suite of offices, she opened it and stepped in to the rapidly becoming familiar ante-room, occupied as always by a single desk at which sat a Legalman Two, who leaped to her feet with a cheerful, "Good morning, ma'am! How may I help you?"
"'Morning Legalman Two, I'm Colonel MacKenzie; I have a zero nine fifteen with the SecNav."
"Of course, ma'am. It's to be in the small conference room. Do you know where that is, or would you like me to show you?"
"No, that's fine. It's just down the hall a few steps on the other side, right?"
"Yes ma'am, Admiral Tucker and Admiral Morris have already arrived, ma'am."
Mac stopped in her tracks, "Admiral Morris? Judge Morris?" she queried.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Thank you, Legalman," Mac said quietly as she left the office, her head spinning even faster than it had previously. What was Admiral Morris doing here, and who was Admiral Tucker? The only one she could think of was an SJA at NATO Headquarters in Belgium. Curiouser and curiouser. Arriving at her destination she took a breath, opened the door and stepped into the room.
The two senior officers, seated comfortably in leather upholstered chairs turned their heads as she entered and Mac froze into a brace, "Good morning, ma'am, sir!" she greeted them, hoping she'd got it the right way round, and breathed a sigh of relief when they both rose to greet her. The female Officer did indeed have the one ring above the broad band on her cuff, which marked her as a two-star admiral, outranking Admiral Morris, but what was even more interesting was the mill-rinde she wore above her rings. This must be Rear Admiral Amanda Tucker, and if so she was a long way from her duty station.
Amanda Tucker made a brief visual inspection of the Marine Lieutenant Colonel in front of her. She was very young to hold such rank, so she must have received accelerated promotion at some stage. Still youth wasn't always the handicap that some senior officers seemed to think it was, but then again neither was it always a positive advantage.
"Good morning, Colonel, it's good to meet you at last,"
Mac swallowed and replied, "Thank you ma'am," as the realisation dawned that she was probably addressing the next JAG.
"It's alright Colonel relax a touch, I won't bite you – well not this morning anyway!"
Judge Morris chimed in, "There's tea and coffee on the table behind you Colonel. I know it's probably not up to your high standards, but that makes it drinkable for us mere mortals!" His warm smile took any offense out of his words.
Mac smiled back at him gratefully, "I think I will indulge myself!" Mac poured herself a cup of coffee and carried it carefully to where the two senior officers sat, choosing to sit on Admiral Morris' left, keeping him between herself and Admiral Tucker.
The next few minutes were spent in idle conversation, pointedly steered away from professional matters by Admiral Tucker, whenever they veered too close to that subject, until the door behind them opened and a voice called out, "Attention on deck!"
Mac almost failed to make it to her feet as her heart seemed to lurch within her chest. There could only be one man in the world with that voice, and as she turned towards the door she saw his familiar figure, a rear view as he closed the door behind Secretary Sheffield. So struck was she by the unexpected appearance of Harmon Rabb in this place that she almost missed the SecNav's, "Sit down, everyone, please!"
Mac was vaguely aware that Harm had taken a seat on the other side of Admiral Tucker, next to a PC that sat on a baize mat on top of the highly polished cherry-wood conference table, and scanning the room properly for the first time since she'd entered it, she saw the projector screen set up at the end of the table, easily visible to the group as they now sat.
Secretary Sheffield took his chair and dragged it around so that he was almost at ninety degrees to the other three, and began to speak, but Mac's head was so full of questions about Harm's presence here, and in uniform, that she nearly missed what the SecNav was saying, and pushing the matter of Ham's presence to the back of her mind she concentrated on what her political superior had to say, But even as she made that resolution she promised herself that she and Rabb were going to have a long conversation about his…. His deceit… She snapped back to the here and now as Sheffield spoke.
"… Perhaps it was due to his early training as a Seal, but Admiral Chegwidden liked to keep in control of every aspect of the functioning of JAG, and felt that he didn't need a staff, and indeed under his leadership and tutelage, the JAG office at Falls Church has produced some very fine investigators and attorneys. However A J's approach was slightly… piratical, and his penchant for… micro-managing things meant that when he began to feel the strain of his office last year, things at Falls Church started to go to hell very quickly. This is by no means intended to denigrate the good, valuable work that Admiral Chegwidden did, nor is it meant to denigrate the excellent results he achieved. When he came to me and stated his intention to retire, he reminded me that he had been in office for twice as long as any of his immediate predecessors and he felt the need to stand down in the interests of his health; I tried to persuade him otherwise, but in the end, and regretfully, I was compelled to agree with him."
