| Subject: 'Dissonance' - Part Four |
Author:
Daenar
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Date Posted: 14:59:09 07/24/02 Wed
In reply to:
Daenar
's message, "'Dissonance' - Part Three" on 14:54:43 07/24/02 Wed
'Dissonance' - Part Four
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One
Wed, May 20th
2214 ZULU
Nick’s World Wide Wafers
Long Island, N.Y.
Taking her latte macchiato and access-code card from the counter, Mac had butterflies creating uproar in her stomach. Accompanying Jeannine to her music teacher, she’d had finally, finally the occasion to go to the nearby Internet café to check her private mails. She and Harm had agreed that it would be too dangerous to contact him from an on-campus terminal where there could always be someone peeping over her shoulder. She had seen Harm several times in the last few days, briefly. At the presentation, in the cafeteria, at the gym. But her class had not yet had music lessons and the band’s rehearsals were on Thursdays.
Mac knew well how Harm felt for her, she believed every word he said about it. But she still needed to hear it, needed an audible or a visible proof that he was still with her, though ignoring her completely. She reached her computer, put the glass down and logged on. Her heart gave little jumps of joy when she found four messages from her sailor. Fortunately he had his private Internet access in his room.
To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com
From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com)
Subject: 05-17
Hey, my beautiful one!
It’s 2341 and I guess you’ll be a good girl and be asleep by now. Well done. Remember, tomorrow you gotta go to school. Don’t stay up reading too long at night, okay?
All right, that’s it. I’ll quit teasing ‘cause somehow it doesn’t help anyway. I think this is the first night I’m gonna spend by myself ever since our return from Venice. You’ve no idea how much I’m missing you right now, Sarah. I miss your goodnight kiss. I miss the way you drive me crazy, always getting up again when I just switched off the lights because you need some more water. I miss your warmth. I miss the wonderful certainty to wake up and see you first thing in the morning. And most of all I miss the way you comfort me when I’m scared of something. I tell you, I’m scared to no end.
When I arrived I went to Captain Wells straight ahead and was very relieved when he told me that you’d already arrived. He assured me of his total assistance and cooperation and of Laird’s secrecy, too. Then, to my utmost relief, he handed me a large pile of files Laird (God bless him!!!) had prepared for me: plans of studies for every class, what to expect of them, who’s who, who could cause problems, who could be of support, how to handle the band’s rehearsals, their projects etc. I owe that man, Mac. We’ll have to think of something to reward him when this is over.
Then, at dinner, all I wanted to do was vanish from the earth. Everybody openly or not so openly stared at me, teachers, girls, boys, personnel. Webb’s gonna pay for that concert!!! I didn’t know so many people watched those kinds of things. And the only direction I could have looked into without feeling uneasy was out of the question. I knew I had to avoid your eyes, my favorite Marine. As much as I longed to see them. Two or three times I allowed myself a quick glance, though, but you were always chatting with your neighbors. I began to doubt if you missed me at all – you seemed such a merry party. I see you already befriended Cadet Stiller. I was sure she’d like you. How couldn’t she?
I’ll go to bed now, hoping sleep will make my Marine-less hours pass more quickly. Do you miss me, Sarah? Not that I wish you a heartache, but I’d like to think you wanted me around.
I love you.
Harm
To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com
From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com)
Subject: 05-18
My dear Sarah,
well, first day’s over and things could have gone worse. Right now I’m a little blue because there’s no reply from you, but I know you’ve got little occasion to go off-campus. So, when you read this, don’t neglect your bodyguard duties just to get to write more often. I know you write whenever you get round to it.
Thank you so much for the reading glasses, Mac! They’re terrific! Today was my first music lesson, first year. When I walked in the cadets would whisper but they almost instantly came to attention in front of me, and I made them sit down and pulled out your glasses as I opened the class book to read the names. I felt much more respectable, you were right about that. And what’s more, they create some kind of a shelter I can hide behind. What’d I do without you, my Marine?
Anyway, the lesson went remarkably well. They’re doing Richard Wagner at the moment, the ‘Flying Dutchman’, actually. Laird seems to have prepared his lessons some weeks in advance and he’s written them out properly. So all I had to do was follow his guidance and see how it went. I guess I’m actually learning quite a bit myself about how to instruct people. Could come in handy one day, don’t you think? By the time his plans end we’ll either have this case wrapped up (and I can take you home with me) or at least I’ll know how to teach. Laird is an angel!
