| Subject: Storm Clouds Part Five |
Author:
Karen
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Date Posted: 20:27:33 12/02/07 Sun
In reply to:
Karen
's message, "Storm Clouds" on 18:16:06 11/24/07 Sat
A/N: I don’t know if this is possible. I got the idea from observing seashell in the surf. It’s probably about as likely as outrunning a nuclear weapon with and F-14, but it’s Harm.
Storm Clouds
Part Five
Trujillo home
Norfolk VA
2035
Harm had picked a nice little Italian restaurant more for its atmosphere than its cuisine. The food was simple and appetizing, but not extraordinary. However, the strolling minstrels and low lighting, as well as the cozy booths, lent a promise of romance to the scenario.
The promise was wasted on Mariposa Trujillo. She was so very disinterested in anything remotely personal with the man she worked beside, that she had tried to take the check when it arrived.
Harm didn’t need to be hit by a rock to get the message; nevertheless, he had a job to do. To that end, he tried to dazzle her with interesting conversation peppered with leading questions, as he urged dessert and coffee on her. He knew the gooey chocolate concoction and rich, heavy coffee would keep him awake tonight, but if he found out what he needed to know it would be worth a sleepless night. He was off tomorrow and could take a nap if he needed.
“That was fun,” Harm ventured a facile ‘date lie’, as he pulled up in front of her residence. “Suppose we do it again on a night off when we aren’t so tired.”
“Perhaps,” Mari responded distractedly, as she looked towards the house.
A rambling structure, it had obviously grown from an original smaller home, but the additions had been done well and weren’t obvious. It surrounded a front courtyard on three sides; the fourth side was a rock wall with an ornate wrought iron gate. Music, light, and the laughter of several dozen people poured from the courtyard.
“Your family having a party?”
“You might say that,” Mari replied coolly.
“I didn’t mean to make you miss anything important,” he teased.
“You didn’t,” she shrugged. “It’s just getting started.”
“Well, do you need an escort? I’m available.” his smile faltered as a large Hispanic man appeared at the front gate.
“Everything okay, Maria?” His deceptively soft voice used familiar Spanish to inquire.
“I’m fine, Ramon” she replied in kind, somewhat exasperated.
“Who’s that, your body guard?” Harm joked.
“He’s my youngest brother and he’s very protective.”
“So what do you say about the party? Or the dinner?” Harm pressed.
“Captain…” she paused for a moment, not wanting to be entirely rude. “Captain, this is a deeply personal event, a celebration for my cousin. It has both social and religious significance. It’s not an occasion for cross cultural information gathering. This is a large reunion of our extended family and close personal friends that lasts for several days. Our escorts are arranged in advance.” Abruptly she opened the door and started to exit.
Harm reached out tentatively, laying a gentle hand on her arm.
“Im sorry,” he replied sincerely. “I was out of line.”
Ramon stepped closer to the car, but she held up a quick hand to stop him. Looking first at Harm’s hand then into his eyes, she found sincerity. “Of course, Captain, you couldn’t have known. Forgive my rudeness.”
“It is you who must forgive me, it was my fault entirely,” he replied graciously, then nodded towards the young man waiting impatiently. “I think your brother would be more comfortable if you joined him.” he gave her a friendly smile with no underlying suggestion.
“Good night, Captain,” she smiled her acceptance.
He’d learned what he wanted. If her life was a ruse, it was a very elaborate one. Most likely though, her straightforward background as reported in the CIA dossier was entirely accurate. Gathering from their conversations of the last few weeks, she seemed to hold the most conservative and loyal political beliefs. She’d brushed aside all the petty grievances he’d ventured as insignificant. He’d received no sympathy and less agreement whenever he made a disparaging remark towards the military or the government.
As Harm watched, she took Ramón’s arm. He helped her from the low-slung convertible, then escorted her up the flagstone steps into the patio. The laughter and closeness they shared told of a warm sibling relationship. Ramón’s protectiveness was obviously genuine. It only solidified his conclusions.
The wind had increased during dinner. He could hear it tossing the thick, tall, trees overhead. The storm suddenly looked like it was going to get very nasty in spite of the milder predictions. It wasn’t supposed to be more than some heavy rain and thunder, but it had shifted in the last few hours and now the wind was coming inland hard. It was barely 2100, he hoped the weather wouldn’t interfere with the Trujillo family party.
