Sunday, 25 May
Home of Alexander Nelson
2100 Hours
She is without a doubt the most beautiful woman in the room. Her chocolate brown eyes are huge and bright. Her auburn hair frames her face and accentuates cheekbones that most models would kill for. Her mouth, open and laughing at something that Mrs. Nelson’s friend has said, is a crime waiting to happen. Her neck, long and graceful, flows into perfect shoulders. My eyes caress her down to where the tight blue bodice holds breasts that every man in the room wants to possess as their own. It never ceases to amaze me that a woman so willowy and soft can be so tough and obstinate. She is a great lawyer and a better person who has fought her share of demons. She'll make General one day and I know that will please her. She has only one flaw. She’s in love with me.
I’ve known this for a long time. I didn’t need Sturgis Turner’s slip of the tongue to verify it either. I wonder if she will ever forgive him for that? Of course, she’s forgiven me for worse. But then, like I said, she’s in love with me.
We’ve known each other nearly six years now. I’ve helped her out of some major jams, but she saved me in Russia. More important, we can tell each other anything – or we used to – before. No one makes me laugh like she does. No one, not even Chegwidden, can bust my chops like her. That mouth I mentioned. That mouth on mine is soft and hard all at the same time. There’s a passion inside her that wants nothing more than to explode into flame and warm another soul. I’ve had wet dreams about her for years. I’ve had daydreams about her that have absolutely nothing to do with being knocked on the head. She loves me and I suppose that on some basic level, I love her, too. I love her enough to know that if we ever crossed that line there would be no turning back for her. For me? I wonder what I would do to screw it up. I always do.
I am a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, obsessive and arrogant. I know all this about myself. I’ve accepted it. These are traits that make me who I am and I know that they make me the best damn lawyer in the Navy. When I’m on a case, it's all about the winning. Oh, I know I couch it in the search for truth and justice. But I’ve accepted my need to excel. You see, I have few illusions about myself and that’s why I know it would never work out between Sarah MacKenzie and me. Someday I will find a woman who will be happy to play second fiddle to me. Someone content to be there for me when I need her and yet, not be too demanding. For awhile I thought Jordan was that person. I feel bad about Jordan. I feel worse about Annie; I really liked Josh. Renee? Like I said, I always find a way to screw it up.
I’ve developed a knack to know just seconds before she does that she’s going to look at me. Sometimes, I let my eye meet hers, usually when I know we're going to agree on something. Now, I quickly avert my glance and take in the rest of the room.
Mic Brumby was right about one thing. I suspect that most men in the room are either in love with her or in lust. I notice the way the Senator from…wherever…keeps staring at her, over his wife’s shoulder. That kind of thing does bother me. Particularly since I caught Mrs. Senator from…wherever…checking me out in the ornate mirror on the wall behind her husband. I can’t help how I look and I’ve long since stopped putting stock in that kind of judgment. What does bother me is the way that Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez keeps looking at Mac. That way lies madness and a court martial, my friend. Of course, Mac would never allow that to happen. Her mistake with Farrell taught her a valuable lesson about fraternization. She won’t give up the Marines anymore than I'll give up the Navy.
I spot Bobbi Latham talking with Sturgis. They make a cute couple. For some reason, I believe they'll get past all the baggage they bring to the relationship and make it work. I hope so. I like them both a lot. Lauren Singer and a guy I’ve never met before are standing with them. I’ll go join them, see if I can stir up a little trouble. I want to find out if Mac has said anything to him about his slip of the tongue. Putting my empty glass on a passing tray, I start across the room.
“Hey, that’s against the rules.”
I turn and stare into eyes as blue as my own. She’s tall, taller than Mac. Maybe only an inch or two shorter than I am. Golden blond tresses fall around her shoulders and the black draped neckline does little to really hide her enticing chest. I actually stammer, damn it. “W-what rules?”
She reaches for a glass from a passing waiter and hands me champagne. “You cannot cross the room without a drink in your hand. It spoils the effect.” It’s a stupid pickup line. But I don’t care.
Taking her arm, I lead her out of the flow of waiters and people intent on finding the bathrooms. “You better tell me what other rules I shouldn’t break.”
****
I feel uncomfortable here in this fine house. I’m only here because I know many of the people eating the SecNav’s hors’d’oeurves and drinking his booze. My time at JAG was pleasant enough but it wasn’t what I had signed on for. I’m a Marine so I was happy to go back to what needed to be done after September 11th. What I do now is dangerous, but necessary. Of course, there were a few instances when it was dangerous at JAG. And I’m not talking about dealing with Lieutenant Singer either. There was that time I got shot transporting Rafael Rivera back to DC. That turned out okay though. Talk about your heroes, I suspect that the Chosin Reservoir in Korea was every bit as bad as Kandahar was, only a hell of a lot colder. Then there was the time when that DA in Baltimore wanted to put my ass in jail for that whole gay bashing thing. Funny, both times the Admiral pulled my ass out of the fire. Of course, that wasn’t the most dangerous time. But I don’t like to think about the whole embassy debacle. When I think about that, I think about her. I can’t afford to think too deeply about Sarah MacKenzie. That is COLONEL Sarah MacKenzie to you, GUNNERY SERGEANT Galindez.
Gunnery sergeants do not act on such thoughts for colonels. But damn, she is hot. Look at her standing there talking with Mrs. Nelson and that other woman. Even though the woman is really classy looking, she holds nothing next to Mac. Whatever the woman said really made Mac laugh hard, her head is thrown back. All I want to do is trace a line with my tongue down from her lips to rest in the valley of her incredible breasts. The dress she has on should be outlawed. It’s dark blue and it shimmers like the stars at night. Not night here in DC, more like night in the middle of the New Mexico desert. It fits her so perfectly that I have to force myself not to stare at the juncture of her legs. I’m a man and I have to wonder why, how it is so smooth there. God, I would love to investigate that mystery.
She is such a brave woman. She doesn’t think she’s strong, but she is - strong but fragile at the same time. I followed her through the sewers under Ache, Indonesia. I saw the horror and pain on her face when she thought Lilliana had been killed.
For years I watched as Commander Rabb danced around her, causing her pain with some really stupid off-hand remarks. You can see how much she loves him. Hell, she postponed her wedding for him when he was lost at sea. Never did marry Mic Brumby. Not that I wanted that either. Brumby was the Australian version of Commander Rabb. No, I'm wrong. Rabb out-Rabbed Brumby easily. I won’t say it was the first time I wanted to deck an officer, but the more I got to know and respect her, the urge to punch Rabb grew. Jesus, how can an officer be so damn clueless?
Sarah MacKenzie isn’t the reason I left JAG. But I thought it would help. It did until the Secretary of the Navy invited me to this little Memorial Day soiree. How he remembered my face amazes me. But I suppose it’s an honor that he asked. After all, there were almost 50 of us getting medals during the ceremony. Then the service at Arlington for those men getting medals posthumously. She stood, at attention, between the Admiral and the Commander. I had the better position, directly across from them. Afterward, she saluted me. But the smile and twinkle in her eye ruined the solemnity.
“How have you been, Gunny?” She asked as we milled around the cemetery waiting for the limos and tour buses to come and pick us up.
Her voice is a caress of cool water against fevered skin. Every time I see her, it’s grown harder to be around her. “Just fine, ma’am.”
Just fine indeed, I’ve nearly bought it twice now. No one needs two purple hearts, but the Bronze Star that I received today meant a lot. Particularly to my mother and sisters who were there for the ceremony.
The dress uniform is damn hot, and not just from Washington’s late spring weather. I wanted to tug at the collar earlier as she stood inches from me.
“It’s very bad where you are.” It wasn’t a question and I knew she meant the Near East. But I don’t want to talk about war. I would rather tell her what knowing her and serving with her has meant to me. But I would never tell her. It would only embarrass her and cause her pain. Fortunately, Secretary Nelson came up and clamped me on the shoulder.
“Good job, Gunnery Sergeant. I understand you’re due for Master Sergeant soon.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Secretary.” I stiffened again. I really don’t like the SecNav. But that’s just because of all the grief he used to visit upon the Admiral. Tiner used to tell me everything.
“Well good. Listen Gunnery Sergeant; I’m having a small get together tonight. All your colleagues from JAG, as well as a few other people are coming. I’d like you to be there if you can.” ‘I want to show off a hero,’ was the unspoken comment.
