Chapter 18 - Disguise.

Mac didn't stay in Townsend long, just one night before she was heading to the airport and back to reality. She had contacted Chegwidden, appraising him that though her time off was extended slightly, she'd be back at ops the following day. The man didn't argue nor did he ask for any explanations as he knew their calls would be tapped. She accepted that her commanding officer needn't be kept in the loop over Harm's involvement with MI6 and that news about his faked death would be the cover story she'd stick to.

As a lawyer, she'd learned to keep a poker face albeit it was one that Harm could sometimes read through. This would be the ultimate challenge, another cross she'd bare which weighed a ton more than their faked breakup. How would a former lover feel when the one she once loved died so suddenly? How would they act? Those thoughts kept her awake as she drove and made the short flight seem downright eternal. His makeshift ring gave her some hope at having a quick reunion but the closer she got to home, the more this sickening feeling began at the pit of her stomach.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong, evident when the elevator dinged on her floor and she hurried towards her apartment to find the door unlocked. No, not just unlocked, it had been left slightly opened. Her sanctuary had been breached.

It was someone familiar, she knew the second Mac found the pistol behind the armoire unchambered, its magazine set aside. Few people in her life knew of that hiding place, four to be exact and only one of which she was most recently in contact with.

Mac took the gun, quickly slipped in the magazine, attempting to muffle the 'click' of the locking mechanism as she pulled back on the slide. Her instincts told her that the intruder was long gone but she refused to take any chances.

The kitchen and living area were clear, she could tell from the corner of her eye. Her most prized possessions, the dinosaur bones sat undisturbed at her small side table and even the books on the coffee table were in their place.

She took a breath and with it inhaled a heavy scent that wafted from her bedroom. Memories of Frank Coster's intrusion was not far from her mind and she traipsed towards the door Mac expected to see a familiar written on the wall.

Instead there was carnage, destruction and the smell of male perfume so strong that it made her eyes water. The sheets were stripped off the bed, discarded and nowhere to be found along with the pillow cases and comforter that once graced the mattress and now lay half on the floor.

As she walked around to straighten the room, her shoes crunched over broken glass. She saw the stain on her wall, the one that ran down and dried which permeated its scent all around her. A broken bottle of 'Creed', a terribly expensive men's cologne that she insisted Harm leave lay a shattered mess across the floor. "No."

That smell had been her only comfort on the days she missed him most. A soft spritz of its fragrance over his pillow to stave the lonely nights and ease the pain of letting him go. It was a souvenir of sorts, a most precious one that filled her with good memories and gave her hope. Now it lay in shards with its scent so heavy it was nauseating.

Mac only lowered her pistol after giving the apartment a once over and double bolting the door. Who would do such a thing, she wondered but it all pointed to one possible perpetrator: Clayton Webb. She wondered what stupid notion had gone on in his mind to push him so far. Did he know she was with Harm? And why would a man so smart leave a trace?

Her fingers shook when she reached inside her bag for the book where the burner phone lay hidden. Harm had given her a new number, one that she memorized and recited over and over until her fingers pressed over each key on autopilot. Mac needed to talk to him. She needed the comfort of his voice in lieu of having his arms wrap around her. But she stopped one number short and hit the button that ended the call.

The second Harm learned what had happened, he'd come to her. He'd risk blowing his cover to see her safe and that was a trade off she wasn't willing to make.

Her hand still shook when she slipped the phone back into the book and placed it on the shelf in the living room with her other novels.

Mac envisioned herself stretched out on the sofa dozing through classic movies while she rested. Instead she pent hours cleaning her room, fixing what she could. Only when she made use of the trash did the discarded bedding finally appear.

They were a rumpled mess tossed haphazardly in box but what shocked her the most was a specific stain of male ejaculate that had dried onto the fabric. She couldn't help the thought of Claytom Webb laying in her bed, touching himself to orgasm and then quickly found herself rushing to the tiny sink in the garbage room and throwing up what little she'd eaten.

It was late, nearly 2300 when a knock on the door awoke her. Mac decided to sleep on the sofa after checking her home for bugs and cleaning again to make sure the remnants of Spook Boy were completely gone. The mattress was far too cumbersome to throw away on her own but, that would go too once she shopped for another during her lunch break. In her mind it had been defiled and she wouldn't spend a night laying on it knowing what he'd done.

