17-December
Clayton Webb’s Apartment
Paramaribo
Sun sparkled off the waves driving into the beach. The laughter of children drifted up to his third floor apartment overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. It was beautiful. He hated it.
Clayton Webb sipped from his fourth, or was it the fifth, glass of Scotch. The Scotch that Harmon Rabb had sent via special messenger down to the embassy. A Marine, who owed the JAG lawyer a favor, had personally delivered the package and the note. "I wish I knew how to do more, Clay. Merry Christmas."
"Thanks, buddy!" Webb lifted his glass toward the white fluffy clouds. "Merry Christmas to you too. Asshole." He sighed and drank more of the liquid, savoring the burning sensation as it coursed down his throat. He immediately added guilt to his pity party. "Rabb was just doing what Rabb thought was right. Besides, you didn’t do it for Rabb."
He turned away from the incredible view and surveyed his very nice apartment. It wasn’t at all what he had expected. Oh he knew the moment Watts had grinned sourly and said, "Lets see what you can do in Paramaribo, hotshot!" that he was going to be bored. He just thought he would be dirty and bored. Andy Quant, the section chief of Paramaribo, had picked him up at the airport and driven him to the European enclave right on the beach. The CIA owned three of the two-bedroom units. Andy’s was on the far northern end; Webb’s was on the southern.
"We mostly check out things for Tomas in Paraguay and Bragner in Brazil. That’s the happening place in South America." Quant had almost been apologetic. "Hey, it’s quaint, but home."
It wasn’t quaint at all. It was damn near plush. And quiet as a grave. Half the time he left his gun in the top drawer of his dresser. Three nights a week he manned a listening station trying desperately hard to stay awake, usually failing. Three days a week he checked in with several of their agents who were in place at the local, very quiet, Muslim fraternal organizations, and two Mondays a month he flew down to Brazil to meet with the other CIA managers to discuss possible terrorist movements. The other two Mondays, Quant went. Only Quant went for the weekend and partied for three days.
"It sure isn’t like ‘Our Man in Havana,’" he whined to the brightly colored Macaw who had decided to adopt him. The first night Webb had noticed the bird, it had looked at him like he was a real loser. The steady stare reminded Webb of the two-star who had broke his nose for him a lifetime ago. Every evening ‘AJ’ would fly to his perch in the gigantic banana tree growing just outside the apartment. "Where the hell is the intrigue, you bastard?" Webb stumbled when he turned away from the window.
"Terrific. You’re drunk a week before Christmas. Maybe, if you work it right you can just sit and stare at the fucking bird for seven days. No make it the full two weeks." It wasn’t fair. But, of course, it was fair.
Again, Quant had been apologetic, but determined. "Sorry, man. I haven’t been home in two years. I’m taking two weeks to see my mom and dad." So here Webb sat. Stuck in fucking paradise wishing for a traffic jam in two feet of ice and snow as long as it was within the Beltway. His mother had insisted that she would come down for Christmas. Only last week she had fallen and broken her ankle. The doctor, and Webb, wouldn’t hear of her leaving the country.
Jesus, he was lonely. But then he was used to being alone. Webb shuddered and poured another three fingers. At this rate the bottle wouldn’t last and he would have to go and try to find something besides the wide range of imported beers preferred by the Dutch tourists in the country. "God knows the local stuff is shit." In a country where the Muslim and Hindu population far outweighed Christians, decent hard liquor was damn near impossible to come by.
He peered at the sleek chrome clock on his desk. Stepping off the plane three months ago, he had expected a dinghy walkup; complete with foreign smells and useless ceiling fans beating air so heavy with humidity that breathing it was like drowning. What he found was air conditioned Danish modern. "Four o’clock." He tried to remember what that was in military time. He used to know. "Hell, I should have asked AJ for a job." He knew he should eat. He wondered if Inga was home.
Inga Bartholf was his neighbor across the hall. She was a stewardess for Suriname Airways, which, in Webb’s book, made her braver than most of the Army Rangers he knew. She made no bones about the fact that she wanted him. But she wanted and bedded damn near every man in the complex - single or married. That was a little too dangerous for his tastes. But, there was one thing about Inga that drew Webb’s attention. At 5’4", 140 pounds, blond and blue-eyed, she was as opposite as was humanly possible from Sarah MacKenzie and still be female.
He got dizzy thinking about the statuesque Marine Colonel who had managed to work past his defenses. Of course, she didn’t know it. She hadn’t tried to seduce him. She thought of him as a friend. He slapped the rock glass down on the bar and went to the refrigerator to see what he had to eat. He really needed to eat something. He was trying to decide between scrambled eggs or an apple when he heard a knock at the door. "Inga?" He muttered. "Maybe she wants to go to dinner." He closed the refrigerator door and carefully made his way out of the kitchen. One nice thing about Inga, she wouldn’t mind if he was drunk. Of course, it would be harder to fight her off. Maybe he would just give up tonight and make her very happy. "Yeah, as drunk as you are, a Hoover couldn’t get you up, you pathetic jerk."
It wasn’t Inga standing there. He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep.
He often had dreams about Mac. Usually she was wearing something shear or just a come hither look. When he had that dream he knew just what to do and say. But in this dream she wasn’t wearing a dark blue teddy. She had on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. And her look was pensive; her lower lip was caught between her teeth. He had no point of reference to this dream Sarah so he allowed his frustrations to lash out. "Now what? I’ve got no sources of information down here. Or, did Rabb ditch you in Russia again? I can’t help you, MacKenzie." And slammed the door. Oh that felt good. Of course, there was no reason why he should take out his personal depression on Sarah but since it was just a dream she would never know.
I knew this was a bad idea. I should have called. Damn it! Mac stood there, the brown bag holding his mother’s gift to him by her side. Well, this is just perfect. She glared at the door, unsure if she should knock again or just go away. But then there was still the gift - gifts. "Damn you! You’re drunk." She told the closed door. Here I was feeling so sorry for you. Bastard! What? You got company in there? She turned and started back to the staircase, but the promise she made Porter Webb was still a promise. How had she got herself into this mess? She stood there in the hallway and thought back on the chance meeting nearly a week ago.
She had been shopping on "M" Street, the main thoroughfare through Georgetown. She wasn’t happy. Not happy at all. First there was Rabb’s obvious infatuation with Tracy Manetti. She had just about had it with her stupid obsession with her best friend. That’s all it was ever going to be. Fine. She could deal. In fact, she was almost happy about the TDY to the Kennedy, currently on patrol in the South Atlantic. She was just coming out of FAO Schwarz after finding the perfect gift for young AJ when she nearly knocked over a woman who looked vaguely familiar. After making sure the older, well-dressed woman wasn’t hurt, Mac said, "Mrs. Webb, right?"
"Yes. Major MacKenzie, isn’t it?"
Mac, who was wearing civilian clothes, gently corrected the older woman.
"Well congratulation. How is everyone at JAG? That nice Commander Rabb and Lieutenant Roberts?"
Mac was surprised that the woman remembered both men. "Commander Rabb is doing just fine, though Bud Roberts has had a setback."
"Oh dear. Wait. I remember. Clayton told me. How is he doing?"
"Clay told you about Bud?"
"Why yes, dear. Clayton talks about all of you quite often." Mrs. Webb’s face grew rather sad and Mac blushed.
"How is he taking it? Suriname, I mean?" Mac thought Mrs. Webb would burst into tears and so, the next thing Sarah knew, they were sipping cappuccinos at Starbucks.
"I’m afraid he is rather depressed. He can’t come home for Christmas." Porter Webb sighed. "But I shall go down there. I’m just now done with my Christmas shopping. I leave in three days."
"That’s great. Actually, I’ll be in that part of the world too."
"Over Christmas? Are you and Commander Rabb¼?" Porter’s voice trailed off and her face turned beet red. "Oh my. I’m so sorry."
"For what, Mrs. Webb?" Mac kept her blush to herself, though she wondered exactly what Webb had told his mother about them. "Rabb and I often go on TDYs together. But this time it’s just me. I’m going to spend a month on the Kennedy. I really can’t discuss why, but the posting is no secret."
"Porter, dear, please." Porter stirred her coffee and whispered. "I completely understand. Will you be near Suriname? I don’t know anything about Naval procedures, but can you perhaps get shore leave - that is what you call it, isn’t it?"
"Yes ma’am. I’m not sure how close we will be to Suriname. But if it’s possible, I will make an effort to see him. I guess he’s pretty bored down there. Plus it’s very third world, isn’t it?"
That had launched Porter into a long speech extolling the beauty of the beaches of Paramaribo. "It’s quite the tourist destination for Europeans. I’m sure you would have a very nice time there."
Mac found Porter Webb positively fascinating. An excellent conversationalist, she was also an active listener, drawing things out of Mac that surprised both women. They talked for two hours and, in that time, Mac found herself opening up, telling Porter things about her childhood and early career that she had told few other people.
They hadn’t even realized that the light drizzle that had made the early December day so gloomy had turned to snow. Neither had worn appropriate shoes and Mac wasn’t able to keep Porter from falling when she stepped on a patch of ice. Mac rode with her to the hospital in the ambulance and rode with her to the Webb mansion late that night in the back of Porter’s limousine. Harrison had driven her home at 0330 hours.