Last night was torture but somehow I survived it. I heard humans tend to adapt. Well, I hope I’ll adapt to not having you with me, ‘cause, one, I need sleep, and, two, it’ll be all the more wonderful to get you back again!
Love, miss and want you,
Harm
To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com
From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com)
Subject: 05-19
Hi there!
Do you still exist? I’m sorry, I know you’re maybe just as anxious as I am to get in touch, and more still because you can’t. But still... seeing you walk by or being formally greeted by you when we meet hurts badly. I want your smile back! I don’t know if I should look forward to or dread Thursday. I’ll be seeing you twice, in class and at the rehearsal. It’ll be dreadful to see you and yet not see you for three hours altogether.
Today I did a little research. There’s a nice guy here who works in administration, Lt. Brandon Anderson. I think his sister Dorothy’s in your class. He gave me some background information on the people around when I told him I’d like to know whom I was working with. I checked the persons for their nationalities and I actually found out that there’s a Columbian working as a civil private secretary to Wells. Her name is Maribel Gonzalez and guess what? Her younger brother’s in your class, too. Look out for Pablo Gonzalez. He’s the one. From what I hear, the Gonzalezes are a well-renowned family on the Island, very well connected with society. And two of Pablo and Maribel’s cousins are attending the college, too. Ramon García is a first year, and Pedro Godoy’s in fourth year. Of course they are American citizens but it seems that their grandparents are still in Columbia. I instantly paged Fred ‘home’ at JAG to gather some info on their background. Whatever. I know it may be unfair to suspect them just because of their nationality, but right now that’s the only clue we’ve got. You try to get near Pablo, if possible, okay?
By the way, Wells let me have the coroner’s report. Did you ever wonder why a girl who committed suicide would be found in the middle of a parking lot? Well, I did. But the police explain it with a huge amount of alcohol they found in Cadet Waters’s blood. So when they found with her the bill of the drugstore she – or whoever killed her – bought the responsible soporific at, they determined that the girl didn’t care where she was, due to the alcohol, and took the pills as soon as she got off her car. An open bottle of mineral water was found next to her, too. So they thought it was an easy affair to settle: Cadet Waters committed suicide. Far too easy, but who likes to work overtime, huh?
Take care, my favorite Marine, and feel yourself hugged and kissed by
Harm
To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com
From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com)
Subject: 05-20
My dear Mac,
I do hope you’re okay! I mean, I know you are because I see you around but I’d like you to confirm it to me all the same to set me at ease. I’m doing okay, although I might need a little more sleep – maybe I’m the exception to the rule because I don’t seem to adapt to Sarah-less sleep. But don’t worry, you know it’s hard to get rid of Harmon Rabb, Jr. I’ll find a way to sleep. Do you know how to influence dreams, maybe?
Lessons are going smoothly. People actually seem to like me, apart from that ridiculous fame Webb so kindly bestowed upon me... Yesterday it was the third year. History of jazz music. Nice topic, actually. Offers many possibilities to get into practice. Today I taught the eldest. Decent guys, all of them. In third year, there are some candidates to blow your teaching, but I’ll handle them. (See me roll up my sleeves, Marine!) The seniors seem to have lost their wickedness. Talking to them about counterpoint theory wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Tomorrow it’s up to you to show me how much I can teach you about cadences and harmonies.
I got to know Maribel Gonzalez. Maybe you’ve seen her. She’s the tall, rather good-looking woman with the tight bun of black hair. I had to go get some papers from Wells’s office and she explained to me where to sign and so on. I invited her to the cafeteria afterwards and she told me quite a bit about society. She seems very keen on getting to know me ‘cause she already invited me to at least four or five events. No, there’s no need to be jealous! (Just in case...) I’ll just play along a bit so I get access to the truly interesting people...
I miss you so much, Sarah. Yours always,
Harm
Mac had indeed felt a slight sting of jealousy when Harm had told her about Maribel’s interest in him. But she was afraid he’d feel just the same when he read her reply. Taking a soothing sip from her latte, Mac opened a ‘compose’-box and began to write.
