| Subject: Empty Reflections Part Twelve |
Author:
Karen
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 18:22:51 11/11/08 Tue
In reply to:
Karen
's message, "Empty Reflections-Prologue" on 14:52:42 08/05/08 Tue
A/N: You can’t possibly be interested in any more of the melodrama that is my life so I won’t go into it. Here’s the last chapter. Epilogue will follow as soon as I have a bit of time. But I’m hoping no more than a week.
Empty Reflections
Chapter Twelve
Chesapeake Grand Hotel
Baltimore, MD
Main lobby
August 2004
Sunday 1253
Michael Morgan couldn’t leave the hotel fast enough. Mac and Channah followed closely, the governess watching the Marine for any sign that she’d try to fight or run. It wasn’t likely the Colonel would try anything unless severely threatened, but Channah wouldn’t relax until she was safely across a significant border with a new identity, and perhaps not even then. They quickly climbed into the limousine, watching each other warily.
Morgan was now terrified at who else Channah might feel needed killing. Channah’s nerves were raw, and Mac watched both of them for the slightest sign of a dangerous move. The Marine was reasonably certain the actor had not been actively involved in the killings, but he had played some role that was making him very nervous and very desperate. And that very desperation could make him more dangerous than the trained killer sitting beside her.
At that same moment, across the cavernous lobby, the elevator doors slid open. A meager cargo consisting of Ben Farraday, Tim McGee, and an elderly lady stepped out.
“There they are,” McGee announced, pointing to the three forms retreating through the massive front entrance. He waved his arms while attempting to move politely around the woman blocking his way. “I wonder where they’re going?” he asked, half a step forward of Ben.
“Wait a minute.” Ben planted his large hand on the NCIS Agent’s shoulder, holding him back.
“What?”
“That’s not Harm. Get the manager and check that actor’s room. I’m going after them,” the burly sheriff ordered. He had a bad feeling about this.
“But…”
“Do as I say, McGee. If you’re lucky, he’ll still be alive. Call me when you find him.” Ben tossed over his shoulder as he sprinted with surprising grace across the lobby.
McGee didn’t wait to see the burly Sheriff shove through the revolving door and dive into a cab. He immediately turned to the front desk and flashed his badge.
“I need the manager, please,” he addressed the young desk clerk.
“Sir, I’m sure I…” she began the formulaic speech.
“The manager, please, this is an emergency,” McGee gave her a look as close as he could come to the one Gibbs used when he didn’t have time to argue. It apparently worked because the young woman disappeared through a door to the rear of the work area, and reappeared seconds later with the day manager.
She was an elegant woman was in her mid thirties. Her dark hair was drawn back from her face in a professional, but not severe hairstyle, and her makeup was expertly, but sparingly applied. She was dressed to impress in a designer business suit, and looked like someone who intended to work her way up to the board of directors someday.
“I’m Jessica Grant. What can I…” was all she managed to say.
“Do you have a master key?”
“Excuse me…?” Her tone indicated it was an improper question.
McGee sighed and waggled his badge at her, “Federal Officer. Do you have a master key?”
“Of course,” she reached out and steadied the folder so she could read it, “Special Agent McGee.”
“Good. Get it and come with me.”
“Sir, I…”
“Look there’s no time to argue, and you don’t want me explaining this here in the lobby,” he gave her another Gibbs look.
Instinctively she sensed the urgency in his tone. She reached for the counter high door that connected the front desk area to the lobby and stepped out, automatically turning towards the elevators.
“Where are we going?”
“Room 2502”
“Mr. Morgan’s suite?” The smallest hesitation in her step was the only indication she gave of the impact this information had on her.
“Yes,” was all McGee was willing to say until the elevators door closed.
“Okay,” she turned to him as the car started its ascent, “this better be good.”
“You’re aware of the Ensign who died Friday night?” he asked rhetorically
“Of course. I’m not…”
“Now we have a missing Navy Captain…” he let her process that.
“Exactly what makes you think he’s in Michael Morgan’s room?” She was all business.