I should have told him I was planning on visiting with my family. It wasn’t a lie. I am. They’ll be here for three more days and then I ship back out. I should have, but the look of pleasure on the Colonel’s face surprised me.
“Oh yes, Gunny. Please accept. I want to hear how you’ve been. I’m sure that Commander Rabb and the Admiral do too.”
So here I am, sucking down a Heinekens wishing for a Bud, watching Sarah MacKenzie from across the room. We did talk a little. The Admiral spent the most time with me, though and I detected a wistful longing with each question. He shook my hand and told me how proud he was of me and then went for another drink. He never came back. Instead, he went to stand against a wall next to the bar. There’s a look of intense concentration on his face and I wonder if he’s remembering his own time in hell. I wonder if he wishes he was still an active SEAL, still in the Teams. I know, even as fit as he is, he couldn’t make an assault team, but still, they need commanders there, too. Like I said, JAG wasn’t what either of us originally signed on for. And as Mr. Nelson and three other men joined him, I suspected he would rather face an armed terrorist than be here, right now.
I look at the clock and sigh. It’s nearly 2030. I can leave soon without looking like a doofus.
***
It was good to see Gunnery Sergeant Galindez again. I envy him to some extent. He’s in the middle of the fight, doing what needs to be done. And for a change, most Americans respect and admire what he is doing. I wish I could be there, too. But I know I’m too old for the rigors of combat. On several levels I don’t feel it. But I’m smart enough to know that no matter how many miles a day I jog or how many laps I swim, I just don’t have what it takes anymore. Not for the day after day, week after week grind. I made my decision years ago to extend my career by getting out of the Teams and into JAG. Most days, I don’t regret my decision. I don’t waste time regretting decisions made years ago. Of course, that’s a lie.
I stand here and listen to Nelson pontificate on something that I have no interest in. I’m good at appearing to listen and not hear. Fortunately there are four of us trapped here with the SecNav so my mind and eyes can wonder as they please. I see Rabb fall under the spell of yet another blond. Poor dumb bastard, if he doesn’t watch out, he’ll end up like me. No. At least I had Marcella and I have Francesca.
Gunny looks like he’s ready to bolt. Don’t blame him in the least. Damn, these things are boring. At least Mac looks like she’s enjoying herself. Of course, she hasn’t noticed Rabb’s infatuation du jour. When is that boy going to get some sense? He could have her in a heartbeat. I don’t get it. If I had the courage I would make her mine. I had the chance – once. It would have been so easy and I knew it would have felt so good. Not just the sex, though I could have made her scream my name throughout the night. Experience does have something over youth. I suspect it would be good to just sit across from her, reading a book. Walking through the woods on a fall day, looking at the birds and small animals would be wonderful. Any number of ordinary things would be more interesting because she was there beside me.
But I won’t chance it. It’s too late now. Even if I thought she would want me after shooting her down with my pompous ‘you know what’s right, don’t you, colonel,’ speech or my handling of her Admiral’s Mast. No. Even if she were to transfer out of my command, the whispers would ruin us both. I can just hear the biddies at the Pentagon ‘oh they must have been doing it for years.’ I’d end up in court martial for punching one of them out. Besides. I know she wants kids. I see the way she holds her godson. At fifty-six there is no way I’m taking on changing diapers. Of course, it’s pompous of me to even think she might want me for anything more than a fling – if that anymore.
I doubt seriously that I will ever find a woman who will put up with me, or who won’t drive me to distraction. Young women bore me and women my own age bring too much baggage to the relationship, like drug dealing smart-assed kids or drunken soon-to-be ex-husbands. Take that woman talking to Mrs. Nelson and Mac. Damn, Mac is by far the prettiest woman in the room, but the way the light catches the highlights in the rich black hair is enticing. From across the room she appears younger than she probably is. Slender and fit, she looks like she's having a good time. Even from across the room I can see her eyes twinkle with mirth. Not a good sign to me. I hate these damn things. She says something and Mac throws back her head and laughs. I wonder what she said to bring such an unrestrained response from Mac.
“Excuse me for a moment, Mr. Secretary.”
***
“Oh my God! Miss Russell!” I gasp for breath. Darcy Russell is a hoot. I have no idea how old she is. Late forties? Early fifties? But I certainly hope in the twelve to fifteen years that pass before I’m her age that I can keep my sense of humor and my looks like she has. The joke is ribald and funny as hell and even though Mrs. Nelson is somewhat aghast at the punch line, I can’t help myself.
It’s been so long since I’ve had a really delicious laugh. Ever since Mic left there hasn’t been much to laugh about. Not that I miss Mic. Oh, I do miss him. I don’t like being alone and the truth of his words stung like hell at the time. But I didn’t love him. I wonder sometimes if I’ve ever loved anyone, but Harmon. And truth be told, even Harmon Rabb is beginning to dim in my esteem. The hard crystal certainty of my love for him has a few very tiny, yet noticeable cracks. Each unkind word, every look of abject disbelief at what I say or what I feel to be the truth undermines what I told Sturgis Turner.
I don’t know why I voiced my feelings to Sturgis. Perhaps, in an unconscious cry for him to do exactly what he did. Turner gets under my skin in a most profound way. It’s funny, but I’m beginning to feel the same way about the newest member of our little family the way I used to feel about Harm. I can and have thrown the most incredible ideas at Sturgis and while he doesn’t believe half of them, he will listen to my argument and usually reserve comment.
Did I use him to send a message to Rabb? Whatever I intended, once again, it didn’t work. But then, why would it? I’ve thrown myself at him in Australia. Hell, I threw myself at him at my engagement party. I stopped my damn wedding for him. And whatever psychic abilities I have, I used them to find him floating in the middle of the Atlantic. My actions pushed away a good decent man who finally had enough of my wishy-washy ways. I wonder idly if this half-baked plan is a last desperate plea to get him to notice me, or if I just want to have a little fun for once. After all, I’ve watched Harmon Rabb Jr. go through girlfriends like McDonalds goes through French fries. Why not have a little fun of my own?
“Well, I for one, could never have wanted the life you have, Darcy.” Mrs. Nelson’s words draw me back to the conversation. “If you keep putting yourself into harm's way like that, you are bound to get injured soon or later.”
Darcy Russell’s chuckle is low and sexy. Even to me. “Or killed, don’t you mean Mattie?” She sips her champagne and it occurs to me that she is exactly where she wants to be at this point in her life. “Do you know I’ve been in every single country in the world. Hell, I’ve been places that really can’t be considered countries.” She leans forward and her voice drops conspiratorially. “And I’ve had sex with some of the finest men on the planet.”
Mrs. Nelson sniffs disdainfully. “Yes, but will that keep you warm when you’re too old to go on assignment?”
“No dear, but then I don’t plan to be too old to go on assignment.” She lifts her glass in salute. “I figure I’ll die in some out of the way little bush war. Though I have to tell you, I’d rather it be in the arms of a nice 30 year-old stud muffin at the very height of a mind-blowing orgasm. Of course, that will be when I’m ninety.” Her laugh is infectious and I throw back my head and my answering laugh is extremely un-ladylike; forget being Marine-like.
Mrs. Nelson is completely shocked and dismayed and I suspect that she will tell her prig of a husband that Admiral Chegwidden’s Chief of Staff really has very little class. I give a shit. AJ is a big boy and makes his own mistakes. Just not with me. No, AJ is not the proper instrument for my little plan. I want to jerk Harm’s chain but I’m not ready to give up my career at JAG to do it. Besides, I really like and respect Chegwidden.
I pretend not to notice the blond zeroing in on our resident Don Juan. She’s beautiful; I’ll give her that. Prettier than Renee, younger too, I think. Maybe thirty, but there’s an air of determination about her. Well we’ll see about that, Sweetie.
I quickly look away so that if he looks to see my reaction he won’t even know that I saw anything. I find myself looking at Victor Galindez. What a really nice guy, he is. I remember fondly the time we spent on my TDY in Indonesia. I respect and admire him and truthfully, I lust after him. I’ve imagined what those arms would feel like around me. When I’ve used my vibrator at night I’ve even occasionally imagined it was he, instead of Harm. But for the same reason Chegwidden won’t do, neither will Galindez. Pity. I tear my gaze away from him in time to notice the Admiral making his way toward us. I bet he’s going to duck out early. He probably said goodnight to the SecNav and now he’s coming this way to pay his respects to his hostess.