Sheffield took a mouthful of coffee and swallowed it before he continued. "Now, what we are about to discuss today is classified and must not be talked about outside of this room. In common with the Secretaries of the Army and Air Force I have approached the Joint Chiefs with a project to standardise the structure and training of our respective JAG Corps – as far as it is possible – amongst the three major services. This hadn't worked out quite as I'd hoped, as the Commandant Marine Corps has opted to retain a separate Judge Advocate Division, which although still subject to the Navy JAG will continue to operate as it has done since its formation. Now, on the subject of the Navy JAG, I am sure Admiral Morris and Colonel MacKenzie that you are… ah… intrigued by the presence of Admiral Tucker. Let me put you out of your misery. Admiral Tucker has been nominated for appointment as the new Judge Advocate general of the US Navy. She has the nomination of the Commander in Chief, and her ratification by the Senate is expected by the end of the working week, that is by tomorrow's taps." Having seen Admiral Morris' and Mac's reaction to that piece of news, Sheffield dropped his big bomb, "Once Admiral Tucker's appointment is confirmed, she will receive her third star. This will bring the Navy JAG into line with the Army and the Air Force."
Sheffield stopped for a further mouthful of coffee, "To further bring the Navy into line with the other two services, the billet of Deputy JAG, which I understand has been gapped, since 1991 will be filled. That billet is a two star billet. And before you ask, there have been no nominations yet made for that billet. However, below the Deputy Jag there will be four Assistant JAGs, or AJAGs. You, Admiral Morris will be one of them, remaining in command of all Navy and USMC Judges. There will also be various staff appointment made, and I understand, Colonel that the highest ranking enlisted man or woman at Falls Church is a Petty Officer First Class?"
When Mac nodded her head, "Yes, Mister Secretary", Sheffield smiled.
"That is hardly a satisfactory state of affairs, and while the Petty Officers currently at Falls Church are doing a magnificent job, and I hope they will continue to do so, a Three Star Admiral needs a senior enlisted man or woman who can temper some of that youthful fire and enthusiasm with wisdom and experience. To that end, I am creating a billet for a Command Master Chief Petty Officer, who will report directly to the JAG as well as fulfilling his or her usual roles in guiding and counselling junior ranks…" Sheffield broke off as Mac raised her head, her intent to ask a question obvious in her expression.
"Yes, Colonel?"
"Mister Secretary, while I am excited by the scale of the re-vamp you describe, I can foresee one slight problem – and that is office space. We already have a Commander using an old broom closet for an office, and while the DJAG's office is still in situ at Falls Church, it has been used as an archive space…"
"I see. Well, that brings us on to the second half of my plans, but…" he looked at his watch, "I don't want to talk myself hoarse, so we'll let Commander Rabb give us his solution to some manning problems that have recently arisen. As you all know, Commander Lindsey raised a report on the efficiency or other wise of JAG HQ, and although it was proved that his report was biased and took the worst possible view of any given situation, both Secretary Nelson and myself, as did AJ Chegwidden, come to agree that one aspect of his report was accurate. Too many staff at JAG, and in JAG billets throughout the world, had been in those billets for far too long. While this may have been agreeable to those occupying billets in Pearl, or Naples, things weren't quite so comfortable for those in shipboard billets, some of whom I have just discovered have been in those same billets for five years! I am also informed that this situation was partially responsible for the lack of younger attorneys coming up through the ranks, as the demands of personal and professional lives clashed. Many promising young officers have opted to leave the navy the minute their obligatory service was up to re-join their wives and children. I have here a copy of one such letter from a Lieutenant… ah… shall we say 'X'. He has been a JAG for eight years. He has been billeted on the same aircraft carrier for five of those eight years. For four of those five years he has been married. During those four years he has spent a total of seven months with his wife and child. Not a glowing advertisement for life in the navy is it? And of course, for those committed career officers, it does their prospects no good to be stuck in the same billet year after year having little if any chance to prove their administrative and command skills. To combat this sort of situation, Commander Rabb has put together a report with recommendations. Both of which I fully support. Commander Rabb, please:"