The punch that would break Webb's nose came easy. She wound up and hit without warning, sending the Spook slamming into the hallway wall opposite her door. The cane he used came crashing down as did the ridiculously large bouquet of flowers he held in his opposite hand. 'So much for being inconspicuous,' Mac thought but she'd grown tired of this game and his part in it.

"You broke my nose!" Clay whined and for a moment Mac questioned how such a mama's boy could become involved with any type of organized espionage. It made her doubt everything Harm had said, especially the story of Neville Webb's ties to Russia or Clay's partnership with Sadik.

He was holding a hand to his face, his palm and fingers tainted crimson as he slowly rose to his feet. "Fuck, Sarah! You broke my goddamned nose!"

"I did and I should break every damned bone in your body as well." Begining with his penis. "How dare you break into my house?"

Her accusation was validated, Webb knew and though he wished he could turn back the clock, instead he lied. "What?"

"You are a small, petty and disgusting-"

"What do you mean, 'broke in'?"

Mac wanted to yell at him. No, she wanted to beat him to a pulp with her bare hands while yelling at him but that would cause a scene she wasn't prepared to handle. The man genuinely seemed confused and for a brief moment she wondered if maybe her disdain had clouded her judgment.

"I came home and found my pistol unchambered and my bedroom…my room was destroyed." She told him about the mattress which hung off the boxspring and the bedsheets that had been stripped and tossed in the garbage. There was the matter of Harm's cologne tossed against the wall and the semen on the discarded sheets.

Mac watched him pale as detail after detail came into the light and right when she thought he'd admit to being her intruder, Webb tossed out her lover's name. "Sarah, you can't think I'd do that."

"But, I do. This obsession you have with me it's unhealthy. You need help, Clay and you need to get it through your sick little mind - there is nothing between us."

Webb was barely able to right himself, it was the cane that helped him stand somewhat although he used the wall to lean against. "Sarah, I know. Bur, I'm concerned about you. Everything that's happened has been my fault for dragging you to Paraguay and I'd-" He stopped mid-sentence and grabbed a handkerchief in his pocket to blot the blood that still dripped from his nose. "Will you let me inside, please? So we can talk in private?"

She touched the gun at the small of her back, testing that it was still there should she need to use it and once Mac was sure he wouldn't hurt her, Webb was let in.

Minutes later he sat on her sofa with a bag of peas pressed against the bridge of his nose and a glass of water and two aspirins set before him. He held a washcloth under his nostril to catch the blood and grimaced when a sneeze caused him an insane amount of pain. He deserved this and far more because only a mentally disturbed man would have done what he did.

Breaking into Mac's apartment was one thing but touching himself…he shook his head in disgust. That wasn't him and maybe Sarah was right to call him obsessed and petty. He was both but she was the only good thing he had left in his life and that had to count for something. So he beat the only dead horse he had left, the card he'd been playing for over a year in effort to cast doubt over the man that once shared her bed. "What if…I know you don't want me to mention him but, what if it was Harm? He's the one who's really obsessed with you. He's the one who sits outside and watches you he's-"

"Dead!" She yelled out. "Harm's dead! He died in a plane crash near Vancouver." It hurt like hell to spew that lie because the feeling of losing him was just as raw. She imagined a plane disappearing into ominous clouds and never reappearing. She imagined hearing the news that he'd died doing what he loved most - something Mac almost lived through once before when his Tomcat dumped him into the ocean years earlier. It wasn't hard to fake the expression of loss or pain because she felt it now, the genuine dissolution of their relationship.

"You know?" If the color could have completely drained out of him, it would have. The few that knew of Harm's passing were extremely limited to next of kin and his former commanding officer that seemed to have a pulse on everything his ex-subordinate did. "How?"

Mac nodded slowly. "Harm's parents called me. They knew we weren't together anymore but…I guess…I don't know. His mother was fond of me and always hoped I'd forgive him. I can't." She feigned sadness.

"And you still love him."

HIs accusation made Mac's head snap up and for the life of her, she couldn't lie about that fact. Even if the breakup were true, even if they yelled and screamed or Harm sent her to Hell, she'd love him - and as pathetic as it sounded, it was still true. "Don't deny it, Sarah. You don't have to lie to me about what you feel for him. I get it, the two of you had something."

"And you're still jealous."