“Mrs. Nelson. Colonel MacKenzie.” He looks expectantly at Darcy.
No one can be more courtly than AJ Chegwidden. His voice still stirs butterflies in my stomach. But ‘I do know what’s right,’ so I just smile in greeting and introduce Darcy.
“Darcy Russell, Admiral AJ Chegwidden; the Judge Advocate General of the Navy and my boss. Admiral, Miss Russell is a Time Magazine reporter at large.”
I immediately realize that AJ Chegwidden never intended to pay his respects and leave. I doubt seriously that he even realizes that Mrs. Nelson and I are still standing here. I feel like I am at the feet of the master as he begins a subtle, but full court press on Darcy. I wonder how many women have come up against him. I knew about Judge Delaney and felt for him after her murder. As to Dr. Walden, all I can say is, ‘what an idiot.’
There’s an immediate attraction between the two. I see the body language and wonder who will be the lead in this little dance. If I hadn’t met and talked to Darcy Russell I would never have dreamed that any woman could give AJ Chegwidden a run for his money, AND keep his interest. She still might scare him away because, three minutes, 37 seconds after being introduced, she is calling him on his take of her most recent assignment.
“No, I don’t think that national interests are served by ignoring the plight of women in Brunei, Admiral. I don’t think that we should support any country that kills women because they dare to think.”
I can tell that the Admiral is somewhat flustered, but intrigued. I exchange amused looks with Mrs. SecNav and just relax and watch this tennis match for a while. Personally, I agree with Darcy. Professionally, I see AJ’s point. Pragmatically, well pragmatically I wonder if they can get past their disagreement and move on.
My mind wanders and I let my eyes continue to survey the candidates. I know the Senator from Kentucky has been eyeing me ever since he entered the room with his wife. I also saw his wife giving Harm the once over. Oh, wouldn’t that be fun? The Senator and I having an extramarital affair while his wife and Harm are having a fling. The other possibility makes me blush to the roots of my hair and I wonder if they swing that way. Wouldn’t surprise me in the least. I’ve been in DC for six year now and nothing of a sexual nature, surprises me anymore. Disgust, yes, surprise, no. I look away and come face to face with the most logical and yet most surprising candidate for my little plan. Why the hell have I never thought of him before? I cannot keep the evil grin from quirking the corner of my lips and I see the brief, almost dumbfounded look on his face before he quickly regains control and turns away from me. Oh, this might very well be fun on so many levels.
***
I can’t believe the Intel we’ve received. Frankly, it’s just a rumor and a wild one at that. The information we have on Cougar is sketchy at best, except for the fact that he is one of the most successful free-lance assassins currently killing now. Hits in damn near every continent on the map and he’s credited with the overthrow of no less than three stable governments. In this day and age, we can’t afford to lose any allies. Even small countries can be used as bases of operations by our ground and air forces.
According to our source, such that it is, Cougar will be here today to make contact with a deep cover agent. Terrific! Like I’m that psychic on those late night television ads and I can scope out which one of the thirty or so people here are killers or traitors. Oh well, I’ve made notes on my little PDA as to every single person here. I’ve got men making lists of every maid, waiter, carhop and anyone else that has been to the SecNav’s house in the past twelve hours. I can make my exit just like I made my entrance, completely unnoticed. That’s one of the great things about showing up at all these damn functions. No one is ever surprised to see me. I’ve spoken, perhaps three or four words to each of a dozen people and stayed away from a few.
Rabb stopped and passed the time for a moment. AJ glared at me but kept walking. Frankly, today I’m pretty sure I don’t need to worry about the folks from JAG. Troublemaker though Rabb can be, I really don’t see him as a turncoat. AJ? Never in a million years. Galindez? From what I hear, he’s due to ship out in a few days. The rest? We’ll see. Shit. The next couple of weeks will be fun. I can’t wait for the first phone call from some senator wanting to know why the CIA is asking questions about him. As to Cougar’s target? Christ! Who could it be? Are they here today? Or is Cougar just getting ready, lining up his team? Or, lining up his patsy. I’m getting a headache. I shouldn’t, but I order a scotch rocks and sip it carefully, wanted to toss it back and then order another.
I take a moment to look at all the people again. Is it the attaché from Pakistan? The reporter from Reuters? Oh hell, if the agent is deep cover, it could be the wife of the Senator from Kentucky. She’s originally from Boston and a much better family. The word on the hill is that she is bored with her husband and likes to experiment. I shudder at the possibilities there. This has all the makings of a monumental cock up and in the end, I don’t know if I can keep the target from being killed. All the intel we have on Cougar says he has a 100% kill record. But from everything we know, this is the first time he’s ever been contracted for a hit on US soil. The FBI and the CIA are working closely on this one as mandated by the new Homeland Security Secretary. I take another, longer sip on my drink and inwardly sigh. I wonder if I’ll ever take a vacation again.
I heard the laugh float across the room and for a while I study the group standing almost in the center of the room. I see AJ approach Darcy Russell and bite my lips to keep from laughing out loud. Oh man. Darcy will eat the former SEAL alive. I have little doubt of that.
I like Darcy, a lot. We had one long weekend together in Russia three years ago and trust me on this; I would welcome a rematch. Damn, even though she’s ten years older than I am, her stamina is incredible. Her appetite is insatiable. And her loyalty to her country is unquestioned. She’s helped us a couple of times, though not without reservations. Her movements and background have been so thoroughly checked I could hire her tomorrow with top security clearances already in place. That’s not to say that her politics don’t leave something to be desired. When it comes to human rights and women’s issues, there is no more outspoken proponent for withholding aid to our allies until they at least talk about their un-American viewpoints on the treatment of women than Darcy Russell.
I just shake my head as I see her lay into AJ who is getting madder by the moment. But I also notice that his pants are fitting just a little tighter, too. Well, maybe I won’t consider that rematch for awhile. I just hope that the room they finally end up in is lined in lead because the fall-out will be nuclear. Mrs. Nelson is getting more and more worried, but Mac…Mac is looking right at…me. What the hell is that smirk for? Now what does JAG want from me?
***
This is going to be so much easier than I thought. My contact is an idiot, but I can manage. The code name Methos is childish but the access is needed. As to my dupe? I will have fun this mission. Once I take care of the one person who might recognize me. And if that supercilious little ass of a CIA operative gets in my way, I’ll kill him, too.
.
Chapter 2
How did it happen?
Monday, 26 May
Felix Lounge
18th St. NW
0023 Hours
I must be out of my mind. I can’t believe I suggested this. I can’t believe that so many agreed to it. But most surprising of all, AJ agreed to it. I wonder if he had a clue of what he was getting into. I doubt it. I really feel sorry for poor Commander Rabb and Gunnery Sergeant Galindez. He left them little opportunity to back out. I suspect he thought he would be the only guy in uniform. Well, he is the highest-ranking officer here, but so what! Thank God they’re playing a mix of music tonight. He didn’t look comfortable until they put on Sinatra.
But I’ll give him this. He’s been game throughout the evening. We ‘Twisted the Night Away’ and we even Salsa’d to Gloria Estefan. He must really want to get into my pants. Of course, after Sinatra singing ‘Body and Soul,’ I just might want that, too. His hand on my back seemed to leave an imprint and I’m not talking about a sweaty palm here. His eyes are like coffee, just the way I like it – dark and hot.
He’s a very good dancer, but I know it’s hopeless. The man is a political Neanderthal. His concession to women’s rights are probably all political. And, the fact that he’s 56 and unattached…okay, that’s a lousy excuse….I’m 51 and I’ve never been married. But still. Oh hell, those eyes and that chest. And don’t get me started on his ass. When we changed partners with Clay and Mac during a tango, I got an eyeful when he dipped her at the end. Oh, yes. The man definitely has possibilities. At least until my next assignment comes through. The States are nice, but I haven’t spent much time here during the last twenty years. I want to be where the action is. Give me strife and ethnic cleansing in Albania anytime over the political shenanigans of Congress.
“I really thought your article about the political upheavals in the new homelands of southern Africa to be most insightful, Miss Russell.”
I turn my gaze to Helene Masters and manage to keep my surprise at bay. Nice enough young woman, but strictly Junior League. Of course, what can you say but “Thank you.” I don’t really want to talk about Africa right now. I brutally push down the reason I'm here in the US at all. Time for that later. I want another drink. I want to forget why…“I’m sorry Helene, what is it you do?” Her smile is bright and as she begins to go into details, the last several hours play out in my head.