Two days later, Mac was commiserating with Mrs. Webb over her plight at not being able to go to Suriname with a broken ankle. "I’m not even sure I can get his gift to him in time!"
"Porter, I promise. I’ll figure out a way." Instead of making the transit directly to the Kennedy, she had routed herself through Miami and on to Paramaribo. From there she would hitch a ride on the Marine helicopter that routinely rotated Marine guards at the embassy. The quaint blend of cultures and architecture charmed her, though she could see evidence of poverty. But she had been so intent on getting Webb his mother’s gifts as well as her own small token that she had the cabbie drive her directly to his apartment. His drunken rejection hurt. Badly. This is the way he really feels about me. He can’t hide the truth anymore. It was rather surprising because she and Clay had always managed to get along - well not at first. But once, she had told Rabb she had found him lovable. And she was the one who figured out who Lt. Abby Cowen really was. Well I’m not schlepping this out to the Kennedy. She stalked back to this door. Instead of knocking though, she just set the bag against the door. He’ll find it eventually. Reaching into the bag she took out the book of essays that Porter had suggested would be an appropriate gift and tucked it into her suitcase.
18 December
Webb’s Apartment
0700 Hours
"Fuck." He groaned as he rolled over, the sun beating at his eyes. "Fucking idiot." Bile rose in his throat and he barely made it to the bathroom in time. He stripped off his clothes. When was the last time you drank so much you fell asleep fully clothed? He rather missed his three piece suits. But those were his DC clothes. He had worn appropriate clothing in Afghanistan, and now his daily attire was usually Dockers and a cotton shirt. A suit would have made him stand out and while there was little chance of any terrorist coming to Paramaribo and spotting him, he played the game by the rules. At least until I decide to quit. Quitting sounded really good right now. He stepped into the shower stall, turned on the water, and let it beat down on his head. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but if the water pressure was any indication, it was rather early.
Clayton Webb hated hangovers. He had a real problem with remembering his actions during his drinking binges, never a good thing in his line of work. Whenever he was on assignment, he seldom drank anything stronger than Cokes or the occasional glass of wine. In fact, he was beginning to worry that he might have a drinking problem. How trite would that be? Discarded, unwanted Company man, farmed out to the Siberia of CIAdom, becoming an alcoholic. I’ll probably end up dying in an alley somewhere. Only I’ll trip and hit my head, instead of something romantic like dying while keeping some assassin from killing someone important.
He’d never had a dream quite like the one he had last night. He tried to remember it, but all he could focus on was the most unusual Mac who had knocked on his door. She had been in trouble, someone was lost and he thought it was Rabb. But it hadn’t been. He had been very rude to her and she had yelled at him. Even thinking about it made his head pound. He turned off the water and stepped out onto the tile floor. He searched for aspirin but remembered he was out. "Never again."
He walked into the living room, still naked, and spied the gift from Rabb and the level of the remaining liquid. "Jesus Christ. I’m surprised that Dumbo didn’t come and sing three choruses of ‘Elephants on Parade’. You keep this shit up and you won’t make it to the alley, old son."
AJ squawked and Webb grimaced. "Go away, you stupid bird." He vowed to find another name for the Macaw. He refused to be haunted by memories of his friends. Friends? at JAG. Opening the Scotch, the smell made him sick to his stomach, he walked over to the sink and poured the last third down the drain.
"Aspirin. Got to find aspirin. Wonder if Inga has some." He dressed in shorts and a tee shirt and slipped on some loafers for the quick walk across the hall. He opened the door and nearly tripped over the sack resting against the door. "What the hell?" He peered down at the obstacle to his headache relief.
It hurt like hell to bend down and pick it up, but he did. Peering inside he saw the gaily-wrapped gift and wondered which of his neighbors had left it for him. He set it inside the door and walked across the hall.
"Clayton! Leibling!
"Jesus, Inga. Not so loud."
Inga reached out and pulled him inside. "You poor thing. Why didn’t you tell me you were having a party? I would have come." She nudged him suggestively. But at his grimace of pain, she gently sat him down on the couch. "Stay right there. Mamma Inga will make it all better."
She fed him coffee and aspirin and brought him a cool towel for his head. She mothered him until he couldn’t stand it any longer and struggled out of the sofa. "Thanks Inga, you’re a lifesaver."
She came over and rubbed up against him. "Anytime, lover." She stretched up, demanding a kiss. He bent down, but instead of kissing her on the lips, he kissed her on the forehead.
"I owe you one, Inga."
She sighed deeply. "When are you going to pay up though?"
"One of these days."
"As you Americans are so fond of saying, talking is cheap." Webb didn’t bother to correct her.
He went back to his apartment and almost tripped over the bag again. Picking it up he took it to the table and lifted out the gift.
"Hello?"
"Mother?"
"Clay, darling! How are you?"
He grimaced. He had never thought of his mother as squealing before. "I’m fine, mother. Who did you get to bring the gift to me?"
"Excuse me?"
"Mother, I found a bag with a gift outside my door this morning. The tag has your name on it. I recognize your handwriting. It’s a box with gold paper and a green velvet bow." Surely it’s not a bomb.
"But you say she left it outside your door? How strange."
"Who mother?"
"Why, Sarah, of course."
"Sarah? Sarah who?" Webb was beginning to feel decidedly sick. He didn’t know his mother knew any Sarahs."
"Why Colonel MacKenzie, of course. Such a nice young lady. You remember. I met her that time, years ago, outside of some charity luncheon."
"You called Sarah MacKenzie and asked her to¼mother that makes no sense," Webb snapped; something he never did with her.
"Clayton? Are you quite all right? You don’t sound like yourself at all."
"I’m fine, Mother. I just have a headache." And this conversation isn’t helping one bit. "I’m sorry, dearest. I just don’t understand."
"Of course you don’t, darling. The day I broke my foot, Sarah was with me."
"Why?" He gritted out. I’m still asleep. That’s it. Or Palmer found me and gave me weird drugs. He fought the urge to giggle hysterically.
"Well, I don’t understand why she just left it." Porter said somewhat petulantly. "She said she was going to be in Paramaribo anyway and she would deliver your gifts."
"Sarah MacKenzie is in Paramaribo?" Perfect! Just perfect!
"Why yes. Well just for a little while. I think she called it a TDY on the Kennedy. She told me all about it when she stopped by the house to pick up your gift and show me what she bought you. I think you will enjoy it, Clayton. She really is a very sweet girl. She’s done very well for herself considering how horrid her childhood was."
Webb moaned as his dream dissolved into reality. Oh please tell me I didn’t really say those things and then slammed the door in her face. "Did she say where she was staying?"
"Staying? I told her you would insist that she stay in your guest room until she went to the embassy to ride out with the Marine guards rotating out. I think that’s what she called it."
Oh God. You are such a pathetic ASSHOLE!
"Mother, when was she leaving? I must have missed her last night. I had to go out and check on something."
"Oh my. Well she’s very capable, darling. It’s a shame really. She’s a very nice woman. Frankly, I think you were wrong about her and Commander Rabb."
Webb had stopped listening. He had to get to the embassy before that helicopter took off. "Mother, I have to go. There’s something I have to do."
"Of course, dear. Well, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I do hope you enjoy our gifts to you."
He pulled on a pair of slacks, but didn’t bother with socks, shoving a pair of boat shoes on his bare feet, and ran out the door muttering to himself. "Jerk. She did your mother a favor. How the hell does she know Mother? She even went and bought you a gift, and you slammed the door in her face. She saw you drunk! You’re a real jerk." He didn’t even bother with a cab. The embassy was only seven blocks away. He was within two blocks when the thumping of rotors caused him to look up and curse out loud, causing several tourists to hurry their families away from the strange man standing in the street staring up as the US Navy helicopter headed out to sea.
Dejectedly, he continued down to the embassy. Webb was known by one of the guards on duty, who let him inside the compound without even checking his ID. "Hey, Mr. Webb. You don’t look so good."
"Gee thanks, Abernathy." Webb snarled. He climbed up the steps and greeted Maria Russo, the Ambassador’s new PA who was pulling desk duty. "Is Philips in, beautiful?" He could be charming when he wanted and he knew that, while Maria loved to flirt, her heart belonged to Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Philips, the Defense Attaché, who also doubled as the head of the embassy’s security detail.
"Sure thing, Clay. Hey, what are you doing for Christmas Eve? The ambassador is going home, but Bonnie is having the annual party without him. It will be very formal, and everybody will be here - well everybody still in the country." Bonnie Broadhurst, Deputy Chief of Mission and the real power at the embassy, having outlasted six different ambassadors, made sure that everything ran smoothly, including any party thrown on the premises.
"Oh yeah? Can I bring a guest?"
"Why, you finally give in to Paramaribo’s answer to Sadie Thompson?" Maria rifled through some papers on the desk.
"That’s kind of cold." Of course Webb really didn’t blame the girl. He had heard all about it one night when he and Philips had gone out for a drink.
"Christ, Webb it was impossible to say no to the woman; she’s a walking sex machine. But now that Maria’s in my life, Inga is definitely off-limits for this Marine." Philips had insisted. "Course Maria wouldn’t let me touch her until I gave her a clean bill of health from the doctors on board the Kennedy."
"Don’t care." Maria sniffed.