“Because Mr. Morgan just left wearing the Captain’s uniform,” McGee dropped the verbal bombshell.
“Oh lord, please no,” her voice trembled as her quick mind calculated the possibilities. She opened a small door in the elevator control panel and inserted the programmed key card that gave her access to every part of the hotel. Punching in a code, she locked the elevator into emergency service and sent it straight to the top floor.
As the car slid to a stop, she punched the hold button just in case they needed to send for emergency personnel. Racing only a step behind McGee, they reached the door of the suite virtually in tandem.
Again, she inserted the master card and shoved on the door. McGee drew his weapon and pushed her back.
“Let me go in first,” he instructed her.
“But I thought you said he just left…?” The unfinished question hung in the air.
“Don’t argue.” He stopped her with another of Gibbs’ warning looks. He carefully advanced into the suite, expertly scanning every room to satisfy himself there was no further danger. Returning to the front entrance, he only took the briefest second to study the oddly barricaded coat closet.
Pulling aside the chair, he jerked the door open. Though stunned by the sight he knelt quickly to break Harm’s fall when the tightly bound, gagged, and very naked Navy Captain fell out onto the marble floor, writhing slightly with the pain of his confinement.
Quickly McGee whipped off his windbreaker and tossed it over Harm, then proceeded to remove the gag form his mouth.
“A deep moan issued from the officer’s throat.”
“Are you all right, how are you hurt?” McGee asked. There was no blood evident, however, that in no way guaranteed the man hadn’t been seriously injured.
“Mmmmph, fine,” Harm grumbled weakly, though he sounded anything but fine.
“What’s happening? Oh my…” The hotel manager had stepped up behind McGee, then as quickly stepped away, turning her back. Though embarrassed for her guest, she was more angry. “What exactly is going on here, Special Agent McGee?”
“It looks like the Captain has been attacked. Call 911,” McGee replied coolly, sparing no emotion as he unbound Harm’s wrists, and continued to look for any obvious wounds.
“We’ll need hotel security up here as well,” she pulled her phone off her waistband.
“No …no, I’m fine, just cramped…thirsty… dry throat…no time…” Harm protested. Though still raspy, his voice sounded a bit stronger now. He looked a bit rough around the edges, but he was regaining his mental acuity fast.
His command presence even in this state penetrated her training. Ms. Grant relented for the moment and moved past McGee. Still keeping her eyes averted from her humiliated guest, she hurried to the kitchenette. She returned swiftly with a bottle of water that she handed to McGee then returned to her previous position in the doorway.
“Thanks,” Harm murmured. He stopped rubbing his chafed wrists and accepted the bottle. He appreciated both her quick thoughtfulness, and her respect for his unfortunate situation.
“I really think we should call the paramedics? There’s a fire station in the next block,” she tried again, fingering her cell phone suggestively.
“Harm, maybe…?” McGee questioned.
Harm moistened his mouth with several sips of the water before he responded. “No, I’m fine now, just a bad headache. We need to go after them. Where’s Mac? Is Ben…?”
“Uh…sir…Harm…” McGee’s tone said everything.
“No. Oh, no! They have her.” Harm knew what the Special Agent’s hesitation meant. He started to rise.
“Wait a minute, Harm. Ms. Grant, would you please go to room 1842 and bring some clothes for the Captain?”
“I…is that…? Yes, of course, right away. You’re absolutely certain he doesn’t need medical attention?” The woman was quick witted. She didn’t need a full explanation of what their broken conversation probably meant.
“I doubt we’ll be able to keep him here long enough for anyone to arrive,” McGee looked at the Navy Captain who had become intensely agitated. “Please hurry,” he prompted unnecessarily, for her footsteps already echoed back from halfway to the elevator. Her mind had drawn a full size picture of the six foot four Naval officer, wrapped in a torn bed sheet, traveling at top speed across her lobby.