Wed, May 20th
2338 ZULU
Harm’s apartment
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.
Harm opened his door, let his briefcase drop on the coffee-table with a ‘thud’ and quickly strode over to his desk to switch on his computer. He had caught sight of Mac and Jeannine earlier when he’d finished writing to her and had been leaving his apartment for a teachers’ meeting. Mac going off-campus with Cadet Stiller – that could only mean she’d found an excuse to accompany Jeannine to her music teacher and wait for her at the Internet café, finally being able to write. His concentration during the meeting had merely been one of ‘Don’t fuzz around, stay calm, Hammer!’ Now he couldn’t wait for his login procedure to conclude. His heart beating wildly, he saw the line he’d so much hoped for and instantly opened the message.
To: Sarahssailor@freemail.com
From: Sarah Mackenzie (Harmsmarine@freemail.com)
Subject: Miss you?? Hell, yes!!!
My dear flyboy,
of course I miss you! What’d you think? I’m lying awake at night, shivering because I don’t have your arms to wrap around and warm me! I miss waking up in your embrace and I miss your goodnight kisses, too! So much. I’m totally clueless about how I could ever do without you.
I’m dreading tomorrow, too. I’m dreading to see you and not being able to talk to you. Properly, I mean. But – don’t laugh – I’m dreading the rehearsal more still. You know, until now for me, too, lessons have gone rather smoothly. I’ve got a lot to do, yes, but I’m not so much out of learning as I feared I would be, and in most classes I’m actually a little ahead of the others. I never knew how much I must have learnt in college! But the rehearsal will blow my cover. I see it coming. It’ll never work!
In private life, my cover works rather well, I daresay. Jeannine, Cadet Stiller, trusts me. Yesterday she told me her version of Meryl’s death. All came out rather surprisingly. I had heard about Pablo’s nationality from Dorothy. She seems to be just as talkative as her brother from what you tell me. My alarm went off instantly and I decided to get to know Pablo a little better. So after my Spanish lesson (first Spanish lesson in my life - luckily the class isn’t very good at languages so it won’t take me too long to catch up with them) I went to him and asked him if he could help me with my Spanish ‘cause I didn’t learn it in San Diego. He seemed a little surprised that a Californian wouldn’t know any Spanish at all but he agreed. He seemed flattered, actually. He’s a little older than the rest, too, you know, having started primary school at eight years because of the language. And he seems to be every girl’s dream guy – besides you, that is, but somehow they seem to know you’re out of the question. Anyway, we’ll do a little learning every day after lunch. And he, too, has already invited me to some sort of a party. Maybe I’ll meet you there with Maribel? Would be fun, don’t you think?
What was I talking about? Oh, yes, Meryl. When I told Jeannine about my ‘good fortune’ she became all quiet. I asked her what was up and she told me she didn’t trust Pablo. You know what? He’d been going out with Meryl for some months! But right now he doesn’t show too many signs of a broken heart.
Harm, I’m almost sure it’s just a coincidence. Jeannine isn’t, though. She gave me no hints to underline her suspicion, but upon urging her to spill her concerns she told me the whole story like she did to you back at JAG. When I asked her if she had any ideas about what might have bothered Cadet Stiller or at least where someone might find a hint at what it was, Jeannine said no. But she supplied one new piece to the puzzle. She said: “Meryl had been uneasy ever since she returned from the training cruise.” “What training cruise?” I asked, and she explained to me that, during the whole year, groups of ten cadets are sent on cruises for practical training. They board an old frigate at Norfolk, go down to Kingston, Jamaica, and return to Norfolk, breaking the journey once in Miami.
Jeannine is sure that whatever happened, happened in the course of the trip. Of course I asked her if she’d been to the police or to Wells or someone else. She showed me the letters her blackmailer keeps sending. I’d be scared to death, too, Harm, if I were the target! And then Jeannine would look at me with large frightened eyes and say that what she had just told me she’d told only her boyfriend and a trustworthy friend of his, with the help of whom she’d sneaked away to see you. I feigned astonishment when she revealed that she was sure you’d come to the college because of the case. I’m really astonished that Jeannine already trusts me to such a great extent! She didn’t tell Dorothy or Cassandra, for instance, but then, they do love gossip and can’t keep secrets.