"Actually, I understand a friend of mine, a Marine Colonel, was here last night?"
"Sarah? Oh yeah. Nice lady. The guards didn’t know whether to fall all over themselves or salute her. Were you the friend?"
"What friend?"
"The friend she had planned on staying with before the copter took off this morning. She checked in with us last night looking for a hotel that she could stay at since her friend wasn’t home and Bonnie offered her a room. Told her it was the height of the tourist season down here and any hotel with rooms, she didn’t want to stay in. Sarah said her friend must have gone out and she didn’t want to hang around outside his apartment. That was you?"
"Evidently. I was out." No way was he sharing his little descent into hell. He had to explain to Mac - make it up to her some way.
Maria carefully noted the bloodshot eyes and the just barely discernable slump in Webb’s shoulders. "Out, huh?"
"Yeah, Maria," he snapped. "Out." Immediately he regretted his outburst. He couldn’t afford to alienate anyone else here. "Sorry. I’ve got a killer headache and the aspirin aren’t working."
"Come with me, Mister." She stood up. "Tony?"
"Yeah, Maria." One of the guards came out from a room in back. "What’s up?"
"Sit here for a bit."
"Sure thing." Everyone liked Maria and few ever refused her small requests.
She led Webb back to a small kitchen complete with a table and chairs. "Sit." Webb sat and rested his head in his hand. He didn’t watch what she was doing. All he could think about was how badly he had screwed up. The last thing he wanted was Mac mad at him. He really liked her. Shit you’re in love with her. You have been for years. But how does she know my Mother, damn it? He almost nodded off until he felt Maria’s presence hovering over him.
"Here, drink this?"
"What is it?" He sniffed it and jerked back. "Jesus, Maria! What the hell?"
"Drink it. It will help. It always helped my dad anyway?"
"Why? Your dad suffers from headaches."
"Yeah, headaches."
He tentatively sipped the tomatoey concoction and almost gagged. Pushing it away he shook his head. "Okay, you win. It’s a hangover. But I’m not the hair of the dog type."
"No booze. It will replenish your vitamins, and the horseradish will clear out your system."
"Terrific."
"Drink!"
"You know, I checked your files," he growled.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. You’re awful pushy for a 28-year old who just got her masters from ISU."
"Well you had to be in the household where I grew up." Her voice softened. "Drink it, Webb. Trust me, it will help."
He thought about holding his nose but he wasn’t sure he could manage it. Squinting up his eyes, he drank it down in three gulps. He eyes grew wide and sweat appeared on his forehead. "You’re trying to kill me," he gasped.
"Nah. You’re doing that just fine by yourself."
Webb sighed. "I’m a real asshole."
"Sometimes. But I like you."
"Thanks, beautiful." He stood up. There was nothing for it. He had burned another bridge. "Better get back to the shop. Check on my¼oh so important¼oh wait¼Saleem returned to Iraq for Ramadan. Maybe I’ll go to the beach again."
Maria watched him walk out of the embassy, his shoulders slumped. She really wished that her efforts at fixing him up with the few - very few - eligible women in the diplomatic community had been successful. Sarah really looked pissed but also really sad last night. What the heck did he say to her?
Webb was halfway to the small office where they maintained their covers when his cell phone rang. "Webb." He listened closely and quietly cursed. "Yeah. I know him. I’ll be on the next flight, Tomas."
23-December
USS Kennedy
1200 hours.
Sarah MacKenzie sat in the JAG office and stared at the report. Lieutenant Howard Stanis, the Kennedy’s JAG officer, had gone on shore leave in Paramaribo two weeks ago. He was reported UA three days later, after the Shore Patrol was unable to find him. The paperwork was piling up, and the legalman was well over her head with some of the more complicated issues that can arise on a carrier. She was proficient enough to handle the day-to-day matters, but there were several cases where charges had been filed and depositions would be needed. Mac was intrigued by Stanis’ disappearance and was determined to figure out what was nagging at her. She had been in touch with the local authorities and had talked several times with Colonel Philips. She hadn’t spared Clayton Webb one waking thought. Of course, the nights were different. Every night for nearly a week she had tossed and turned and relived every moment they had shared together. That would have been bad enough but the erotic dreams were down right troubling.
The ship’s phone rang. "MacKenzie."
"Call for you ma’am. Shore to ship. Can you take it?"
"Sure. Who is it?"
"Didn’t say, Colonel. Hold please."
Maybe it’s Captain Oltof of the Security Police. "MacKenzie." She listened to dead air for a while and she had no idea why, but she knew who it was. Well, screw you, asshole. You think I’m mak¼
"Uhm¼Mac?"
"Yes!" Her voice was hard and cold. He damn well better grovel. I’m through with taking this shit from any man.
There was a deep breath at the other end of the line then, "I’m sorry. I was drunk. There’s no way I can apologize enough, but I needed to and I'm really sorry that I took so long but, I've been, well never mind that. I wanted to thank you for not only bringing down her gift but somehow becoming a friend to my mother. So anyway, that’s all I have to say. I have a plane to catch. Again I’m sorry."
"Hey!" She stared at the dead phone in her hand. "What the hell was that?" He had talked so fast and breathlessly that she was sure he, like Rabb, wasn’t used to apologizing for anything. She remembered the time in Colombia when he had falsely accused a Marine of screwing up. She couldn’t remember if he had ever actually apologized or not. Sarah MacKenzie leaned back in her chair, the fate of the missing JAG officer now far from her mind.
Clayton Webb stared at his cell phone in horror. What the hell were you thinking! Now, not only does she think you’re an asshole, but an insane asshole. No. She probably thinks you’re drunk again! He groaned and moved his arm gingerly. The bullet had just grazed his shoulder, but it had bled like a son-of-a-bitch. The doctor put a bandage on it and gave him a tetanus shot - just in case. Now all he wanted to do was leave Paraguay and go home. Well not home, but what passed for home now. Six days ago Brian Tomas, Section Chief of Asuncion, had called. "Hey Webb do you know Qasim Al-Barak by sight?" And now, two days before Christmas, every operative Tomas could beg, borrow or blackmail into coming and a Marine Force Recon team were mopping up a large Al-Qaeda training camp. And while the Paraguay section would get the credit, Tomas was the kind of team player who would make sure Webb’s name was mentioned prominently in the official report. Which Watts will read and ignore, bastard.
"Get your ass on the plane, Webb." Tomas insisted. "We’ve got it covered and you look like you could use a drink and some sleep."
"I’m fine, but I’ll go. Let me know if you need any other tourists from Afghanistan or Iran identified."
"Man, what the hell are you doing down here? You should¼" Tomas bit his tongue. He had heard rumors about why Webb was sentenced to Paramaribo. However, he suspected that things were going to heat up, and not just in the Tri-border region either. The tiny little backwater just might turn out to be rather exciting in its own way.
Webb ignored the unintended insult and walked to the gate of Air Brazil. With luck, the damn plane would crash in the middle of the jungle and he wouldn’t have to think about how he had truly just fucked up his chance of asking Mac if she would, a) forgive him and b) come to the embassy Christmas party with him. Oh yeah, like that was ever going to happen.
After the plane took off, the stewardess came by with drinks. "Just a bottle of water please."
"You look like you could use a drink, senore." The pretty stewardess smiled down thinking he looked like he could use a neck rub and she would love to be the one administering it.
"No, that’s how I got into this mess," he sighed.
¿Qué?
"su no importante" Webb assured her and leaned back to try and sleep.
"Colonel?"
"Yes?"
"You have another phone call, Shore to Ship."
I’m gonna kill him. "Fine! Put him through!" She didn’t give her caller a chance to identify himself. "Webb, you¼"
"Colonel MacKenzie?"
"Oh dear. Forgive me, I thought it was someone else."
Maria Russo swallowed her giggle. "That’s okay, Colonel."
"I’m sorry, who is this?"
"Maria Russo, from the embassy, remember?" She had convinced Bonnie that they should invite some of the Naval personnel, as well as the commander of the Marine detachment, and while they were at it, a couple of female officers - just to even things out.
"Yes, Miss Russo. Is there a problem?"
"No ma’am. I’m just calling to personally extend the Ambassador’s request that you come to the annual Christmas party tomorrow night. I’ll make sure there’s a bedroom here for you - so you don’t have to count on your friend. The captain of the Kennedy, as well as Colonel Finley of the Marines, is also invited."
Mac groaned, but could find no way out of the Ambassador’s invitation. Besides, she really wanted a chance to check some information she had about Stanis in Paramaribo. But there was one thing she wanted cleared up, "Will Mr. Webb - of the State Department - be there?"
"Oh Mr. Webb isn’t even in the country, Colonel." Maria looked heavenward. It’s not really a lie. His plane doesn’t land for at least five hours.
"Very well, I’ll be there. Jowever, how formal?
"Oh a nice dress would be very appropriate."
"Unfortunately, Miss Russo, I only brought my dress uniform."
Yuck. Not exactly seduction worthy. Of course with her body¼ "Oh I’m sure that will be fine, Colonel."
"Well it will need to be. Besides, Captain Steward will be in his dress mess too."
"You’re absolutely right, Colonel." And the captain is happily married and who cares what he’s wearing?
"What time tomorrow?"
"Eight o’clock ma’am."
"Well if I can get transport, I’ll be there."