The powerful engine gave a throaty rumble, as he slipped into gear and pulled away from the curb. The heavy purr of the finely tuned machine was a pleasure to drive. It triggered the distant memory and deep satisfaction of time he’d spent rebuilding the car from the frame up. Checking his rearview mirror, he found he was still being followed. It was discreet, but as he turned into a main thoroughfare, he could see the small black vehicle about three cars back.
He could open the Corvette up and lose the tail, but even with the light traffic, it would be dangerous in this wind. Turning left at the next light he headed for the freeway on-ramp that would take him in the direction of his apartment. With this storm approaching so quickly, he’d need to put the top up soon. All evening he had thought about trying to talk to Mac, wondering if she would listen. He couldn’t go near the base as long as he was being followed.
At the last minute, he took a chance and stayed on the freeway using a different exit. If he couldn’t shake the tail, he could at least accomplish something he’d been meaning to do. Slowly he drove through the old neighborhood. He was surprised by how many homes he recognized from when he’d lived here. Some had fallen into terrible disrepair; others had been gloriously restored. Most just reflected their long lives.
Turning right, he pulled up across the street from the shabby old Victorian he’d called home for a short time. Two of the lots on this side of the street were vacant, with only the remains of old foundations visible through the weeds. The house he remembered living in was a now a ruined hulk in the darkness. In one corner, an elaborate turret was missing half its roof. Upper windows were missing completely, and lower ones were boarded with peeling plywood.
A brief flash of light revealed the leaded cut-glass front door, the only outward sign of the building’s former glory. The light must have come from a car on the next block. Perhaps his tail. He would come back this weekend and see if it was possible to do anything with the living quarters out back. For a short time, it could provide him a beachfront retreat unless the city discovered him. At very least he had to salvage that door, it must be worth something. Maybe there were other fixtures inside he could reclaim before he contacted a demolition crew.
It certainly wasn’t something he’d be able to concentrate on fully until this mess of Webb’s was cleaned up. He put the Corvette in gear and pulled away taking a meandering route back to the freeway. Behind him, he only saw darkness. Strange, but whatever someone wanted to know about him it was apparent they were no longer interested.
Maybe he’d still have time to find Mac and talk to her. He didn’t know why, but in the last few hours the importance of seeing her had his gut tied in knots. As a precaution he headed for his apartment, he wanted to change out of his uniform, then pick up the Lexus. It was quite a bit less conspicuous than a bright red classic sports car. If someone had followed him from the airport, they might not know about his second car.
One hour later
NAB Little Creek
The waves were building, rushing onto the beach with a rumbling display of nature’s power. No doubt the evening news would have film of a few hardy but foolish storm watchers playing dangerously close to the surf.
Harm had called Norfolk Naval Base this afternoon and was informed by the clerk in officer billeting that Mac wasn’t staying there. Apparently, there was some large conference and all the guest quarters were full. Then unexpectedly the civilian staffer had cheerfully volunteered the information that she was staying at the Navy Lodge at Little Creek.
He’d arrived at the Lodge less than ten minutes ago. The desk clerk looked him over for half a second, then with a shrug told him that the Colonel had gone for a run on the beach.
‘Damn’ he swore under his breath. She was the most stubborn of women. She should know better than to be out on a dark beach in this kind of weather. Quickly he reminded himself that Mac hadn’t grown up near the beach as he had, perhaps she wasn’t really aware of how dangerous and unpredictable a storm could make the ocean. Shaking his head in frustration and concern, he’d run to his car and driven to the west end of Beach Road.
.
He spotted her struggling to run along the shoreline, the wind whipping her hair and clothing. There was still just enough of the half moon coming through the broken clouds to see shadow and light.
The wind pulled at the water, sucking it away from the beach, and each time it ran back up the sand it was deeper and higher than before. If she weren’t careful, she’d be swamped by one of the next few rising waves. The rain was just beginning, the drops large, hard, and wind driven. As the clouds condensed, the moonlight would soon disappear completely.
He started towards her waving his arm, pointing to the surf behind her. In an ordinary thunderstorm, it wasn’t common to have this kind of wave action on the west side of the bridge. This storm must have completely changed character in the last two hours.
She saw him advancing and ran down the beach to avoid him. He couldn’t tell if she recognized him or if she thought he was an attacker. He couldn’t blame her if she didn’t want to talk to him, but her life was in danger. The storm designation hardly mattered now. She was going to be hit by that next incoming wave.
