| Subject: Storm Clouds Part Seven |
Author:
Karen
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 16:09:36 12/06/07 Thu
In reply to:
Karen
's message, "Storm Clouds" on 18:16:06 11/24/07 Sat
Storm Clouds
Part Seven
Annapolis Harbor
Saturday
Early August
He sat with one leg up on the seawall, his arm rested on his knee. A cup of coffee dangled carelessly from his fingers. Another in a doubled cup was sitting beside him. He’d been there for five minutes. He didn’t know if she would come, but he’d bought her coffee anyway. He hoped she would join him for lunch.
The day after Merrick confided in him, Webb had acted on the information. Not without the requisite amount of denial and protest that Harm had expected, however, it wasn’t long before the plane was grounded for ‘technical difficulties.’ For twenty-four hours CIA technicians worked installing eight closed circuit cameras in air vents and lights, there were even a few tiny fiber optic lenses that masqueraded as screws. With an eyewitness, the Agency and all its lettered associates now had the necessary probable cause for this invasive action. On Monday when Patterson took his flight, every move he made was recorded digitally and on film. Richard Patterson and his seatmate, a man of many identities, were arrested at the gate as they departed the plane at Norfolk.
On Tuesday, Harm left a message on her phone.
“Hi. It’s me. You asked me to call. I’ll be at the Academy the end of this week giving the Navy its due. If you can get away, I’ll be by the harbor wall at eleven Saturday morning.”
Not very cryptic, hardly secretive enough to preserve his cover, but they were unlikely to be observed here. His case was over. No one would be following him.
After a very informative conversation with his old Academy classmate Bruce Carmichael, who was now Admiral Henry’s Executive Assistant at Naval Intelligence, Harm had managed to negotiate his services out of the CIA’s realm of influence for the future. Still something was nagging at him; something made him want to be cautious.
A young woman walked by with a large dog on a leash, flirted a smile his way, and greeted him with, “Hi, Sailor.”
He tapped the brim of his hat and grinned broadly, “Morning, ma’am.”
He loved summer whites. They were somewhere between difficult and impossible to keep clean, however, nowhere in the world was there a uniform that more resoundingly declared your military affiliation than Navy summer whites. He loved the Navy, too, always had. He didn’t blame the service for a poor decision by one of its officers. Harm still felt deeply that the Admiral had given him tacit permission to go to Paraguay, encouraged him in fact, and that the resignation had been no more than an artifice of deniability in the event he had failed. However, it was no longer important. Life had changed and he had changed with it. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the feeling he carried deep inside for Mac.
At exactly two minutes ‘til eleven her red corvette came down the narrow street and pulled into a parking place in the market square. His heart skipped a beat when the car door opened. She stood, and turned towards him with a smile. She wasn’t in uniform, but she looked magnificent anyway. He loved her in uniform; however, he loved her in anything. That thought smacked him in the stomach. He hadn’t formed a complete sentence in a year that contained Mac’s name and the word ‘love’.
She walked saucily, almost seductively towards him, wearing a skirt just short enough, but not too short, a pretty green shirt, and those soft canvas shoes she liked. A feeling akin to a sparking wire traveled the length of his frame. He had no idea of her expectations or intentions, or whether there was even any substance to the smoke that Webb had blown his way about their relationship. He did know that given half an opportunity it was going to be very difficult to maintain the barest vestiges of self-control with her.
“Rather abrupt message there, Sailor. What if I had a dozen men who wanted to see me? I might not have known who you were,” she greeted him, flirting but somewhat hesitant.
“No doubt you do. And they probably all want to know where you are right now. I just hoped you’d recognize my voice after listening to it for eight years,” he answered graciously, to ease the tension in her voice. His thoughts darkened slightly at the idea that Webb might disapprove, but he still wondered if he’d read something that wasn’t there into the spy’s comments. Certainly if it were an issue for Mac, she wouldn’t have come to meet him.
“Not even one,” she replied quickly, in reference to who might be interested in her whereabouts. “But, nice save, Harm. So what are you doing here? You look good back in uniform.” Her voice had a light airy quality. Almost like a new relationship that wonders where it’s going. A good question, where were they going?
“Doing my two days a month,” he answered, matching her tone. He handed her the coffee, and straightened a little taller at her compliment. “They don’t quite know what to do with me yet, so this month my assignment is to present the Navy and all its glories to the new class of plebes. I get to tell them about all the fun I’ve had being a fighter pilot and a JAG corps lawyer, and throw in a few things about covert operations. They asked me to stay over and address a general assembly this afternoon.”
“Don’t you think that’s getting their hopes up,” she teased, sipping the still warm brew. “Not everyone can have a career like yours, you know.”
“I know, but it certainly gives them something to shoot for…or not.” his laugh rumbled from deep in his chest. “Have lunch with me?”
“I though you’d never ask.”
“What will it be, seafood or seafood?” he spread his arms in a wide circle.
“Hmmmm, well, now that you ask, I think I’ll have seafood.” She closed her eyes for a moment then opened them and pointed. “There,” she indicated a patio by the water on the south side of the harbor
“Whatever the lady desires.” Once the words left his lips, he discovered he meant them. At least he believed he did.