"Excellent."
24 December
Clayton Webb’s apartment
1030 hours
"Webb," he groaned into the phone.
"What the hell are you doing still asleep? The plane landed ten hours ago."
"Who the hell? Philips? Is that you? What are you doing calling me at¼" Webb glared at the clock and groaned. "Damn. What is it?"
"You’re coming tonight." It wasn’t a question.
"Coming where?"
The sigh on the other end was petulant and rather reminiscent of one of Webb’s own sighs, usually given when Rabb asked for something impossible. "The embassy Christmas party."
"I was injured in the line of duty. I think I’ll just¼"
"I got the report on your ‘injury’ you big wuss. What are you going to do? Stay in and drink yourself into Christmas?"
Webb bristled at the insult but then blushed. Shit, my drinking must be drawing notice. "Philips, get me out of it. I’ve been away for five days, I’ve got stuff to check on."
"Buddy, you don’t want to piss off Bonnie."
Webb knew that was true. The Deputy Chief of Mission was definitely someone he didn’t want to piss off. Bonnie was a nice lady, but her snits were legendary. "Oh fine, what time?"
24 December
US Embassy
1800 Hours
"Oh, really I can’t." Mac stared at the shiny dark blue dress that hung from the hanger in the guest room where Maria had led her.
"Oh, come on. I thought you and I might be close to the same size. At least try it on." Maria Russo was nothing if not stubborn. She was rather proud of the way she had got the Marine colonel’s size so easily. She bet that even Clayton Webb didn’t know that!
Mac fingered the shiny material. She had a soft spot in her heart for blue evening gowns, but she could never figure out why. "This is brand new, you haven’t even had a chance to wear it."
"Oh it looks awful on me." Maria lied with ease. "Please."
"Okay." Mac grinned. She just hoped that Captain Steward didn’t read her the riot act. The man was old guard and insisted that everything be ship shape. Well this isn’t a military function at least.
2000 Hours
Webb stepped out of the cab, smoothed his tuxedo, and turned to help Inga onto the sidewalk, already regretting his impulsive decision to invite the stewardess along. She had stopped by around 1:30 to give him a little gift and she was thrilled beyond words that he had picked up a small gift for her. She had told him sadly that she had no plans for the Christmas Eve and perhaps they could spend it together. He suspected she was just angling for an invitation. Everyone knew about the annual Christmas Party at the American Embassy. Besides, he wanted to see the look on Maria’s face. I did ask if I could bring a guest. He was rather surprised at how nice the plump little coquette looked. He had always seen Inga as rather loud and brassy, usually wearing too much make up and clothes that were way too tight. But tonight she was dressed in a simple black evening dress, her blond hair kissing her shoulders, and he would swear her only makeup was a hint of lipstick. "You look very nice." He said as he led her up the stairs.
"Thank you. I want to make a good impression. Who knows, I might meet a rich or an important man."
"Thanks a lot."
"Oh, silly man. I flirt and I have my fun but I know very well you have no interest in me. Is someone going to be here tonight that you wish to make jealous?"
"Inga, you wound me." Besides, she won’t be here and even if she is, she would never be jealous of anyone she saw me with. She probably thinks I’m a momma’s boy or worse.
"Oh poor man."
The look on Maria’s face was not quite what Webb had envisioned. There was shock and even a flash of anger there. Oh ho! Who were you planning on fixing me up with this time, dearie? Webb grinned maliciously. "Hello, Maria. You look ravishing."
"Doesn’t she?" Thomas Philips stepped up and put his arm around Maria. "Inga." He nodded with little emotion, hyper-aware of how Maria felt about his former lover.
Inga hadn’t been paying much attention. Instead, her eyes scanned the room, pinpointing each man who she hadn’t met before. "Ooooo. Uniforms. And not enlisted either, I don’t think," she practically purred, and Webb breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully she would latch onto that Marine Colonel standing next to Bonnie and another officer who had his back to them.
The smile on Maria’s face was almost predatory. "Thomas, darling?"
Philips raised an eyebrow, instantly alert to the gentle, yet firm tone of his lover’s voice. "Yes, dear?"
"Why don’t you introduce Inga to that nice Colonel Finley? I need to discuss something with Clayton."
Philips gulped but offered Inga his arm.
Sparing one quick anxious look at the stairs, Maria grabbed Webb’s arm. "Buy me a drink."
"You must be planning something spectacular if you're trusting Philips around Inga. What is it, minx?"
"Oh, I like that. No one has ever called me a minx before." She wanted to keep him turned away from the stairs. She wasn’t sure how either of them would react when they saw each other. But after Mac had asked if Webb was going to be here, only agreeing to come when she heard the spy was out of the country, Maria wanted to make sure that both of them were put in a position of either being polite or making a scene.
Webb sighed. It had been a mistake to come. Seeing the Marine Colonel only made him think of another Marine Colonel. "What do you want to drink?" He sighed when they reached the head of the line at the bar.
"Champagne, please."
"One Champagne, one¼tonic and lime."
"Tonic and lime?" Maria’s eyebrow lifted even farther than it had when she had seen whom he had brought as his date.
"Problem?" He grinned, turning slightly. A movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to turn around completely and stare at the vision coming down the staircase. The only difference between this dress and the dress he had bought her for the Sudanese Embassy fiasco was this dress had thin spaghetti straps instead of one over the shoulder strap. The color and the material were damn near identical.
Maria took both glasses and waited, waited for the explosion she was sure to come.
Mac was all the way down the staircase before she spotted them. He was standing there just staring at her. Oh Maria, what have you done? She was already starting to turn to return to her room, when she felt a hand on her arm. "Colonel."
"Yes, Captain?" She calmly responded to the Kennedy’s commanding officer.
"Never expected to see you in Navy blue."
"Excuse me, oh the dress. Yes sir, sorry that I’m not in uniform."
"Why. You’ll permit me to say, you look very nice in it, Colonel. And, this isn’t a military function." He offered her his arm. "Come, I’ll introduce you to our hostess."
She couldn’t insult the man. So, taking a deep breath and deciding to ignore Webb entirely, she allowed Captain Steward to lead her around the room.
"You mad at me?" Maria whispered softly.
"You shouldn’t have done it." Clay just stood there. It was all so stupid. For eight years they had managed a perfectly casual professional relationship, even achieving a level of trust so that in Afghanistan, when the al-Qaeda prisoner threatened her with a knife, she accepted his almost imperceptible signal. Now that his mother, with an assist from the matchmaker next to him, had somehow orchestrated a personal encounter, he had become like a tongued-tied teenager around her, unable to say anything right.
"Why don’t you take her a drink, Clay?" Maria started to shove her champagne glass at him, but he turned back to the Marine tending bar.
"Another tonic and lime, please."
Sarah kept her head turned from the bar area. She smiled and nodded at what Miss Broadhurst was saying. She didn’t turn until she heard a heavily accented voice say, "Clayton, darling, you brought me a drink. How ni¼what the devil is this?" She turned and found she was looking into his eyes. There was a look there that said, ‘what else can go wrong?’
"It’s tonic and lime, Inga and I didn’t get it for you, but now that you have it, enjoy. Excuse me, please." He kept walking, never taking is eyes off Mac. He would do one thing right tonight if it killed him. Oh shit, I shouldn’t have said that. He fully expected to trip and fall on his face. He fully expected for her to stand there until the last moment then turn her back on him, effectively paying him back for slamming the door in her face after saying those awful things to her.
"Hello, Mac."
"Clay."
"Lime and tonic." He held the glass out to her and she looked at it, then over his shoulder at the blond woman glaring at the glass she had taken from Webb’s hand.
"Two?"
"I figured I would give it a rest for a while."
She took the glass and sipped the drink, finally realizing just how thirsty she was. "Thank you."
"You’re welcome."
They stood there in the middle of the American Embassy and just stared at each other. Both praying that someone would come and say something to them. Both afraid that someone would. Neither noticing the fact that most of the people in the room were trying hard to look at them without appearing to actually look at them.
Finally Webb cleared his throat. "Could I talk to you for a moment."
"Go ahead," she breathed.
"No. I mean, in private."
"Okay."
"Clay?" He almost groaned at the voice.
"Yes, Inga," he sighed.
He cringed when Inga possessively hooked her arm through his. "Who’s this?"
Laugh, cry, or just kill myself now. "Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, Miss Inga Bartholf. Inga’s my next-door neighbor. Inga, Sarah and I are¼" he looked Mac right in the eye, "Old friends."
"Well you don’t look very old to me." Inga sniffed. She had decided that she didn’t like Colonel Finley all that much. She still considered Webb a nut she had yet to crack and, Colonel or no Colonel, old friend or no old friend, Sarah MacKenzie was one hell of a knockout and competition Inga didn't need. Mine, miss Colonel. Or, you’re going to have to fight me for him.
"Thank you." Sarah managed a smile. Her stomach clinched, and she found she had experienced this feeling before. Dear god, I’m jealous. Of Webb’s date. Where the hell did this come from?
Any other time Webb would be fascinated to watch the interplay between the two women. But he needed to make peace with Mac. He found he couldn’t bear the thought of her hating him. And from the play of emotions on her face, she must damn near despise him. "Inga. Could you excuse us for a moment? Sarah and I need to talk. She was with my mother when she broke her ankle. I would like to talk to her about it."