When Nelson’s party was winding down, I knew I was faced with returning to my hotel and very dark thoughts. I don't know what made me do it, but I quickly threw out, “Hey, the night’s young, tomorrow is a holiday. Who’s up for a little clubbing?”
Chegwidden had looked at me like I had two heads, but MacKenzie had piped right up. “Oh! That sounds like a grand idea. Excuse me for a moment.” She moved past AJ and made her way over to where Clayton Webb stood – alone.
I had noticed him, of course. But it never occurred to me to approach him. I figured if he wanted to renew the acquaintance he would have come to me. I'm not really sure that I want to revisit making love with Clayton Webb. He’s a little too intense for my tastes. Of course, he was completely focused on pleasing me in Russia that one weekend several years ago. I like that in a man. Lord, he has a talented tongue.
When Mac approached him I noted the pained surprise followed by a look that could almost be considered dumbfounded. I watched his Adam’s apple bob and his eyes widen. I followed his gaze when he looked away from her and found he was looking at Commander Rabb who didn’t seem to notice what was going on – then. At the time he was too engrossed in Miss Masters. Now, he’s obviously torn between the two women. Oh Mac, it’s a dangerous game you’re playing. Webb has gotten over his surprise and I can see the anger building in him. If you think you’re being subtle in the way you keep looking over at Rabb to judge his reaction, you’re wrong. Or, maybe I’m just used to seeing things quicker than other people – just like Webb is.
AJ is returning from the men’s room and there is a look of determination there. A look that says I’ve had enough, we’re going now. He has that predatory look about him that says I want you in my bed tonight. I know that he will be a good lover, exploring every inch of me, making me scream. He will delve into every crevice and we will exchange…oh shit, shit, shit. What the FUCK was I thinking? It was so nice to pretend for a while.
***
Why can’t I get away from these people? Why did the Admiral almost
order me to come with? I’m so out of place here that it makes the
SecNav’s living room look like home. This isn’t my scene, though I managed
to dance with each of the women without making too big a fool out of myself.
And, it did feel good to hold Mac in my arms but now its going to be even
worse when I think about her. Miss Russell is a troublemaker.
And the Admiral is eating it up. Miss Masters – Helene – seems nice
enough, but she only has eyes for Commander Rabb. Of course, ever
since the Commander discovered that Mac was dragging Mr. Webb along with
us you could cut the tension with a knife. I don’t think I’ve ever
seen Webb look so flabbergasted and if I’m not mistaken, furious.
I catch the look Helene is giving me. Rabb must have gone to the john or something. Hell, maybe I’ll end up taking her home. Of course, it might be after a trip to the hospital. I heard about the fight that Rabb and Brumby had in Australia after they broke Lieutenant Robert’s jaw. As angry as Rabb has looked all night, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t attack Webb. “Would you care to dance, Helene?”
“Oh yes, that would be nice.”
Webb’s bow tie is loose; the ends rest on his chest. His tuxedo jacket still looks crisp and clean. I think it was Mac who once told me he and his mother danced a mean tango. Well, I’ll tell you this. I’d pay money to him for lessons. He and Mac have danced to every era of music that the DJ has thrown out. But it’s funny it doesn’t really look like they’re having that good a time. It’s more like a pissing contest between the two of them. While she and Rabb danced one dance and I had mine, and even the Admiral did a slow tango with her, while Webb danced with Miss Russell, he hasn’t let her sit one out.
The dance floor was fairly crowded, but from our table only Mac and Webb and the Admiral and Miss Russell attempted ‘Jumpin’ Jive’ by some band that Helene told me was called ‘Big Bad Voodoo Daddy,’ for Christ sake. Miss Russell looked rather disappointed in the Admiral’s conservative style, but they didn’t last long. Half way through the number most everyone stopped to circle Mac and Webb. Damnation, you would have thought they had danced together for years. The way he tossed her in that tight fitting dress, I half expected to see some serious skin. When it was over you could have felt her fury across the dance floor. She glared at him and stomped off to the ladies’ room, and not to fix her hair, either. She must have made some kind of decision while she was in there, because when she came out she had a mean little smile on her face and that’s when things really began to heat up between the two of them.
Helene and I dance a slow number, even though her eyes followed Rabb when he returned to the table. Rabb isn’t looking at her at all. Mac and Webb are moving around the dance floor with us, about three couples away and I sense something is going on between them. Damn, I’m tired. It was a long flight in from Germany. I’m outa here. Thank God, the Admiral is coming back to the table. When the number is over I lead Helene back to her date. After making sure that Rabb at least smiles at her, I look at my former CO. “Uhm…Admiral, sir?
“Yes, Gunny?” He tears his eyes away from Miss Russell.
“Uhm…if you don’t mind, sir. I’ve had a really great time, but, I promised my mother I would meet her in the morning for breakfast.” I hadn’t, but it could easily be the truth.
“Excellent, idea.” He seems almost relieved. “May I escort you home, Miss Russell?”
Wow! He, too, must have made a decision in the men’s room because he's just basically laid it in her lap. ‘Now or never, toots.’ Miss Russell looks incredulous and I can see she wants to argue. I’m kind of surprised at her decision, though. “Ah…no thank you…though I will come outside with you. There’s a couple of other clubs I want to check out before I turn in.”
I’m surprised and he’s surprised. Miss Russell looks at Rabb, her eyebrow raised in question.
“Please Harm.” Helene says and he finally really looks at her. “Yeah, sure. Why not? You want to go now. I don’t think Colonel MacKenzie and Webb are quite ready yet.” There’s a strained bitter note to his voice and the whole table turns to look and we stand there a little overwhelmed. There on the dance floor, in front of God and Commander Harmon Rabb Jr., they stand, barely. That’s not kissing. That’s making love. Her hands rest on his chest and his hands are holding her lightly at the waist. But their lips are fused and you really can’t tell were Webb ends and Mac begins. Hell, my cock twitches just from watching them. I’m not sure exactly what Mac had planned, but I’m bettin’ money when she dragged Mr. Webb here it wasn’t to have that kiss. I think I hear one or maybe several women in the room sigh. Rabb stands up quickly and offers Helene his hand.
“Come on. Let’s see what else DC has to offer.”
***
When he breaks the kiss I’m not sure I can stand on my own feet.
What have I done?
I knew he was surprised when I approached him at Nelson’s house. I figured if he had been on assignment he would have made sure we were introduced to his undercover personae. When I asked him to join us, he looked so surprised – for about 3.5 seconds. I didn’t expect him to figure it out so soon. Like almost immediately. He looked behind me to where I knew Rabb was standing. Well, I had expected it. In fact, I was ready for it. “Oh come on, Webb. It’s just a night of dancing. I’m not proposing marriage here.”
I could see he wanted to say something spiteful and he would get in a few choice words as the evening wore on. I just didn’t expect him to be so cruel about it, nasty even. Right up to the very end. Right until our lips met. Jesus! What was that?
He insisted on driving me to the club in his Mercedes. He asked a few pointed questions. “I didn’t know you were into the club scene, Mac.”
“Haven’t had a lot of chance, Clay.” His first name sounded funny on my lips. I met Clay the same day I met Harm and Bud Roberts, but I find it difficult to say his first name. I planned on initiating a…a what? A relationship? A fling? A God Damn one-night stand? And I can’t say his first name. I’m planning on using him to make Rabb jealous. How fucking god damn high school. Well I guess the best laid – or even the stupidest laid – plans of mice and men run amok.
Mr. Webb had other ideas. I swear to God, I had no idea he could be so cruel and so gentle at the same time. Between nearly killing me by making me dance every single dance he kept up an insistent patter. ‘Oh yeah, he’s looking this way. He looks really mad now. You think he’ll break my nose again? If he does, I’ll send you the surgeon’s bill this time.’ All the while he was seducing me. His hands roamed over me. To anyone watching we were just dancing, but his fingers caressed my skin. I swear his breath against my neck and shoulder was like wet kisses. And when he dragged me out to the dance floor for the tango, he made sure to rub my mound with his thigh every chance he could – before I found myself in the Admiral’s arms and Webb danced away with Darcy, his smirk firmly in place. The swing number was like a night of pounding, yet frustrating sex. I had to leave the dance floor. I had to escape the intensity of his furious passion.