When he touched the back of her waist as he used to, another electric current ran through him. He definitely had to proceed with caution. Guiding her across the narrow street, they turned left and walked to a small hotel on a side street. Once inside, Harm escorted her through the lobby and out onto the deck overlooking the bay. The waiter brought them menus and took their order for drinks. He glanced briefly at her over his menu, warmed by her presence and her smile.
They were both aware that things would need to be discussed, explained, perhaps even apologized and forgiven on both sides. But it was too soon in their reunion to broach such heavy subjects. They needed to regain the spontaneity of their affection, the equilibrium of trust, before they could hope to solve the underlying problems.
They were deliberately light-hearted, for now avoiding deeper issues as they laughed at the antics of ducks and gulls, lured by the tidbits of bread thrown by other diners. It was an uneasy mirth, but it conjured the enchantment of possibility, of hope for a long time friendship gone awry. Dare they even think the word love? Probably not. But at this point laughter was a place to begin. Neither of them had done very much laughing in the last two years.
Across the water, a tourist stood on the wharf taking pictures with a telephoto lens.
Flight 1653
Final approach
Tuesday
“That’s interesting.” Mari glanced out her window, then studied the scene more thoroughly for the minute it was in view.
“What?” Harm inquired indifferently.
“Out on the Spit, it looks like it might be a fire. It just sort of started suddenly. One minute there was nothing, then there was this puff of smoke in the air.”
Her attention had returned to the landing process, and Harm refused to let the distraction interfere with his responsibility. Besides, it couldn’t be…there were a lot of buildings out there. Nevertheless, he had a bad feeling about it.
Willoughby Spit
Tuesday 1810
Harm drove as close to the remains of the old house as he could. Emergency vehicles and onlookers made it impossible for him to get closer than 200 yards. Closing and locking his car, he sprinted, then shoved his way through the crowd until he felt someone grab his arm.
He turned to shake it off when Webb said, “Over here, Rabb.”
“You! Are you responsible for this,” he demanded, indicating the pile of smoldering rubble that had been the Victorian boarding house. He remembered Webb’s comment about burning it down.
“Of course not,” Webb scoffed. “Can’t you take a joke, Rabb?”
“This is no joke, Webb. I could be held liable…”
“Don’t worry. The old thing immediately collapsed almost straight down. Hardly singed the surrounding trees, much less your neighbors’ fine homes,” he smirked. To Webb, who had grown up in a collection of old family mansions, this new neighborhood was shallow and lightweight.
“Well what did happen?” Harm enunciated each word through clenched teeth, then, looking around, he spotted her. She was sitting in the back door of a medic unit with an oxygen mask to her face while some buff young paramedic took her blood pressure. A female medic appeared to be re-checking her, most likely for burns. A stocky, well-built young man lay on the gurney inside with loose bandages on his shoulder and hands, taking oxygen and an IV. Their clothes were badly damaged from scorching and smoke, the young man’s shirt was missing entirely. While Harm watched, they moved Mac to a new unit, closed the one with the injured man, and headed away with its multicolored lights flashing.
“What the hell?” Harm started to shove his way in her direction, his protective instincts aroused, when he saw the two men approach to question her.
“Harm don’t, they’re in the middle of an investigation. You can’t go in there.”
“Like hell I can’t.”
“Maybe I should rephrase that. You need to stay away from it. Your part of the case is over. Get in.” Webb indicated the big black government SUV sitting by the curb.
“My part, what do you mean? What happened to her? And what has this got to do with my house?” He looked through the tinted window at the still burning embers.
“So far all we have is she finally got the Master Chief a deal he liked, and he promised to lead her to their cache of weapons.”
“In my house?” Harm was aghast.
“Apparently,” Webb verified distantly. “The old guy who lived here was too sick to even know what was going on, so they must have figured they were pretty safe.”
“Do you think they had something to do with Paul’s death?”
“I doubt it. As long as he was alive, they weren’t likely to be discovered. Once he died and you started poking around they panicked. The weekend you spent out here working on the place sent them into a tailspin. When the leader of their cell was arrested the following Monday they put two and two together and came up with you.”
“This was part of the same group?”
“Uh huh,” Webb responded ambiguously.
“Wait a minute, you said she wasn’t working on anything for you.”
“We didn’t know she was at the time,” Webb vacillated.
“And when ‘exactly’ did you know?”
“I’m not ‘exactly’ certain when we received that information,” Webb hedged.
“You changed her airline ticket,” Harm accused the spy.
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Webb replied looking straight out the front window.
“I’m talking about Mac being on that plane with Patterson. You knew she would hear my voice and try to talk to me. Who were you setting up, me or her?”
“If I had done what you say,” the spy emphasized the word ‘if’, “What possible reason could I have?”
“Who knows, you don’t think like normal people, Webb. Maybe you wanted us working together and couldn’t figure any other way. Was it your boss or hers that wouldn’t co-operate on a joint operation?” Harm guessed.
“Well if I did as you suggest, it obviously didn’t work out that way, did it? Webb sneered.