"You broke his mother’s ankle?" Inga accused.
"Inga, darling." Maria was by their side, linking her arm through the very startled stewardess’s arm. "There’s someone over here who is dying to meet you. He’s very rich."
As Mac allowed Webb to lead her to a balcony overlooking the river, she noticed that the level of conversation was returning to normal. Before that moment, she hadn’t realized how quiet the room had become.
They stood together on the balcony, neither knowing what to say. Finally Mac sighed, "Was she with you when I interrupted you last week?"
"God no. I mean, she’s a friend and a neighbor."
"You always bring your neighbors to embassy functions?"
"No, usually my mother¼" He didn’t want this to escalate. Didn’t know why she cared. She never expressed any interest before. "What happened, Mac? I didn’t know you knew my mother."
She stared out at the river. Brightly lit boats floated down, and people were shouting seasonal toasts to one another across the water. "I ran into her the day she fell and broke her ankle. I mean literally, but that’s not when she broke it. She was going into FAO Schwarz and I was coming out."
"Ah, my cousin’s children. You were there for the Roberts’ child?" Finally something made some little sense.
"That’s right. We remembered each other and she asked after Harm and Bud. I told her about Bud’s accident, but she already knew about it. She said you told her." Webb’s shoulders rose and fell in the moonlight. "I’m surprised that you would have mentioned Bud Roberts’ accident."
"Would it surprise you that I sent flowers too?" She heard the bitterness in his voice.
What must he think of me? "A little, I guess, but now that I think about it, I don’t know why. You’ve done some very nice things over the years, Clay."
"Not so nice things too, don’t forget."
"I’m not," she whispered.
"So you ran into Mother?"
"And we got to talking. We went and had coffee at Starbucks."
"Mother. At Starbucks?" It was like he was trying to picture it in his head.
"Yeah. She’s a great lady, Clay, but I didn't get the impression she was stuck up." Mac was getting a little ticked off at him again.
"I know that. I just never pictured her going into Starbucks. Funny. I don’t know why she shouldn’t. What did you talk about?"
"You mostly," she said hastily.
Webb remembered some of the conversation he had with his mother the morning of his hangover. ‘She’s done very well for herself considering how horrid her childhood was.’ "But not just me, huh?" He said gently.
"Oh. You’ve talked to her. How’s she doing? The doctor was very concerned about her ankle mending properly."
"Did Harrison know she was to rest?"
"Oh yes. He almost didn’t want to drive me home that morning. But Porter¼I mean your mother, insisted. He carried her up the stairs like she weighed nothing at all, and he made her promise she wouldn’t get out of the bed until he returned. I think he has¼" She stopped in mid-sentence, unsure she should tell Webb what she suspected.
"Oh they’ve tried to hide their affection for each other for years. I’m not even sure if it’s a physical relationship or not. But they both care deeply for each other. Frankly, I hope they both get some satisfaction from it. She never dated while I was growing up and she was - is - so beautiful." Clay sighed and wondered how this discussion had got so off track.
"Wow."
"Wow what?"
"That you’re cool with that. Most boys, even men, can’t handle the fact that their mothers¼"
"No, Harmon Rabb can’t," Webb cut in harshly. "I’m not Harm, Mac."
"I never said you were," she gritted out. "What’s the matter with you anyway?"
"Look, I apologized for receiving you drunk that day, but you could have called and given me some warning."
"I wanted to surprise you." Her voice dropped as she remembered her mixed feelings climbing the stairs to his floor. "I thought it was such a good idea. I thought you would be glad to see a familiar face. But then I got nervous and then that look on your face."
How the hell do I tell her? You don’t, dumbass. "Well, I don’t know how else to apologize." He sighed. "Look. Thanks for bringing her gift down."
"You’re welcome." They were both at a loss of how to continue, though both of them felt the pull.
"Clayton," Inga whined from the doorway.
"What!" He snapped.
"I’m bored. I want to go home."
"Sure. Let’s go." He turned at looked at Mac. "Merry Christmas, Colonel MacKenzie."
"Merry Christmas, Webb." She wanted to cry, but instead she turned and looked out over the river.
25-December
Webb’s Apartment
1400 Hours.
He laid sprawled on the couch, a glass of milk and a sandwich before him, watching Fist Full of Dollars that the one local station was airing. It had been odd enough watching actors mouth Italian words and hearing English; it might have been hilarious hearing Dutch. But he just felt like shit. He hadn’t slept well and the odd dream he had the night he slammed the door in Sarah’s face returned to haunt him with more vivid detail. He just hoped that Inga wouldn’t come by. No reason why she should, jerk. You practically ran from her last night.
He had tried to reach his mother earlier, but Harrison had informed him in a gruff voice that his mother was spending the day with friends in Virginia. Webb couldn't figure out why Harrison sounded pissed at him but he just figured, why not, everyone else is.
He had forced himself to dress in khakis and a soft oxford shirt. Maybe he would go to the listening post and relieve Manuel a few hours early tonight. When the phone rang, he just stared at it for a moment. Now what? "Hello?"
"Webb!" Clay could hear the anxiety in Thomas Philips’ voice.
"What’s happened?" He was on his feet searching for his shoes.
"MacKenzie called here two minutes ago. She’s in trouble."
"Trouble! How the hell can you get into trouble on Christmas Day in fucking Paramaribo!"
"I don’t know. All I know is that she says she’s at the Para/Ecko processing plant hiding from a bunch of drug runners."
Webb stood up, clicking off the television as he did "What the hell is she doing that for!"
"She told Maria this morning she was checking out that missing JAG."
"What missing JAG!"
"Look, buddy, we’re going out there. I thought you would want to know."
"Not without me you’re not. I’ll be downstairs in three minutes!" Webb didn’t give Philips a chance to argue. He was out the door and halfway down the hall when a door opened. "Clayton?"
"Not now, Inga!"
"Fine! Bastard!"
"Fill me in." Webb demanded as he slid into the front seat of the Range Rover. There were two more white SUVs, both of them holding five Marines dressed in BDUs. Two Marines were sitting in the back seat behind Webb and Philips. Both men held their automatic weapons between their legs.
"Lieutenant Howard Stanis disappeared on Shore Leave three weeks ago. MacKenzie was his replacement on board. She’s been checking into Stanis’ disappearance. I’ve checked some stuff out for her, even came up with a couple of names. Last night after you escorted Inga home she didn’t stay late." He spared a moment to glare at Webb. Instead of spending a satisfyingly sexual evening with Maria, she spent much of the night complaining about the man sitting in his passenger seat. "This morning she told the guard at the front desk she was going to check something out while it was quiet. Thank God the guard made her take one of the embassy’s radios. Not too many cell phones work down here."
"Yeah I know. Mine’s on a satellite uplink." Webb watched as the quaint houses turned into ramshackle slums. Most of the people in the outlying neighborhoods were native Maroons or Creoles with a few immigrant Iranians and Indians thrown in for good measure.
"When she called we could barely hear her; she was whispering as loud as she could. She said she found Stanis’ body. There were a bunch of guys she was hiding from."
Webb’s dream was slamming smack into the middle of his forehead. Images began to come into focus. A processing plant? He remembered the towering white silos. Giant vats of blood bubbling in them.
The slums of Paramaribo were behind them now and the rain forest that made up most of the country was beginning to flank either side of the deep red road. Suddenly another piece fell into place for Webb. "Bauxite."
"Huh?" Philips glanced away from the road.
"Nothing." He looked the window for a moment then sighed, "So Mac told you where she was?"
"Yeah, though how she knew the name is beyond me."
"How much farther? How did she get out here?"
"Five minutes, tops, and she borrowed one of the embassy’s jeeps."
"Damn her! The woman has more sense than that. Why didn’t she ask me?" Silence fell and Webb mentally castigated himself. Dear God, let her be okay. Rabb won’t be able to stand it. AJ will kill me¼and, I’ll let him.
Mac huddled between two of the looming storage silos. Please let them find me. I don’t want to die here. She cursed her stupidity. She had found Stanis’ personal records on his computer. She was no Bud Roberts, but the encryption code was simple and, after a quick consultation with Bud, she had cracked the files wide open. Para/Ecko was mentioned several times, and his last entry said he was going out there to check it out. Mac had also discovered the JAG lawyer’s suspicions that two of the Kennedy’s crew were buying drugs in Paramaribo and selling it on board. She had just wanted to check the place out and had no idea anyone would be here on Christmas of all days. Well why not. It’s not like you’re sitting around a tree and sipping eggnog. She had borrowed a Jeep from the embassy and made her way along the incredibly red-covered road. She should have been suspicious immediately upon finding the gate ajar. She should have turned back. You don’t even have Rabb urging you on as an excuse. Idiot!
She thought she had been so smart parking the Jeep in the jungle and making her way toward the back of the processing plant. She found a small break in the fence and squeezed her way through. Ten minutes later she was staring into the dead eyes of Lieutenant Stanis. At least she assumed it was Stanis’ bloated and blackened body, barely contained by the khaki uniform, floating in a tank of reddish-brown water. You didn’t even bring a gun! Frantically, she pulled out the radio and hailed the embassy. She was surprised that they heard her, but the communication had caused her to be discovered. She had barely avoided being captured by one of the men. Her hand-to-hand training had saved her life, but he had managed to call for help just before she kicked him in the balls. During her flight, she had dropped the embassy’s radio down into one of the vats of bubbling red sludge. She recognized two of the men as the crewmembers Stanis had suspected. She was scared and certain that the men at the embassy hadn’t heard her give her location. She knew the sailors wouldn’t rest until they found her. She scooted back farther into the forest of silos.