I readjusted my dress. I thought he was going to tear it off of me as he rolled me across his back. That move got a fucking ovation from the crowd. The Admiral stood there in shock. Darcy kept looking at Clay in wonder and something else. Shit. I figured after that little greeting between them at Nelson’s house, she had been with him. But damn, I would swear she wants him again. That was a knowing smile on her face. As I glared at myself in the mirror, I dabbed at the sweat on my brow. And made a decision. We would see who would back down first. He thinks I’m using him – okay, so maybe I am. What the fuck does he want? Hearts and flowers? I don’t think so. But he made a promise with the tango and it’s been a real long dry spell. This is what I wanted, wasn’t it? Wanted a fling with no commitments and maybe a little wake up call to Mr. Non-Commitment. Well, alrighty then.
The kiss changed everything. Now I know there is no way I’m proceeding with this. I have to get away from him. Obsessing about Rabb is bad enough. I sure don’t need this kind of intensity. Children remember, be careful what you wish for.
I look away from him, trying desperately to catch my breath and some semblance of control. I see that everyone is leaving. Harm is carefully keeping his eyes on the blond bimbo. Well Sarah, that was especially catty. Like you’ve acted so honorably and above board tonight. “Come on. Everyone’s leaving.” I manage with as calm a voice as I can.
* * *
I swear that when she crossed the Nelsons’ living room, I thought she
was going to ask me for help with something. I guess, in a way, she
did. Frankly, I’m kind of surprised she hadn’t tried this ploy before.
I know she’s in love with him. I know he’s a complete idiot.
But I don’t need this shit. Not now. I should have looked her right
in the eye and told her in no uncertain terms to fuck off. But believe
it or not, I’m too much of a gentleman to do that. Okay, so even
I couldn’t get that out with a straight face, but something about her not-very
subtle plan intrigued me. Besides, I wanted to talk to Darcy again.
Why pass up a chance to jerk Rabb’s chain? But Lieutenant Colonel
MacKenzie had another thought coming if she thought she was staying in
charge of this little game. Games are what I excel in.
So we walked over to the group and I decided that if I were going to play this little game, I would fuck with AJ’s mind too. Taking Darcy’s hands in mine, I raised them to my lips, turned them palms up and gently bit the ball of each. If I expected anything verbal out of AJ, I was disappointed. Darcy just laughed, pulled her hands away and then hugged me tightly.
“How have you been, Spooky?” She grinned, letting everyone know that she knew who I was. Fortunately, Rabb hadn’t walked up yet with the blond. Though how Darcy was sure that they knew I was CIA is beyond me. Darcy has some interesting sources and a photographic mind that stores intel better than a NSA computer.
“Hey, do I look like that character on the X-Files?” I retort.
“Nah. He’s a lot better looking.”
“Yeah, but from what I hear, he really has the hots for Skinner, not Scully.”
That drew a deep chuckle from her and stares of disbelief from everyone else. Just then, Rabb and what’s her name came up. Lord, where does he find them? Though, from what I saw she was the one to make the first move. She seems nice enough but I was so busy keeping Mac in line, I never got to talk to her.
During the ride over I finalized my plan of action. Hell, why not? It’s not like I have a lot of free time on my hands. Besides, Mac is a complete knock out. And I admit I’ve often wondered what she would be like in bed.
I should have left the scotch alone. I wasn’t drunk by any means, but I let my guard down a little too much and I let her get to me. I never missed an opportunity to point out that Rabb was watching. I could see I overplayed my hand but…like I said, I should have left the scotch alone. I took a breather and went to the men’s room. When I came back out I saw her dancing with Galindez and a sharp unfamiliar jab in my gut shook me. I fought it down and waited for the dance to end. As I stood on the sidelines, I noticed my fists were clenching compulsively. We danced a slow dance, but she pretty much wouldn’t look at me after I told her I would send her the doctor’s bill if Rabb broke my nose.
During a tango, I began my seduction. I would hold her just right and press against the triangle where her legs met. The first time I did it, I got a hiss of surprise; the second time I was rewarded with a low moan. I was disappointed and glad at the same time when we bumped into AJ and Darcy and without a word, changed partners. Darcy quietly asked me, “What the fuck is going on?”
I didn’t want to articulate it for fear of how it would actually sound out loud, so I dipped her low and smiled at her. “And tell me, Miss Russell, how long are you here in DC?”
As I righted her, she blushed and pouted. “Fine, don’t tell me. Just because I’ve taken a job with the National Enquirer and want to put you all on the front page.”
One of the things that drew me to Darcy in the first place was her smart mouth. I can’t imagine AJ will put up with it for long.
At the end of our dance I remembered I had to check in with Cramer in the lab, so I excused myself yet again. When I left, Mac was dancing with AJ again; Darcy was with Galindez. When I returned, Darcy was seated at the table and Mac was in Rabb’s arms. Funny, that twisting in my gut when she was in Galindez’s and even AJ’s arms wasn’t there. Maybe the shared look of anger that was passing between them cooled the green-eyed monster. Maybe, I realized how hopeless it was. Regardless, the next dance was the swing dance and my grin must have given something away. I know Rabb and Mac think I’m this mama’s boy who does classic dances at embassy functions, but I’ve dated any number of interesting women, and one of them loved to dance swing. So I learned. It isn’t hard, but I don’t usually go to the gym the next day.
I was really surprised that Mac did as well as she did. She kept up with me and managed the twirls and the spins and boogied back to me when it was called for. Shit, I don’t know. Maybe Brumby was good for something after all. I do know when I tossed her in the air and then threw under between my legs and twisted around, her dress hiked up to where the entire audience got a glimpse of her garter belt. Her face was flushed and I’m sure she was glad she didn’t have long hair. I should have eased up then, but I coaxed her into a back roll and the whole place went up for grabs. I thought she would get a kick out of it, but the look on her face promised revenge. I just didn’t realize how she would go about doing it.
I had pretty much reached the end of my endurance when the DJ put on Etta James. I love Etta James. Her voice is raw and out there and you can hear the promise and the heartbreak. I should have left the dance floor as soon as I recognized the lush violin strains. As the first words of ‘At Last’ began, Mac melted into my arms. She embraced me with her hands resting on my hips, her lips against my neck. She rubbed herself against me and all the summoning of budget reports and case files couldn’t keep my cock from acknowledging her. We made slow steady love in the middle of some of the most powerful people in DC, fully clothed. I could hear her breath begin to come in slow, soft pants. Her heartbeat matched mine and as the song came to an end, I pulled back and stared into her eyes. I couldn’t help it. I moved my lips across hers and without any urging, she opened her mouth to me.
Time stood still and so did we. It was every fucking cliché ever written and thankfully, when the last notes faded away, I came to my senses – a little. I pulled back to see the effect on her. Abject fear widened her eyes. She gulped and the game wasn’t a game any more. She looked toward Rabb, of course, and then managed to finish shattering the mood. “Come on. Everyone’s leaving.”
***
Darcy Russell is a funny, exciting, beautiful woman – about as politically
far away from me as the moon is from the earth. I would take her
to my bed in a heartbeat if that’s all she wants and I suspect that it
is. But I’ve had enough for one evening. She’s shown no signs
of wanting to stop, but she has shown some interest in me. Her hand
has, accidentally I’m sure, brushed against my cock several times this
evening. Her persistence is admirable and from the way Webb looked
at her, she's probably a tiger in bed. I like to make tigers purr.
But if we don’t leave soon, I’m going to be no good to either of us.
I’m surprised and a little troubled by her rejection. But I’ll live. I am a little curious why she changed her mind all of a sudden, but I see regret, resolve and anger in her eyes. Oh well, there are women who tease, but when it comes down to it, that’s all they are. She didn’t strike me that way earlier. It’s almost like she remembered something or someone said something to her. About me? What? Who?
At Rabb’s petulant words I turn and I see as an erotic act as I’ve ever seen in public. Who would have thought that Mac and Webb would kiss like that – together? I almost expected one of them to cry out in release. I look around the room, but I don’t see anyone who knows her so I won’t have say anything to her about inappropriate public displays. Ought to make Tuesday at headquarters interesting. Maybe we’ll get lucky and I can send one of them to Finland for a month. I wonder who will jump at the chance? From Mac’s look when they come up for air, it will be her. I’ve never seen her with such a panicked look on her face before. Could this night get any worse?
“Well, if you’re sure, Miss Russell, I’ll hail you a cab.” I glance down and see the pain flit across her face and almost say something, but as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared again.
