Chapter 15 - Play Dead
Harm moved his token across the board, the tiny car skipping over Mac's tophat that was still sitting in Monopoly Jail. He grinned as he came to a stop at a blank spot of 'property' and quickly began counting out the necessary play money for a purchase.
"One more and I've bought up all the pink ones." He stated, with a little too much enthusiasm and laughed when he caught Mac rolling her eyes. "Don't be a sore loser, MacKenzie. You usually kick my ass."
It had been raining, pouring actually and the wind had howled so badly that Harm needed to move the houseboat off to another cove where an abandoned marina sat amongst overgrown trees. He found the only usable dock and tied off the houseboat to make the choppy lake water bearable.
"Yeah, yeah." She'd fallen on that spot four times in the last hour which allowed Harm to buy up more spaces leaving her almost destitute. He was correct, Mac normally creamed him at board games and this change was annoying but nice. She appreciated not watching him scowl or calculate the spaces needed to beat her.
He was happy and smiling, a welcome balance because the previous night, Harm barely slept. She found him huddled over the computer again and after another day of hiking and exploring, Mac figured he'd be just as exhausted as she felt.
They hadn't made love, just fallen into bed after a nice dinner on the bow and a movie he more or less slept through. The dark circles under his eyes were evident and although she was sure he'd stay in bed all night, he didn't. It was as if he'd developed his own internal clock that waked him every night around three am.
It began his routine: use the head, check the cameras, step outside. Rinse, repeat only now Mac had caught on to the low murmur of a tiny engine that was cut off the closer it got to their houseboat. She tried to time his activities and search his laptop for whatever had him so stressed but again, he'd locked the screen and she hadn't a clue what password to try.
What hurt the most was Webb's nagging voice in the back of her mind, the one that claimed Harm was a traitor. She didn't believe him. She couldn't believe him and yet… "What's wrong?"
Harm had been staring at her for several long moments, noticing her face suddenly cast over with shadows. She was content moments earlier but some sort of dark thought had pulled her away from him. He wondered how long this charade would last because, as much as she claimed to love him, this cloak and dagger wasn't a life.
It was stupid and selfish of him but, he wouldn't let her go. He'd keep on with his lies and his secrecy until everything was exposed and he was free. Of course, his freedom looked different. It would be under the guise of the new identity he created - Jacob Kaine.
"Nothing, just thinking."
"About." He prodded when Mac rolled and was finally able to move a few spaces. She counted out the 'rent' she owed and then neatly piled each colorful bills into their respective stacks.
She sighed heavily, not wanting to extrapolate on the bad feelings she got whenever Harm was up in the middle of the night. Mac ignored the signs, tried to shut off that intuition of hers for as long as they were together. "It's nothing, Harm."
"It's something. Talk to me."
Mac stood abruptly and was tempted to sweep her hand across the board and scatter his little houses and buildings. That nagging voice was taunting her again and when she began to pace, Harm's voice cut through the mental fog.
"Was it the proposal? Was it too soon?" He frowned. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing and absolutely stupid given their current situation. Plus, what kind of man proposes without a ring? Mic had given her a rock that probably sank the Titanic and he'd given her nothing but words. Words, worry and pain. "I don't know how to take it back... Do you want me to take it back?"
"Shut up!" Her outburst was sudden and loud, uncharacteristic from a woman like her who was usually sure and measured when she spoke. Mac pressed her fingertips to her temples and massaged roughly. "I need to get out. I need air."
When she pulled the glass doors open and stepped outside, Harm didn't follow. He didn't know how to nor did he understand her outburst. Instead he took the dice, rolled them across the board and frowned when they landed on one of her properties and Mac wasn't there to collect.
Dutifully, he counted out his bills and placed them in their neat little stacks. As they'd one in the past when the game was paused, he turned his and her token onto their sides, placed the dice in the center and checked to make sure nothing was out of place.