I don’t think Pablo’s got anything to do with Meryl’s death but he might be a link to someone responsible. Well, I’m gonna find out, and, yes, I’ll be careful. You know I can take care of myself. I’m a Marine, flyboy! Gotta leave you for now, homework’s calling... Don’t you dare give us any assignments tomorrow!
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Sarah
Smiling, Harm clicked on the ‘save’ button and shut down the program. So she did miss him. Doubting that would have been ridiculous, he was aware of that. But hearing it from Mac felt so good. Shaking his head at his irrational emotions, Harm took a legal pad and wrote down what hints she had supplied him with. He already hated Pablo Gonzalez, that he was sure of. Gonzalez got to see Mac in private every day, and obviously she’d at least have to fake some sort of interest in him. As he’d have to for Maribel. With a deep sigh Harm busied himself with preparing lessons for the following day.
Thur, May 21st
1900 ZULU
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.
“Oh my God, I’m so nervous!” Cassandra said under her breath. Mac just smiled at her, a little exasperated. She’d heard nothing but comments similar to this one from almost every girl in her class since the morning, and lunch break hadn’t lessened the tension. Inwardly, Mac was sure that her own nervousness by far exceeded that of any other girl in her vicinity but she mustn’t let it show. Seemingly disinterested, she was sitting at her desk in the last row of the classroom, right next to a slightly pale Jeannine, while one row in front of them Dorothy and Cassandra were literally dancing with excitement.
Suddenly, Mac felt her heart skip a beat when Danny, the boy seated next to the door, shouted: “Attention on deck!”
All sprung to their feet and came to attention, trying not to focus on the door as a tall, dark-haired figure appeared in the classroom.
“Good afternoon, Cadets,” Harm said good-naturedly.
“Good afternoon, sir!” twenty voices shouted back.
“At ease. Sit down,” Harm replied with a hint of his flyboy-smile. “By now I’m sure gossip’s been all around the school about who I am and why I’m here, but just to keep up the tradition of civil behavior, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., former naval aviator and now a lawyer with the Judge Advocate General Corps. One of my friends – at least I used to call him that until three weeks ago – talked me into replacing Cadet Meryl Waters in the governmental charity concert after her tragic death.
So maybe it was just a matter of time, when your music teacher, Cmdr. Laird, became ill, that the navy asked me again to step in, as they knew I had some rudimentary knowledge about music and they couldn’t come up with a fully qualified replacement quickly enough. So, first of all, I ask you for your full cooperation. I know people like to play tricks on inexperienced teachers – well, I did – but let me tell you one thing: We can start on friendly terms and have fun or you can meet my... uhm, let’s say, combat experience on dealing with you. As far as I’m concerned I’d vote the first option, simply because I love music and I’d like you to come to love it as well.”
‘Decent job, flyboy,’ Mac thought proudly as Harm had ended and let his friendly but firm gaze wander from face to face. When he met her eyes he was careful to stare right through her, giving Mac a moment’s sting of disappointment, but she understood.
Harm now pulled his – her – reading glasses from his pocket and put them on. ‘Not bad,’ Mac judged contently. Then Harm took the class book from his desk and opened it at the class list. Reading one name at a time, he made the bearer of the name stand up to try and memorize the names, at the same time asking if the person in question played an instrument and if he or she was a member of the marching band.
After ‘Odenberg, Cassandra’, it was Mac’s turn.
“O’Hara, Patricia,” Harm read.
Mac jumped to her feet. “Sir!”
“I hear you’re a newcomer, Cadet O’Hara.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, I hope you’ll get accustomed to your new surroundings without any major problems.”
“Thank you, sir, I hope so, sir.”
“Any instruments, Cadet?”
“Yes, sir. Bass drum. I’ll be a member of the marching band, sir.”
Harm slightly lifted his eyebrows. “Bass drum, Cadet O’Hara? Rare choice for a young lady, isn’t it?”
‘Ha ha, flyboy. Wait till I get back to you for that one.’ “I guess so, sir.” Mac wondered what else she was supposed to say about it.
“Okay, stupid question on my part. Continue, Cadet.” Harm’s smile had widened a little.