He stopped again, putting all his breath into his voice. “Mac!!! Noooo!! Watch out!!” he pointed behind her then set off at a dead run straight towards her. She still pulled away from him, watching him and not the water. Then the wave turned. He stopped again, waving his arms and pointing frantically towards the water. Finally, she turned and looked out to sea, but it was too late.
As she started running, the huge wave overtook her, throwing her like a rag doll as it rumbled up the beach. There was nothing he could do except watch as she was tossed and tumbled beneath the foaming surf. He was too far away. He moved forward, then sideways, trying to line up with her last position, fighting the wind for balance, looking for a chance to dive into the advancing wave, wondering if he had a snowballs chance in hell of finding her.
The water hit his ankles, then his calves, then his knees. He flailed around as the water swept up his thighs, then to his waist, knowing it was hopeless, that they would both probably drown. Suddenly he felt something collide with his legs. The full force of her body hit him sideways, taking him down with her.
He reached out for her in the tumbling surf as it swept them further up the beach. His only advantage was that he’d had a half second warning and had taken a huge gulp of air before his head went under. Grabbing her around the middle, he aligned her lengthwise with him and body surfed them both inland as far as possible.
The wave was still deep, turning them over and over, when it paused for just a brief instant. He knew what had happened, the wave had reached its peak and would now retreat out to sea. He scrambled for footing and managed to raise both their heads above water for a precious second, hoping she was capable of taking a breath. As the water rushed past them, the sand was sucked from under his boots and he fell.
Rolling her under him, he took a wild chance. He used their combined weight to sink them against the beach, digging the toes of his boots and his long fingers into the moving sand. Constantly, he shifted his grip, grabbing any new foot or handhold he could. There was almost no chance this would work, but if he flattened their profile, like a seashell washed ashore, there was the remote possibility he could cling to the beach.
It was mere seconds, or an eternity when he realized it actually was working. His head was spinning from the lack of oxygen but the suction of the surf was lessening. They had been carried down the beach, but not out to sea. Almost immediately, he could raise his head above water taking a deep breath and hauling her with him. Covered in sand and soaked by the sea, he stumbled to his knees gasping in air, tugging at her, until he had her tucked under his arm face down, but out of the water. Half-crawling, half-running, he pulled her up the beach, struggling against the approach of the next wave, until they were well above the water line into dryer sand. The rain pelted harder now and the wind picked up the moist sand, blasting the fine grains against their skin
Still moving towards safety, he wondered if she’d survived. As he quickly worked the steps for CPR in his mind, she choked, coughed, and threw up in the sand. He moved her a bit further then gently lowered her to a kneeling position. She collapsed in a heap, still not breathing, so he ran his arm under her body, turning her over. Leaning down he placed his ear to her breast, relieved to find her heartbeat. Touching his lips to hers, he gave her one breath then two, before her body convulsed. He turned her on her side as she threw up a second time, followed by a spate of coughing, a desperate gasp, and a weak swear word.
He smiled with an overwhelming feeling of delight. She was alive, at least she was alive. He had to get her to the hospital, but at least she was alive. Somehow, against all odds, he’d saved them both. He just prayed she wouldn’t get pneumonia, or a bacterial infection, that none of the seawater had actually entered her lungs.
He knew he was grinning like the village idiot, thrilled to see her breathing on her own. She sat up weakly, looking at him, not smiling in return, when he offered, “Sorry, Mac, I tried to warn you.”
She nodded, “Why are you here?”
“I came to apologize, to explain about this afternoon.”
She gave him a hard look. It didn’t indicate in any way that she either believed him or cared.
“No, I mean here, on the base. How…?” The rest was lost in another uncontrolled fit of coughing.
He took her head in his hands holding her while she wretched with dry heaves. “Let’s get you to my car you need to see a doctor.”
She flailed her arms. “No!” was followed by more coughing, and more loss of stomach contents although there was little left to lose.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear that, Mac, and since you can’t even speak without choking, I guess we need to find a doctor.”
Standing he scooped her up from the sand. Truth was he was barely able to carry himself, but it was his one chance to make a move like this. If she were even slightly in better shape, she would have fought him off. Since he’d first seen her on the plane, his mind and body were telegraphing every manner of strange and wonderful ideas. He had no idea if they would ever happen, or if he was just torturing himself again, but he wasn’t going to blow it by falling or dropping her.
His heart was warmed by her sudden trust, when she willingly sank against him. If only he could hold her like this forever. Too soon he reached the car, wrapped her in a blanket, and placed her in the passenger seat, then closed the door gently but firmly and hurried to the driver’s side.