Mac was sitting on one of the brightly colored adirondack chairs when he stepped out an hour later. She was cold, shivering and was grateful when he came with a cup of coffee and a blanket that he placed over her. He didn't speak, simply slipped into the opposite chair and sipped from his own mug. Harm had learned not to pressure her or push for answers until she was ready but, her distance was notable as was the tension that weighed so heavy it scared him.
Sheets of rain that appeared like a hazy curtain fell across the lake although it had eased somewhat. He could see the shore in the distance and the large homes that seemed so tiny which dotted the edge of the lake which stretched out past the cove before them. The day would continue to be dreary and cool, a reflection of the change of climate that was fast approaching.
Harm zipped up the jacket he wore, the sound cutting through the uncomfortable silence they shared until he could no longer hold back. He had to know. He needed to know what concerned her so much that she needed to step away from him. "Mac-"
"What do you do at 0300 every night?" There was no preamble, no chance to prepare him for the ticking bomb she'd placed in his lap. In the hour that passed, Mac considered avoiding her shrewish thoughts and simply enjoy the time they had left. If Harm was keeping some big secret, it was obviously 'need-to-know' and in this case, maybe it was a line that she had no right to cross. But the line of trust began to wane with each evening as she became aware of his activities.
"Nothing it's-"
"Don't tell me you're just checking security cameras or the anchor or some other nautical bullshit. I believed it once but my intuition says something different."
"Maybe it's classified?" He ventured but the foolish remark was received with contempt given the look of disgust on Mac's face.
"After this last year, our break up and all of the hiding, I think I'm way past the 'need to know' stage. Don't you think so?"
He casually took another sip from his coffee and then set it down on the small table between them. "Your gut has always been spot on. Just like your sense of timing. What if I told you that nothing is going on. Would you trust me?"
"Are you a traitor?"
The question hit like an atom bomb with the potential to incinerate everything in its path. He'd fought hard to remove himself from the grips of the CIA and in the end, there was only one clear way to disassociate himself and start a new life. It came with consequences, of course and an oath to cut the CI off at the knees to bring them tumbling down. The truth was simple as it was complicated and as Harm stared out over the lake and the sheets of rain that fell across it, he finally confessed. "Yes."
Mac would have run but there was nowhere to go. The man held her hostage on his stupid little houseboat in a cove, in the middle of a lake that she had no idea how to navigate. She stupidly thought of throwing herself in the water or heading off into the abandoned marina but, for once, the Marine in her didn't want to flee or fight another day. Instead, she stood at the bow feeling his ice blue eyes following her movement.
Every conversation she had with Clayton Webb played in her head like a broken record. They all ended the same, reaffirming that Harm had, indeed, left to join the other side. What's worse, in Clay's opinion, she would be the catalyst to set that plan in motion - the reason he'd betray everything he once believed in lay in her hands. And that was what hurt the most. She didn't want to be the source of his fall or the reason anyone would be hurt or killed.
When she turned to him, the tears she'd fought back for the last few minutes fell anyway and she brushed them away angrily with the back of her hand. "You can't be a traitor, Harm. You can't be what Webb has tried to make me believe you are. He can't win. Please, tell me this isn't true."
"It is. I am." He motioned for her to return and when he didn't Harm's voice was low and pleading. "Come sit. There's things you don't know. Things I should have told you before you came I just… I didn't want to ruin our time together.. I was waiting."
"Waiting for what?"
"For the day you were leaving to tell you." It was the coward's way, he knew. But Harm didn't want the questions, or accusations. He wanted to be free to love her, to spend time as if everything was normal. There was no normal for a man who now walked the Earth, a ghost of his former self. "Please, sit."
"Inside, I'm freezing."
Mac hurried through the houseboat and to the room where she feigned grabbing a sweater in effort to collect her pistol. Deep down she knew she was safe and Harm would never physically hurt her but the weapon made her feel better, protected. She felt guilty when it was tucked in the small of her back and returned to the living room.