Harm reached forward and untied his own feet. The way he was crammed in the closet McGee couldn’t have reached them. Seeing this, the Special Agent rose and made a quick search of the suite. Returning he handed Harm an Egyptian cotton bathrobe provided by the hotel, then helped him slip his arms into the sleeves. Once Harm had the belt tied securely, McGee placed his hands under Harm’s arms and assisted him in rising to his feet. Though his circulation was returning quickly, he was stiff from the brief confinement and tight bonds. His legs were still a little wobbly. The effort to work his limbs to restore circulation tingled painfully, and the throbbing headache wasn’t helping his temper in the least.
It was that ex-Mossad agent, or whoever she was, he was certain of it. Harm’s training was too good, too thorough. No one else could have hoped to catch him off guard that way. Only someone with specialized training would have thought to leave him stripped, in no condition to pursue them. Now that he’d heard her voice, he’d never forget it. He’d only had a brief glimpse of her as he recovered consciousness the first time, only heard a few words of her conversation with Morgan before she noticed him awakening. It was the woman in the photos who’d stayed in the shadows, the one who took pains to hide her identity. Whatever her story, he didn’t care for her tactics, and now she had Mac.
Harm was pacing the floor and cursing colorfully when Jessica Grant returned carrying enough clothing to make Harm decent in public. McGee was near the window speaking on his cell phone.
With a muttered “thanks,” Harm took the clothing and slipped into the nearest adjoining room. He quickly pulled on the jeans, shirt, jacket, and running shoes. That she’d thought to bring his underwear gave Harm a moment’s pause, but it didn’t impede his progress in dressing. Mac was in danger and he needed to move. There would be time enough later for amenities and embarrassment.
Harm re-entered the main room, and without hesitation, he headed for the door.
“They’re heading north on the freeway. Ben’s right behind them,” McGee reported crossing the room.
“Probably Anne Arundel County Airport,” the hotel manager supplied, falling in step with them.
“Wrong direction for Anne Arundel County?” Harm raised an eyebrow in question, as he hesitated at the door.
She shrugged at the vagaries of place names and added, “That’s what they call it. It’s a small executive airport outside of Annestowne, about twelve miles from here, and it’s where their private jet is parked.” If this got out she might catch hell for revealing confidential information, but in her quick assessment, this situation went far beyond guest privacy.
“Let’s go, McGee,” Harm ordered as he moved swiftly towards the elevator lobby, leaving them to follow in his wake.
“Have security seal this room,” McGee instructed the hotel manager, then scooped two objects from under the hall table in the suite. Passing through the door, he hurried after Harm. She pulled the room door closed and punched in a code, then hastened to catch up with the men.
She was already on her small cell phone giving orders, as she released the elevator, using her card to express it to the ground floor. “I need a cab at the main entrance, now. Tell the driver he needs to find the fastest way to the Anne Arundel County Airport.” Then she punched another number and spoke again, “Mark, 2502 is sealed until further notice, no one in or out for any reason. I’ll get back with you.” After giving the same instructions to the housekeeping supervisor, she turned to Harm.
“Okay, now exactly what is going on?” she gave the men a look that needed answers.
“They have my wife,” he replied simply.
“They? Who exactly?” she inquired. She had assumed what the situation might be, had acted intuitively trusting that a Federal officer and a Naval officer would have a good reason for their actions, however, specific information, even after the fact, would at least mitigate the damage to her career for the actions she was taking on their behalf.
“That actor and someone else, a member of his entourage. Someone hit me from behind.” He turned to McGee. “Where are they?”
“About seven miles from here. They got stuck in traffic for a few minutes. Ben is right behind them now.”
As the elevator stopped on the ground floor the two men called a hurried “thanks,” before breaking into a dead run for the cab being held in the hotel portico.
With a heavy sigh, Jessica Grant watched them scramble into the cab, then turned toward her office. She wasn’t going to call the police, it was in the hands of a Federal Investigator, but no doubt someone would show up to go over that room with a fine tooth comb. She couldn’t keep it sealed indefinitely and she was going to have to spend some time shuffling incoming guests. It was likely that suite would be tied up for days.