Harm rose to his feet and handed a presentation folder to each of the other officers and then clicked the computer mouse that caused the viewing screen to light up with the words, 'Future Manning Policy – JAG'. "Good morning, ma'am, sir, Colonel. I shall try and make this as brief as I can, as I'm sure you're all aware that there is nothing quite so dry, dull and boring as ploughing through wave after wave of statistics. I hope you'll appreciate that in the interests of clarity and brevity that the information on screen is distilled from that contained in the folders. I can assure you that although the pages look different, the figures remain the same. Now," he clicked the mouse and the next screen came into view, "In order to get this process moving, it was necessary to do some quick and dirty work, so all Jag designator officers were included in a list, and were then sorted by date of accession to their billets. For convenience sake, all those who had been afloat or in 'hardship' billets for four years or more were marked up as being in 'Tranche 1'; those who had been in more salubrious surroundings for the same length of time were placed in Tranche 2. Then those in both sorts of billets for periods of up to four years in Tranche 3, and finally those who remain in Tranche 4. You will all see your names in or another of the four lists. The priority was to shift those in Tranche 1 into more congenial billets in the shortest possible time. To that end every officer in Tranche 1 has been sent an invitation to apply for any billet in Tranche 2 and vice versa. It is the intention of this office that orders be cut for these officers and that all billets shall have been re-assigned and filled by March 1st next year. Once that has been done as a matter of urgency, then the less urgent business of re-assigning those officers in Tranches 3 and 4 may begin. But to avoid this situation ever recurring, a policy document is being prepared over the Secretary's signature. This policy document will lay down the progression that an officer can expect to see reflected in his own career. The two most relevant points are that no billet will exceed four years in length, and no officer will be expected to serve consecutive tours aboard ship. Subject as always to the needs of the service."
Admiral Tucker thought for a few moments and then turning to Sheffield asked, "May I?"
"Please do, Admiral."
"Commander, these wholesale moves are going to throw JAG into chaos for some time, are they not?"
"It appears that way, ma'am, but by judicious tweaking of dates we think we can cut down the disruption to an acceptable level."
"Ah… Admiral, if I may?" the SecNav interrupted, "In view of the second half of my presentation, I can assure you of two things, the disruption will be minor, and this policy will be implemented."
"Very well, Mister Secretary."
Sheffield smiled, "Good! Now are there any further questions for the commander? No? Very well. Thank you for your work and Time, Commander Rabb, you may return to your normal duties!"
"Aye, aye, Mister Secretary!"
As he closed the door behind him, he could just hear Secretary Sheffield's voice, "As to your concerns about space at Falls Church, Colonel. JAG HQ will be moving to the Navy Yard. However, Falls Church will remain as part of JAG and will function as a Trials Service Office, thus separating the operational from the administrative. And it will be an office, Colonel, which you will command!"
Harm nodded in satisfaction as he returned to the Legal Advisors' suite, and tossing a careless grin at Barker, he asked, "How about some of your excellent coffee, Barker? Ah…" he stopped in mid-stride. "Did you happen to see a Lieutenant Colonel of Marines earlier?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Good. Well, when the Secretary has finished his briefing, I expect her to come looking for me. When she erupts… uh… when she arrives, just buzz me and send her in, please, oh, and once she's in give her five minutes and then bring in fresh coffee for us both please!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
Barker watched him disappear into his own office and sat back with a smile on her lips. That was an unexpected turn of events, he wanted Barker to rescue him from the clutches of the Marine officer. Mind you, that was probably only a sensible precaution, all marines were crazy-mad, after all, and somehow she didn't think the marine Colonel was the woman he'd told he loved her over his cell 'phone last night. Barker gave herself another mental shake, and guiltily glanced across at Commander Coleman's office door. It seemed that every time she goofed off recently, the acid-tongued Lieutenant Commander was there to see it! So, coffee for the Commander!
