Chapter 20 - Spy Games
Mac's Apartment
Georgetown.
4 Days Later
"Home sweet home." The words were whispered as Mac slipped the Corvette into its marked space and stared at her building. She loved her apartment, the cozy welcoming feel, a sanctuary she'd built for herself. But ever since her bedroom had been tossed, Mac never felt safe.
Her home had been desecrated one time too many and this time she didn't have the strength to start over and rebuild. While her room had been cleaned and organized, she still waited for the shipment of a new mattress. Until then, a makeshift bed was rolled out each night in front of the fireplace with the use of an old sleeping bag and various blankets.
She tried raising Harm over the burner phone at various days and hours, each time there was no answer and that sickening feeling began to settle in the pit of her stomach as it had the past year. It wasn't uncommon for him not to answer, assignments often got in the way of their short conversations. Something about this silence felt off and that feeling had begun to trudge into her workplace.
Focusing on clients became a chore and she'd asked to be removed off of one high-profile case much to Kershaw's chagrin. She declined a TAD assignment, feigned an illness and instead holed up in her office reviewing mundane file after mundane file until the wee hours of the night.
She was a little scared to go home and find the place ransacked again or worse. It was Chegwidden that finally got her moving a little after 2200 when a guard had phoned that the Colonel had been working late.Begrudgingly Mac left and as she rode up the elevator to the second floor, she regretted coming home.
The door was locked but even before her key slid into the tumbler, Mac knew something was wrong. The hair in the back of her neck stuck up suddenly and the chill that ran down her spine was undeniable. 'I should run.' She thought but an unknown force made her push the door open and lock it behind her.
She shifted towards the armoire, reaching for the hidden pistol but the click of a hammer locking into place and the sound of a man's voice made her stop.
"Come in slowly. No sudden moves."
The apartment was dark, the only light that of a pillar candle in the center of her dining table that was casting eerie shadows on the face of a man who sat in wait.
Mac calmly shrugged out of her jacket, dropped her briefcase on the floor and didn't bother stepping out of her heels. She could sense the tension, the irritation and the anger as if they were palpable. When she tried to loosen her tie, the man stopped her with a wave of his hand. "Leave it. Come and sit."
"I said sit." His tone promised violence and the way he kicked a chair out for her was so impersonal that it hurt. For the life of her, Mac never thought she'd be on the receiving end of this treatment. Not from him, never from him.
Mac saw the pistol when she finally sat diagonal to him. It lay in a corner, the barrel pointing her way as his fingers played with the handle. He spun the weapon once, twice and a third time, stopping to check that it was loaded and then laying it down again.
She knew what this meant, that the lie of omission had finally come to pass. And the man she loved so much now knew her truth. "Harm-"
"You're a spy."
Harm kept his tone low and calm, belittling the anger that ran rampant inside of him. He'd thrown enough things, punched enough walls, almost broken bones and run enough miles to taper some of the rage. But he still raged, albeit in a cool and collected way - for now.
"Harm, it's not-"
"Damnit, Mac. You're a fucking spy."
A simple "yes" fell from her lips and she took a breath in effort to steel herself from his backlash. "Yes, I'm a spy. Yes, I work for central intelligence."
"How long?" The words stuck to the back of his throat and Harm found he could no longer look at her. Instead his eyes focused on the gun he was spinning around again like a macabre game of spin the bottle that no one could win.
"I was recruited out of college, before we met."
He snorted at that and laughed a little although it held no mirth whatsoever. "Then I'm the biggest moron on the planet, aren't I?"
She sighed. "No you're not."
"No? You've played me for ten years." The eyes that were focused on the weapon now bore into hers and Mac could see the hurt, the pain. She never meant for him to find out this way but, what could she do? "You're very good at your job, Colonel."
Harm denied her involvement, gave every possible excuse for the ID that stared back at him. Maybe it was used during the Paraguay assignment to allow Mac to enter Langley without the usual security screenings given to guests?