However, it was immediately imperative she let the hotel director know what had happened. He wasn’t going to be happy. This was the kind of mess that could wind up on the front page of major newspapers. But first she’d better call the Security Director and fill him in on what had just occurred. Once this hit the fan, all of their jobs would be in jeopardy.
~~~
“Damn,” Ben swore, “they just took that off ramp. You missed them.” The limo carrying Mac had suddenly cut through traffic, and skidded dangerously down the off ramp they had just passed.
“Sorry,” came the reply from the front seat. In heavily accented English the cabbie continued, “I drive cab, not a policeman,” he shrugged.
“Where’s that exit go?” Ben insisted.
“It goes many places. How do I know?” he continued to drive.
“Well get over and take the next damn exit,” Ben ordered, exasperation and fear making him far less than even remotely polite
“As you wish,” the cabbie swerved across two lanes of traffic and dived for the exit at the last second. “Now where to?” he smiled vacantly into the rear view mirror, an insincere effort to make amends.
“Go back. We have to find them.”
“It’s a big place out here, there are too many…” his accent was getting thicker by the minute.
“Look is there an airport nearby?” I saw a sign…”
“Ahhh, of course, the airport. That could be. You want to go to airport?” The cabbie acted as though the thought was entirely original.
“Find that airport, now,” Ben thundered, fearing they would take Mac on a plane. “And you’d better pray we haven’t lost them.”
The cabbie glared at Ben in the rear view mirror, but he’d somehow caught the urgency of the order. This could be a Federal agent, though he’d not shown a badge. He didn’t want to get involved in anything, but to obstruct the law could cause him trouble as well. He gunned the big car’s engine and slipped through two yellow lights as he headed for the turn down Annestowne Road. Five minutes later, they entered the airport drop-off area.
“Now where? I park, you get out here?” the cabbie suggested hopefully.
“No, wait a minute,” Ben scanned the area. His phone rang again, and he answered McGee’s call. “Yeah, we just got here. No, the cabbie lost them, but I’m sure they’re here. Wait a minute, I think I see them. They just turned down a dirt road beside the airport fence. Yeah, I’ll go have a look,” Ben shut down the phone.
“Down there,” he pointed, “that limo, where’s that road go?”
“It goes nowhere,” the overburdened driver sighed dramatically. “It is nothing, a dirt road. As you say, a fire break.”
“Well stop talking and follow them,” Ben roared his frustration.
Shrugging again the cabbie put the Crown Victoria into gear and immediately got them entangled in the minor traffic scramble in front of the charter drop-off. As he broke free and passed the end of the airstrip, an executive jet gunned its engines and roared down the runway.
“Damn!!” Ben swore. He had no way of knowing other than a gut feeling from years of experience, but he was certain that his quarry had escaped. However, someone was driving that limo, and whoever it was knew something.
~~~
The unequal flow of traffic in a big city usually works against you. In this case, it worked in Harm’s favor. With that, and a fortuitously brighter cabbie, they pulled into the airport parking lot just as Ben’s cab stopped at the entrance to a dirt road paralleling the runway.
He was only a fraction of a second from ordering their driver to take him to the same place when he saw her. She had emerged from the trees between the airport fence and the dirt road. He’d only had a glimpse of her in the hotel room, but he was certain it was she. In any case, it wasn’t very likely anyone else would be prowling among those trees.
Ben had left his cab and headed into the trees on the opposite side of the access road. Harm quickly decided that Channah Newell had seen the Sheriff as well, because she suddenly hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder and sprinted towards the airport entrance.
“There she is,” Harm told McGee and bailed from the cab.
“Who, sir?” McGee asked puzzled.
He tried to follow Harm, but was delayed by the cabbie with his hand out. Shoving two twenty dollar bills into the man’s hand, he started after Harm catching the door into the terminal just as it closed. As he jerked the door open, he heard Harm’s ring tone in his pocket. Stopping just long enough to pull out the phone, he checked the caller ID before he continuing inside.