"When we find the bitch, I get first dibs, a nasally New York accent insisted.
"Well, you saw what she did to Fernando. He won’t be fucking anything for awhile." Another American voice answered his buddy.
"That’s okay, I’ll take his turn." The wheezing laugh chilled her to the bone.
"You know who she is, right?"
"Damn straight, that stuck up Marine JAG cunt. I’m going to make her scream before I cut her throat."
"Well, just so you cut her throat, or put a bullet in her head. We can’t afford to let her get back to the embassy."
"Ain’t gonna happen, bro."
Mac tried to push farther back, but she tripped over a pipe lying in her path.
"What’s that?"
"She’s back in there!"
Mac turned to run, but an arm reached out and pulled her back. She spun around, ready to fight to the death. "Clay!"
"Red Dog! I’ve got her! Come in blasting!" Webb, his gun in one hand, pulled at her, "Come, Mac." He ran back the way he had come but instead of making for the fence a hundred feet away, he pulled her down into a service pit. He released her hand and reached into his pants pocket. "Here!" He shoved a gun into her grasp. "Should have thought this out a little better, don’t you think?" He snarled as he peered over the edge, stood up and began to fire.
"I didn’t know what I was walking into," she panted as she, too, began to take aim at the two men who were using the silos as cover.
Suddenly, their shots were joined by an explosion of gunfire and men shouting. Sparks began to arc off the silos as bullets ricocheted high and low. Some of the towers began to bleed red rivulets as bullets pierced the metal skin.
"What are you doing here?" She demanded as one of the men fell under his gunfire.
Webb leaned back against the pit’s wall and pulled the spent clip out of his gun and replaced it with a fresh one. He held another clip out to her. "Here." He didn’t answer her question. Instead he peered over the edge again, cursed and fired in quick succession. She heard a man cry out and looked just in time to see one of the men clutching his chest stumbling toward their hiding place. His gun was still in his hand and he had a wild look in his eye until his head exploded.
"Tom!" Webb called out.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, we’re fine."
"Good! The coast is clear. We have to get out of here now. The locals aren’t going to like the Marines coming after one of their own." Without waiting for them, he turned around and started talking on his radio. Mac heard him from the mic on Webb’s chest. "All clear, all clear. Lets head for home."
"Come on." He reached for her but she pulled back.
"Where? I have to get the Jeep."
He didn’t say a word, but led her unerringly back to the break in the fence. Once free, he hurried through the jungle, the path clearly marked by broken fronds and tree branches bent at wild angles.
"Wait a minute. What about Stanis?"
"He’s dead Mac, we saw his body."
"I know that, but we can’t leave him."
"We have to, we can’t be found here."
She stopped and yanked him back. "I’m not leaving him."
He turned then, shoved his gun into his pocket and took her face in his hands. "Can’t you for once, just trust me? Have I ever let you down?"
She felt ashamed. "No, Clay," she whispered.
He stared at her face caught between his hands and saw the look of regret and something else in her eyes. Without thinking, he pulled her to him, bringing his lips to hers. He thought she would fight him, or worse just stand there until he released her, but she brought her free hand up to clutch at his shoulder. Her mouth opened to him and his tongue tentatively sought hers. He groaned under her gentle exploration. Finally he had to pull back. "We have to go." He touched his forehead to hers and held her.
"Okay." Neither of them moved until a brightly colored bird flew overhead and squawked out a warning.
They drove back to town in silence, nervously watching the road ahead for any sign of approaching militia. They were at the outskirts of town before Mac pointed ahead. "Flashing lights."
"Yeah, I see them. There’s been enough cut offs that they can’t prove anything even if they stop us."
"Do you think someone called them?"
"I don’t know Mac. I didn’t have time to talk to Philips."
"We’ll have to go back to the embassy, won’t we?"
She sounded so sad that he pulled off by road, shut off the engine and turned to her. "Where do you want to go?" He asked softly.
She closed her eyes and considered the question. "One part of me wants to go back to your apartment and start all over. I’ll knock on your door, you’ll open it and I’ll say, ‘Hi, Clay! Surprise. I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop off your Christmas presents.’ You’ll invite me in and say something like ‘what the heck are you doing here, Mac?’ and I’ll tell you all about meeting your mother and what a nice woman she is and how much it hurt her not to be able to come down and be with you for Christmas. Then maybe¼"
"Maybe?"
She shook her head. "But it didn’t happen that way, Clay. I saw how badly we have hurt you over the years. You really do feel that we’ve just used you to get what we wanted, don’t you?"
He reached out and traced the line of her cheek until his hand cupped her chin. Pulling softly until she met his gaze he quirked a brief smile. "No. And you must know that it has been pretty much quid pro quo between Rabb and me. I need something and pull Rabb or both of you into my operations and then a month or two later, Rabb needs something and doesn’t hesitate to call. But this isn’t about Rabb. This is about you and me. I’m sorry that you had to see me so pathetically indisposed. I was feeling sorry for myself. Away from the action, away from home at Christmas. Just so damn lonely." He was rather shocked that he had admitted his deepest pain. Sighing, he sat back in his seat.
She took his hand but didn’t try and make him look at her. "You think you’re the only one who’s lonely, Clay?"
He twisted his head to look at her and asked, "So is that what this is? Two lonely people, trying to get through Christmas?"
"No. I don’t think so."
Before he could ask her why she thought it was more, the radio on his chest squawked. "Where the hell are you two? You want to get your butts back here!" Philips demanded.
Sensing the tension in Philips’ voice, they raced back through the streets of Paramaribo. Screeching to a halt in front of the embassy they bounded up the steps of the embassy, the guards saluting both of them smartly.
"What happened?" Webb demanded of Maria who was standing behind the desk. "Where’s Philips?"
"Right here, buddy." They turned and Webb groaned.
Mac gasped out, "Harm? What are you doing here?"
"Hey Jarhead, Webb. Merry Christmas!" He stepped aside and Porter Webb allowed Tracy Manetti to wheel her out from Philips’ office.
"Mother?" Webb shook his head but was instantly by her side, kneeling next to the chair, lightly hugging her.
Mac put her fingertips to her lips and fought back the tears. She felt Rabb’s presence and finally tore her eyes away from the scene before her. "How did you manage it? How did you even know?"
"Hey, even us jet jockeys occasionally get a little sensitive." He smiled down at Tracy Manetti. "Besides, it was Tracy who told me what happened."
Mac looked at the newest member of the JAG team and waited for an explanation. Manetti blushed and in a soft southern burr explained. "The Webbs and my family have been friends for ages. Porter went to school with my father. Clayton and I have known each other all our lives. When mother told me what happened I went and visited with Porter. She told me all about what you did for her and I mentioned it to Harm." The Lieutenant Commander blushed furiously. Mac looked up at her partner and best friend.
Rabb’s blush matched Manetti’s but he continued the story. "When Tracy told me what was going on - I uhm found out a couple of nights ago - uhm," He cleared his throat and Mac looked down to find Manetti was holding his hand in hers. "Anyway, Tracy’s family has a private jet and I agreed to fly Mrs. Webb down. Tracy, uhm¼" he floundered for a moment his eyes beseeching her to understand.
Without saying a word, Mac arched up and kissed him on the cheek. "That was a really nice thing you did, Harm." She smiled at Manetti and walked over to crouch down on the other side of the wheel chair. "Hello, Porter."
"Oh Sarah, I’m so happy you're safe. Colonel Philips was telling me what happened. You must have been very scared."
"Not this Marine. Huh, Mac?" Rabb beamed down on the scene before him. "You kicked some drug runner’s butt for him?"
Mac met Clay’s exasperated look and sighed. "Something like that, Flyboy."
"Well this is wonderful." Maria practically cooed. "What a great Christmas! There are tons of leftovers from last night and the cook baked a ham. Clay, you can ride up in the elevator with your mother. The rest of us will meet you upstairs."
After dinner they retired to the residence sitting room, often used by the ambassador for smaller gatherings. Sarah stood off to one corner and smiled as Clay gingerly led his mother around the room for one brief slow dance.
"Hey, Jarhead, I hear from Philips that was some firefight this afternoon."
She turned her head and smiled up at her partner. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Manetti was watching them closely. "Yeah, Webb came through again and saved my butt."
"He’s making quite a habit out of that."
"I guess." She shrugged and returned her attention to the dance floor. Maria and Philips were dancing now. One of the other staff members was shyly asking Manetti if she wanted to dance. After a quick worried glance at Rabb she nodded and let him lead her to the small dance floor. "You and Tracy, huh?"
"She’s nice, Mac."
"I never said she wasn’t."
"You okay with this?"
"You just now asking?"
"Mac." He groaned.
"Stop it. If you’re happy, I’m happy. But no more long tortured looks across the bullpen." She took a deep breath, a plan formulating in her head.
"Promise. So when you coming back?"
"Don’t know. Even though we found Stanis, the Kennedy is going to need a JAG officer on board."