It was temporary. It had to be temporary.
But the more he read through redacted pages of classified information, the more it clicked.
There had been cases, the kind where he'd been sent abroad to investigate and Mac would appear shortly later as either opposing or co-counsel. Those were usually sensitive in nature, detrimental to the good order of the Navy should press or host governments realize what had happened.
Russia came to mind, the both times she'd miraculously been approved to follow when it was best he go alone. He'd grabbed a legal pad and began to outline their partnership and the coincidences practically screamed off the pages.
True, he'd come up with his own assumptions like her placement at the embassy in Aceh that was overrun by locals when a Marine raped a woman. Classified information was destroyed before the group was rescued and Mac was in the very thicke of it all.
Finally, it was Catherine Gail's warning, the lack of trust that he considered nothing more than two professional women who didn't like one another. The lawyer had been attracted to him and Mac could smell that a mile away. What if…what if the woman's warning amounted to something more?
By late morning he finished outlining her deception. By early evening, Harm had convinced himself that his lover betrayed him. A day later, after a sleepless night and another delivery of intel, he shuttered the houseboat, climbed into his SUV and pointed it East.
Of course, Webb had been in her apartment the night that Harm arrived. Of course the spookboy stayed far too long and left far too late. Of course.
The following evening, Harm broke into her apartment and sat with a loaded weapon, waiting for her to arrive. His cover would be broken and he just didn't give a shit anymore.
"Harm, it isn't what you think." Mac reached out to place a hand on his arm, a gesture that was familiar between them but he quickly pulled away and covered the pistol with his hand. "Don't do this."
"Are you really a Marine? A lawyer? Or did your buddies in the CIA help you with all of that?"
She was mildly insulted. Being a Marine wasn't something that anyone phoned in and neither was being a lawyer. Both took time and she wouldn't have received the accolades she had if either were faked. "I'm a Marine, I've been in the Corps since I was 18. I'm a lawyer and, I'm a CIA officer but-"
"How? Why?"
Mac often questioned why the CI had tapped her. Although she'd been an exhemperly Marine and had high marks in law school, espionage was a different game. She supposed their interest began when they found a recruit that could work as a Judge Advocate and share sensitive information they'd otherwise never discover.
At first the idea of spying on the Corps and the Navy was nauseating until her information stopped an attack overseas and saved countless lives. "I really don't know what they saw in me. Like I said, I was recruited out of law school and sent to work at JAG. I'm not a field officer, I only analyze certain intel and pass it along. It keeps the military from fumbling the CI's assignments."
"Oh, we fumbled assignments?" Now it was his turn to be insulted at the incredulity of her comment. As far as he remembered, the JAG Corps had saved the CIA's reputation, includint Webb's own fuck ups. Things in the Navy were either black or white, no greys or shadows.
"Sometimes JAG is sent to investigate service men and women they aren't meant to investigate. I try to keep the CI in the loop, warn them of a possible fall out. You know we're not received well in certain countries, so I try to stop problems from escalating."
Harm nodded slowly. His MI6 counterparts had discussed the escalating problems that came, in their opinion, from the American's going back on promises. The history between both intelligence agencies was often rocky at best and given how many times the CIA had blatantly lied when he worked at JAG, he was beginning to side with opposing forces.
"And Webb, him chasing your uncle Matt?"
"I never met Webb until then. Didn't really know he worked for us at first. I honestly thought he was another damned pencil pusher trying to use the military to move up in the World…. And Uncle Matt," She sighed again and shook her head. Her beloved Uncle's act was unforgivable in Mac's opinion. She loved him, always would but the fact that he could risk his career and hers was utterly heartbreaking.
"Stealing the Declaration put me on disciplinary action until they were sure I wasn't involved." And she'd been nearly arrested as an accessory until Webb's report said otherwise. That was back when the spook was a good guy - a nuisance but a man that defended his country.