He was just in time to see Harm hit the floor of the main waiting room with the dark haired woman tightly restrained in his arms. The big man rolled as they fell together taking the force of their combined weight. He wanted to capture her not kill her. He had questions to ask, hard questions, and crushing her wasn’t a good way to get his answers. She struggled violently, but Harm’s size and strength favored him in a fair fight. Rolling back over her, he’d just put her face down on the floor when three TSA agents surrounded him with guns drawn.
“Let her go and get to your feet,” one of them ordered.
This was a dilemma he hadn’t foreseen. There was no way Harm was letting Channah Newell escape, and she would escape if he loosened his hold even slightly, of this he had no doubt. Perhaps Morgan and his family were in the air by now, and he would have certainly preferred a more dignified takedown, however, this woman was his only link to Mac’s whereabouts. He wasn’t letting go until he had an answer.
On the other hand, it wouldn’t be convenient to get shot either.
“McGee!!” he shouted. “Get over here!”
“Right here, sir,” McGee rushed forward, sliding to a halt as one of the Agents leveled a gun at him. “Uh, sir, the SecNav is on your phone.”
“Well I’m sort of in a bind here, McGee,” Harm shot back wrestling with the struggling woman beneath him.
“Could I just…” McGee addressed the lead agent and started to reach for his pocket.
“Don’t move one muscle,” the agent ordered him.
“Perhaps I could be of assistance,” a velvety smooth, but very recognizable voice came from one side.
Harm turned his head, as did McGee.
“Who are you?” the lead TSA agent demanded.
“Lt John Hancock, Baltimore Homicide,” he flashed his badge. Backed as he was by four uniformed police officers, the TSA agents lowered their weapons, but didn’t entirely relax their stance.
“Get this ox off me,” Channah gurgled from somewhere beneath Harm.
“I believe you can let her up now, Captain,” the detective suggested.
“Not until someone has cuffs on her. I’m not taking any chances. She got to me from behind back at the hotel, and she’s the only one who knows where Mac is.”
“Mac?” The detective questioned.
“Colonel Mackenzie, my wife,” Harm supplied through gritted teeth. Channah was struggling, and whatever she was doing was making Harm very uncomfortable.
“Sir…Uh…Harm…the SecNav…” McGee held out the phone.
“I’m not letting go of her. Put it to my ear,” he ordered the other man, then, “Yes, sir?”
“What the hell is going on there, Captain?” the SecNav demanded harshly in Harm’s ear.
“Uhm…sir…I’m currently restraining a prisoner. Was there something you needed?”
“Absolutely, Captain. I’ve just had a word with NSA, Naval Intelligence, and the CIA. I have no idea what this is all about yet, but I’m going to get to the bottom of it. For now, do not let the woman posing as Channah Newell escape no matter what. Do you read me, Captain?”
“Loud and clear, sir, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“What…?”
“Not letting her escape, sir. Right now, I’m sitting on her.”
There was a deep and significant pause as the Secretary of the Navy allowed that picture to form in his mind, before he inquired in a deceptively mild tone, “Captain, where exactly are you?”
“In the waiting room of Anne Arundel County Airport just north of Baltimore, sir.” Harm gritted his teeth again.
“I see. Well, carry on, Captain. Report as soon as you can. Under no circumstance are you to allow her to escape, however it would be more ‘convenient’ if she’s taken alive.”
“Understood, sir,” Harm nodded for McGee to take the phone. “Now, does anyone have a pair of handcuffs? This is a Federal prisoner by order of the Secretary of the Navy,” Harm winced again.
He shifted his position, but only to accomplish coming down harder on the struggling woman. Reaching beneath him, he freed one of her hands preparatory to cuffing her, but she swung backwards trying to hit him in the face. He grabbed her wrist before she could connect, and twisted her arm up behind her, then quickly grabbed the other wrist and secured it as well.
Let me up,” she demanded, continuing to struggle. “I don’t know who you are. I haven’t done anything.”
