:: Dreams and Liars ::Chapter Ten 17 December, Sunday Stepping into the shower to wash the smell of him off of her body, she brutally shoved all her uncertainties down. We have job to do and we are both professionals. Really stupid professionals, but we have to do this. Too many people are depending on us. What just happened here? When she stepped out to dry off, she noticed that he had stacked her clean clothes on the counter top. How long did he stand there? Stop it! "Hey, the menu says they have hamburgers and fries. Is that okay?" She thought his voice sounded strong and firm and it gave a boost to her resolve. "Yeah, fine. Thanks." If he can do this, then so can I. As she brushed her teeth and ran his comb through her hair, she refused to study her reflection too closely. She refused to register the swollen, well-kissed lips and completely blocked out the sight of the tiny bruises and love bites on her breasts and thighs. She even ignored the sweet tenderness at her core. Turning from the mirror, she dressed and taking a deep breath rejoined him in the bedroom. It was like eight hours and twenty-seven minutes had never occurred. The bed was made – perfectly. The dirty cloths were nowhere to be seen, but the brown garbage bag rested against the wall by the door. The backpack sat on the one narrow chair next to the window. Her coat was hung neatly in the closet alcove. He stood at the window; the drapes pulled back just enough to let him see out. "The food should be here in a little while. You ready to start?" This was the cold, cocky Clayton Webb who had informed her that her Uncle Matt had stolen the Declaration of Independence. Okay, Clay. If that's how it has to be. "Yeah. And don't hold anything back. I want it all." No snippy. I will not do snippy. Cool and professional, Colonel. Webb turned and leaned against the sill, crossing his arms across his cable knit sweater. Mac met his gaze and resolutely ignored the flutter in her belly as he started. "I arrived in Munich on the flight before you. There was a message waiting for me when I check in. `Call me. Fritzie." And a number. Well, I got upstairs, set up the computer and checked out `Fritzie.' Nobody at Langley had heard of him and so the boss sent a couple of guys to visit Dr. Thomas at the safe house. Got there just in time, too. They were pulling in the driveway and Thomas was trying to hotfoot it out the back gate into the woods. Hannah was having a seizure and the bodyguard we had assigned to make sure they stayed out of sight was dealing with her." "Is she all right?" Mac gasped. Webb refrained from stating the obvious though his look made Mac feel pretty small. "She's stabilized. The boss called a friend of his in to consult. The cancer is spreading faster than her doctors originally predicted." Mac was gratified to see the look of sorrow in his eyes. "Anyway, her `dear' friend, Thomas, was using her attack as an opportunity to get out of Dodge. The boys the boss sent up there are the best. Mike Crenshaw had a feeling about Thomas, so he went into his psycho act." Webb paused, the smile cold and wicked, "I sometimes wonder how much an act it is." Mac whispered, "What did he do?" Webb coldly looked her in the eye. "He asked three questions, wasn't happy with the answers and pulled his weapon. After blowing off Thomas' big toe, he put the gun to his head and asked the questions again." "Jesus and you `wonder' if he's really psycho?" Webb shrugged. "It worked. Thomas spilled his guts. Gave Thompkins, that's Crenshaw's partner, everything, including his screen names for several chat sites. It took them most of the night – long after you and I had turned in – to track down his involvement." Mac sank down onto the bed and leaned back, her arms out stretched behind her. "His involvement with what?" Webb took a deep breath. "His involvement with some of the nastier terrorists out there. Terrorists for hire it seems. Most of them long ago got kicked out of their original groups and now they freelance death. Evidently, they found Thomas in one of the kinkier chat rooms on the net, and believe me, I visited there, and you don't want the details. They got him hooked and someone made contact with him at the college and roped him in further." "Why?" "Couple of reasons." Just then there was a knock at the door and he opened it, handed the waiter a bill and set the tray on the bed. Motioning her to help herself he continued as if nothing had happened. "One, he swings their way. Forget his high-minded articles on equality for homosexuals in the New Yorker and on the Internet. That's his bonafides for acceptance into the established gay community. Oh, hell, I don't know, maybe he got in over his head, seduced as it were. Two, his family has got mega-bucks and these guys are always looking for rich backers. And, three, I think most importantly, he was their `in' to the conference and Kurt Farber." The sandwich she had been nibbling on suddenly tasted of ashes. Tossing it back on the tray, Mac collapsed back on her back and stared up at the ceiling. "And you just let me¼" "Damn it, Mac." He came and stood over her. "I didn't just let. Sinclair approached me on Monday, remember. Well, so did dear Fritzie." "Who is this Fritzie guy, Webb?" "Deirdre O'Neill." "What?" she sat back up and found her face inches from his crouch. He stepped back immediately and went to sit on the dresser. "We didn't see her until the train." "No, you didn't see her. I met her at the Hofbrauhaus that night. If you would have come with us, you would have seen me talking to her." "So you're laying this whole `let’s keep Mac in the dark' thing on me not going to a beerhall with you." She stood and advanced on him. Her hand fisted at her side. The note of resignation in his voice stopped her. "No. Actually I'm thrilled you didn't show up. Frankly, Sinclair is crazy." At her raised eyebrow he motioned for her to sit back down. "But let me tell it my way, please." She sat back down and glared at him. "O'Neill set it up for me to meet some of her friends. It was supposed to be a sex party but it turned out to be an introduction to the real group. Sinclair followed me and got the meeting on tape." "What exactly did he get on tape?" Webb sighed, "Just a simple meeting in an alley with Deirdre and two of her `friends'. They told me they wanted the breastplate because someone in the Middle East was footing the bill for the big explosion at the NATO Christmas Party. They wanted the big boom and he wanted the relic. The guy, whom I still can't identify, was going to exchange major league explosives, enough to take out the whole damn complex where the party is being held, plus a couple of million bucks if they delivered the breastplate. They wanted to make sure that I went to look for it for them. I had a feeling I was just a back up and I found out later that I was. The main player evidently came through for them." "Farber?" "Yeah. But Mac, I swear to God, I didn't know until yesterday." She buried her head in her hands. "This is perfect, the perfect explanation for this whole damn week. Every time I find something out, it just gets murkier. What the hell does Sinclair have to do with this and why didn't you just tell him you were CIA? And, by the way, who beat you up?" Webb hung his head and sighed. "Last question first, Sinclair wanted to make sure that Dr. Thomas understood who was in control. Why didn't I tell him I was CIA? Because, Sinclair isn't sanctioned." "Of course not." She groaned. He was quiet for so long she finally lifted her head and looked at him, only to find he was studying her. "Tell me," she demanded. He took a deep breath and let it out. "When I ditched you at the department store?" "Yes." "Well, I met their section chief and our `military attaché' in the manager's office upstairs." She raised her eyebrow and he held up his hands, "Don't ask. Anyway, the section chief filled me in. "Sinclair had been with MI-6 for 20 years. He was good and brought down a lot of bad guys for England. He and his partner were the best they had. Well, when you're that good, people start to take notice and to try and do something about it. About two years ago a bomb went off at their flat in Paris. I guess no one realized that they had been lovers for about as long as they had been partners. Sinclair was thrown through a window down onto the pavement two stories below; he broke about 50 per cent of the bones in his body. His lover was killed. Sinclair was in rehab for 18 months and when he got out, MI-6 wanted to pension him off. I guess it was too much for him and he decided to track the people that planted the