“Aye, sir,” Mac said, sitting down and enjoying the stifled laughter that could be heard at Harm’s admittance.
“Peddersen, Gary...”
The lesson went quite well. Harm introduced several easy cadences to write down, and he played them to the students on the little keyboard that Laird used for music theory. Letting them hear the cadences in several rhythms, he asked the students if they could imagine what song he had in mind that was accompanied using the given cadence in the rhythm he proposed. The members of the marching band were to write down the answers, being ‘professionals’ and familiar with harmonic theory, the others could try guessing with Harm’s help. Mac was glad that she would be asked to write and give her sheet to Harm directly, so no one would notice if she failed. But after the second example she got the idea and when Harm came to her to collect her answers, he cast a quick glance on what she’d written and gave her a barely noticeable ‘Well-done-Marine!’ flyboy-grin. Then the bell rang, announcing the end of the lesson.
“I’ll see some of you in twenty minutes at the gym for rehearsal. All others have a nice day.” Harm collected his things, made the class stand at attention again, saluted and exited the room. The door had barely closed when the gossip began.
“Now, that was nice!” Dorothy stated.
“I love his voice,” Cassandra sighed longingly.
Danny snorted. “Girls, get down to earth again. He’s no half-god, you know.”
Cassandra just glared back at him, Mac had difficulties to stifle her laughter. But inwardly she was relieved this first encounter was over and her flyboy had done really well.
“Hola, Patricia!” Pablo walked over to Mac and Jeannine and casually put his arm around Mac’s waist, making her jump. He raised an eyebrow in mock astonishment. “Mi estudiante tiene miedo?” he asked. [My student is afraid?]
Mac forced herself to smile, leaned into his arm and played the flattered girl, frantically collecting the few bits of Spanish she’d learnt during the last two days. “Uhm... no. Yo no... uhm... tengo miedo. Me... uhm... alegro de... uhm... encontrarte.” [No. I’m not afraid, I’m glad to see you.] ‘Phooo...’ she thought. ‘That was close. Try to think he’s Harm, Marine. You gotta seem attracted to him!’
“You don’t seem too impressed by Mr. Wonder-Prof., Pat,” Pablo stated, smiling self-consciously. “Rabb’s charms didn’t work on you?”
‘You have no idea!’ Inwardly sighing, Mac smiled innocently. “I have a slightly different taste when it comes to men.”
Pablo drew her just a little closer. “And what might that be, Cadet O’Hara?”
Mac gave him a sly wink, slowly wriggled out of his semi-embrace and turned to leave the room. “Try and find out, Cadet Gonzalez,” she said upon exiting the room.
Fifteen minutes later, a very nervous and pale Mac was standing in the middle of a row of three at the end of a formation of ten rows altogether. She carried her drum in front of her, being the only female cadet in the percussion group. In the front row she could make out Jeannine with her piccolo flute, Pablo was walking two rows behind with his clarinet, next to him one person was missing, probably Meryl. In the sixth and seventh row Mac saw Cassandra’s dark plait and Dorothy’s red curls. ‘I can’t see a bit of what I step on,’ she thought, frowning, still searching the best position for her head to see the little clip that her score was attached to on top of her drum, as well as her feet. ‘This thing’s too big!’
When Harm came to take his position in front of the band, all she could make out of him was an occasional flick of his baton that went high enough to be seen from the back. ‘This is going to be the end of it,’ Mac thought, preparing to meet her destiny.
“I never conducted a marching band before,” she heard Harm say. “So give me a little support, will you? Try to focus on Cadet Stiller as well as me. Cmdr. Laird told me she knew how to keep you in line. I suggest for today we just get to know each other by playing something you know well. I was thinking about ‘The Stars and Stripes’. We’ll do it once standing here and then we’ll play it again marching around the gym, to give me the possibility to get used to conducting while walking. Objections?”
“No, sir!” The band seemed eager to please him.
Feeling a strong instinct to run away and hide, Harm raised his baton and tried to recollect everything Burns had taught him. But then, surprisingly, after the first bars the music’s own dynamics took over and the band played swiftly, making Harm notice at once that he had gifted students to work with, students who wouldn’t let him down.