Mac and Webb walk up and Mac breathlessly asks. “Where’s everyone going?”
Since Rabb won’t even look at her, I speak up. “Well it seems the party is breaking up. Sergeant Galindez is heading back to his hotel. I’m heading home and Miss Russell, Commander Rabb and Miss Masters have decided to go on to another club.”
“Oh.” She bites her lower lip unsure of what to say or do. Webb shakes himself like he's finally waking up from a stupor and looks curiously, first, at Miss Russell and then at me. My glare is sufficient to deflect any questions from that quarter.
“Well, Sarah?” Even I can hear the caress in his voice. Rabb is so rigid that if she touched him, Miss Masters would push him over. I don’t know what Mac’s game is, but after a brief glance at her partner, her faces hardens with resolve.
“Would you mind driving me home, Clay?” Her purr is pure sex and it's almost interesting to watch the emotions play across Rabb’s face. If he said something right now, she just might call her game off. But when Webb places his hand on her elbow, she doesn’t flinch away.
“Sure.”
Rabb takes the point and practically runs Miss Masters out the door. Galindez starts after him, but Miss Russell puts her hand on his arm and with a look of surprise, he waits and with more chivalry than I feel, takes her arm in his. A look of bewilderment suffuses his face. Clay and Mac follow him and I bring up the rear. I realize I’m stuck with the check but hell, I suspect I got off easy.
I’m just exiting the door and they’re all milling around. All but Mac and Webb who are already halfway down the block. Miss Russell turns from Galindez to me with a sad smile and starts to say something when a startled shout rents the air.
“GUN! GET DOWN!”
The rest of what Webb is saying is lost in squealing tires and a hail of bullets. I dive for her and push her down, but a hot sting of pain rips at my arm. Screams and yells fill the air.
And as quickly as it starts, it stops. I roll off her and I see the blood. It’s everywhere.
“Gunny!” Rabb’s voice is full of panic. But I don’t look up.
There’s blood oozing from the exit wound in her shoulder. There’s blood everywhere. The white dress that I admired so much is now blood red. I rip off my coat and then my shirt. I press it into her side. “Hang on, darlin’. Don’t you dare close your eyes on me, Darcy Russell.”
“Jesus H. Christ. What the…” Clay kneels next to me. “Darcy? Honey? Oh Jesus.” He presses his fingers into the wounds on her shoulder. There are two there. I couldn’t tell before. “Stay with us, Darcy.” He looks up and yells. “Mac!”
“I’m on it.” She’s panting heavily, but is in complete control. “The cops are…there they are now. The ambulance should be here soon. GWU isn’t that far away.” I hear the sirens and look back down at Darcy. Her mouth is moving and Clay and I get closer to hear her.
“Warn…” She coughs.
“Warn who, sweetheart?” Clay whispers.
“HIV. I might…” She coughs again and looks right at me. “Sorry, AJ. It would have been grand.” She closes her eyes and passes out.
The ambulance is there in minutes. I loose count of the number of cop cars. The first one on the scene sees my stars and radios in that a possible terrorist attack has occurred. I could strangle the man. But you never know these days. I’ve got plenty of enemies. We stand together and watch the medics work on Darcy and Gunny. Darcy looked bad. Gunny looked worse. Mac is crying and I go to her. She’s clutching at me when a cop in a white shirt and captain’s pips, comes up. “Which one of you killed the bastard?”
Mac and I look over at Webb who shrugs in resignation. “I did,
Captain. But two more got away.”
Chapter 3
Memorial Day
How the hell could they have so fucked up a simple assignment? It just goes to show, if you want something done, do it yourself. It would have been harder, but in the long run less messy and less dangerous. Now there’s a chance they'll figure it out. I’ll have to finish the job myself. Of course it helps that they have no idea who the real target was. I may have to kill several more to muddy the issue. Oh well.
Monday, 26 May
GW University Hospital ICU
1400 Hours
I’m so exhausted I can’t see straight. I sit in this small, white plastic chair and I think my butt has fused to it. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t go home, but I sit here, unable to move.
Flashes of memories threatened to overwhelm me. We had been walking toward his car when I felt him stiffen. “Gun! Get down!” Concrete bit into my knees. His body covered mine. His gun almost caressed my face as he brought it up. I heard gunshots, both far away and deafeningly near. Then silence. He pulled me up and pressed a cell phone into my hands before running back to the dance club. He knew I wasn’t hurt and he trusted me to do what needed to be done. I called 911, gave my name and rank and then gave the address of the shooting. The whole time I was talking, I slowly and fearfully walked back to them.
I’m almost weak with relief when Harm stands up and helps Helene to her feet. People are starting to come out of the dance club and mill around, but I don’t see anyone else standing. As I move past the last parked car, I see why. The Admiral and Clay are working on Darcy. Helene is standing over Rabb who is kneeling next to Gunny.
Gunny. Dear God, they put out a call for his blood type almost immediately. Bud Roberts, Tiner, Singer, Turner, even Bobbi Latham have all come in and donated blood. I’m not the same type as Gunny. But I am the same as Darcy, as is Clay and AJ. We’ve all been down on the table. Donuts and orange juice. Candy bars and coffee. I’m shaking here.
I don’t remember when he gave me his coat. I absently pick at a spot on the front until I remember it’s Darcy’s blood.
“Mac, why don’t you go home?” Harm is standing over me and I look up, too tired to keep the hard-edged anger from my voice.
“No.”
“No?”
There’s shock and aggravation in his voice. Tough shit. Gunny is still on the operating table. His mother and sisters just went downstairs for a cup of coffee and a change of scene and I promised them I would wait here. “No.” I repeat and I guess he sees something that makes arguing useless. Good. He turns away and I hear him talking quietly to Roberts.
“Sure, sir. I can do that.” They walk away and I don’t hear anything else that is being said until the end. “I can have Lieutenant Singer do it. She’s been wanting to do something all day long, anyway.”
I’m not sure what Singer is going to do but I don’t care.
Helene Masters, damn her, has been calm, helpful and hasn’t let Harm out of her sight if she can help it. When Mrs. Galindez arrived with the girls, she said just the right things and stayed out of the way unless she could get coffee or just sit with them. She and Clay had been the only two to get a good look at the shooters. Harm said he had been turned, and was looking at her when everything went down. Evidently, the Admiral had just come out of the club and his eyes were still adjusting to the light. I had been in such a weird funk that my eyes had been fixed on the ground in front of me.
“Harm, I better go and get something to change into. You want me to do anything?” I look up at her sweet perky voice and want to vomit. He’s got that same goofy look he gets every time he meets a new ‘love of his life.’ Why the hell can’t he look at me that way?
“Uhm…no…not that I can think of…but thanks…you know…for asking.”
Sheesh. I look away and wish I could stop hearing, too. I don’t have to see or hear to know that she kissed him quickly on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?”
“Uhm…well…I…uh…don’t know if I’ll still be here.”
“Sure you will.” She noisily stabs at the elevator. “I’ll be back.”
I pull Clay’s tux jacket around me and feel rather than see Harm sit across from me. “You okay?”
It’s a particularly stupid remark, even for Harm. Then I realize there’s little else he can say. “Yeah. Just tired.”
“Well, why don’t you…?” My glare stops him and he frowns and then stands back up. God, if he’s going to start pacing again I may kill him. Kill him. Kill him. How often do we say that about people who annoy us? I could never kill him. I love him. I do love him. I just don’t want him around me right now and I don’t know why. He walks down the hall and by the time he walks back to where I was sitting, I’m up and going in the other direction.
Clay took over one of the empty ICU rooms, pulled the drapes and has been on his cell phone for so long that he had to call on the landline for a new battery. An Army Ranger stands outside the room, a rifle in his hand. There are guards at the elevator downstairs and guards outside of both operating rooms. CIA, FBI and DCPD have been in and out of that room all day long. I look at the double doors leading to the operating arenas and through the glass window, I see the Admiral standing ramrod straight outside one of them. No one dared to try keeping him away. Which is kind of funny when I remember they weren’t even going home together. I wonder what happened between them. But after the emergency room docs dug the bullet out of the fleshy part of his arm, patched him and fussed when he refused the pain shot, he marched up here and planted himself outside her operating room.