bomb." "Thomas' group?" "Not Thomas' anything, Mac. Edward Thomas was just a convenience for everybody. We all agreed that we would let Sinclair play it out. Only thing, Sinclair didn't care one bit about the damn breastplate. He just kept pushing me to find more of the gang. Friday, when I saw Deirdre on the train I figured that Armstrong and Hareesa were in it too. So when Deirdre told me they were going skiing, Sinclair insisted that we follow them. Only that's all they did. They met nobody. Even Farber, who was supposed to go skiing with them, begged off. We got back to the lodge at 3:30 that afternoon and Lealia was frantic. She had found Gubin and they had tried to find you. She got fed up and took a taxi back but then when you didn't show up, and Vasilii kept calling looking for you, she insisted that we go find you. I told Sinclair that if we didn't go it would draw too much attention." "So what happened after we left?" "From what I'm told, the cops came, found you and me gone, so they took the tip from the `neighbor' seriously and put an APB out on us. Vasilii returned to the hotel in a cab, bitching and moaning about the cab fare. That must have been who we almost ran off the road when we were leaving because it wasn't Farber. Deirdre is missing, probably on her way to or already in Brussels. Armstrong and young Hareesa are being looked into – on the QT of course." Mac stood up and began to pace, a difficult task in the small room, but she couldn't sit still any longer. Webb got out of her way, snatched up a sandwich and leaned against the wall next to the bed, and waited. After several laps from the front door to the bathroom door, she turned and glared at him. "Okay. Let me see if I have it all." She held up her hand to tick off the points. "One, Thomas is a pervert who likes things rough and hasn't the sense to be discreet about it. Two, a group of disaffected terrorists for hire are using him/you to find the breastplate so they can make a deal to blow up the NATO Christmas Ball in Brussels, where my boss and his daughter are going to be. Three, some loose cannon of a British agent, seeking revenge, wants to get the bad guys, but not necessarily to keep the bomb from going off." "Hey, I didn't say that. Sinclair is¼" Webb took a deep breath. "You don't understand, Mac. You can't understand how¼" She walked up to him and stood inches from his body. The body she had explored so intimately just a little over an hour ago. Her voice so quiet that he had to look up to hear her. "What is it Clay? Do you see yourself in him? Is he the thing you think you'll become?" He eyes widen in shock and she realized she had made a direct hit. She shook her head and turned away. "I don't know about that, Webb. I can't imagine what he's going through, but I've worked with you for what, five years now? Do I know you? No. You won't let anybody that close, but I do know this. At this point in your life, you will not let any of those people die and that makes you far and ahead better than anything Sinclair is, was, or will become." She sat down on the bed, crossed her legs and gazed up at him. "So tell me, what did you learn that we can use to stop this? And, what's going down at 1900 hours?" Webb stood away from the wall and tried to work the kinks out of his muscles. Mac longed to rub them for him. Drive past that exit ramp, Marine. It was his turn to pace the steps between the two doors. "All those nights, I got bits and pieces of the puzzle. Wednesday, after I met with my people and their people. I went back to Frau Kappel, to get more details." He stopped in mid-stride but didn't turn. "She's dead, Mac." "I know, Pedrotti told me before she died." "Oh. Well I searched her apartment, but I couldn't find anything. So I went to that bar I told you about. Kay's Bistro." She saw the shudder rack his body and wondered what he had done there and she blushed to her roots. "I sat at the bar and watched for awhile and sure enough, in comes Deirdre with some of her friends. They sat a table behind me and I watched them through the reflection in the mirror for awhile, but they had spotted me and had me join them. They took me upstairs and I told them all I wanted to do was watch. Thank God, after the fun and games they finally got down to business. I found out that the explosives were already in Brussels and all they had to do was come up with the breastplate to trade. Evidently, whoever killed Frau Kappel wasn't one of their people because they still had no clue where she had gotten the reliquary. I slipped the bug into Deirdre's purse. I figured it was worth a shot and it paid off." "So is that something you carry with you?" "Huh?" "The bugs?" "Oh. No. Actually, the bug was MI-6's. They wanted me to plant it on Sinclair. In fact when they found out what I had done. They got me another one. One I could monitor too. Our people were making noises about one of their own being in `harm's way' as it were, so MI-6 decided to make like they were cooperating." "Jesus, Webb. How do you sleep at night?" Immediately she regretted her words yet again, but she pushed on. "What do we know? Anything?" "We know that Farber must have picked up the breastplate while we were struggling with Marshall. They were able to hear the exchange when he handed it over to Deirdre. Then, of course, Deirdre got smart and did a sweep and found the bug. She must have thought that Farber had set her up because the last thing that they got off the bug was Farber begging for his life before she shot him." "And?" She couldn't spare any regrets for Farber. "And, we are quietly working with German national security to clean the mess up. Everyone that was at the conference is being investigated. They don't want to `clear' our names just yet because they don't know how much higher than Farber the conspiracy is. We suspect that Farber was in it for the money. And, before you say anything. Farber was not rich. His family isn't even all that rich, though his brother does sit on the board of Mercedes; he doesn't make the kind of money that Farber has been spending. The dinner at Tantris – Farber paid for that himself, he dropped over 20,000DM on that evening. Anyway, we're hoping that he's the only one involved, but we can't take a chance. Our pictures and `names' are still plastered all over the news and very good copies of Hannah Jacobs and Edward Thomas' pictures are at every checkpoint and transportation station in the country." "So, what are we stuck here? Can't we get into the Air Force base?" "Could, but they are checking everybody going into there too. Got a checkpoint just outside the main gate." "Well?" He looked at his watch. "In 20 minutes, a car is going to pull up outside and a man is going to deliver two suitcases; one for you and one for me. AJ called Rabb and filled him in and he, of course, dropped everything to help. He went to your place and packed your dress uniform and found your passport and lord knows what else. AJ had him stop by my mother's and she handed him a suitcase for me. Rabb got on a plane and brought them to Brussels. From there, one of our people picked them up and they'll be here soon. Rabb figured he could be more help to the Admiral than us, which is fine, as far as I'm concerned." Mac got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom without saying a word. She washed her face and then sat down heavily on the toilet seat to stare at the wall. It's a good thing he stayed with the Admiral. He'll make sure that nothing happens to them. She tried to analyze how she felt about him not coming all the way to Wiesbaden. She knew that if their roles had been reversed she would have insisted upon being by his side, to protect him. She chewed her lip and looked at the closed door. What is Webb thinking? Will he watch my six? He's done a pretty rotten job so far. Why isn't Rabb here? Do I want Rabb here? Could this get anymore complicated? What the hell is happening here? "Mac?" She could barely hear him through the closed door. She sighed, stood up and opened it to find him standing just outside. His expression was nearly unreadable. "What?" "Look. I know I screwed up this week. Big time, no doubt. But, I promise. I will do my best to make sure that everything works out. Will you still help me?" The cockiness was gone. She wanted to rail at him, to hit him, but she had to stay focused on the mission. "Yeah. But when this is over. We are through. I don't want to ever see your face at JAG ops again. I mean it, Webb. I can't take this anymore. I can't stand the lies anymore. Agreed?" He looked away from her and whispered, "Agreed." They sat at opposite ends of the bed, waiting. Mac