"Well, I’ll make sure the Admiral finds somebody."
"You doin’ the man’s job for him now, Harm?" Her voice held gentle rebuke.
"Aw, Mac. We need you back there. Sturgis is whippin’ my butt."
"And I wouldn’t?" She cut off the fledgling argument by placing her hand on his arm. When he looked down into her smiling face she continued. "That was a good thing you did for Clay."
"Hey. Least I could do. After all it’s my fault that he’s here."
"Oh? You go to Watts and arrange for Clay to be sent down here?"
"Come on, Mac. You know what I mean. Besides, I just consider it evening out the score for him getting Sergi back." He sighed, "Even though Sergi’s home now."
"Well Harm, maybe people just have to be where they have to be." Her smile grew and Rabb knew it wasn’t for him. He watched as she pushed the wheel chair over to Porter Webb and held it still while Webb settled his mother back into the chair. Rabb went over to where Tracy was dancing and politely cut in.
Webb pushed his mother back to the edge of the dance floor and sat down in a settee next to her. Mac started to walk away, but Clay grabbed her arm and sat her down next to him. "Stay and talk awhile."
"Okay." Mac smiled at Porter. "How was the flight down?"
"Oh it was lovely. Tracy was so sweet. I knew that she wanted to be up front with Harmon, but she sat with me most of the way. It is a very nice jet and Harmon is such a gentle pilot. Not a bump at all."
Mac and Webb exchanged incredulous looks and Mac fought the urge to burst into giggles.
A while later Maria walked over. "Mr. Webb, I would like you to dance with me."
"Of course, beautiful. Excuse me, Sarah, Mother."
Mac moved over closer to Porter and asked seriously, "Are you quite sure you’re okay?"
"Just a little tired dear."
Maria smiled up into Webb’s eyes. "We have a problem."
Webb groaned. "Now what? Is French Guiana invading?"
"No silly. I’m running out of room here at the hotel."
He looked around and noticed some new faces. "Why?"
"Oh a couple of senators want a tour – read 'working' vacation – and they didn’t like the hotel accommodations available. I don’t have any room for Porter unless I kick Mac out." Maria held her breath. Please don’t ask any questions. Please don’t make me lie anymore than I have to. "After all, you have that spare room and all."
Webb studied her, running his tongue over his teeth, knowing she was lying and trying to figure out how to help her in the lie. "What about Rabb and Commander Manetti?"
"Oh, they’ve got something planned. I’m not sure what though." Damn it.
"Probably going to take a cruise up one of the rivers," Clay prompted.
"Yeah! I bet that’s it." Maria agreed.
Clay couldn’t resist. "You know, I could always let Mother have my spare room and Sarah wouldn’t be inconvenienced."
Bastard! Maria thought fast then grinned. "Well yes, but it will be very hard on poor Mrs. Webb. If I remember correctly, your building doesn’t have an elevator. It will be very traumatic on her foot."
"Mustn’t have that. Well¼" he sighed. "I suppose we could ask Sarah."
"You leave that to me," Maria said eagerly and left him on the dance floor, never seeing the silly hopeful grin on his face.
26-December
0020 Hours
They rode back to his apartment in silence, both lost in their own thoughts and desires. Taking her hand, he led her up the stairs. When they reached the door he turned and asked softly, "You want me to go inside and you can knock on the door and¼"
She leaned in and kissed him softly, briefly before stepping back. "Water under the bridge, Clay." A beautiful smile graced her face then laughter bubbled up. "Oh man, those two together would make some Yenta tag team wouldn’t they?"
He opened the door and joined her in laughter. "I don’t know which one of them is worse. Maria with that, ‘oh no room at the inn’ speech or my mother, who up until today has always been so stoic about everything, all of a sudden just wants to lie down somewhere because the pain is so great."
Mac stopped in the middle of the living room, not really seeing it yet. "You don’t think she really was in pain, do you, Clay?"
"Well maybe it hurt a little, but I saw her reflection in the mirror as Tracy was wheeling her down the hall, there was definitely a gleam of satisfaction in her eye that had nothing to do with the fact that she was staying in a guest room at the American Embassy in Paramaribo." He took the small case from her hand, "Come on, I’ll show you the guest room."
She quirked an eyebrow at him but followed him. The room was more sterile than most hotel rooms she had stayed in. "What did Maria tell you she had done about accommodations for Rabb and Manetti?"
Webb turned, dropped the case and had her in his arms in one step. "I don’t care what Rabb and Tracy are doing." He studied her face carefully. "Do you?"
She saw the anxiety and pain in his eyes. Reaching up, she brushed a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. "No. Not really. I’m just surprised I guess."
"Surprised that he didn’t put on a scene?"
"No." She whispered. "Surprised how easy it is for me to not really care." She leaned in and brushed his lips with hers. But still she could feel his hesitation. "You know what?"
"What?"
"I made your mother a promise."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. When I picked up your gift I told her I would get you to walk on the beach with me. I think she had ulterior motives even then."
And so he led her back downstairs and around to the beach where they walked in the surf and spoke of dreams and heartaches.
"I’ve always been attracted to you, you do know that don’t you Clay?"
"Oh. I guess I was pretty hard to like. I probably still am."
"But you are lovable."
"Lovable?"
"I told that to Rabb when we thought you were dead. I was very unhappy then, Clay. But the fact that you could die so easily¼"
"Unlike a certain lawyer who can’t seem to get flying tomcats out of his system?" He said it with no rancor but she stopped then and looked out at the ocean. "Hey, Mac? Sarah? Damn it." He sighed and stood next to her, waiting.
"You know, Clay, I’ve made my peace with my feelings for Rabb. One part of me will always love him - and not just as a good friend. But I know it will never work. I need someone who’s gonna love me completely and not regret a lost chance at the next pretty face that comes along. I’ve moved on. Have you? Can you handle Harm? Cause Harm is never going to change. But I’ll tell you this." She turned and faced him finally. "I’m willing to overlook some of your less lovable qualities and try and make this work. Are you willing to overlook some of my less lovable qualities?"
Instead of answering her immediately, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "Rabb is the smartest lawyer, the bravest, most honorable man I have ever met, but he is a complete idiot in my book. When he wakes up and sees what he is missing Sarah MacKenzie, there may be blood shed, because I will not let you go."
They walked back, arms wrapped around each other. When they returned to his apartment he led her to his room. "May I make love to you, Sarah MacKenzie?"
She heard the declaration in his voice. Knew that if they made love tonight it was the beginning of something long term in his eyes. She was surprised to find the intensity in his gaze was more comforting than frightening. In answer she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. "No Clay." She didn’t give him a chance to back away. "We will make love to each other."
They began the leisurely process of removing each other's clothing. He unbuttoned her blouse; she tugged at his shirt. They lay down the bed, facing each other and began a gentle exploration of each other’s skin. Clay traced the curve of her neck down, until his fingers reached her bra strap. Moving it off her shoulder, he leaned in and with his teeth pulled the lace hiding her breasts. "You are beautiful, Sarah. I’ve wanted to do this for so long."
She held his head to her, kissing and encouraging him as he feasted upon her flesh. "So good, Clay. Just like that. Oh my. Yes." She sighed, but then wanted more. Pushing him to his back, before he could complain she straddled his thighs. Rubbing her hands over his chest she murmured, "I used to fantasize about you too, Clay. That night in the camp after you saved my life¼"
He reached up and cupped her cheek. "You saved your life."
"We saved my life." She arched back as he began to tease her nipples. "God yessssss," she groaned. But then she leaned forward increasing the pressure but also allowing her to see his passion-filled eyes. "I almost came to you then. But¼"
"But?" He paused and let her continue.
"But I didn’t want this to be about gratitude or post-traumatic stress. I want this, Clayton, I want you." Anything else she was going to say was cut off by his lips on hers. Rolling her over, he began to trail kisses down her torso, tugging at her jeans as he did. "Clay?" She moaned. "Please I want to touch you too."
"You will, Sarah, soon. But now just lay back and let me love you." He knelt at the foot of the bed, his pants painfully tight and gazed upon her in awe. With one hand she was lazily drawing circles around one of her pebbled nipples, with the other she was lightly caressing her folds, teasing him, beckoning him. Gulping, he stood and quickly divested himself of his remaining clothes.
"Oh my. Is that for me?" She asked playfully.
"Only you." He started to lower himself back down but she met him halfway and kneeling before him she captured his face in her hands and kissed him firmly, nudging his lips open with her tongue. He followed her back until he was lying on top of her, their lips still joined, his cock poised at her entrance. He had wanted to worship her but she seemed to draw him in.
"So tight, Sarah. God!" He cried out as she captured him completely. Gazing into each other’s eyes they began to thrust together. Lowering his lips to hers, he kissed her hard and passionately, letting his tongue mimic his cock. "There’s so much I want to do to you Sarah, so much I want to make you feel." He groaned and arched back to change the angle so that he could feel his pelvis make contact with her straining clit. Twisting just a bit on each down stroke he concentrated on pleasuring her. Their sweat mingled, and he watched through hooded eyes as her breathing became more and more erratic.
"Please Clay, so close, just a little longer," she whimpered.