Harm figured he had about forty, maybe forty-five minutes before the SecNav finished his lecture on the future shape of JAG and Mac came bursting back into his life, no doubt riding a wave of self-righteous anger and indignation. He had to decide now how he was going to play this encounter. The last thing he needed was a marine-green version of a fishwife screeching insults at him at the top of her voice, that would do neither of them any good in the career stakes, and having, by a miracle, just had his restored to him, he wasn't inclined to risk losing it again just because Sarah MacKenzie had gotten her panties in a wad. Yes, he'd seen the flash of anger in her eyes when she'd first seen him and could almost see the hostility sparking off her, almost as if she was discharging static electricity. No, whatever emotion Mac might have had at the front of her mind, it certainly wasn't forgiveness or love of her fellow man. Shaking his head, he reached for the top file on the stack that Barker had loaded his In Tray with while he was at the SecNav's briefing, and looked at the folio flagged for his attention. As he read it through, he groaned, surely this couldn't be happening in this day and age. The USA was fighting two wars now, one in Afghanistan and the second in Iraq. Now the international community – whatever that was – was upbraiding the USA for warmongering on the one hand, and now, on the other hand was screaming to that same USA for help in keeping certain, highly profitable sea lanes clear of pirates! Of course there had been stories of piracy in the waters around Indonesia for years, but it now appeared that Somali gunmen were getting in of the act. Sortieing out in small, fast boats they were boarding merchant ships – generally cargo rather than passenger vessels and holding ship and crew to ransom.
It appeared from the complaint in front of him that a party of these enterprising gentlemen had mistaken a USNS fast transport ship as a merchant ship, had turned to attack it and had come under fire from the ship's 50 calibre machine guns. Three of the four Somali boats had been sunk, and there had undoubtedly been casualties among the Somali pirates. But, apparently a Norwegian ship had been in the area, and the ship's master had lodged a complaint against the USNS Charles T Grant, for use of excessive force. Harm groaned and shook his head, it often appeared that the USA, whatever course of action it took, was damned if it did and damned if it didn't. Harm didn't expect anything to come of this complaint, but he would have to write to the Grant's master and ask for copies of the relevant log-books for the time of the incident.
Shaking his head, he turned to his computer and selected the word processing programme, but before he could even start to mentally compose the message his desk 'phone rang. With an irritable grunt, he picked up the handset, "Yes, Barker?"
"There's a Miss Grace on the line for you sir!" There was a click in the earpiece and then Mattie's voice.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Mattie, what's up, are you OK?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, I just… I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess…" Mattie sounded so uncertain, so unlike her usual brash, confident self.
"C'mon, squirt, give. What's bugging you?"
Mattie gave a little sniffle, "I… I'm… I'm not sure, it's just that I'm sat here on my own today, and now everything's packed it's kinda creepy… It's not that I'm scared, or anything," she said defiantly, "it's just that it's…. I dunno… sad, maybe? So I thought if I could talk to you for a couple of minutes I'd feel better."
"And do you?"
"Yeah, I guess…"
Harm became aware of raised voices, or at least one raised voice in the outer office, "Listen, Mats, I gotta go, I have a feeling that an unwelcome visitor is about to burst through my door any second now…"
Scarcely had he spoken when his door flew open and Mac, in full storm the beach mode, strode into his office, her face pale, except for two scarlet temper patches high on her cheekbones.
Harm held up a minatory finger towards the now silently fuming Marine, as he spoke into the mouthpiece, "OK, then sweetheart. I'll see you at home this evening. Oh, and remember, I love you."
"I love you too, Harm," Mattie breathed into her 'phone, "'bye."
Harm put the phone back in its cradle and sat back in his chair, "Given up knocking on doors in general, Mac, or are you making an exception just for me?"
"You! You lying deceitful, cowardly, dishonest, untrustworthy… rat!"
"Good morning to you too, Colonel," Harm replied blandly, "Why don't you take a seat, and then you can tell me what's got you so all worked up?"
Rather than accept his invitation, Mac crossed here arms in front of her and started to pace the width of his office, "What's got me worked up? You've got me worked up!"
"Why? Or rather, how, have I gotten you worked up?"
"You disappear off the face of the earth, you don't call anyone, you don't return any calls. I stop by your apartment, and it's been gutted, I didn't… nobody knew where you were, or how you were or whether you were still alive!"
"That's not strictly true, Mac. I've been in regular contact with little AJ, and if you'd cared to ask Bud or Harriett, they could have told you that I was calling our godson. And that raises a point. AJ's never managed to keep a secret from either of us, so if you had bothered to talk to him, he would have told you that I called him at least once a week! And that," he added dryly, "seems to be more than you've managed."