It doesn’t look good for her. It looks worse for Gunny. I’m leaning against the wall across from the nursing station. I hear someone answer a phone and look up. A nurse, whose name I should know, listens for a long while before hanging up without saying a word. She picks it up again and dials a number. It’s so damn quiet up here I clearly hear her lowered voice. “Yes, it’s Jeanne at the desk. We just got the call from the testing clinic Mr. Webb’s people tracked down. She’s clean as far as they can tell from their tests. No sign of HIV, though she tested positive for Coxiella burnetii but no apparent signs of Q-fever. Considering the time Mr. Webb says she was in Africa, she’s lucky if that’s all she has.” She listened and then shrugged before answering. “I don’t know and neither does Mr. Webb. They’re sending over the full report by e-mail in twenty minutes. How’s Miss Russell doing?”
When Jeanne looks up, she’s smiling. “Would you like to tell Mr. Webb that they’re finishing up on her right now?”
I push off the wall. “Sure. But, what about Gunnery Sergeant Galindez?” Her face falls and I feel faint.
“I’m sorry, we still don’t have any word.”
I start to move toward the command center when the elevators ding and I look around to see Mrs. Galindez and three of Victor’s sisters. Mrs. Galindez brings me a covered cardboard container. “Soup. It’s hot. You should eat something.” I smile my thanks and walk to the situation room.
The Ranger learned the hard way not to try and stop me. Not one of my finest hours and Clay snapped at me for it. “He’s doing his job, Mac. He doesn’t need your bullshit.”
He’s right of course, but still, the poor guy just steps aside.
***
I don’t believe in coincidences. It had to be Cougar. Who
else? Why there? I wish to hell it was just a drive by.
In Tel Aviv it might have been. Especially since the shooter I took
out was an Arab dry cleaner who had been in this country for nearly 15
years. Was he a sleeper agent? Or just a dupe who was coerced?
It'll take weeks to track down every detail of this guy’s life. We’ll
have to put agents in his home country in peril – whichever one it was
– to check him out on that end.
I don’t believe in ethic profiling. I can’t afford to. It’s too easy and it’s too dangerous. Do we start arresting every damn Mic from South Boston every time the IRA makes a threat? But Hajjaj Samham will have Congress in an uproar and probably foster violence against innocent people, including MY dry cleaner.
I’ve set everything in motion that I can. There’s little else I can do and I stare longingly at the cluttered bed holding papers, important and crumpled, a spare cell phone AND another spare battery. I can’t imagine what life was like before cell phones. I’ve never been without one.
Kennedy better get here soon with my clothes. About two hours ago, I realized the sour smell I was wrinkling my nose at was me. I almost considered asking for a pair of surgical scrubs, but after I made the phone call asking my assistant to go grab some stuff from my place, I got busy. I haven’t even been able to walk down the hall and check on Darcy and Galindez. The last Mac told me, two hours ago, was that they were both still in surgery.
I’m sprawled out in the most comfortable chair they could find for me. It’s slightly less accommodating that the rigid chairs we have in our waiting room at Langley. My back will kill me in the…morning…afternoon…wheneverthefuck I finally make it home. I start to stand and stretch when the door opens and she's standing there, a container of something in her hand. Damn, she’s a mess and she’s still beautiful.
“Hi.”
“Hi?” Brilliant conversation is beyond me now.
“The nurse…out there…said to tell you.” Her voice trails off and she looks confused for a moment.
Oh, we’re a great pair we are. I wait expectantly, wondering if I’m going to have to go find out for myself what the nurse said and just what is Mac going to do with the stuff in the container?
She shakes her head and starts to continue, but a yawn sneaks up on her. “Oh. Sorry. Where was I?”
“Nurse? Tell me something?” Keep it simple.
“Oh yeah. Darcy. They’re almost done.”
“Galindez?”
She shakes her head, but seems pleased that I would ask. What kind of troll does she think I am? Remembering the container, she holds it out to me. “Soup. It’s hot. You should eat something.” She yawns again and I start to suggest she go home. But I remember her tirade a couple of hours ago when Commander Turner suggested he drive her home. Bobbi Latham looked like she was going to take umbrage, but Harm stepped in and defused the situation. I take the container and pry open the lid. At least it's hot. It smells edible. She pulls the cellophane off the spoon and hands it to me. It is good. I look at her expectantly.
“You?”
“What?”
“Eat? Have you eaten?”
“No. But that’s okay. I’m not hungry.” She does look positively sick at the thought of food so I don’t press it and take another bite. In my line of work I’ve learned to sleep when I can and eat when it’s offered. Just then, there’s a knock at the door. “Yeah!”
Charlie Kennedy, former line backer for Clemson and one of the smartest assistants I’ve ever had, steps inside, nods to Mac and puts the case on the floor next to the bed. He glares at me. “Boss said to get your ass home to bed.”
“Yeah, yeah. That the clothes I asked you to get?”
“Of course.” He glances over at Mac and starts to say something but doesn’t. “I’ll be down the hall, if you need me.” And leaves. Charlie knows when to push and knows when to shut up.
I use my foot to push the bag toward her. “Help yourself.”
She looks bewildered. “Huh?”
“Mac, you’re only a couple inches shorter than I am. I had Kennedy grab extra sweats. I’m sorry but I don’t usually keep women’s underwear around, but if you want, grab a shower. It will make you feel better.” I nod toward the door.
For a moment I think she just might cry which would really be weird. I’ve never seen her cry. But she steadies herself and nods. “Thanks, Clay. That was really sweet.” She crouches down and opens the case. Kennedy, bless him, also packed two pairs of tennis shoes. They’ll probably be too big, but since we arrived at the hospital, I don’t think I’ve seen her in her heels. I wonder if she remembers where she kicked them off. I’ll wait until she’s in the shower and have Charlie look for them.
I gulp down the rest of the soup and stand. I toss the empty container and decide I better check outside. Just as I open the door I hear the shower start in the bathroom and push the thought of her under the pounding water out of my mind. The kiss on the dance floor was a dream in another lifetime.
As I step outside I can see the doors from the operating arenas slam open and they are pushing Darcy down to a recovery room. AJ looks ten years old than he really is. I still wonder why he hasn’t left. I wonder if the ambulance attendant, the one who cracked wise with him about riding in the back with her, is breathing properly again. It took Rabb and me to pull him off the poor son-of-a-bitch, but in the end AJ rode in back with her.
***
Everyone dies alone.
I’ve watched too many people die. I’ve known and respected Victor Galindez for almost four years. He's a good man, a good Marine who has faced death in the protection of his country and the protection of an old man in the middle of the New Mexico desert. He doesn’t deserve to die outside a dance club on the streets of Washington, DC.
I only met her a day ago. But in that short time I recognized her lust for life. She, too, has faced death doing her job. I doubt that she ever expected to die at home. I told Laura Delaney’s husband that we all die alone. In that moment that I held Darcy Russell, my wadded up shirt pressed into her side not doing a damn thing to stop the flow of blood, I decided to prove myself a liar.
I held her hand all the way to the hospital, ignoring the medic’s threats of a lawsuit. Never get between a SEAL and his mission, son. Fortunately, I know Dr. Martinez. He was waiting for us at the emergency room entrance. He took one look at Galindez and had his team working on him as they whisked him up here. He swore this kid that’s working on Darcy is one of the best. “But AJ, your boy needs me more.” Danny Martinez was a wet-behind-the ear medic in Nam. I wouldn’t have given you odds that he would have made it out of the jungle alive, let alone to end up the best damn heart surgeon in the country.
I stay out of the way, and Dan told everyone to leave the old bastard alone. Rabb figured out a way to get my car over here and found my ‘quick trip’ bag we all keep in the backs of our vehicles. I found a shirt, but I didn’t even bother to button the damn thing until Mac insisted. I’ll say one thing for the two of them, when the shit hits the fan, they don’t try and duck and everything personal is forgotten. Harm mostly took care of the cops. It was the only time I left the corridor outside the operating rooms. But I gave my statement and ignored the “So Admiral, do you think this attack was meant for you?” How the hell would I know? Allenby is still in prison. The warden there swore to the SecNav that he would tell us both when that lunatic was released.
Webb took out an Arab but I don’t believe a terrorist would bother with a two-star admiral unless he just happened to be driving by and went nuts. I didn’t see much, but Miss Masters did. From what she saw, there were at least two other shooters in the black van. And she swears one of them wasn’t Arab. “Blond, real light skinned.”