“Channah Newell, we all have a pretty good idea of what you’ve done, and apparently there are a few people from agencies you shouldn’t have messed with who want to talk to you as well. By order of the Secretary of the Navy Im placing you under arrest,” Harm told her.
For just a moment, she went dead still, though Harm retained his hold on her.
“Now,” he spoke in a dangerously quiet tone, “suppose you tell me what you’ve done with my wife and it better not be bad news.” He held her as tightly as he dared without actually breaking her bones.
“I’m not saying anything until you get off me. She can rot where I left her, unless you let me up and allow me to leave.” He had to give her credit for being tough. She was at a disadvantage that anyone else would consider overwhelming, and she wasn’t giving an inch. But then neither was he.
“It’s not going to happen, Newell. Not in your lifetime. Whatever you’ve done, it’s caught up with you.”
“Then I want to make a deal. If you keep me in this country, I’ll tell you anything, everything you want to know.”
Channah Newell’s sudden change of tone told him more than he’d imagined about her possible background. Something big was up if she’d come up on the radar of three government intelligence. Hadn’t Sheffield referred to her as the woman ‘known as Channah Newell’?
“Sorry, I’m not authorized to make deals. And no one is going to listen to you until you’ve been read your rights under American law,” Someone handed him a set of cuffs. “Sit on her legs, McGee,” he ordered.
“Sir?”
“Sit down. I’m going to have to move to cuff her, and I don’t want to get kicked in the back of the head.” Once McGee settled over Channah’s lower legs, Harm moved slowly to a position where he could apply the cuffs. As the surrounding agents from three jurisdictions watched, she continued to struggle violently through the process. It finally took a signal from Hancock to his uniformed officers to help subdue her enough for the restraints to be applied.
“Stay on her legs, McGee,” Harm instructed, as he rose from his position astride Channah Newell’s body. “It’s not going to do you any good to fight at this point, Newell.”
Harm reached down, and with the help of a uniformed officer, they lifted her to her feet. Sliding her from beneath McGee, she kicked out, catching the poor young agent in the thigh just inches from his crotch.
“Damnit!!” McGee flinched and bent double.
It took no further encouragement for the other two uniformed officers to re-join the attempt to restrain the prisoner.
“Now, I’m going to ask you one more time, where is Mac?” Harm took a step back from the fray.
“I’m here, Harm.” He heard her voice behind him and turned his head.
Relieved by the sight of his wife hurrying across the room with Ben Farraday close behind, his guard lapsed for half a second. It was just long enough for Channah to kick her legs free and hit Harm on the side of his left knee. His legs would have buckled, if Ben hadn’t caught him by the arm. The three uniformed police officers and one TSA agent took the ex-governess/rogue agent back to the ground. The fourth uniform hurried back in through the front doorway with a pair of leg shackles.
“Sorry about this, young lady, but you just aren’t behaving very well,” Lt Hancock addressed her without a note of apology in his voice. He’d already taken a chance in not ordering his officers to use a Taser on her. But the surrounding crowd of onlookers negated that choice. Using a Taser on a prisoner, especially a woman, was not a sight that made civilians sympathetic to the police regardless of her crimes.
Harm gathered Mac in his arms and held her tight against his chest. No one inspected their faces too closely or they would have seen liquid trailing from both their eyes.
Harm looked up over Mac’s head and caught the eye of the burly sheriff from southern Virginia. “Thank you,” he said softly to his friend.
“Anytime,” Ben replied, then turned to the Baltimore Police Lieutenant to give them a moment alone.
“How did you get here? Did they call you from the hotel?” Ben had been out of the loop for most of the activity with only the brief descriptions of what was going on from McGee.
“And you are…?” Lt Hancock inquired coolly
“Ben Farraday, Sheriff of Hampton Roads, Virginia,” he held out his hand in introduction.
“Sheriff Farraday,” the reserved detective greeted him with a firm but brief handshake in return. “And your interest in this case…?” He raised his eyebrows in question.