Mac at least had the grace to blush, but then drew a deep breath, "Alright, so you kept in touch with AJ, and through him with the Roberts. But you haven't made the slightest effort to get hold of anyone else!"
Harm shrugged and settled further back in his chair, "And why should I, Mac? JAG is a part of my past life. You see, I'm capable of learning a lesson and moving on, getting on with what's left of my life."
"What do you mean by that?" Mac shot back at him as she eventually stopped pacing and practically threw herself into a chair.
Harm was given the opportunity to pre-think his answer as they both fell silent while a knock at the door announced the arrival of Barker with a tray of coffee, cream, sugar and two cups. At least a couple of minutes passed before she silently effaced herself and returned to her desk.
"Do you want to help yourself, Mac, or shall I pour for you?"
"What? No… I don't want any coffee." Mac had tried for dignified refusal but merely managed sulky child, so that Harm wouldn't have been surprised to hear a "so there!" tacked on to the end of her refusal.
Harm nodded in seeming acceptance, but nevertheless poured her a cup of coffee and slid it across the desk towards her.
"So… what can I do for you, Mac?"
"You could explain yourself!" she snapped.
"Let's leave aside, for the moment, the question of whether or not I need to explain anything to you. What aspect of my being do you need explained? I thought I made my feelings pretty clear a couple of months ago when you paid me a visit – unannounced of course – at my old apartment..."
Mac absent-mindedly stretched out a hand and snagged the sugar bowl, heaping a couple of teaspoon of the soft brown sugar into her cup and idly stirring it.
"Yes, you did! And that's what makes all this…" she waved an arm at the plush furnishings of his office, "so inexplicable!"
Harm steepled his fingers and cocked an eyebrow at her, noting that despite her refusal of a drink, she had picked up her coffee cup and taken a good sip of its contents. "How so, inexplicable?" he asked.
"You said you wouldn't come grovelling for your job back, and that you'd never serve in the Navy again!" she accused him hotly.
"No," Harm disagreed quietly, "that's not what I said. Not quite. I said I would never go grovelling back to JAG, and that I would never serve under Chegwidden again!"
"So, what are you doing here?"
"Well, firstly, I would have been a greater than usual fool – even by my standards – to turn down the opportunity to keep my pension. And it was offered to me Mac. Twice in fact. Once by Chegwidden and I turned him down flat, and then SecNav made me the offer of coming to work here for him as his senior legal advisor."
"And was the Admiral's retirement part of the price SecNav had to pay to get you back in the navy?" Mac sneered, "God… your hypocrisy!"
Harm bit his tongue, he was determined not to lose control of this conversation and let it degenerate into a shouting match. "No, I merely told SecNav that I would be quite happy to return to the navy…"
"I bet!" Mac huffed.
Harm continued, unruffled by her interruption, "provided that I could stay in the DC area for three years, and that I wouldn't have to serve under Chegwidden's orders – that by the way was when I found out that he had submitted his retirement letter – and that I wouldn't be returned to Falls Church."
Mac's curiosity got the better of her, "OK, I can understand you not wanting to work for Admiral Chegwidden again, he was pretty brutal to you, but why not come back to JAG, especially as he's gone now…"
"But you're still there, Mac" Harm replied gently.
Mac stared at him in perplexity for some moments and then as what he'd just said sunk into her consciousness she went pale with shock. "Well, you can certainly explain that, if you please!" she said pettishly.
"It's simple Mac, for years I was in love with you, or thought I was, which for all intents and purposes is the same thing, until you tore my heart out with that 'never…."
"But, Harm…"
"No, Mac, we're not going to have that conversation again, except to say that you made your choice and you chose Webb. Now, I hope you'll be happy with him, really, I do. But you almost broke my heart when you decided you were in love with Dalton, and then you nearly tore it out of my chest when you decided to marry Brumby. And I just couldn't face the idea of seeing you every day, gushing over Webb. But that was only part of the reason Mac. Despite all our fights over the years, we somehow managed to stay friends, but this fight was different… it left us with open wounds, and daily contact would, I think, have kept those wounds fresh and bleeding. If we are ever to get our friendship back, then we have got give those wounds time to scab over and heal. We'll be left with the scars, sure, but they won't hurt so much. So maybe, in time, six months, or a year down the road, we'll be able to meet up for a pizza, or a coffee without wanting to rip each other a new six. And talking about coffee, can I offer you a refill?"