stared at the door willing it to open and bring an end to her misery. She couldn't bear to look at him. She knew that her resolve would crumple like the cold ash it was. Focusing on keeping her breathing even and calm she silently recited every code and legal precedent she had used in the past year. She thought about Chloe and the Roberts' Christmas Eve party. She thought of every damn thing she could to keep her mind off of the men in her life. At precisely 1902 hours, a sharp rap broke the stifling silence of the room. The bed creaked as Webb stood up and Mac wiped her suddenly sweating palms over her jeans legs. "Colonel Webb?" She raised her eyebrow at the title. "Yeah." Without further words Clay accepted two suitcases; one of which she recognized as hers. "Here are the keys to your car, sir. You have the other set?" Mac couldn't see the owner of the low baritone and Webb didn't invite him in. Searching for the keys he looked over at Mac for the first time since he had agreed to stay out of her life after this mission and raised his eyebrow. "Oh, yeah. Where are the jeans I wore this afternoon?" He shook his head and rummaged through the garbage bag until he found them and the keys. "Here, can you make sure that this gets back to the States for us?" He handed both the garbage bag and his backpack to the baritone and then closed the door. Picking up his suitcase he asked, "You want the bathroom or out here?" "Here's fine, if that's okay?" "Sure. No problem." All very civil. She opened her case and knew immediately that Harriet had actually packed it. There was her uniform, folded perfectly, with tissue paper between it so that it hadn't wrinkled at all. She found a small case of makeup, fresh underwear, brush, comb, and a toothbrush - everything that a man wouldn't have thought to pack. Bless you Harriet. She found a manila envelope and opened it. Her passport and a folded piece of paper fell out onto the bed. Opening the note she stared at the words, `I'll meet you in Brussels, partner. Don't let Webb jerk your chain. Rabb.' Why aren't you here, Rabb? Quickly she stripped down and changed everything. As she was standing in front of the dresser mirror, buttoning up her jacket she heard the door to the bathroom open. Webb stepped out, and she couldn't help but gasp as she caught him out of the corner of her eye. "Is that yours?" He stood there, the jacket looking like it had been custom-made probably was, the row of ribbons across his breast. The peaked cap sitting jauntily on his head. He looked every bit the Army Colonel that the silver eagles on his lapels proclaimed him to be. "Yeah. You know I served in Desert Storm. I'm in the reserves." He bent down and reached back into the bathroom, bringing out his suitcase. "You ready, Colonel MacKenzie?" "Whenever you are¼Colonel Webb." She picked up her suitcase and led the way out of the hotel door. :: :: ::
17 December, Sunday They made it through the airport with little hassle. As they entered the terminal Mac saw several groups of security guards looking at a piece of paper and then at the people milling around them. As they passed one security team, she glanced over and saw that the guards were looking at copies of the picture of her that had been used on Hannah Jacobs altered passport. Security also had a picture of Webb and she realized that he must have left his phony passport back at the ski lodge also. As they approached the gate she suddenly thought of something and leaned over to hiss, "What about all my stuff back at the hotel?" Without even turning he calmly murmured. "All ready taken care of." Looking at he watch he continued. "In fact your Christmas shopping is probably already sitting in your living room. I would have had it all wrapped but I didn't know¼" "Shut up, Webb." Settling into their seats, coach this time, she started to lean back but found he was shoving a pile of pictures into her hands. "Study these. They are some of the people that `might' be involved." She saw he had another stack and during the hour and a half flight they studied the pictures alone and together, each pointing out possible identifying marks to help them recognize the individuals even if their faces were disguised. When they landed, he possessively took her elbow as they were leaving the terminal. She started to jerk away when she saw why he had taken her arm. Rabb was waiting at the curb, leaning against the bumper of a limo, his cocky smile frozen to his face as he recognized the man, the uniform and the gesture. Gently she disengaged her arm and walked up to him. "Hey, partner." He didn't look at her immediately but glared at Webb. Son of a bitch. Again? Bullshit. You don't pay any attention to me unless we are on opposing sides in a case or if some other man touches me and then¼.Bullshit! "We ready, here? I want to get this over with." She snarled and got into the back of the car. Webb deftly got in behind her and settled himself next to her, but Rabb made the definitive move by sitting directly across from her so that their knees touched and rubbed all the way to the hotel where AJ was waiting for them. Oh I love the smell of testosterone in the evening. "What have you got, Rabb?" He raised his eyebrow at her tone and glared at Webb. "Uh¼is everything okay, Mac?" She sighed and glared at him. "At the risk of sounding rude, of course not, Harm. Now what have you got?" "Ooookay. NATO security, CIA, Military Intelligence, Interpol and agencies I don't even recognize are all working together to beef up security. Chegwidden very wisely suggested that perhaps the party should be called off, but the powers that be aren't having any of it. In," he looked at his watch, "less than 23 hours the dignitaries start to arrive. We've got dogs everywhere and frankly I can't see them trying it." "What's going on during the day?" These were the first words Webb had spoken since they got off the plane. She forced herself to turn and look at him. I don't want Rabb to think anything is going on between us. There is nothing going on between us. Oh God, what happened back there. I am too incredibly stupid to be a Marine. "Good point, Webb." The tone was Rabb-cocky and Mac almost shook her head in amazement. How alike they are and how very different. Is that why? No, no, no. Stop analyzing something that isn't there. "We've got security at all the hotels where the guests are staying. We've got security on every one of their guests. Frankly there isn't any security anywhere else in the city and if I were writing a movie the punch line would be they were going to rob a bank instead. There's two press conferences planned for earlier in the day. And every damn reporter will be checked and double checked." "Good." Webb settled back in the seat and closed his eyes. Mac glared at him and saw the smirk twitch at the corner of his mouth and knew he could see her through his eyelashes. Leaning forward she got into Rabb's personal space. "So tell me, flyboy, how is everything back at JAG?" Rabb moved back from her just a bit before answering. "Oh, same old, same old. Singer took off for two weeks so we are short-handed." Mac leaned back and muttered, "She won't be missed." Rabb peered at her worriedly before continuing, "I'm going to go to Mom's for Christmas. You want to come with me?" The question was hesitantly asked and normally she would have immediately begged off, but she felt Webb stiffen beside her so she shrugged. "Sounds nice. Let me see, okay. I kinda' want to see Chloe. Plus I sorta' promised Harriet and Bud I would come for Christmas Eve. Big Bud is going to be there, but so is Mikey so¼" "Sure, jarhead, whatever you decide."