"I am. I saw a spark of what you and I could be back in Paraguay. I liked you relying on me. I liked you trusting me and I liked you pretending to be my wife." Clay reached into his pocket and removed a small black velvet bag that was cinched with a tiny nylon string. She expected him to spill diamonds across her coffee table and finally admit that he was playing both sides but instead, a ring popped out. It spun on the waxed surface and finally came to a stop at the edge where Mac caught it before it fell to the carpet. She brought the ring up to eye level and noted it was a different type of engagement ring with three stones. A diamond in the middle, a ruby on one side and a pale opal stone.

"What is this?"

"Proof."

"Of?"

Webb shifted and moved to the edge of the sofa, his expression one of seriousness and concern. He was about to lie. Mac had caught on to his subtle tell, a pursing of the lips where he tightened them more than usual before he spoke.

"When an officer like Rabb passes, especially one of questionable ties, it's SOP for Central Intelligence to see how he lived."

"Toss his apartment, you mean?"

Clay cleared his throat and nodded. "He was almost working like a NOC, Sarah. With no official ties. Look, I know you don't believe me but, he was working for the other side."

"What does any of that have to do with that ring?" It was her ring, Mac knew. The one Harm told her to find fearing the agency would get their first. Clearly they had and it was difficult to maintain her mask of indifference when Webb admitted it was found in Harm's loft.

"I took it before anyone else did. There was a note."

"A note?" That made her perk up. Mac could only imagine what Harm had written. It made her stomach flutter. "What note?"

"I didn't keep it but, it was obivous he wasn't ready to let you go. I think. I'm sorry, Sarah…I know it was him that broke in. Believe me."

Any other woman would have been convinced by his puppy dog eyes or the sincerity of his voice. Mac was not but when she reached across and placed a hand over his, she made him believe. "I do. I do believe you."

"No tears." Webb said suddenly as he turned his hand around to thread with hers. "I expected you to cry over him." He expected to comfort her too.

"I was done crying over him a year ago. Now I'm just sad…numb." She slipped her hand out of his and stood, this conversation had gone on long enough. "Will there be a funeral?"

"No."

Webb left several minutes later and after a sweep of her apartment with a detection device, she made her bed on the sofa and fell into it. Harm's ring was still on the coffee table, each stone glimmering in the soft light from the table lamp.

She took the ring and studied it a little better, eventually slipping it on next to the one he'd made at the houseboat. It was beautiful, delicate. The white gold complimented the stones so well without the peice being gawdy. "Oh, flyboy."

Maybe she wasn't done crying?

"You wanted to see me, Admiral?" Mac stepped into Chegwidden's office and stood at attention. He sat at his desk, glasses balancing on the tip of his nose as he read through a sheet of paper in his hand.

She noted a manila folder at the corner of the desk with the word 'classifed' stamped across the top and felt a chill run down her spine. Oh God, she thought, what now?

"I'm not sure how to tell you this or if I should. Take a seat." Chegwidden stood and closed the door after warning Coates that they were not to be disturber. What concerned Mac the most was when he took a seat next to her and let out a long breath. "Why was I informed that Harm was dead?"

"Because he is." She shook her head slowly. "But there's a man I was with this week named Jacob Kaine that reminds me of him."

Chegwidden sighed, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose after scrubbing a hand across his face. He still felt guilty for his part in Harm's departure from JAG and was trying so damned hard to make it easier on Mac as a result. If his former senior officer had died, he'd never forgive himself. "Mac-"

She followed his eyes as they dropped to her left hand and the clamp she was wearing as an odd ring. Her thumb ran over the metal that Mac quickly covered with her opposite hand. "I said yes."

"Oh."

"I don't know how or when or if but, I said yes."

"How are his parents handling the news?"

"They know the truth. He got word out. Webb isn't sure, he doesn't believe it." And that concerned her enough to force giving an appointment with her new client to Sturgis. "I need to get to his apartment and no one can know I'm gone."

Chegwidden stood, headed to his desk and pulled a set of keys out of the drawer. He placed them in Mac's hand and motioned towards the door. "Do you trust Coates?"

Mac shrugged. "I think so. She was loyal to him."

"She also has dark hair." He pointed out and gave Mac a once over. "You're about the same height."

"Understood."

That early afternoon, a woman who looked like Colonel MacKenzie took a fleet vehicle and pointed it towards the Washington Navy Yard while a thin, bearded man wearing sweats and a ball cap took the Admiral's SUV heading towards North of Union Station.