Mac had faked her first two or three strikes, afraid to hit her drum in an interval. But slowly she grew more confident of herself and soon her ‘thump-thump-thump’ mingled into the general sound. And to her amazement Mac noticed that she was beginning to have fun! Being inside the music, being a part of where it generated, was totally different from listening from the outside. A smile began to spread over her face. Harm watched her from the corner of his eye and started to relax when he saw the color slowly return to her face and the usual sparkle brighten her eyes.
When the piece was over Harm gave the musicians a few appreciating words and then turned around to walk in front of them. He felt strange, lifting his arms up high and directing no one he could see. But when he started, he heard the introduction playing behind him. They were marching on the spot for eight bars and then started to walk forward. Harm felt a little ridiculous but it seemed to work, so he just went on, hoping no one that really mattered would see him.
After two rounds on the gym, Mac started to get accustomed to drumming on pace. The only thing she didn’t like was that she still didn’t see what she was walking on. But assuming that twenty-seven cadets had just trodden the same path as she was about to, she might as well do it as not.
The unthinkable happened in round three. Gary, playing the chimes in the eighth row and being allergic to the grass that was growing all over the place, tried to suppress a powerful sneeze but failed miserably. The quick, forceful movement that his body made while sneezing knocked his music clip off his chimes, causing the boy with the snare drum, who walked behind him, to stumble and fall. Mac noted the sudden movement, but it was already too late. She stepped onto the boy’s leg, lost her balance and tumbled right over him, hitting her head hard on the edge of her drum. “OUW!!” she yelled before everything around her slipped into darkness.
“Cadet O’Hara!” she heard a well-known voice break through the clouds that were hanging around her conscious. Her eyes tried to focus on the speaker. She became aware of Harm kneeling at her side and holding her head, concern written across his face in bold letters.
“Ha... Commander Rabb, sir,” she murmured groggily, hoping she’d been quick enough to correct her near mistake.
Harm’s face softened in relief. “Are you okay, Cadet? Does it hurt somewhere?”
“Head,” she mumbled, trying to stay awake and trying as well to ignore the constant throbbing she felt behind her forehead.
“Stay with her and make sure she doesn’t move, I’m going to get someone from the infirmary,” she heard him say. Then she felt her head taken by someone else.
“Hey, Pat, don’t pull stunts like that!” she heard Pablo say smugly. “You’ll spoil the show!”
“You alright, Pat?” That was Jeannine.
Mac tried a smile. “Yeah, I guess. I’ll just get myself checked over and join you before the day is over.”
By now Harm was already back with two nurses who carried her over to the infirmary. Pablo walked beside her, holding her hand, causing Harm heavy fits of jealousy that he had to work hard not to show. When they arrived Harm told Pablo to go and tell the rest of the band that the rehearsal was over for today. He would be allowed to see Cadet O’Hara right before dinner for some minutes. And Pablo should tell Cadet Stiller to come over with some of Cadet O’Hara’s things, just in case she’d have to stay the night. Harm knew Mac wouldn’t need to stay but he didn’t want to leave Jeannine without protection, so she’d better come to sit with them.
Pablo slightly patted Mac’s cheek as he would his dog and as he brushed a kiss to Mac’s forehead Harm fought hard not to jump at him and shout “Mine!”
When the doctor had checked Mac and diagnosed her with a slight concussion, Harm sent Jeannine to get some tea from the hospital kitchen and enjoyed having Mac to himself for some minutes, even though it was under bad circumstances.
Gently, he traced the outlines of her face with his fingertips. She opened her eyes.
“Hey, flyboy.”
“Hey, Marine. You had me scared out there.”
“Won’t kill me.” She made a face, her eyes smiling, though.
Harm smiled. “No. But that’s what you said when you returned from the dentist. And the traces rested for two weeks. That’s exactly what’s going to happen now.”
Mac frowned. “Don’t tell me I’m blue all over.”
He sighed. “Not yet, but the swelling on your forehead tells me you’ll be in some hours’ time.”
“Damn. I was so glad the yellow on my jaw had finally faded away.” Mac was frustrated. She hated thick layers of make-up.
“Hey, don’t fret, my beautiful one,” Harm softly replied. “I love every color you’re inclined to show me.”
“Ha ha...” she made, grinning. “But one thing’s great about this incident. I finally get to talk to you, sailor. I’ve been missing you so much.”