:: Chapter 11 ::17 December, Sunday The rest of the ride was quiet and she was relieved when they finally got to the hotel. She almost hugged Chegwidden when she saw him. "Sir." He was sitting at the spacious desk in his room, going over some reports. Looking over his reading glasses at her he admonished. "Webb, she looks tired." "Sorry, AJ. The last couple of nights have been rough." Webb's voice held no innuendo but AJ still looked from one to the other before continuing. "There's a briefing at 0600 tomorrow morning. We want to make sure that everything is under control." He paused and closed his eyes. "I'm trying to convince Francesca to go to her mother, but I can't tell her why and she is starting to suspect something." Nailing Webb with a glare that Mac had only been on the receiving end twice in her career, AJ growled, "talk to me, Webb, Mac, give me something to go on." They spent another three hours going over everything they knew or had learned. AJ blew up at Webb when Mac calmly told her story and she had to admit, Webb took it like a man. Rabb had a smirk on his face that spoke volumes and Mac tuned him out entirely. "Actually, Admiral, it worked out pretty well the way it happened, sir." "Hey, Mac." Rabb spoke up, "He left you hangin'. You could have gotten killed." "Actually, I think he trusted me to do my job, Commander." She didn't look over at Webb. She hadn't said it for him. She wanted the smirk on Rabb's face gone and now it was. What happened in Germany was between her and Webb. "Excuse me, people." The three turned their attention to AJ who had risen and begun to stretch. Its 2330 hours - get some sleep. And Webb, I do mean get some sleep, the Secretary of State wants you to call him at 0500 tomorrow morning. He will wait up for your call. Goodnight." Rabb walked her to her room and she knew he wanted to come in and get a blow by blow report, all the things he knew she had left out of her report. You should have come¼.stop it, Marine. "Goodnight, Harm." She firmly closed the door and turned to the hotel room half expecting to see Webb sitting in the chair by the window; half disappointed that he wasn't. Carefully taking off the uniform that she would have to wear tomorrow, she shook it out and hung it up. Slipping naked in between the sheets she stretched out, sighed and waited to sleep. Three hours later, she got up, went to the window that overlooked the brightly lit plaza below. God, I'm tired of Europe. I want to go home. I want my own bed. I want to¼I need to stop thinking about him. She rubbed her hands along her arms, supporting the breasts that he had lavished such attention on just twelve hours before. She wanted his arms there instead. Well, so what. You've wanted other men before this. How long have you wanted Harm? Do you really want him that way? Now? In the darkness around her, she let her own dark thoughts flow from her and join it. What exactly do I want? Kids? Yes. With who? She touched her belly. What if? No! What if? Well, I'll know by this time next week. Hell of a conversation to be having with yourself this early in the morning, Marine. At least it is a nice normal worry. God! Go to bed. You're going to be a lot of help to the Admiral tomorrow. She turned and saw his shadow sprawled on the bed, his erection waiting for her and she felt her stomach clench at the memory. Sex. That's all it was. Just comfort sex. She lay back down and touched the empty bed beside her and knew she was lying to herself. :: :: ::
18 December, Monday She woke at 0530 and rushed through her morning routine. She was down in the lobby at 0555 and saw Chegwidden waiting at the conference room door. "There's coffee and pastries inside, Colonel. Where's Webb?" She looked at him in shock. "I can only assume that he's still on the phone¼sir." She sailed past him and noted the odd look he gave her and she realized that he really hadn't been asking her if she had already seen the spy. Terrific. Thank God Rabb hadn't overhead that. Where is he by the way? She spotted Rabb by the coffee urn and walked toward him. He was holding out a steaming mug of coffee. "Hey, Mac, have some. You look awful." "Thanks, Rabb." She snarled as she grabbed the cup and walked away from him to sit in the center chair at a table three rows away from the front of the room. "Hey, Mac. I didn't mean¼I mean you do look like you¼.You want to talk?" He had that little boy look on his face that she used to be unable to resist. Now it just annoyed her. "No, Harm. I'm fine. You know how I am in the morning. Let me wake up, will you." She had tried for the bantering tone they were used to, but it came out sharp and terse. He looked hurt, nodded and went to sit at one of the tables in front. She had just finished her coffee, when another one appeared before her; a sugar dusted crueler resting on top of it. Webb sat next to her, carefully placed his pastry on a napkin and proceeded to ignore her. She saw Rabb turn to glare at them and keeping her cup to her lips she muttered, "What is this, Webb, the bucks trying for the alpha position?" "Nope. I'm sitting next to my partner. You don't want to be here? Then get up and go sit next to D.C.'s gift to women." "Go to hell, Webb." "Probably will, MacKenzie." Before that bit of stimulating conversation could escalate, Chegwidden came to sit in the other chair at the table. He leaned over and whispered to Webb. "How did the call go?" Webb shrugged. "Nothing new. MI-6 has managed to lose Sinclair. Frankly I suspect he knew the bug was there all along." "You think he's playing both sides?" Mac looked from one to the other with an occasional glance at Rabb who was looking like he was being left out of the party. Webb's next words captured her full attention. "I think he's trying to die." The General in Charge of the NATO forces opened the meeting and then a representative from Interpol stood up and gave them a briefing on the movements of various known terrorists. Webb leaned over and muttered, "They've got nothing on any of our people." Mac was getting into the briefing and just nodded her agreement. She wasn't surprised when Webb was called up to speak. She wasn't even surprised when he was introduced as the Special Assistant to the Secretary of State. What did amaze her was the way that many of the men and women throughout the room sat forward to pay close attention to what he had to say. He's known here. He's known and from the looks on their faces they want to hear what he has to say. First he walked them through a slide show of the people that had been at the conference. "Most of these people are no more involved that your Aunt Helen or Uncle Bob. Well not your Uncle Bob of course, Charlie." Genuine laughter erupted from several of the people and Mac was able to pick out the pros, people who made a career of getting up every morning to quietly save little pieces of the world. Webb's feeble joke had eased the tension somewhat and he continued. "This woman, Deirdre O'Neill, who also goes by Fiona O'Hara and Bridget McNamara is the person we think will be our key. She's hands-on and likes the thrill of the danger. She's responsible for over 100 deaths, either directly or in a planning capacity. She is thought to be behind taking out Jeffrey Ogden and Rupert Sinclair." Mac heard the mutterings and suspected that both men had been respected too. "Which brings us to something distasteful." Webb went on to explain that Sinclair was a loose canon and could not be trusted to put the safety of others in the forefront. "Understand this. Mr. Sinclair, for all his history, is NOT sanctioned to be here. You are not being asked to take him out. You ARE being advised that his goals are not our goals. Our only goal here is to find the explosives and take out the people responsible." People exchanged more glances and several shrugged resignedly. Mac leaned back when Webb sat down and others got up and reported on their progress for searching for the explosives. The last man, a representative of the Belgian government stood up. "Ladies and gentlemen, please understand we are looking to keep these people far away from the party. We have various checkpoints set up. This brand new state of the art building was built with this in mind. This is the first function to be held here and we want to make sure that no one gets in." Mac listened carefully as assignments were passed out. :: :: ::
