The next morning over breakfast, both Harm and Mac found it difficult to continue the facade of a working relationship. They were formal and guarded with each other, but for appreciably different reasons. Harm noticed that Mac made little eye contact with him and wore sunglasses as they headed off to the marina, atypical behavior for his partner. He thought it was odd, but, frankly, didn't care enough to pursue the reason for her cool demeanor. He was in a disagreeable state of mind himself.
When they found the right tour boat operator at the waterfront, Harm and Mac gathered as much information as they could through translation and were relieved to find an individual who spoke some English. In full uniform, they stood on the dock for the better part of an hour, asking questions about one of the last places the accused Marine had taken the victim. The mid-morning heat was quickly becoming oppressive. Harm and Mac prodded for any eye witnesses who might have seen the couple. They queried the boat operators about their daily schedules, customers, and offshore routes. For some unidentifiable reason, a tension seemed to be building in the strained, confused conversation that followed, but it was easily attributed to the language barrier and sensitive subject matter. They politely requested to hire a speedboat for a visit to the nearby Rosario Islands, a tourist destination pertinent to the investigation. An older man named Mateo agreed to take them out. Although Harm felt an instant unease around the senior boat driver, he continued making arrangements for the tour. Harm noted the mans defensiveness, but shrugged off any nagging distrust he had with his own expedience. He wanted this assignment over. He deliberately ignored his instincts that something was amiss. Additionally, he was reassured by the observation that his partner didn't seem at all concerned. Harm and Mac got into the vessel, and asked to store their two carry-on bags in an out of the way place. They had decided to check out of their hotel early and go directly from the marina the airport, after this last piece of the local investigation was completed. It was an unspoken understanding that both Harm and Mac wanted to return to D.C. at the earliest opportunity. They shared a tacit hope of getting some physical distance from each other after the events of the previous evening.
Once the boat was underway, the motor droned on and waves crashed against the hull rhythmically, lulling Harm and Mac into a sleep-deprived daze. They rode in silence, each in their own contemplative world. Harm thought that this excursion might have actually been nice if it werent for the fact that he was so preoccupied with the problems in his personal life. The sun was already bright in the sky and the ocean sparkled brilliantly around them. The islands were about 50 miles offshore, filled with beautiful white powdery beaches and a few hidden tourist attractions. Harm noticed a number of scattered smaller islands, but assumed they were still heading towards a larger destination. He had to admit that his job had its benefits. He was being paid to visit a tropical paradise. What Harm didn't notice was that the boat driver was heading out to sea, away from the safety of the Rosarios.
After nearly two hours of boating, Mac began to wonder why it was taking them so long to reach the main island group. She looked off the distance and could see no land in any direction, except one relatively small island. They seemed to be headed towards it, which registered as a bit strange to Mac. She remembered the brochures she had seen, and this just didn't seem fit. Still, she tried to relax and quell her growing concern. As they drew closer to the solitary land mass, Mac realized that Mateo had cast a number of nervous glances their way. Something was wrong. She felt it. She tried to alert Harm, but his head was turned into the wind. When they were within swimming range of the sandy beach, all at once, Mateo turned the engine down to an idle and pulled a gun on them.
"Get out, now!" His eyes were hard and never veered from their stunned faces.
"What...what are you doing?" Mac asked in alarm.
"We don't need nosy Americans coming around here...asking questions, bringing in some heat..."
Harm lifted his hands in surrender and cautiously tried to reason with him. "Wait, you've got us all wrong. We're here for a legal investigation of -"
"Shut up! Get in the water!" he shouted and started waving the gun.
"Get in the water? Are you crazy? You're just going to leave us here, treading water in the middle of nowhere?" Mac cried. "Who's going to find us?" Mac continued on a tirade.
Harm tried to intervene since he could see the desperation and panic in Mateo's eyes and sensed the man was not thinking clearly. It could be drug related, which meant he and Mac were in way over their heads and could actually get killed. Clearly, they had messed with the wrong people. If he could only get his footing on the boat and a timely diversion from Mac, maybe he could take Mateo down.