I follow the gurney out to the ICU and stand at the window. A nurse automatically starts to draw the drapes, but my glare stops her. Once they have Darcy settled, the quandary will be where do I wait? Watching her? Or him?
“Sir?” Mac’s voice almost breaks my heart. I hear exhaustion; fear and anger all rolled up in that sultry voice, now so hoarse it sounds like she’s been smoking since she was 12.
“Yes, Colonel?” Her hair is damp and she has on a pair of sweats. HARVARD is emblazoned across her breasts. Where the hell? Webb?
“Have you heard anything about Victor?” She tries to put some strength behind the words. Our eyes meet and we make a silent pact. I won’t bug her and she won’t bug me about going home to get some rest.
“No, Mac. There’s a lot of damage to the heart. They’ve already put out a call for a donor for transplant. Pity the son-of-a-bitch that killed him wasn’t in any condition…” I can hear the rising hysteria in my own voice and clamp my jaw shut. Admirals and former SEALs don’t get hysterical. I rub my face and feel the 36-hour growth of beard.
She touches my arm. “Sir, I know you don’t want to leave, but trust me, take a shower at least. I’ll stand right here.” She smiles tiredly. “A shower made me feel so much better.”
I look around confused. I’m not even sure what happened to the small case Rabb brought up. She reads my mind. “All our personal stuff is in Webb’s room.” She’s a hellava chief of staff.
I nod and open the door. Webb is just coming out of the bathroom. The twin to Mac’s pair of sweats, complete with emblem, has replaced his ruined tuxedo. I wonder if a dry cleaner can get out that much blood. We knelt side-by-side trying to staunch the flow of blood from Darcy’s chest. We exchanged startled looks at her warning. Now we both look away. What is there to say? I clear my throat. “Mac said my stuff is in here?”
“Yeah, in the corner, there. Help yourself to the shower.”
“Yeah, uhm…thanks.”
It’s the longest conversation we’ve had since the party. I couldn’t figure out what the hell he and Mac were up to. Between my anger at them, the fact that he kept her on the dance floor for damn near the whole time, and my own fascination with Darcy Russell, we really didn’t have that much time for chitchat.
I’ll shower, shave and probably put in a call to the SecNav.
Please don’t let them die.
***
It’s been a hell of a day. I’ve been all over everything with
the cops and we've got a decent picture of what happened. Thank God
for Helene and Webb. They both got a good look at the van and there’s
an APB out on it. Webb even got a partial on the plate. The
bastard won’t tell me anything about the guy that he killed. Probably
doesn’t know much but still, he could just admit it.
I want to talk to Mac so bad, but there’s a strain between us. Even though we’ve worked together all day on stuff that needed to get done, phone calls that that had to be made. Everyone has pitched in. Turner and Bobbi Latham went and picked up Mrs. Galindez and Victor’s sisters. Mac handled the Marine Corps. She tracked down and notified Gunny’s CO. He was here for a while but then had to leave. There’s nothing to be done but wait. I know that I shouldn’t have asked Mac to go home again, but she just looks so tired. Worse than Helene.
Helene has been such a trouper. She’s a good kid. Not pushy about it, but she was there to help Mrs. Galindez and the girls. She tried to get close to Mac, but I could have told her not to bother. God, what a mess. I can’t bear just standing here, waiting. Waiting for Gunny to die. Waiting to hear the worst about Miss. Russell. Man, the Admiral is something else. He looks like death warmed over but he just stood there for nearly twelve hours while she was in surgery. The doctor is coming out of her room. Maybe we’ll learn something.
He isn’t a lot younger than I am, but he looks a lot older right now. There are circles under his eyes and I hope for the next patient’s sake, there is no next patient.
The Admiral and Webb are coming out of the bedroom, both have showered and shaved. Why the hell didn’t I think of that? Hey! Where did Mac get those clothes? Harvard! Webb? What the hell? Oh shit, Singer. I start to reach for my cell phone but the doctor is starting.
“Admiral Chegwidden. I don’t know if you know my name. Frank Sebastian. Come and sit. You don’t want to watch while they finish hooking up all the tubes. Once they're done, it isn’t so bad.” He motions for us to step away from the room. He says something to someone inside and the drapes are closed and the door is shut.
The Admiral doesn’t like it and says, “Yes it is bad, Doctor.” He turns away then and starts to go into the waiting room, but stops when he realizes the Galindez women are in there.
Webb pipes up. “Why not in here?” He holds open the door to his little kingdom inside the hospital. I have no idea what he did in there all day – Webb isn’t the sharing sort. The doctor followed by the Admiral, goes in first. Mac goes in next and I eye Webb carefully. There is a look on his face. Bewildered? He ignores my glare, but still holds the door open for me before closing it behind him.
There’s a large box full of papers on the floor. Webb leans against the bed and looks at Mac but she walks over and sits down in the chair that’s there. The Admiral just stands there, his arms crossed in front of him. “Sit down, doctor. Tell us what we need to know. I’ll stand.”
Hell yes, he’ll stand. I bet once he sits down, he’ll sleep for a week. I’m considering it. I wonder if Helene will join me.
Sebestain clears his throat. “Well, Miss Russell lost a great deal of blood. But we stabilized that. The blood you, Mr. Webb and the Colonel donated saved her life. We are extremely low right now on her blood type. It was fortunate that the three of you have the corresponding match. It’s a fluke, but a good one.”
“As for internal damage? The bullet careened off of several bones, sorta like a pinball machine. We had to do reconstructive surgery on her liver and kidney. We took out her spleen and repaired the hole in her upper intestine. She’s very weak and we pray that the Q-fever that’s been dormant in her system will stay so. We’ve got her on the necessary antibiotics. But in case they didn’t tell you, the testing facility called and she appears to be free of the HIV virus you warned us about. Do you happen to know why she was concerned?”
“No,” the Admiral snapped. " I’m shocked. I had no idea."
Webb clears his throat in such a way that you know he’s going to shed
light on all the questions you might have and a few that you don’t know
you want the answer to. “Well actually, yes I do. Don’t look
at me that way AJ, I just found out. It seems that while covering
a story in Africa on the conditions the current crop of Peace Corps volunteers
are working under, she and her guide stopped in a village where a volunteer
was taking blood samples. Darcy…uhm…Miss Russell and the guide stopped
to help and Darcy got pricked, deeply. The woman’s whose blood it
was, had full blown Aids. Time flew her back and she’s been seeing
specialists, but waiting for the test results.”
Sebastian nodded. “Well, the tests these days are pretty conclusive. So she dodged…” He blushed at the tired adage he was about to use. “Sorry. You’ll have to excuse me.”
“Of course, Doctor. We appreciate your work.” The Admiral looks at Webb. “You find her aunt?”
Webb shakes his head. “Sort of. She died a year ago. Darcy doesn’t have any other close family.” He looks over at the doctor. “Her boss from New York is flying in. You have all the insurance information.” He glares from the doctor to AJ. “Regardless, she’s to want for nothing. She’ll have a guard outside her door until I say different, Doctor.”
“Of course.” The Doctor rose and walked to the door. “You’ll excuse me, but I have patients to check on. Without waiting, he left us.
The Admiral returns Webb’s glare for a moment. Then proceeds to ignore him. I can tell that ‘she’s to want for nothing’ remark irked him to no end. Taking a deep breath, I prepare to face the wrath of my partner again. “Sir? I think I’m going to head out for a little bit. I want to go home and shower and change. I never replaced the stuff in my quick trip bag from the my flight to Frankfurt last week.”
“Fine.” He moves to the door like he didn’t hear me, opens it and goes back to stand guard outside Miss Russell’s room. The three of us follow him, Mac, studiously ignoring me. I know she thinks we should wait to hear about Gunny. I suck at waiting.
We just make it outside when the doctor that met us at the emergency room pushes open the doors of the operating corridor. He took the time to put on clean scrubs, but it’s evident where he’s been. We all approach him, including Webb. He shakes the Admiral’s hand and spares the rest of us a quick glance before rubbing his hand over his face. “It’s not good, AJ. I’ve done everything I can. He took a bullet to the heart. I got it out and stitched him up. But now we wait. He’s on a list for donors because I think there’s too much damage. Not just to the heart, either. Dr. Hammond took two bullets from his right lung. He won’t be breathing on his own for a long while.”
Mac asked softly. “If he gets a transplant? Is his career over?”
“My dear, let’s worry about getting him through the night, shall we?”