18 December, Monday She found that she was partnered with Rabb to watch at the food purveyors' entrance. No matter the security clearance, it was the perfect place for someone to slip in. Webb was still in the conference room going over other details. It made sense and she didn't feel like the assignment was one designed to `get the lawyers' out of the way, though Rabb was grousing. "Come on flyboy, you know from experience that this is the one of the places where someone can sneak in. There are always last minute changes in personnel." Rabb sighed. "I know. I just feel that Webb is pulling¼" "Webb is doing his job." She snapped irritably. "Mac?" His voice was soft. "What’s up with all this defense of Clayton Webb? You want to talk about it?" She walked away from him to check a team of workers unloading a bread truck. The security guards ran detection devices over all the trays. Dogs trained to sniff out explosives gave their approval and none of the men looked like any of the people she had met or she had seen in the pictures Webb had. Rejoining him she studied him for a moment. "There's nothing to talk about Rabb. We went in, royally messed up and now we are trying to make it right." "Hey you didn't screw up. If Webb had..." She just shook her head. "Drop it, Harm. Please." It was still early and the next delivery wasn't due for another twenty minutes. They were on the lookout for any deviation in plans but the flowers arrived right on time and these, too, checked out. Rabb tried for humor. "Those dogs are going to need R&R after all these different smells. First bread, then flowers, wait till they bring the meat in." She smiled at his joke but realized something was bothering her. What a dumb way to try this? She picked up her walkie-talkie and spoke into it. "Webb? You there?" His voice came on immediately. "Yeah, Mac. What's up?" "What about air delivery?" "Already thought of it. All aircraft are being routed around the building. We've got gun ships standing by." She thought he had signed off but his voice came back, "What's up Mac? You worried about something?" She ignored the opening, but Rabb snorted loudly close behind her. "Quit it." She walked away from him. "Quit what?" Webb asked. "Not you. Look, sorry I bothered you." "It's not a bother, Mac." She waited a moment but he didn't say anything else and she put the radio back on her gun belt. She let Rabb deal with the linens. He and the security team checked every layer of every cart, while she scrutinized each face. By the time she was done she figured her lips would need a major overhaul. She had bitten them raw trying to figure out what was bothering her. By 1700 hours the purveyors were arriving every 15 minutes, some sooner but not enough to warrant true suspicion. As the time grew closer, more men came and joined the teams. Rabb hoisted her up on a cabinet where she could peer down on each and very person who came in. No one could hide behind a tall cart or behind a box of anything. Everything was opened. Thank god we don't suspect poison. The purveyors were all checked in and now the wait staff began to show up. Mac hopped down from the cabinet and helped with checking credentials. Two men who were replacing sick waiters were taken to another room and prodded and poked and pronounced free of anything false or extra. Webb came up to them. His uniform looked like he had just put it on. She felt tired and her eyes were grainy from the lack of sleep. He watched for a minute before whispering. "Can I see you a second?" Giving her check-sheet to a glowering Rabb, she turned and walked with him. "Yes?" "Why did you call me about the airspace?" The question was sincere and she considered it. "There's something not right, Webb." "Yeah, I know, but what?" She twisted her neck to work a crick out of it. "Turn around." "What?" He took her by the shoulders and turned her away from him. His hands came up to her neck and she stiffened. "Don't." "Mac, relax. You're tense and nervous and you know something that we need." His fingers worked her stiff muscles and it did feel good. "Now tell me. What made you ask about the airspace." She thought and as his fingers gently massaged her neck, she let the sensation calm her. She focused on just the muscles relaxing and she licked her lips. "Tell me something?" "Sure." "We're talking about a lot of explosives, right?" "From everything we've heard, yes." His thumbs began a circular pattern on her lower shoulders. "Nothing that they could bring in with the towels or peppers, Webb." His hands stopped. "No." Mac opened her eyes and saw Harm watching them but it didn't really register. The idea was so close. "Shit!" "Tell me." He spun her around. "Tell me." "They're all ready here." "We thought of that. We've searched." Excited now, she grabbed his forearms. "Searched where?" "Mac you were there. They've searched¼" She interrupted him and barely noted that Rabb had come up to stand next to them. She was fisting the material of Webb's army uniform between her fingers. "Don't you see. They're checking everything that someone could have come in and planted in the past couple of days. Right!" "Yeah, Mac." "What was it you told me last night?" "A lot of things, Mac." "No, about your trip to the gay club." They both ignored Rabb's snort. He shook his head. "When I slipped the bug in Deirdre's purse?" "No, before that. You said that they told you the explosives were already in Brussels. Right?" "Yeah?" "Well what if¼.Look¼what was the last thing that was done on the building. When was it finished?" Webb looked confused, "I don't know, the carpeting?" "Before that then? When? How long have they planned this? It's not like the ball is a last minute secret meeting. They hold it every year. They knew last year that they would hold it here. What if they planted the bomb months ago?" Webb shook his head. Not to dismiss her but like he was clearing his head. "Too long. Something could go wrong." He raised his walkie-talkie to his lips. "Get me Gregson!" He waited a moment and the soft growl of the general contractor for the project came over the radio. "Yes?" "We need to see you down here in the kitchen. Now! Bring your plans." Webb started to pace. Rabb looked from him to the security forces who were suddenly alert to something going on. Mac leaned against the wall and waited patiently. A stocky grey-haired man came bustling up to them, rolls of paper tucked under his arm. "What! What have you found?" Mac noticed that two generals and Chegwidden were close behind him. Webb looked at Mac and motioned her to set it up. "Your idea, partner. You start." Mac thought for a moment and then nailed the man with a look that even Rabb had come to respect in the courtroom. "What was the last unforeseen repair that occurred before the building was commissioned?" The man thought and shrugged. "A leak in the ceiling. That was all. We checked that and all the security around it was fixed. There can be no breach up there. Besides we could catch them coming in." Mac tasted blood on her lip as she chewed it. "Nothing else, perhaps earlier." "Nothing, Colonel. Nothing since the freezer had to be replaced." Mac stared at him. Someone behind them coughed and Webb glowered, "Excuse me?" "But that was back in November, the first part. It was unforeseen but¼" Webb gritted out. "What happened?" "Nothing! We installed the freezer and it was working fine. One week later the whole motor burned out. It started a fire and we had to replace the entire thing. It could have been a catastrophe. It made the papers and everything. Thank goodness that that new restaurant went belly up and needed to sell their all their fixtures. They had never even used it. They had their contractor bring it over and install it here." "Show me." Webb had the man by the upper arm, already steering him toward the kitchen. They angered the chef by kicking him and his workers out into the hall. They pissed off the chief of maintenance by demanding several of his men bring their tools and then just wait around. Security teams from all over the building came running down and stood there while Webb, Chegwidden, Rabb and Mac walked slowly around the freezer that the general contractor had led them too. Rabb started to open the door but Webb stopped him. "Forget it. It can't be on the inside because it would be too easy to spot. Plus, if it implodes the damage won't be enough. Looking around, he found a ladder and put it up against the side of the freezer. Taking off his coat he handed it to Mac and climbed up. "Rabb," He called down, "bring me up some tin snips." Mac stood next to the admiral and watched as the two men crawled around on top of the freezer. After about 10 minutes she heard Rabb's heartfelt `son-of-a-bitch' only slightly muffled by Webb's vehement, "Shit!" Followed by his ordered. "Go on, get the hell out of here." "Forget it Webb, you can't do it all by yourself." "What, are you kidding? I don't think I can do it at all. I just need room to maneuver. Now move it, Commander." Rabb climbed down and came over to them. The two generals moved in to hear his report. "Webb thinks the whole damn freezer lining is packed with explosives. There's a fused timer on top set to go off in three hours. He's checking on it now. We need to get the bomb squad down here. But frankly I don't know what we can do. The detonator is really complicated and all the wires are brown. There's a little note that's pasted on the lid that just says. `Ha! Ha! You lose!'" "That's it?" Chegwidden asked. "That's enough, isn't it, sir." Rabb looked at the very nervous maintenance man. "Go get me a regular, demagnetized screw driver. "Harm, don't help, okay." Mac pleaded. Her eyes had never left Webb's back. "Hey, I just want to check to see if we're right." "Right about what, commander." One of the generals asked. "I want to take off one of the panels to see if there is a way to move the C-4." "Forget it Rabb." Webb said from the top of the freezer. Gingerly climbing down he dusted off his pants. "General, clear the building." Rabb grabbed his arm. "What? You're not going to even try to disarm it?" "Now, Rabb? With all these people inside? No. I'm not. Where's the bomb squad?" A major stepped forward. "They're on their way. They're just getting the rest of their equipment together. "Good. Well what are you waiting for? Get these people out of here." Webb glared at the general who raised an eyebrow but turned and started giving orders. "Admiral, I suggest you call your daughter and have her get out of the building before everyone starts to panic." Just then there was a muffled explosion and the lights went off.