“It was Ben who gathered the information initially that brought us all to the same conclusion Hancock,” Harm supplied pointedly.
“Ahh, I see,” his manner relaxed slightly, but only slightly. He wouldn’t easily forget that he had dismissed that same information as a conspiracy theory, nor did he believe the Navy Captain would allow him to forget it. “Then I thank you for your contribution Sheriff Farraday, and for rescuing the Captain’s wife in a timely manner.”
“Well it’s kinda this way, no one much rescues that lady,” Ben replied with a soft chuckle, “She’s pretty good at taking care of herself. I just provided some backup,”
“Are you injured Colonel?” he asked Mac solicitously.
“Mac?” Harm looked closely at his wife, then noticed her roughly bandaged wrists. He picked them up with the delicacy of a porcelain cup. “Good lord, Mac! What happened to your hands?”
“That one left her handcuffed in the limo,” Ben jerked a thumb towards their prisoner. “But being a Marine and all, she wasn’t about to wait for someone to rescue her. She’d almost worked herself free when I got there,” Ben told Harm. “Unfortunately, the flexicuffs did a bit of damage when she struggled to get free.”
“Get her out of here. Put her in the back of one of the cars. And someone read her her rights,” Lt Hancock instructed the three officers trying to hold the shackled and still struggling prisoner, then turned to the fourth, “And you call for the paramedics,”.
“No need,” Ben waved away the offer, “I already called ‘em.” Just as he spoke, they heard the siren of the medical unit growl to a stop as it pulled up outside the doors. “I told them to come here because she wouldn’t wait for them at the limo. She wanted to check and see that you’re okay,” Ben explained to Harm with a shrug.
“Over here,” Harm beckoned the approaching paramedic team, then led Mac to one of the waiting room chairs. It hadn’t occurred to them to notice, but now he realized that their activities had made quite a spectacle. Half a dozen tourists and at least as many employees of the various air services were standing in a wide circle, anxious to see what would happen next and gather information on what the melee had been about.
Hancock had noticed as well and waved an indicating hand at the lead TSA agent.
Anxious to contribute something, he gave a silent signal to his men then addressed the crowd. “The entertainment is over for today, folks. Go about your business.”
His men continued settling the crowd as he returned to the police detective. “Im going to need some statements about what all happened here. This is highly irregular and I’m going to be up to my a***, uh, butt in reports for a week over it.”
“I’ll leave an officer with you to complete any reports you need. I’ll forward copies of the arrest report and complaints filed as we get this sorted out. I suspect we’re going to have several law enforcement agencies involved in this, given the Captain’s statement.”
“Captain? Of what?” the TSA agent was losing what was left of his patience. “You mean the guy that threw the flying tackle in my airport?”
“Yes. He’s a Naval officer. If I understand correctly, he works directly for the Secretary of the Navy.”
“Doesn’t he know that’s a good way to get himself shot?” the angry agent inquired rhetorically.
“Hmmm…yes…well, I’m assuming the Captain was operating without a plan,” Hancock replied.
“Hmph!” The agent grumbled. “Look, I’ll be in my office. Send your man up there with the statements.” Then he turned on his heel and walked towards a door marked ‘Private Employees Only.”
Hancock watched him go assuming correctly that the man had been assigned here because nothing was truly expected to happen in this small private facility. When the heavy door swung shut, he turned to Ben and inquired, “Where is the limousine driver, Sheriff? We’ll have to interview him.”
“He’s right there by the door. I guess he has more than a few words to say to you about your prisoner. By the way, how did you get here so fast? Did Harm call you from the hotel?”
“No. We had the same data that you had and you had ours. We must have reached the same conclusions about the same time. I arrived at the hotel just after the Captain and Special Agent McGee left. The hotel manager explained that the Security Director was in the process of calling us. She gave me the short and dirty version of what had transpired, so we followed you. With the advantage of sirens, we arrived barely in time to see the Captain’s flying tackle of your fleeing suspect. Quite impressive, Captain.”