Harm's laptop sat on the coffee table opposite the Monopoly board. She noted her pile of cash had grown and raised a brow. "It was my turn, I ah owed you rent."
She didn't sit next to him, choosing to sit in a chair that was off to the side. No one else might have noticed Mac was packing but Harm did. He was trained to notice subtle shifts in a person's gait but the biggest give away was the way her jeans hung a little lower.
Of course it troubled Harm that the woman he loved no longer trusted him. "You don't need that, the weapon. You know I won't hurt you."
"No, you won't." Mac pulled out the pistol and set it atop the Monopoly board where either of them had easy access. "But, I needed to feel safe."
"And you don't feel safe around me? What does your gut say?"
She took a breath and let it out slowly. "That I know you and you're a good man, it also knows you did something…and it wasn't good."
"Good or bad depends on perception and Webb is right, I am a traitor. I've gone against God and country, at least in the CI's mind." He stood and came to her, dropping to one knee so that they were eye level. "And I did it for you, Mac. For me because it's the only way we'll ever be together."
Mac shook her head and pulled away when his hands reached for hers. "I don't want you breaking the rules for me, Harm."
"Harm's dead."
"What?"
"Harmon Rabb, Jr is dead, Mac. If you call back home you'll find that he died in a small plane crash in Canada. There was heavy weather, the aircraft was caught in a downdraft and he couldn't recover. Dental records confirmed it."
Mac stared at him wide-eyed, her heart hammering a rough staccato while she tried to process what he'd told her. Harm was dead but the man kneeling before her was still very much alive. "You faked your death."
"Yes."
"What about your parents? Your mom, she'll be devastated."
"She knows." He said quietly and then stood. Harm walked to the windows and looked out, the rain had become heavy once more and the wind created ripples across the lake. It matched the storm inside him and when he turned to face her, Harm felt his heart aching. "I went to see them before it happened, told them not to believe anything they heard unless it came from you or Chegwidden."
"So I'd be the last to know?"
He shrugged, "I wanted to tell you when you got here. I couldn't." Harm went back to the sofa and dropped into the cushions with a heavy sigh. "I wanted…I needed things to feel normal between you and me."
"I needed that too." Mac said softly. She ran her fingers through her hair and wiped away one errant tear. "I thought this week would change something. I knew it wouldn't. I knew I'd have to go back home sometime and live without you again. I just hoped Webb was wrong about you."
"I'll tell you what happened. I'll tell you everything you want to know. Classified or not, I'm an open book to you."
Mac knew he was telling her the truth, that any secret she wanted to know he'd lay bear before her. She stood and walked to him sitting on the sofa so that they were side by side. One hand pressed against his cheek, the side opposite the scar he hated so much. "You're pretty alive and damned good looking for a dead man."
"Hah. You're biased."
"I am."
Harm turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm. The breath he took was shaky as he tried to remember when it all began and how he decided to run from the CIA. "I am checking the security cameras but I am waiting for a RIB. It circles around, pings a signal that only my laptop can intercept. I have to reply in code."
It sounded like something out of a Bond movie, the high tech gadgetry that 'Q' created exclusively for MI6. She supposed that art likely imitated life and most of the gags weren't as far fetched as they seem. "And if you don't reply?"
"There's trouble." He turned the laptop to face her, typed in a long password and several images popped up on the screen. There was a map, one of the lakes with a small red dot that plotted his location. Another image was of coordinates she couldn't discern. "The signal also sends communique. It just takes a little bit of time to unscramble."
Mac looked at the screen, squinting at the numbers rapidly running across which eventually turned to letters. He explained the letters were a code that he typed into another program in order to receive the messages. "Who sends this to you?"
Harm remained silent. He bit his lower lips and csst his eyes down, there were some secrets he should tell Mac or anyone else. They were the types that could get people killed. "I can't tell you that."
"I thought you were an open book?"
He snapped the laptop closed as if that were to stop her questions. If anything it made Mac that more curious and with a long sigh, he finally gave up a name, "Alan Blaisdale."