“And I you,” he admitted, lowering his head to make their lips meet in a soft kiss. “This will keep me alive until you knock your head against something hard again, Marine.”
She playfully slapped him on the arm. “Hey, you could at least feel sorry for me, squid!”
“I do,” he grinned, sobering quickly when he saw her pale and frantically grab for the recipient at the side of her bed. Supporting her back, he helped her sit and steadied her while she was being sick – side effect of her concussion. When she had finally regained her even breathing, he eased her back onto her pillow and then carried the recipient over to the sink, returning with a wet washcloth and a glass of water.
“Thanks, Harm,” she said gratefully. “Feels good to be taken care of by you.”
“That’s the purpose of the whole exercise,” he retorted with a smile, gently wiping her cheeks and forehead.
Just then Jeannine returned with a cup of tea and Harm reluctantly let go of Mac’s hand and again became her professor.
Sat, May 30th
2341 ZULU
The Gonzalezes’ residence
Long Island, N.Y.
Harm had been dreading the evening. Ever since he had noticed that Pablo and Mac seemed to become a couple he couldn’t bear seeing them together. And here he was, actually dating Pablo’s sister, going to a party at her parents’ where he would most probably run into no one else than his Mac, who was able to join them for Jeannine was off to watch some Broadway show with Dorothy, Cassandra and Brandon.
Two times a week, Mac made it outside the campus, always accompanying Jeannine to her music teacher. They had made it a habit going together, the girl obviously unaware that she was being protected. So two times a week Harm would get mail from his jarhead, long, beautiful, heart-warming letters he relished, looked forward to and re-read uncountable times. But that just wasn’t enough. He’d have to come up with something quickly or he’d explode from the pressure his suppressed emotions were creating inside his soul.
“Hey, you with me, Harmon?” he heard Maribel say while walking up the steps to the front porch and stopping in front of the door. “You seem far away. Tonight you’re supposed to enjoy yourself.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought about the test I’ve got to prepare for the third years on Monday.” He gave her his patented grin and witnessed its effect as she leaned in and pecked him on the cheek.
“Forget school, professor. You’ll meet a lot of interesting people, have nice food and dance with me. Doesn’t that sound a valuable alternative?”
“Yep.” He grinned, put his hand on the small of her back and led her inside, tensing at once as the first thing that greeted him from the other side of the door was Mac’s laughter.
Maribel presented him first to her parents and then to everyone else, wearying him quite a bit for there were at least fifty people present. The huge garden was lit by hundreds of little colored lights, and next to the illuminated swimming pool the churrasco grill was emanating the aroma of fresh well-spiced steaks. Harm only hoped there were some corn cobs he could stick to. Well, at least Mac was supplied with dead cow, he stated to himself with a slight grin.
Mac. Where was she? Harm turned around and then saw her, leaning into Pablo’s arm and chatting with his cousins. She took his breath away. To look younger, she had dressed in a very short skirt and a fitting top that let show her belly-button. She wore sandals with not too high heels and looked a natural beauty, not as stylish as Maribel but a million times more beautiful to him.
During dinner he had no opportunity to get near to her. She was seated at the opposite end of the table. So Harm had no choice but to converse with an overly excited Maribel and some deadly boring members of high society. He decided to at least make good use of the time by memorizing every name and face connected to the Gonzalez family. Maybe he’d need this knowledge when it came to solving their case. After dinner, a Cuban ‘son’ band began to play and Maribel dragged Harm onto the wooden dance-floor, encircling him in her arms and forcing him to play along.
Mac had been trying all evening not to look over to where Harm and his new ‘girlfriend’ were sitting. Maribel surely was a stunning woman, she grudgingly admitted to herself. In her simple yellow dress that was cut dangerously low to her bust and with her long black hair falling down on her shoulders and back, she was the kind of woman who could make a guy fall for her if he wanted to or not. In her heart Mac knew that she could be sure of Harm’s feelings for her, but seeing him with this woman still bothered her a lot. When Pablo took her hand and led her to the dance-floor she had difficulties to refrain from following Harm and Maribel with her eyes. And when for some seconds Harm and Mac’s eyes would meet, they instantly knew this evening was torture to both of them. But at least Mac had all the time and leisure to get to know Pablo’s cousins and the rest of the family, and she was sure Harm was doing just the same thing.