"Huh? What?" Mac was thrown off balance by the offer, and looked in bewilderment at her empty cup, "Uh… no… no thank you." and struggling to gain some sort of control over the conversation, which in the face of Harm's non-confrontational responses was not going the way she'd envisaged when she'd stormed into his office, she returned to the attack, "So now you're here, trying to fill Lindsey's boots, by carrying out his little designs to have the team at Falls Church split up!"
"No… Webb managed that. And I'm not saying it was a bad thing. Lindsey was right, we even half agreed on that before the Singer trial came up; a number of us had been at Falls Church far too long, we must all take some degree of blame for that, by not getting our detailers and monitors to kick our sixes elsewhere, we were in his phrase, 'far too comfortable', and Chegwidden must take some of the blame for that too. He has been, at the least derelict in his duty, in not acting to further the best career prospects of his officers. Had he done so, you might have been back doing a line tour with a Corps unit – and can you imagine Webb approaching some crusty two star Marine and asking for you to go off and play house with him? I might be in an SJA appointment somewhere, or even as a Fleet JAG. Chegwidden could still be sitting in the Big Chair. But by keeping us all together as a team – and we made a pretty good one – Chegwidden made us all vulnerable, and when Webb's Paraguay scheme imploded we were all left exposed. I'd talked myself out of a career, Chegwidden had lost the confidence of his troops, you'd been left exposed – you do realise that every decision you make, and have made since taking over pro-tem, has been and is being scrutinised by SecNav? So, no, I'm not carrying some petty little scheme of revenge as you insinuated, I'm actually trying to get my friends out from under the SecNav's microscope."
Mac had become thoughtful as Harm spoke, "So you don't bear anyone any grudges? Not me, not the Admiral?"
"No, the only grudge I bear is towards Webb – and that is because he recklessly put you at unnecessary risk!"
"But he saved me from being tortured!" Mac replied.
"No, no he didn't. Think about it for a moment, Mac. No matter what you or Webb decided about who was going to take what turn on that torture table, all the power to decide that lay with one person, and that wasn't you and it wasn't Webb. It was Sadik Fahd. He was the man with the gun and the keys; he held all the power and could have overturned your 'decisions' at any given moment for any given reason, or even just on a whim. For some reason Sadik chose to concentrate his efforts on Webb. Now, I hope that Webb has made a full recovery; you may tell him I said that, and you can also tell him to stay the hell out of my way. The next time I see Webb, I shall take great pleasure in knocking him on his ass. And the next time I see him after that, I shall take even greater pleasure in repeating the performance."
"Oh! You're impossible! What have you got against Webb?"
Harm shrugged, "I told you, he recklessly put you at unnecessary risk."
Mac got to her feet and looked around for her purse and cover, which she had thrown onto a side-table during her pacing to and fro phase. "There are times Harmon Rabb, when I just don't understand you!"
"The feeling is mutual, Mac," he agreed sadly, "and that is probably a good enough reason for us never getting to be anything other than close friends, no matter how much we may or may not have wanted it."
"So…" Mac looked at him thoughtfully, "this is goodbye, I take it?"
"I hope not, marine," he said with a sad smile, "but it's certainly 'so long' for now. But you know where I am now, and I'll give you a call from time to time. Maybe in six months or so, we can meet for that pizza."
Mac nodded, "In that case, so long, Squid, and good luck."
"Yeah, see you around, Jarhead, and Sarah? – be happy"
Mac gave him a formal little smile, a little twisted, and a final inclination of her head before she stepped through the doorway into the outer office.
Harm sat for many minutes staring at the door after it had closed behind Sarah MacKenzie, for some reason he felt depressed. Despite their parting words he knew that the chances of Sarah MacKenzie and Harmon Rabb ever being able to sit down together again and share a pizza, a cup of coffee, or even a joke were at the very best remote, and that today had very probably seen the final dissolution of what had once been a strong and successful friendship."
A soft tap at the door dragged from the depths of his introspection and on his uttering the command, "Enter" Barker came into the office, "I've just come to clear the coffee, sir," she announced cheerfully, and spent a few seconds gathering up the crockery. The tray loaded, she hesitated, "Sir, that was Colonel MacKenzie, right?"