"Come on, Mac…where are those Marine instincts? It's obvious that the man is completely serious. Don't rile up the man any more than he already is. Back down, ease off…"
But Mac kept at him, and Mateo became increasingly agitated. He shot the gun off in the air and yelled a last warning at them, leaning forward to shove Mac off the boat. Harm was still too far away to jump him, so instead lunged to protect Mac from any bullets. She fell in the water and Harm dived after her, knowing it was too late to have a fighting advantage with Mateo. He came up for air and realized that the man was about to drive away.
"Leave us an emergency kit, something…" Harm pleaded, still shocked by the immersion in salt-water. Mac splashed near him, preparing to launch another verbal attack through sputtering coughs.
Mateo kicked up the engine, but kept the boat in neutral for a moment, seeming to consider their pitiful predicament.
"You left us near an island, now just throw us some gear—" Harm called out.
"Callarse la boca!" the man shouted while revving up the motor. Then in haste, he dumped over their luggage and a small orange box before speeding off full throttle, leaving a trail of white foam in his wake.
Acting fast, Harm dove down to grab their sinking bags, and Mac followed. He returned to the surface in flurry of effort with only one bag in hand. It felt like dead weight, but he wasn't going to let go. Mac rose with a second bag, but struggled to remain afloat. Harm called to her through mouthfuls of water, imploring her to just leave the bag; he could come back later. But she refused and swam lamely towards the shore. The flight bags felt like lead. Yet, Mac, ever proud, ignored her exhaustion and forged on. Harm managed to grasp the plastic orange box before it floated out of reach and made his way towards the beach behind Mac. After twenty minutes, they both staggered out of the waves and fell on the sand. They lay there in two motionless heaps, each breathing heavily and resting their depleted muscles.
"Damn it!" Mac cursed under her breath. "What just happened? How did this happen?"
"I think we stumbled upon some drug trafficking operation. That's the only thing I can figure," Harm threw out tiredly.
"How many Americans come to Cartagena, for vacation…or for work, and end up being dumped out in the middle of the fucking ocean!" Harm flinched at her swearing, but understood the sentiment. She always did have a more colorful vocabulary. "And why us?" Mac continued. "This just doesn't make any goddamn sense!"
"Maybe he was scared off by our official status or something. He seemed to think we were investigating him…" Harm slowly sat up and tried to think it through. "He was frantic; he couldn't be reasoned with. Our bargaining powers were limited."
"Well, not on my watch," Mac muttered. "This is not happening."
"But it is, Mac," Harm sighed, "as horrible as it seems."
"So what are we going to do out here? What the hell are we going to do?" Mac shouted again. Harm looked over at Mac and saw that she had draped her arm across her eyes. Her body was shaking slightly, but he knew she wasn't crying. She was just pumped with adrenaline and mad as hell.
"Well, we should stay calm and try to think about our options."
"What options? We have no options, other than sitting here and waiting for some cruise boat to float by!"
"We're not that far from the coast. Someone is bound to travel past this island. The truth is, Mateo must have had some sort of a guilty conscience to leave us near land. He could have just as easily killed us. No one would ever know."
"Don't give that bastard any credit!"
"I was only saying we're lucky to be alive."
"Oh, come on. I wouldn't call our situation lucky. Give me break, Harm…please!" she said with exaggerated sarcasm.
Harm got up and decided to leave Mac with her argumentative attitude. This wasn't the time to talk to her. His clothes were soaking wet, so he pulled off his outer uniform shirt, leaving his white t-shirt in place. The noonday sun would dry the rest fairly fast. Harm walked down the beach and tried to take stock in their situation. He figured it would take a day for someone to notice that they were missing, three or four before another boat might venture into the area. Regretfully, Harm and Mac had not informed anyone that they were going to be visiting the Rosario Islands as a part of their investigation. Those at JAG Headquarters would not know to look for them off shore from Cartagena. They needed to prepare for the possibility of being stranded on the isle longer. He felt a little worried about the conditions under which they'd have to live, but was confident that they would survive this ordeal. The island appeared big enough to provide fresh water and food to sustain them. They were not drifting lost at sea. He'd certainly been in worse situations. It was just a matter of time before they were found.