When Harm finally got home at about 0200, he found his answering machine blinking wildly. He pushed the button.
“Hi Harm, this is Fred. It’s now Saturday evening, 2100 hours, and I just got interesting information on the things you asked me about. Do feel free to call me back whenever you return, buddy.”
Harm grinned. It must have cost Fred quite a bit of courage to talk this liberally to his superior even though they were friends. But they had agreed not to let show who he was if he were to leave a message. ‘Do feel free – I guess that means it’s urgent,’ Harm thought. Hesitating only a moment, he dialed Fred’s private cell-phone.
Sun, May 31st
2045 ZULU
Nick’s World Wide Wafers
Long Island, N.Y.
Wednesdays and Sundays were the lucky days. The lucky days Mac could get in touch with Harm while waiting for Jeannine to return from her music lesson next door. Sipping her latte macchiato, Mac impatiently logged on and found what she was looking for.
To: Harmsmarine@freemail.com
From: Harmon Rabb (Sarahssailor@freemail.com)
Subject: Torment
My favorite Marine,
it’s 0320 and I’m unable to sleep once again. This party nearly killed me. You were stunning, Sarah. I could hardly take my eyes off you and still had to play along with Maribel’s boring ways. I had to dance with her cheek to cheek and had to witness how you were doing the same with her brother. Mac, I can’t stand this situation any longer. I’d go insane. So please, please, tell me you have no plans for next weekend. Brandon told me yesterday that he and Dorothy are to take Jeannine home with them on Friday evening, and they’ll return only Sunday at dinnertime.
So you’re off duty, jarhead, as am I, and I’m all but dying to see you. Tell your ‘boyfriend’ whatever you like, that you’re flying to California to see your parents, whatever, and then meet me on Friday at 1800 hours on Times Square. I informed myself that the cadets are allowed out at 1600, first Friday of the month. So, please, Mac, come and wear something fancy, really fancy, okay? And bring something comfortable for the night and the next day. That’s all I’m gonna say now. One hint: I’m your professor. I gotta do something for your education. (See me grin...)
Okay, back to business. I had astonishing news from Fred yesterday night. He checked the Gonzalezes’ backgrounds and found them to be a very extended family, owners of various firms. But that’s what we already guessed, didn’t we? What we didn’t think about was where the firms were located. Well, here’s the list our brave Italian friend came up with: First, there is the brother of Juan Gonzalez, Jesús Gonzalez. So he’s Pablo and Maribel’s uncle. Jesús Gonzalez owns the family hazienda back in Columbia, coffee plantation, at least officially, no one can possibly know for sure, up in the mountain rainforest, right? Just thinking.
Then there’s another uncle, Gabriel García, their mother’s brother. He owns a textile mill in Cartagena, Columbia, which is at the Caribbean coast. Nice place to ship anything to and from. Just thinking, right?
Follow me north, Mac, and we come to... Kingston, Jamaica. Maribel and Pablo’s cousin Graciela Godoy owns a firm there, imports and exports of agricultural goods. In Kingston, now isn’t this a coincidence, Mac? Destination of the college’s cruises... just thinking.
From there Fred traced their little chain of business up to... can you guess? Right, Miami. A second cousin, Fernando García, has another import/export firm right there. Odd, isn’t it? Just thinking.
And the final destination of our journey is... right again, Mac. Norfolk. Juan Gonzalez himself runs his business down there – a shipping company. Tsk, tsk, tsk, quite a lot of coincidences... sorry, just thinking.
Mac, I think we’ve got something reeeaaally big here. I’m going to contact Clay about what we found out. You just stick to Jeannine and, as much as I hate to say it, to Pablo. Try to sneak a bit whenever you can, okay? If Pablo wants you to himself without Jeannine around, just send her over to me on the pretext that I’d like her to instruct me a bit about running a marching band. According to Laird she seems to be some sort of a concertmaster to the band.
Sarah, I can’t tell you how much I’m longing for Friday to arrive. I think I might very well develop an internal clock just like yours until then for I’m counting backwards every single second.
I miss you so much, my beautiful Marine. Love,
Harm
To be continued...
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