:: Chapter 12 ::18 December, Monday It wasn't total darkness. Light from the streetlights outside lit the dim corridor leading into the kitchen. No one was doing a lot of moving. These were people trained not to panic and the only sound of distress was coming from the general contractor. Several toolboxes could be heard opening and beams of light reflected off the polished chrome and steel of the kitchen fixtures. Mac could see that Webb had already grabbed one of the maintenance men and growled, "Where is it?" The man led them down a long corridor, jabbering away in French. Though Mac was too embarrassed to speak the language, she understood it pretty well and was able to figure out what had happened. They arrived at the large electrical terminal where several men were already using fire extinguishers to put out the acrid smelling fire that was sending billows of smoke toward the open passage. Coughing, she covered her mouth and looked around for something to cover her face with. "Here." Webb thrust a white cloth into her hands and she breathed through his handkerchief. "Go back and tell them that this is a mess." He turned to the maintenance man rattled off a question that Mac couldn't follow. She understood his retort though. "Damn it. Mac, tell them they got the emergency power too." "Webb, how did they get the explosives into the electrical box." His retort was gruff and angry. "How the hell do I know? Jesus, I hope we haven't been compromised. Find out who was supposed to have checked this area." "Got it." She started to turn, but he caught her arm. "Here. Don't fall. Okay?" She heard the concern, even if she couldn't see his face as he reached out the long metal flashlight to her. It took a few minutes, but she made it back to the people waiting in the kitchen. She could see that half the crowd had all ready thinned out. AJ and the two generals were huddled in urgent conference. The major was talking frantically into his phone and shouts were coming from somewhere outside the kitchen. "That'll be the bomb squad." One of the generals suggested, "I hope they brought their own lights." Mac reported. "I hope so too, sir. Webb said to tell you they got the emergency lights." "How the hell did they get back there?" someone asked. "We need to find out who was in charge of checking that area." She looked around and couldn't see Rabb. "Admiral. What should I do? Where's Commander Rabb?" Worry tinged his voice. "He went upstairs to find out what they're doing to clear the building. The elevators¼." "Sir, we are going to have to send people all the way up to the top floor and work their way down. The whole building¼" "We're working on it already, Colonel." The major clicked his phone shut. "Sir, the place is surrounded by security teams. There are helicopters overhead lighting the streets, fire trucks are on their way and they already have people on their way up to evacuate from the top floor down. Everything should be okay, except¼" Everyone suddenly grew quiet to hear the shoe drop. "Well?" Chegwidden snarled. The major gulped. "Sir, to the best of our knowledge every one of the elevators was full somewhere in the line. People coming down to go to the party or to dinner. The explosion took out everything, sir. Including the phone lines. A couple of people have cell phones and we are trying to coordinate using those, but it's going to take some time." "Well, you heard the man as well as I did, major. If the bomb squad can't defuse the bomb, we have less than three hours to completely clear the area. Can we do it?" Chegwidden stood there and waited for the answer. In the reflected lights the man looked ghastly. "I don't know, sir." "Well man, then get hopping." "Okay people, whose in charge and where's the bomb?" The deep bass voice belonged to a tall skinny man dressed in fatigues with captains' bars on his collar. Mac shined a light on his chest and read his name. Mac stepped forward and pointed to the freezer. "It's there, Captain Frazer?" "Where, Colonel? On top? Inside?" "No. We think the whole thing is packed with C-4." "Terrific. Where's the detonator?" He began to signal for his men to set up around the perimeter of the freezer. "Okay, the rest of you, listen up! Unless you want the short apprenticeship program, I suggest you get out." Pointing to the long dark corridor where they could hear people shouting back and forth he asked Mac, "How many more people are down here?" Mac pulled the radio off her waist. "Webb?" "Yeah, Mac?" "The Army's demolition team is here. They want everybody out. Do you know how many people are down there and are you coming out soon?" His voice sounded hoarse and he coughed before he replied. "We're rounding everybody up. No count, I'm just sending them out and praying we find everybody. I want to get some samples of evidence though. Send somebody with some baggies or something." Mac started to look around the kitchen, but a firm arm on her shoulder stopped her. "Here." Frazer handed her several evidence bags. "You best get him out of there quick, Colonel. I don't like the smell of the smoke coming down the corridor." He turned and yelled at a pair of men, "Rodriquez, Samuels! How many masks do we have?" The tall black man ran out the door. When he returned moments later, he handed her a compact nylon case. "There's six full respirators in there, if you can wait¼" "I can't, Corporal Samuels." She saw Chegwidden start to come toward her but she looked at him sternly. "They need you upstairs, sir. I'll get these to him and then make sure they don't dawdle." She thought he was going to argue but he just nodded. "Okay, Mac. Just keep that radio on you." "Aye-aye, sir." She picked up the flashlight and started back down the corridor when Samuels stopped her again. "Ma'am, here." He took the case, pulled out one of the masks and helped her put it on. Then he took the white, lighted hard hat off his head and placed it on hers. "Good luck, Colonel." He saluted her and then quickly returned to his duties. The bobbing light caught the ghostly wisps of smoke snaking around the dozen or so men that past her heading back to the kitchen area. Most of them were coughing and hacking and she gave four of the masks to men who looked like they wouldn't make it. Rounding the corner she found Webb down on his knees doubled over a pile of debris. "Clay!" She already had the mask outstretched as she rushed up to him. Coughing, his tears sparking like crystals in the helmet's light, he swiped at his soot- smudged face before letting her carefully put the mask on. She smoothed his hair, telling herself the mask would stay on better for doing so. "Damn it, Webb. Let's get out of here." His voice was raspy and the mask just accentuated the labored quality. "Where are the bags?" Pulling out the plasticine evidence bags from the mask case, she knelt next to him. "Watch your knees, there's sharp stuff down here." Peering at the jumbled mess of wires she wrinkled her brow. "What did you find?" "Beautiful workmanship. Took out the electricity for the whole building, including the backup. We're dark for a couple of days at least." He cleared his throat, stood up and stumbled to a corner and pulling off the mask, began to hack. She forced herself to wait for him and when he returned to kneel beside her again his voice was stronger. "See these strands?" "They look like electrical wire." "Well that's what they started out life as." He dropped a handful of twisted, burned strands into one of the bags, "Only, a genius figured out a way to inject about a mile of this stuff with nitro, hook it up to a couple of hollow glass tubes and a timer. When the connection is made, the nitro pools into the tubes, heats up and poof there goes the entire electrical board. And, if they don't know what they're looking for they never find the mechanism cause it's all glass and plastic." "A sick genius," she