“Thank you,” Harm smiled ruefully. “As you said, it wasn’t exactly planned.”
“Special Agent McGee, what shall we do with our prisoner? Is there going to be a battle for jurisdiction here?” Hancock addressed the NCIS agent standing near Harm while a young paramedic worked on re-bandaging Mac’s hands.
“It sounds like it, sir,” McGee agreed ruefully. “But right now I think its best we get her into one of your holding cells until we sort it all out. I’m sure the Colonel and the Captain will have a complaint against her as well. As you’ve been told, I discovered the Captain in a closet in Morgan’s suite where she left him, and I witnessed her leaving the hotel with the Colonel as well. The fact that she was left handcuffed in their limo is evidence of what occurred.”
“Yes, Ms Grant explained the situation to me briefly. It is quite evident this case has a long way to go and through many courts,” Hancock replied. For now, he only wished to retain control long enough to file his charges for the city of Baltimore. After that, he would let the attorneys fight over her. He had no doubt that Las Vegas would want a piece of her, as well as whatever the Federal Government had against her.
“Perhaps you would be kind enough to come with me, Agent McGee, you can begin by giving me a statement of everything that has occurred. We can interview the Captain and the Colonel later after they’ve been treated. I’ll leave a car and one of my officers to take you back to the hotel,” he spoke to Harm. “Sheriff Farraday would you mind coming along as well? I think I’d like to talk to you some more regarding this information you’ve gathered.”
Then he turned and walked to the large double doors. The three police units could be seen through the front windows, emergency lights still spinning their penetrating color across the walls.
“You take care, little lady,” Ben bent towards Mac and patted her shoulder, then looked at Harm. “I’ll just head on back to the hotel once I’m done with Hancock. I’ll try to give him enough to keep him out of your hair for a while. You see to it she gets some rest, Captain,” he prodded at Harm knowing full well that the man’s protective instincts were at full throttle.”
Harm gave him an annoyed look, but Ben just chucked and turned for the door.
“Harm I found these in the suite, they must have fallen out of your pocket. You might need them,” McGee turned and handed Harm his cell phone and his wallet. I’ll call you after we get her booked and secured.”
“You watch yourself, McGee. Don’t let them take any chances with her. She’s strong and well trained in methods to escape captivity that an ordinary city police force can’t even imagine,” Harm warned.
“Will do, sir,” he answered, then smiled and quickly turned to follow the police lieutenant and his officers. He knew it was up to him at this point to take charge of the prisoner.
“Are you hurt anywhere else, Mac? She’s four months pregnant you know,” Harm turned his attention back to his wife addressing the paramedic laterally.
“I can see that, sir,” the medic smiled.
“No, I’m fine,” Mac replied, with a smile of her own. She could allow him a little latitude for his over protectiveness. She was just so damn glad to see him in one piece. She could even forgive Ben’s poking at Harm, and Harm’s slightly jealous response to it. But she couldn’t resist a little payback of her own. “Can you check his head though, I understand he was knocked unconscious a short time ago. And then he took a terrible fall when he captured our prisoner.”
The second medic looked at Harm with alarm. “Sir, we should really take you to Emergency. The doctor will want to have a look at you.”
“No, I’m fine,” Harm tried to dismiss the concern.
“Now, sir, it’s all very well to be brave, but a possible concussion is nothing to mess with. You do want to be around to see your baby born, don’t you?” the petite redhead smiled up at him coaxingly. “Come on now, we need to have your wife treated for any possible infection on those wrists, and I believe at least one of those cuts may require a stitch or two. We might as well check you out just to make sure everything’s okay. After all, you have to come to the hospital anyway.”
Mac just smiled her triumph, and Harm groaned as he watched the three men outside climb into Hancock’s car and drive off. He’d prefer to go spend the next four hours at the police station than at the hospital. But he had to admit she’d finally gotten even with him for all his protectiveness. It didn’t matter, though, not one bit, as long as she was alive and unharmed.
End
Epilogue to follow
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 