"Yes, why… Oh. No, she's not always like that Barker, most enlisted ranks reckon she's a good officer to work for… it's just that she and I have an uncanny ability to press each other's buttons. We've worked together for so many years that sometimes we just can't help ourselves. No, you'll be alright at Falls Church." And Harm made a promise to himself to enlist the help of Bud Roberts and Harriet Sims to ensure that Barker was alright once she got to Falls Church.
Barker gave him a flash of her generous smile, "Thank you, sir!"
"There's just one more thing, Barker…"
"Sir?"
"A reminder that I'm going to be out of the office all day tomorrow."
Barker nodded, "Yes, sir, your calendar is clear, although while the Colonel was here I took a message from a Commander Bellingham, she wants to make an appointment to see you on Monday. She did want to see you tomorrow, but…"
"Fine, thank you Barker, dismissed!"
"Aye, aye, sir!" the young woman replied, again with a flash of her smile.
xxi-xxi-xxi-xxi-xxi
Legalman Two Barker hurried the tray of dirty cups away into the kitchen cubby hole and rinsed them under the tap. So… that was Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie, eh? Commander Rabb's old partner, who just knew how to push his buttons. Yeah, right. Barker may not have been on this earth for a quarter of century yet, but she could read the signs, there had been a look about MacKenzie when Barker had appeared with the coffee that spoke volumes to every female within ten miles. It was a look that said, hands off – this is my man!
But… MacKenzie had looked different when she'd left, older somehow and… sadder. Certainly the volume of the talks had lessened after the coffee had been produced, almost as if MacKenzie had gone in spoiling for a fight – which in Barker's opinion she definitely had - and had lost, badly; or perhaps she'd found there wasn't a fight to be had.
Barker pondered as she dried the last of the flatware, Colonel MacKenzie didn't seem to be the type that the Commander would call 'sweetheart' on the 'phone, and she certainly wasn't the 'Miss Grace' that had put a lilt in his voice or a bounce in his step earlier… so perhaps Colonel MacKenzie had been replaced by the mysterious Miss Grace… although, and here Barker grimaced in dismay, the girl did sound very young…
xxi-xxi-xxi-xxi-xxi
Mac returned to Falls Church still in a sombre frame of mind, and just a little bit confused by her own feelings. She had been angry that Harm had slipped back into the navy without so much as creating a ripple, but at the same time relieved that he was out of the clutches of the CIA, and safe behind a desk. What little she had gleaned from her own sources at Langley during his six month flying tour with 'The Company' had not allowed her many sound night's sleep. So, after the SecNav's briefing – and there still many ramifications to be thought through from that, she had gone in search of Harmon Rabb, determined to rip his head off and then crap down the hole. But he had turned away every attempt on her part to escalate their discussion into a fight. He had blanked her and stonewalled her, and had, in effect shown her the same cool indifference he had displayed the evening she had almost interrupted his dinner with Catherine Gale. Damn him! He hadn't even made a single snarky remark about her relationship with Clayton Webb, and then he had quite calmly imposed a moratorium on their friendship, but somehow it felt more like a quietus, and somewhere deep down inside she was beginning to feel pain. What she didn't know was it was the same sort of pain that Harm had felt when he saw her kissing Webb.
Shaking her head to try and dispel the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her, Mac waved off the bull-pen inhabitants' leap to their feet in response to the cry of attention on deck, and strode, head up, every inch the kick-ass marine, into Coates' ante-office and then into the comfort of her own office and the Big Chair.
Coates had followed her in, a sheaf of pink message slips in her hand. Mac looked up at her and asked, "Anything urged there, Coates?"
Coates pulled the corners of her mouth down, and grimaced. "No, ma'am, all routine, 'X called, please call back' sort of stuff."
The younger woman paused for a second before plunging in, "Are you alright, ma'am, you look kinda… drained?"
"A tough morning Coates," Mac managed a weak smile, "but I did learn one thing that might help make your day…" she paused a moment, and then forced a smile onto her face, "It seems that you'll be working for Commander Rabb when you report to your new billet on Monday morning."