muttered. "Actually, he's a sweet old guy with six grandkids, a Purple Heart and the Silver Star." She shook her head and groaned. "One of yours. Why am I not surprised? How'd it get in there?" Standing, he reached down to help her up, his hand holding on just a moment too long. "That's why I want the evidence. We need to determine if it's our construction or if someone else has figured out our little secret." Letting out her breath, she looked at him a long moment before sighing. "Let's go." When they reached the kitchen, Mac tore off the helmet and mask. Klieg lights flooded the area and they scrambled to stay out of the way of the Special Forces moving heavy matting in and placing it around the freezer. Leading him over to a sink near the back, she looked over her shoulder. "That gonna help?" He shrugged and watched curiously as she ran cold water. Searching around she found a cotton dishtowel. "I think you can take off the mask now." "Oh. Yeah." Pointing at the sink she commanded, "Wash the smoke out of your eyes." When he had accomplished that task she handed him the towel. "Pat. Don't rub." Sighing forlornly, he grabbed the towel. "Yes, Mom!" "Smart-Ass" He looked around for a place to put the towel and she reached for it. Their fingers touched and they were suddenly both embarrassed. Pulling back, she tossed the towel over a rack. At a loss for something to say, he mumbled. "Thanks." "Hey, no problem, don't want the ambulance crews to haul you away." Finding a small pot she filled it and handed it to him. "Here have a drink." Careful to not dribble even though his uniform shirt was streaked and dirty, he drank the whole pot and immediately started coughing into the sink. She hovered over him, wanted to soothe his back or hold his head but she stood there, a worried look on her face. "I don't suppose if I ask you to let the medic look¼" He pushed away from the sink. "I'm good. Let's get upstairs." As they made their way out of the kitchen she grabbed up his uniform jacket from a chair. "Here." He pulled it on and buttoned it and in a panicked voice asked, "Where the hell is my security badge?" "You mean the one you should have worn down the corridor?" She smirked and pulled it out from the inside of her jacket. "Give a Mom some credit." "Smart-ass." :: :: ::
18 December, Monday An Army Ranger carefully checked their identification and called up for clearance before letting them into the stairwell. A Navy SeAL checked them again before letting them into the main lobby. The atrium soared above them. Searchlights from circling helicopters cut through the smoked glass. They saw people pouring out of several stairwells, uniformed soldiers from several countries leading the people out of the building. Mac looked around and tugged on Webb's arm. "Over there." She pointed where Chegwidden and Rabb were standing, talking to four other men in uniform. As they drew near, Mac could see the worry in the Admiral's face. "Damn it. We've got dozens of men here. What equipment do you need brought in?" Rabb saw them and came to meet them. Mac could see the worry there too. "Harm?" "Francesca's stuck in one of the elevators." "Have you talked to her?" Webb demanded. "Yeah. One of the other passengers had his cell phone. She called the Admiral. There are eight other people in there with her." Webb peered above them. They could see the glass enclosed elevators stuck in various positions up and down ten different columns. In the eerie lighting it looked like they floated in space. "How are they planning on getting them down?" "That's the problem. They don't know." Rabb groaned. "Excuse me? They don't have an emergency plan?" Webb snapped as Mac looked at Rabb in horror. "Well from what they are saying they have all sorts of plans for getting service personnel to stalled elevators. The braking system is manual and not dependent on the electrical. They are safe but in case of emergency, all their plans are predicated on keeping the people calm until the elevators can be brought back online. We don't have time for that obviously and they are trying to come up with a rescue plan that will get everybody out in time. The Admiral is talking with Colonel Philip. He's in charge of the Rangers." He looked back over his shoulder for a minute. "They'll get a lot of them out, but there's ambassadors in two of the elevators. All ten elevators are anywhere between two stories to twenty stories off the ground." Webb shook his head. "It's going to be tough. You gonna stay and help?" "Yeah." Rabb turned around and returned to stand with the ever-growing group around Colonel Philip. Mac started to join him but turned to look at Webb. "You comin'?" "Nah. They don't need me there." He turned and walked into the mass of people and disappeared. Glancing over at the men gesturing upward she shook her head. They don't need me either. What the hell is Webb up to? She pushed into the crowd. She spotted him heading for the entrance, his cell phone to his ear. She thought she saw his shoulders slump but she was too far away and the room was too dim. The noise level was incredible, almost painful. Shouts reverberated off the steel beams of the 20 story high atrium and suddenly, she had to get outside. Where is he going? As she pushed into the cold December evening, more troops were running in. Huge ropes were being carried over shoulders. She shivered and not from the cold. There won't be enough time to get them all out. She found him standing in the middle of the huge empty fountain in the front plaza. It was the only place not crowded with civilians trying board shuttle buses or troops setting up more security checkpoints. Why? Nobody is going to try and get in now. Webb was scanning the area and then studied the huge abstract structure. She watched, hands on her hips, as he found handholds and climbed to the mid-point of the structure. He turned back around and looked up and out. "What are you doing?" She called up to him. It was cold and the wind was increasing. His jacket flapped in the wind and suddenly a chip flew off the stonework and he jumped, falling to the ground, but rolling up to a crouch. It took her a moment before she realized what happened. "Webb!" Running toward him, she drew the service revolver at her waist, drawing the attention of several security men. Scanning the surrounding buildings, she yelled at him. "Damn you! You knew that was going to happen." He had his own pistol in his hand and was already running toward a high rise office building across the plaza from the hotel. She followed and she could have sworn she heard him laugh out "cocky bastards." Still running, she saw him reach into his pocket for his radio and start to speak into it. This time she imagined she could actually hear the rifle as the radio jerked from his hand. She yelled at the top of her lungs. "GUN!" But already, several squads of men had come up to her and they too were looking skyward. She followed Webb across the road and when he stopped, panting at the locked doors she railed at him. "Damn it, Clay. What the hell did that accomplish?" She was out of breath too, not so much from the exertion but the fear. "Figured out where they are watching from. Can't see that they would be in more than one building. You still got your radio?" "Yeah, but you know your hand is bleeding?" She handed him the radio and waited while he called in to the head of security. A Marine Captain in fatigues led a squad of five men all wearing NATO Security uniforms. "What have you got, Colonels?" As Webb dropped the phone into his pocket, the captain noticed the blood on Webb's hand and reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Mac grabbed it from him and Webb resignedly held out his hand. "I think the terrorists are on one of the top floors. I've called for reinforcements, Captain… Thomas?" The Marine looked at him funny when Webb grinned and muttered, "fitting." Growing serious again, the spy pointed to the door. "I want inside." Motioning Webb and Mac out of the way, he signaled two of his men to step forward. In a hail of gunfire the men blew the doors and several glass windows on either side. She grabbed his arm. "Webb, how are we going to find them? There's at least 15 floors." "I saw the flash. I need to know exactly how many floors there are, because it's the second one from the top." He started to pull away, but she held on tight. "Not alone." "Mac." The growl was predatory, but she ignored him. "Not alone." He turned to Captain Thomas. "Wait here for the reinforcements. Here they come now. Just make sure that nobody comes out of any stairway. Station men at the elevators and call control