Harm shifted, slightly uncomfortable. He spun the gun on the table again and slammed his hand over the piece when it nearly skidded away. "And me? Where do I fall in all of this?"
"You were my partner nothing more, nothing less until…"
"Until?"
"Paraguay." Mac sat back, her eyes dark as she spoke, her arms crossing over her chest. "What you did, coming after me was incredibly stupid."
"Thanks, next time I'll just let a derange terrorist kill you."
"I would have been fine. He would have told Sadik to ease off."
"He who? Webb?" Off her nod, Harm snorted. "Before or after you live with nerve damage for the rest of your life?"
"It was a price to pay. I knew what I was getting into and I knew that to get in good with Clay and maybe crack whatever was going on, I had to play along."
"You could have died."
Mac shrugged. Besides a good career, the good man and comfortable shoes she needed to fulfill her life's ambition were clearly lacking back then. "But, I didn't. Honestly, I didn't know what they were using me for. To play Clay's wife, fine. To watch over him, great. There was nothing concrete, not a shred until Catherine appeared at your apartment with the information she had."
"Catherine didn't trust you. Blaisdale didn't either." But he did until Mac gave him cause to feel differently. "Where do I come up in any of this, Colonel? Am I your mark now?"
Was he? In a way, yes. Her call to Kershaw meant a quiet investigation into Harm's Russian passport. She didn't dare tell anyone that he was alive nor that he'd been tapped by MI6 to investigate his own country. The dutiful side of her knew it was wrong to omit such things but Mac couldn't betray him.
"I loved you. I always had. Chegwidden wasn't the only one that didn't want us to get close. After Paraguay, I couldn't push you away anymore."
"Fuck."
"I never meant to hurt you, Harm."
"And the Ozarks? Following me out there? Let me guess, more of your love for me? Or was fucking me part of your mission?"
He spat out the words like a particular brand or venom that burned through her soul. He was so detached now, almost brainwashed and yet, Mac couldn't fault him. She had lied but then, he lied to her too. "That was real. It was you and me and no one else. I needed to be with you. I couldn't spend another year in limbo."
"Right. Did Webb send you?"
"What? No!"
"How the hell did they find me, then?"
"Who found you?" Oh God, now Mac was fearing something else. She tried so hard for no one to find her and no one to give chase, had she messed up somehow? Had all the twists and turns on her drive from Tennessee to Missouri been enough to ward off Webb's men? "Did something happen?"
Harm's hand wrapped around the butt of the gun, angling it so that it faced Mac's way. He shook for a breath until he composed himself and was able to aim it without flaw. "Mac-"
"Harm, put that down."
"No."
"Put it down, please." She eased a hand across the table and took his, slowly guiding it to the pulse point on the side of her neck. "Are my pupils dilated? Is my pulse racing? You know me. You've known me for ten years. I didn't betray you, I couldn't."
Harm pulled his hand away and kept the gun trained on her, the assignment from MI6 had been clear - terminate all enemies. The information Kitcher passed to him was damning and he felt like a fool for ever trusting her. "I loved you. I was never able to tell you but I did. I loved you. I wanted a life with you."
"And you still do."
"No."
"You're being manipulated. You're being used to do someone else's dirty work. William Kitcher is not a good man, he's their version of Clayton Webb only much smarter." Mac leaned forward, the movement making the barrel of the gun press against her chest - point blank.
"What are you doing?"
"If you're going to shoot me then do it. Put the bullet where it counts." She was daring him but his hand began shaking again and the resolve in Harm's eyes changed. Mac saw flashes of who he used to be, the recognition of a noble, honorable man who'd rather die than hurt her.
She cursed the CIA, MI6 and the Clay and Will's of the World. She cursed herself too for never telling him who she really ways and sending Harm on a crusade that ended his Naval career. "Please believe me."
"I can't." His voice cracked and a solitary tear slid down his cheek before a thunderous sound reverberated Mac's apartment.