She sat looking straight ahead, obviously exhausted from nearly drowning, but withdrawing from her moment of weakness. With a resigned sigh, he fired the engine and put the car in gear.
“How?” she asked again in the barest whisper, not wishing to tempt her throat muscles.
He studied her profile for a heartbeat before releasing the brake, wondering if she was up to the story. He remembered Webb’s remark about her being a Marine and his rejoinder about letting people know what’s going on. She deserved to know at least in general terms.
“Look, Mac, I can’t tell you all of this, at least not right now, but I’m working for Webb.”
Her eyes came around, staring at him as if he had two heads. “Webb?” she murmured scornfully. “Why?”
“I’m still in the Navy. That’s how I got on base.”
“You’re what?” she exclaimed putting her throat her into another seizure.
Harm fished around in the back seat and brought out a nearly full bottle of water. “Sorry, I drank out of it, but it’s probably better for your throat than sand and seawater.”
She took small sips, opening the door to spit the first mouthful on the roadside, then another sip or two to clear her throat.
“I didn’t know, Mac, honest. I truly believed they’d sacked me. I was happily flying around the friendly skies when I got the call. Don’t worry, I gave Webb a piece of my mind, but the upshot is the Navy still owns me. I’ve apparently just been serving a purpose working for the airline, some sort of out in the open undercover gig,” he snorted.
She still had that look on her face. Like he was crazy, and maybe she should call the MP’s, but then her look softened, this was Harm, he wouldn’t make this up. His outrageous performance on the plane would have cued her that something was amiss if she hadn’t led with her heart. The ire he displayed speaking of Webb and his convoluted schemes was enough to verify his story.
She smiled tentatively, then whispered, “Welcome back.”
“Thanks. Anyway, my whole outward appearance has to be one of a former Naval officer with a lousy attitude towards the government. You showed up at just the wrong time. There was no way I could let anyone know how glad I was to see you. I’m sorry. You got the brunt of something you knew nothing about.”
“What’s the case?” she asked again in a whisper, quickly reducing the importance of the morning incident.
“Can’t say at the moment, but I let Webb have it with both barrels. You’ll either be briefed tomorrow, or taken off whatever case has you down here. If we keep running into each other there’s going to be a slip.” his jaw tightened.
Her eyes flashed. “Harm,” she started then softened her voice, taking another sip of water. “I’m working on a…well, I have to handle this case.”
“It might be wise then to have the Admir…uh, your boss talk to Webb’s boss. Someone needs to co-ordinate the two operations. We’re playing with dynamite.” He slipped his foot from the brake and turned the car back down the street heading for the hospital.
“My ticket was changed at the last minute,” she offered.
“What?”
“My ticket. I had reserved a seat on another airline. It was changed last night just before I left work.”
“Webb,” Harm guessed with a disgusted snort.
“No doubt, but why?” she agreed.
“No one ever knows what Webb is up to. He told me he had nothing to do with your case but…be careful, Mac,” he cautioned.
She looked out into the darkness thoughtfully, saying no more until they pulled up in front of the building. “Harm I…it’s…the Naval Weapons Station at Yorktown. They’ve had a series of thefts. Truckloads of hand held weapons. All kinds. My client is the Master Chief who organized it. He’s ready to spill on his buddies and reveal where the stolen items are stored for an easy sentence. I have to stick with this.”
Harm acknowledged the importance of her case with a nod, then capturing her eyes, he revealed, “Military equipment specs, Mac, stolen from the contractor and sold to...well…according to Webb everyone. Someone has to work this out, but for the duration of this case, no one can see us speak a civil word. I can’t even go in to see the medic with you, there’s no way to know who might be involved in your case or mine. Promise me you’ll go see the doctor.” He reached to squeeze her hand, indicating the emergency entrance with a glance.
She looked down at his big hand wrapped around hers, then up into his eyes, with an affirmative movement of her head.
“Call me when it’s over?”
“I will,” he said, knowing there was probably little point. If he remained in the Navy, even the Reserves, and he was assigned to Intelligence, this sort of thing could happen again. There was no point in trying to continue their friendship.
She nodded, accepting his word, but knowing he hadn’t promised anything. Silently, Mac slid from the car and walked stiffly inside, not daring to look back.
Harm took a deep breath, expelling it forcefully with a very unacceptable word. Carefully, he pulled away from the curb, then headed for the nearest gate and the furnished efficiency apartment he called home.
End of five
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