Mac had expected Coates to show some sign of pleasure at the news, but she was totally unprepared for the sheer brilliance of the younger woman's smile, a brilliance that only made her more strongly aware of how much had gone wrong at Falls Church over the last year. She hadn't, she realised, seen Coates smile quite like that since the news of Lieutenant Singer's death had broken.
"But please keep that information to yourself for the moment, Coates. I'll make a general announcement of the Commander's return to active duty status at tomorrow's staff call."
"Aye, aye, ma'am!" Jennifer replied enthusiastically.
"OK then, Coates, dismissed!"
"Aye, aye, ma'am!"
xxi-xxi-xxi-xxi-xxi
Harm had spent the afternoon re-reading the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, a convention signed by over one hundred and fifty sovereign states aimed at stamping out piracy. The trouble was, 'Piracy' could only be committed on the high seas that are outside any country's claimed littoral waters – usually extending twelve miles from shore. Aggressive acts aimed at shipping within the twelve mile limit were not 'piracy' per se, but were deemed to be 'piratical acts', and the ways in which a ship's master was permitted to react to a threat were governed by whether he was faced by a piratical act or an act of piracy. The ship's master being permitted a greater freedom of action when faced with the latter.
In the meantime, a non-committal acknowledgement of the Norwegian master's complaint must be drafted and sent, with copies to the Norwegian Defence Attaché, another Rear Admiral, as well as keeping Secretary Sheffield in the loop, and through him the CNO. At length a draft letter of acknowledgement in his hand, Harm picked up the 'phone and dialled.
"Hello, Penny?"
"Hi, Sailor, what can I do for you today?"
"I need to speak with the Secretary before we close down for the day… it's quite important. And as I'm not in the office tomorrow…" Harm put just the edge of pleading into his voice.
"Leave it with me, Sailor; I'll see what I can do!"
"Thanks, Penny, I owe you one!"
"One? Just one? And don't you worry, I'll collect!"
"I'm sure you will!" Harm laughed.
xxi-xxi-xxi-xxi-xxi
Harm closed the apartment door behind him and leaned back against it, feeling totally drained, and managed a tired, "Hi Catherine, hi Mattie. No! Stay where you are sweetheart, I'll come to you," he told her as Catherine started to make the effort to get up from the couch.
Mattie in the meantime had uncoiled her legs from under her and stood saying wisely, "Now there's a man who looks like he needs a drink! Tea?"
"Yeah, please," Harm replied, bending to kiss Catherine gently on the lips. "And while you're boiling the kettle, I'll just slip into something a little more comfortable - What?" Harm demanded as Catherine giggled.
"Oh, it's just that line; every time you say it; I have this vision of you coming into the room in a short, see-through baby-doll nightie and a lacy peignoir!"
Harm grinned through his fatigue, "Well I'll try not to disappoint you one of these fine days!"
Mattie who had been listening in growing disbelief, shook her head in despair, "You two are really, really, weird," she told them, "You definitely need to get some therapy before you scar me for life!"
"The thing is though, Squirt, I don't recall us being so weird before you came to stay with us, isn't that right, sweetheart?" Harm turned to Catherine for support, but before she could say anything, Mattie grinned and struck back.
"Oh no, you're not laying that at my door! You were weird long before I got here, I reckon. It's just that you had no one normal around to point it out for you!"
Both Harm and Catherine laughed and Harm stood from where he'd sat on the arm of the couch and crossing to the kitchen area, he took Mattie in a light hug and kissed the top of her head, "You might just have something there, Kiddo!"
"Damn straight I do!" she teased him, her eyes alight with laughter and daring him to pull her up over her language.
But on this occasion Harm just laughed and retreated to the bedroom in order to change out of uniform before dinner. The meal, which consisted of almond baked trout, new potatoes and broccoli was quickly consumed, and the washing up quickly completed. The now washed and dried dishes being packed in the last open movers' box.
Mattie looked around the stripped kitchen area. All that was left was the kettle, three mugs, the tea and a teaspoon. "Uh, Harm, what are we doing about breakfast?" Mattie indicated the barren expanse of work top and the empty cabinets.
"Well, I reckon we consider tomorrow a special occasion… so… I thought we might make it to iHop for breakfast?"
"Damn straight!" Mattie enthused.
This time, Harm and Catherine both caught her, "Mattie!" they chorused in protest.
"Sorry!" The teenager smiled, with not a trace of remorse in her face, voice or bearing.