Harm's Apartment

North of Union Station

The change of weather came on quickly. Sunny skies were replaced with dark clouds full of precipitation that dumped its heavy rain on the city. It made for good cover as a blue SUV circled the building three times before stopping at the alley that dead ended.

The thin man who jumped out hurried for the main door and opted to use the steps rather than the slow elevator. He walked up slowly, hand on the butt of a pistol tucked into the waistband and ready to defend himself if needed.

One hand held the key to Harm's door that he accessed after ripping past the layers of crime scene tape stuck on its frame. He pushed the door open and immediately came to a halt, the hand on the gun falling to the side once he realized he was alone. Alone and in an apartment that had nearly been destroyed.

He locked the door and only then could the disguise come off. The man pulled at the appliance attached to his face which gave way once the adhesive pulled free. The skin-like material complete with mustache and beard stretched off his face like chewing gum revealing the woman in disguise.

Harm gave her a quick tutorial, and pointed out an easy way to go undercover so long as no one got too close. Mac's hands shook while she stood in the bathroom trying to get the thing to stick and use a ball cap to hide hair that, while short, was longer than most men.

The clothes were taken from the bag she kept in her car, oversized USMC sweats which hid her figure along with a ballcap to cover the areas the appliance didn't. Once she was satisfied, Mac gave her uniform to Coates, balanced the garrison cap correctly on her head and both women drove off in opposite directions.

The younger woman had called fifteen minutes prior informing Mac that a vehicle had, indeed, followed. While its driver had kept themselves a distance away, Jen spotted the way it followed each turn she made even when she pulled to a restaurant with a drive thru. "Keep calm, Jennifer and thank you."

"Anytime, ma'am. And I'll call again if I see anything fishy."

The younger woman had been impressive, fearless but Mac always respected how the Petty Officer changed her life around and became the asset Chegwidden needed. She was smart, feisty and given her checkered past, Coates spotted criminal activity with the eye of a detective.

As Mac stood in Harm's living room, she did a quick turn around the apartment. The cushions of his couch had been ripped open. The items in his desk were strewn about the floor. She walked over broken glass, one that belonged to the few pictures he had framed and displayed on the small shelf next to the door.

The picture of a young Harm in the cockpit of an F4, his father standing at his side was ripped in two. She bent down and took each piece, gently brushing her hand over it to remove the glass. Images of his parents, their godson and even the detailed model of 'Sarah', his biplane, were on the floor.

The guitar that he proudly displayed by the window hung off it's stand, the body splintered as if it had been smashed to the floor. As she walked towards the kitchen, Mac found most of it was intact save for the cabinet doors that were all left open and the food stuffs tossed into the sink.

Perhaps the greatest destruction was the bedroom. It reminded Mac of her own mess - the mattress dangling off the frame, one edge on the floor, his clothes were thrown to and fro.

The summer whites that Harm kept were on the ground, covered in footprints and just next to them she found a small, broken safe. Mac imagined that was where he kept her ring, the one that Clay insisted came with some letter professing his obsession. She scoffed at the notion and opened the safe to find a picture, the one taken in the Afghan desert during one of their adventures.

It was torn as well, her side was gone leaving only Harm in cammies with his arm draped over a disembodied shoulder. Someone had taken the other half and it upset her to think of what Webb would want it for.

The way his sanctuary looked, she doubted an uncompromised hiding spot until she dropped to her knees before the steps and began to feel for the latch he'd hidden. There was a grove which Mac followed with her fingers and then a gap that she pressed up on. It released the locking mechanism and using all her strength, she pulled the top step up.

It opened fairly easily revealing a deep compartment with ample space to hide several things. To her relief, Inside Mac found an empty pistol case and a bag that she unzipped to find ten neatly stacked bundles of cash. She pulled the bag out and dropped to her six to search for the passports Harm insisted he left behind.

Those were also available and while three were American passports, Mac's heart plummeted when she found a Russian one with the name Pyotr Orlov and Harm's picture just next to it.

Why did that make a chill run down her spine? Why did Webb's warning have to play like a broken record in her mind? 'He's a traitor.' Why was she doubting the man that she loved?

Without much thought, Mac pulled the cellphone she had tucked into her bra and dialed a number to a secure line. She gave a numeric code and waited patiently for someone to answer. "It's MacKenzie…I need to speak to Kershaw, now."