“That seems to happen to a lot of your plans. Dammit, Webb, they probably followed me.”
“Undoubtedly they did. They stuck this photo in the Master Chief’s pocket just before they tied them up, locked all three of them in the basement, and set fire to the house,” Webb’s tone accused.
It was a photo of Harm and Mac having lunch last Saturday in Annapolis.
Harms voice came out low and dangerous. “Webb if I was ever going to kill in cold blood it would be now. If you had let me know, I never would have contacted her. I had no idea there was a connection.”
“Don’t be stupid, Rabb. This wasn’t my fault. I can’t call you up every time I get a new lead in a case. Your part was finished and you were out of it. How the hell was I to know you’d gotten cozy with Mac again? The last time we talked about her you sounded like being around her was the last thing on earth you wanted.” Webb replied more dismissive than defensive, then added with a superior smirk. “Besides, you pretty effectively put an end to any more communication between us when you made that deal with your new CO. You are ‘persona non grata’ at the agency, Harm. I shouldn’t even be talking to you now.”
“Well maybe you shouldn’t have worked so hard to get me reinstated,” Harm returned the attitude.
“What makes you think I did?” Webb face paled. He was stopped cold by Harm’s knowledge of that bit of information.
“Let’s just say a little bird from the Academy told me,” Harm smiled evilly.
“Academy Grads,” Webb groaned, scrubbing his face. “God save the world from them.”
Nevertheless, a small part of Harm admitted that Webb’s twisted logic had merit. It almost certain that he knew about the connection soon enough to have warned him to stay away from Mac, but there was no way to prove it. Webb liked to keep all his chips in his pocket when he worked a case. It was some warped sense of control. Even more likely was the very real possibility that Webb was playing several angles again and it backfired. He should have known better when he got involved with Webb and the Agency and Mac suddenly showed up. He’d had a bad feeling about the whole thing.
In fairness though, he should have noticed something funny going on at the house. There had been the light that had flashed across the front door that night, perhaps it had been inside after all. Then there was the fresh oil on his shoe, where had he picked that up, in the street or driveway perhaps? And had his eye really caught the glint of new metal by the cellar door? Maybe it was best that he stayed out of Webb’s line of work, maybe he’d lost his touch. Or maybe he’d become too much ‘like’ Webb, so focused on one goal he missed important things on the periphery. It was an advantage he’d once had, a pilot’s skill he’d brought to their undercover operations. A skill that somehow hadn’t made the transition on this case. It was obvious that for a second time in one investigation he’d almost gotten her killed. Without question, it would be best for her if he stayed as far from her as possible.
Harm sighed in resignation, “How did they escape?”
“Mac was smart. She didn’t come out here without backup. ATF and the FBI were both waiting a few blocks away. She had a cell phone in her pocket on speed dial to the command post. She managed to activate it for about a minute before it was discovered. That was long enough to warn the team she was in trouble. That house was like tinder. It went up like a bomb had hit it. The backup team heard just enough to convince them to call the fire department as they moved in.”
“Good. It’s nice to know she didn’t pick up any of your bad habits in Paraguay. Were any of them caught?” Harm asked morosely.
Webb glared at Harm’s remark but he wanted to get rid of him not make a bigger scene. “Yes. We believe we captured all but one and we have an ID on him.”
“Is she okay?” Harm inclined his head in Mac’s direction
“She will be, thanks to her Marine backup. That kid was tough and smart. If she hadn’t brought him along, she’d never have made it out of there. He found an old mason jar, broke it, and cut his own ropes, at the expense of several inches of skin. Then he took the burning timber that had fallen and battered the door open. The story I heard is that he literally tossed Mac up the steps, then she reached down and helped him hoist the Master Chief to safety. When Fire/Rescue arrived, they found all three of them sprawled on the grass a few feet from the door, trying to breathe. The firefighters pulled them to safety before the building collapsed.”
“Just tell me if she’s going to be okay, or by God I’ll break the police line…” he threatened.
“I received a report just before you drove up,” Webb sighed in aggravation. “The firemen administered oxygen as soon as they arrived. The medic’s are watching her to see if she shows signs of distress. If so they’ll transport her, but they said it’s mostly routine at this point. She has a few scorch marks from cinders on her clothes, but nothing burned through. The two men were hurt much worse. The Master Chief has a serious third degree burn across his back and the side of his face where the burning timber fell on him. The Marine has some first and second-degree burns on his shoulder and hands, and the cuts on his wrists.”
“I’m concerned about her lungs. She almost drowned a couple weeks ago,” Harm volunteered.
“I’m aware of that.” Webb’s words dripped a final indictment. “She wouldn’t tell me how she got in the water, or who pulled her out, but I’m not surprised it was you. Always playing the hero, right, Harm?”
“It didn’t happen quite that way,” Harm replied his mood deepening.
Taking another look at the damning photograph, he burned into his mind the reason for separating his future from Mac’s. Then he shoved the photo at Webb, climbed from the black government suburban, and walked back to his car.
In the dark, he missed the smug look on Webb’s face.
End of seven
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 