What man made her beg like this? Now, only one thing mattered to him. Pushing up until he was resting his weight on his knees and calves, he pulled her ass up higher on his thighs. Reaching down, he began to circle her clit while his free hand held her tight against him.
She watched as he put his own pleasure aside for a moment to concentrate on her. Briefly she compared him with the other men in her life and she realized that no other man had ever shown her this much consideration. She had never really expected it. Dalton would usually make her come afterwards; Mic had at least tried to take care of her needs before he took his pleasure. No man had tried to make the act good for them both at the same time. "Clay," she moaned.
"Come with me, Sarah. Tell me, show me how you like to be touched," he panted. She brought her hand to cover his and showed him what gave her pleasure.
"A little harder¼oh yes." Her eyes opened wide and he didn’t need any further words. He began to thrust a little deeper, rub her a little harder until they both shuddered in orgasm. They froze for a moment both allowing the incredible sensations to wash over them. Their fluids mingling, spreading, flowing out of her. Instead of pulling out of her, he carefully lowered himself until their lips were joined. Their sweaty bodies grew cold in the air-conditioned room, but neither minded. She reached up and held him closer, pulling him down until he collapsed on top of her.
"I don’t want to hurt you," he whispered in her ear as he tried to move off her, but she held him firm.
"I like it. Stay inside me as long as you can."
He held her tight and rolled them over until she was on top of him. He was surprised that he stayed inside of her. He was shocked to feel himself beginning to harden again.
"Oooooo." Sarah’s mouth opened in pleasure. "What’s this?"
"God. What have you done to me, Sarah MacKenzie?" He nipped along her neck, tasting the sweat that he had put there.
"I’m not sure, Mr. Webb, but I think I need to investigate this. I don’t believe I’ve ever had this effect on a man before."
"Don’t¼" he groaned as she rose up off of him, freeing his semi-hard cock from her warm cocoon. "Cold." He pouted petulantly.
She scooted back until her bottom hit his feet. His cock glistened with a mixture of their cum. Never before had she ever considered doing what she was about to do. Before tonight the thought would have made her gag, but seeing Clayton Webb in such a new light made her feel bold and a little nasty. She found she was enjoying the feeling.
"Sarah!" He arched up, resting his weight on his elbows and watched as her tongue snaked out and tasted him - them. "Oh God!" He groaned as her eyes locked with his. She paused, mouth open, her eyes demanding an answer. "Please?" He begged. He couldn’t help but thrust up as she blew gently over his head. "Christ, woman!" He fell back against the pillows as her mouth engulfed him. Never had he gotten it up again so soon. But he was as hard now as he had been just before entering her incredibly tight womb. She worked his cock up and down and he felt each stroke of her tongue against the sensitive underside. When she began to caress his balls, his mind exploded at all the things he wanted to do to her. He was so close and he knew she would allow him to come in her mouth, but he wanted something more. "Please. Stop."
"Why?" She whispered after releasing him.
"Please, can I¼" He blushed and she waited. Sitting up, he rested a moment against the headboard and watched her. Her eyes were glazed and her smile was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. "Tell me your deepest fantasy, Sarah."
"Tell me yours." She countered.
"So many." He looked over her shoulder and, in the mirror over his dresser, saw her beautiful ass rising with each intake of her breath. He closed his eyes and groaned at the thought.
"Tell me." She nipped the skin at the very tip of his cock.
Taking a cleansing breath he sat forward and captured her lips in his. The taste was heavenly to him. "Turn around on your hands and knees."
She cocked an eyebrow but did as he asked. She hadn’t noticed the mirror but when she saw it, she met his reflected stare. "Kinky, Clayton. I like the way you think."
"May I?"
"Oh yes. Please."
Kneeling behind her he ran his hands over her sweat-glazed back. "You’re so beautiful Sarah. So sexy. There’s so much I want to do to you." Their eyes locked in the mirrored reflection as he took her hips and drove deep into her moist hot loins. He watched as her mouth opened in ecstasy. She thrust back against him so powerfully that he didn’t need to hold her. Instead he began to roughly caress her skin. He brought one arm around her and held her tight across her breasts and leaned back until her back was against his chest. The image in the mirror was incredible and when he found her clit with his free hand it was all he could do to maintain his rhythm. She cried out her release falling against him, driving him deeper and over the edge.
31-December
Clayton Webb’s Apartment
1400 hours
Sun sparkled off the waves driving into the beach. The laughter of children drifted up to his third floor apartment overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. It was beautiful. And now he knew he would cherish his time here.
He lifted his coffee cup up and greeted AJ. "Hello you stupid bird. Maybe I’ll get them to name you Assistant Section Chief." Andy Quant, upon arriving at home for the first time in two years met and promptly fell in love with a schoolteacher in his home tome of Beloit, Wisconsin. His resignation was tendered two days ago. With the increased activity in the region as well as Tomas’ glowing report, Watts had little choice but to make Webb the Section Chief and promise him an assistant within the month. None of that mattered now. He couldn’t believe what she had done.
AJ, the admiral, not the bird, had called him two days ago demanding to know what the hell was going on. That was the first he had heard of it.
After checking in with his mother and being assured that she just wanted to rest in bed and read, he and Sarah had stayed in bed all of the 26th exploring heretofore denied fantasies and desires. He had traced every line, every crevice on her body. He hardened as he remembered every detail of that day. They had made breathy promises to each other both knowing there was little to be done once the world intruded. The next morning they had walked along the beach before he walked her the seven blocks to the embassy. Rabb and Manetti were waiting for them. Rabb just looked on in complete shock and Mac hugged him then Manetti, before returning to Webb’s side to await the helo that would return her and two of the Marine guards back to the ship.
When she was gone, Rabb had taken him by the arm and led him to a quiet corner. "When did this happen?"
"Yesterday, years ago." Webb didn’t even try and explain it.
Rabb in a flash of insight said. "You’ve always been in love with her haven’t you?"
"Yes."
"You better not break her heart."
Webb looked up at his friend. "I won’t." Together the three of them went and visited with Porter.
When Tracy finally pulled Rabb away for a walk, Porter touched his arm. "Darling, you look so sad. She’s very close by you know."
"There’s an ocean between us mother, and she’ll be returning to Washington soon. I’m glad you like her though."
"Darling, I would have liked her whether or not you were in love with her." Porter carefully stood and hugged her son. "It will work out, Clayton."
They left that afternoon, Webb feeling guilty for not spending more time with her, but she pooh-poohed it away. "I’m glad I came down, but the doctor was right."
"You’ll see him immediately when you get back." Worry replacing his happy euphoria.
"I’ll make sure she does, Clay." Rabb slapped his back before climbing on board the sleek private jet belonging to his lover’s father. Tracy Manetti peered out of the door and beckoned Webb up.
"I’m glad she found you, Clay." She hugged her childhood friend. "I think you two will be good together."
He laughed softly in her ear. "You just don’t want the competition, Trace."
"Beast." She slapped at him, a shadow of worry descending for a moment. "I’ll make sure Porter sees the doctor."
When AJ called him three days later, on a Saturday no less, he had listened in disbelief then called the Kennedy. It took thirty minutes for them to find her and get the call through to her.
"MacKenzie."
"Are you insane!"
"Hello, Clay. I guess the Admiral called you."
"Called me every name in the book from bastard to Svengali!"
"Oooooo. Interesting."
"Mac," he groaned, "don’t joke. You can’t do this."
"Sure I can."
"You hate carriers."
"Not one that’s patrolling your front door. And, it’s not like it’s forever. Just like your post isn’t forever. This way we can be closer. And the Kennedy does need a JAG officer."
"But you’re the best! Chegwidden can’t be serious about letting you take on something so mundane. It’s not like being on the Seahawk. You are going to be so bored."
"Well then, you’re just going to have to spice up my shore leaves. We’re staying put for a bit to discover how bad this drug ring thing is. Bored!" Her snort floated through the phone. "This investigation is huge. The Admiral might have to send another JAG down to help me out. Unless you’re the one who’s bored and you want to fly out and help. You ever have sex in a wardroom, Mr. Webb?"
"Maaacccccc. AJ isn’t happy."
"He’s fine with it. Not happy, but then again, I don’t think he knows about Manetti and Rabb yet. You know it won’t last and I refuse to be blamed for any part of the break up. Or," she paused and the silence stretch for a bit. "are YOU not happy about it."
"Shit. Don’t you dare try that with me, Colonel. If I thought we could be happy, I would kidnap you off the damn thing and carry you up into the hills and make mad passionate love to you 24/7. But even we would have to rest and our jobs are too important to us."
"So then, what are you doing New Years Eve?"
He had spent the last two days working with Philips and the locals answering questions about the mysterious shoot out in the jungle. The Kennedy had been advised of the probable identity of three of the corpses. Mac, after cleaning up some stuff on board would fly into Paramaribo to handle the final details and set the whole investigation that would secure her detail as the Kennedy’s JAG. They planned on a quiet evening at his apartment. Mac had left the details of disappointing Maria to him.
"She’s late, AJ." He told the bird. He found he was a little nervous and found he really craved a drink. He was glad he had poured the rest of the Scotch down the drain. He turned at the quiet knock and hurried to open the door. She was standing there, a brown bag in her hand.
"What’s this?"
"Your Christmas present."
"Oh good. I love presents. I hope you like yours."
~~~Fini~~~~~