and get a helo over this building." He carefully checked a stairway door, found it locked and cursed. "Shit!" "Stand back, sir." Thomas raised his gun. Webb yelled, "NO!" and pushed Mac to the floor covering her with his body. The shot hit the lock and the charge the terrorists had set blew the door off its hinges into Captain Thomas, sending his lifeless body across the tiled floor. Webb buried his head in Mac's shoulder for just a moment and then stood up and helped her to her feet. "Sergeant!" An American stepped forward. Webb looked like he was going to hit him, but instead he softly asked, "Do you understand what we are dealing with now?" "Yes, Sir!" Webb looked down at the body and then found the man's gun ten feet away. Grabbing it up he pulled off the ammo belt from the dead man and buckled it around his waist. Mac signaled one of the other soldiers who had come running in and demanded his rifle and ammo belt. Webb snarled. "Colonel MacKenzie. I'm all for equality and I know your marksman scores but you aren't going to be able to keep up in that skirt!" Smiling sweetly she bobbed her head and breathlessly replied, "Well, then, `Colonel' Webb, I guess you'll just have to wait for me then." Her voice grew hard. "Because you will not go up there alone!" They stared at each other for a long time and finally Webb turned. "Keep up if you can, Colonel." More troops were coming in and Webb counted out fifteen men. "Follow us up. After I clear each floor I want one of you to stand guard." Pointing to Thomas still sprawled on the floor. "That is the only casualty I want on this op. Do you understand?" "Sir, yes, sir!" Fifteen men responded in unison. By the fourth floor she had conceded that even though they were comfortable shoes, they were not made for 15 flights of stairs. By the seventh floor she paused long enough to pull off her ruined panty hose. Webb found no more charges on any of the doors. "Probably just by-passed them entirely." On the tenth floor he opened the door and found himself staring into the eyes of a very scared looking cleaning man. Motioning the man out, he had him strip down to his underwear before handing him his clothes and sending him down the stairs. They could hear more troops pounding up toward them and Webb just shook his head and muttered. "I'm covert operations Mac. This is about as uncovert¼" "I know, Webb." As they neared the top floors Webb called up more troops to secure the 13th and 14th floor. Starting up the last flight Webb turned and looked at Mac and whispered, "Please." "No." Closing his eyes for a second he nodded and turned. They found Sinclair's body on the 15th floor landing; his throat had been cut. He lay there, his dead eyes staring up and Mac suddenly flashed back on Belk's unseeing eyes outside of the safe. She had to gently nudge Webb to get his attention. "Come on, partner." He nodded, pushed the dead agent out of the way and pressed his back to the wall, his rifle held tight against his chest. Mac crouched down on the stairwell, her rifle aimed at the opening of the door, nodded and Webb eased the door open. Dead silence answered them and Mac slowly rose. Webb joined her at the door and quickly glanced both ways down the long corridor, the artificial glare of the helicopter casting shadows against the walls. He nodded for her to return to the stairwell. Once they were there he radioed the teams slowly making their way up stairwell across from them. "Check in." One by one each team checked in until "East One, clear." "Where are you, East One?" "Just checking the corridor on 15, West One. All seems quite." Webb waived the flack-jacketed Marine Commandos to do a complete search. Running his hand through his hair he looked at Mac. "Damn, I bet they took those shots and went up to the next floor." Sighing he turned and made his way out to the stairwell. Mac put her bare foot on the first rung. "Let's get this over with, Webb." "No." "What?" She was already three steps toward the next floor and looked back at him. Five more Marine commandos had joined the others on the landing and it was getting crowded. He had a hard intractable look. "No. Lt. Colonel." He pointed to the eagles on his lapels rubbing in the supposed difference in their ranks. "Stay here." He took a step up until he could quietly insist. "That's an order." "You son-of-a-bitch." She hissed. "So you're going up there by yourself. Playing hero, Webb? Trying to make up for the past week?" "No." He looked behind and pointed to one of Marines standing there. The man even from five feet away towered over Webb who was standing on the first step. "Sergeant Jackson." Jackson looked from the Marine lieutenant colonel to the Army full bird colonel and shrugged. "Sir?" "This your first time out?" The sergeant peered at the man he thought to be an Army Colonel and just snorted. In a thick southern accent he drawled, "Suh, it ain't mah tenth time out." "Good. You're on me." As Jackson approached a voice carried up from the floor below. "Sir? Ma'am?" Mac, none too gently, pushed Webb out of the way and stepped down on the landing. Peering down over the guardrail called back. "What is it?" "Ma'am, Sergeant Richards says could you come and look at something? It's really important." "I'm on my way." She glared up at Webb. "With your permission, of course¼ Sir." Webb's jaw clenched so tight she could see the tiny muscles ripple under the strain. "Carry on¼.colonel." As she pushed past the men in the stairwell she heard the very quiet gentle drawl, "Don't you worry none, ma'am. I'll cover his ass." She glared up at the giant and saw the knowing grin, "So as you can kick it good, later." Since no one else had heard the insolent comment she decided to ignore him and hurried down the stairs. She followed the very nervous Marine private through the corridors on the 13th floor until they came to the elevator banks. Three men, all in battle dress, stood staring down one of the open shafts. She relished the feel of the carpeting under her feet and wondered where her shoes had ended up. She couldn't even remember what floor she had discarded them on. "What's up, gentlemen." Without turning one of the men pointed. "We've got trouble, ma'am." Of course, we do. They made room for her and shined a flashlight down to the car just below. "Oh damn. Can you make out how much time?" "Not from here but I've sent for rope. I'll lower someone down, but I'm not touching that car or the ropes holding it." The man looked wearily across at her. "I don't know if this is the only bomb or how big it is. Should we get someone from the bomb squad?" Mac reached for her radio and remembered Webb had taken it from her after his had been shot out of his hand. "Give me a radio." She called into the central checkpoint and was immediately patched through to the general in charge. "Sir, Colonel MacKenzie. I'm on the 13th floor of the building across the road." The voice was clear and loud. "Yes, Colonel. I hear that partner of yours took it upon himself to¼" "Sir." She interrupted. "We've found a bomb over here too." They heard shouts and orders being issued before the man returned. "How big? How long?" "No idea sir. I suggest we evacuate the soldiers immediately. Frankly, sir, I'm not even sure if this is the only one." "Clear out all unnecessary personnel. Oh. Colonel MacKenzie?" "Sir." "You and Webb get over here immediately." "Aye-Aye, sir." She switched the radio back to the channel they were using for the teams inside the building. She wondered if Webb had left his radio on. She was just getting ready to press the talk button when Webb's voice came out. "Can someone find Colonel Rabb for me." Her heart stopped and it took her a moment before she could answer. Taking a deep breath she pressed the button. "I'm here, Colonel." "Look, everything up here is clear. There's nothing. They must have gotten out before we got here. Get the troops back downstairs where they can do some good." "Sure, sir. That makes sense." The men were looking at her like she was out of her mind. She pointed to her nametag and only one of them immediately understood the implication. She thought she heard a grunt of pain on the other end and his voice returned. This time all of them could hear the tension in his voice. "Uhm¼ shhh¼. Colonel Rabb could you come up to 17. I think I found that thing we were looking for." Before she could answer there was a shriek of static and then silence. "They've smashed the phone," one of the men offered. "What are we going to do?" another asked. Mac looked up and studied the ceiling. "Clear the building. Everybody out. Get them away." Home :: JAG Index :: e-mail |