A very grim-faced Clayton Webb dialed the phone to Admiral Chegwidden's office and waited after Tiner answered to be put through.

"Any word?" A.J. demanded.

"Not from them. I made contact with my man in Escobédo's operation and he confirmed that Escobédo had Harm and Mac taken but they weren't at the hacienda. He said they escaped and Escobédo's men are looking for them."
"Does he have any idea where they are?"

Webb gritted his teeth. "No but he'll keep his ears open to see if they're found. He did say Escobédo was holding them at a compound he has on the other side of San Miguelito. My other sources have narrowed down the area where he's brewing his drugs and that could be it," he went on.

"Find out for sure, Webb. I want them found."

The heavy growth of the jungle made their journey difficult to say the least. Harm stayed ahead of Mac, knife in hand in case they encountered a wild animal. It was hotter than hell and the humidity weighed down on them like a wet blanket in a sauna. Harm would have loved to strip off his shirt but insects of various sorts swarmed around them, and he already had several mosquito bites.

"Are you okay?" he called over his shoulder.

"Yeah," she answered, sounding slightly out of breath.

Mac knew they had to keeping moving, even if it was slow going. They had no food or water and the jungle was no place to be lost. The ill-fitting boots made it hard for her to struggle through the heavy vegetation on the jungle floor but she plowed on, staying in the path Harm made ahead of her. They had no idea where they were or even if they were headed in the right direction for civilization. They just needed to get someplace where they could find a ride to the US Embassy where they could get a hold of Webb or the Admiral.

Suddenly, she stumbled, grabbing for Harm to keep from falling. He braced himself when he felt her clutching hands and turned to get a hold of her.

"Whoa! Are you okay?" he asked, taking note of her flushed face.

"I just tripped," she mumbled, her eyes fixed somewhere on his chest.

"Mac, you look like you're getting sick. What's wrong?" he asked again, touching her clammy face.

"I don't feel good," she admitted, knowing he would press until she told him the truth anyway. "My head hurts and I'm hot."

Harm slowly slid his hands over the flushed skin of her face and neck before moving carefully down her arms. Her soft flesh was dotted with ugly, red mosquito bites and she had scratches from the branches and vines they'd ridden through earlier. Kneeling, he moved down her legs, checking for anything that might seem out of the ordinary. Standing back up, he cupped his hands around her neck and slowly moved her head from side to side.

"Neck hurt?" he asked softly.

She nodded against his hold. "And my throat."

Without a word, he slowly wrapped her up against him and held her for a minute, feeling a swell of helplessness overtake him. Mac huddled close, her hands between them on his chest. He could feel a fine tremor coursing through her and her skin felt abnormally warm even through her clothes.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he whispered against her hair. "Can you keep going?" he asked.

She lifted her head and tried to smile. For an instant her eyes sparked. "I'm a Marine," she stated. "Marines can do anything." She tried to sound tough but the words came out slightly slurred.

"Come on, then, Miss Marine," he smiled.

Looping his arm around her waist, they started out again side-by-side.

"They got away?! What do you mean they got away?" Escobédo yelled.

His men stood at attention before him. The older man was furious and behind him, stood an equally furious Frank London.

"I want them taken care of! Kill Rabb and bring MacKenzie to me, do you understand? Take care of it now and I don't want to see even one of you back here until you have. Do you understand?" Escobédo demanded again. "Do not fail me!"

His men mumbled that they did and he turned his back, effectively dismissing them.

When they were alone, Escobédo looked at London. "They'll find them," he assured the younger man.

"And if they don't?" London asked harshly.

"Then they'll die in the jungle. Do you believe they are working alone?"

London shook his head. "Not a chance. They couldn't have known about my connection to you. Even if that young punk from my ship told them I was involved in the smuggling. He wouldn't have known who I was working with. There's someone on your end, Escobédo."

"We have to stop for the night. It's going to be dark soon."

Mac pushed at Harm's back even as he said the words. "No, we need to keep going," she insisted. "Don’t think you have to stop on my account!"

Harm stopped short and turned around, catching her hands. "We need to stop," he stated flatly. "I need to stop," he added forcefully. It was the truth but it would also get around her Marine pride.

"Okay," she conceded. "I do need to check your wound," she added, almost more to herself than to him.

"Let's find a place to hang out for the night first."

"Please, don't make me get up in another tree," she sighed.

Harm fought a grin at the look on her face. "I'll do my best. I'm worried about you," he went on, pressing a hand to her cheek. "You're running a fever."

"Yeah," she answered listlessly. "I'm fine, though," she insisted. "My feet just hurt."

They walked close to another mile before Harm stopped again. Taking her hand, he led her into the underbrush. A few feet across and they came out in a miniscule clearing where the trees butted against an outcropping of rocks.

"There," he pointed to a small dark spot about twenty feet up.

Without a word, Mac went ahead of him.

"Can you make it?" he asked her.

"Uh-huh," she muttered over her shoulder.

It took some doing for both of them but they eventually made it up the rocks to what turned out to be a small cave. The sun was almost down in the west and all that remained was a blood red tint. It was dark inside their tiny opening and it wasn't really much of a cave after all. But it was enough for them both to lie down and try to sleep.

"Think anything lives in here?" Mac asked wryly.

"Not that I can tell. I'll keep the knife handy just in case," he returned, only partially teasing her.

"Let me check your side before it gets completely dark," she ordered.

Knowing it would be futile to argue with her, Harm stripped off his shirt and helped her unwind their makeshift bandage. In the fading light, Mac gently pressed her fingers to the edges of the ragged gunshot tear. The muscles in his stomach jerked sharply under her touch but he didn't make a sound. There were no signs of infection as far as she could tell and while it wasn't bleeding, it wasn't sealing over either which left it prone to germs. Without saying anything, Mac refolded the material so a fresh piece covered the wound and they wrapped him back up in the shirt strips.

Harm, who was taking the first watch, eased back against the wall of their little nest and rested his arms over his bent knees. Mac sat for a moment, as if gathering her bearings. Harm watched her fidget and shift, pushing her hair back from her face, pulling at the neck of her shirt. He knew she was terribly uncomfortable and wished with all his heart there was something he could to do make this easier for her.

"Come over here with me," he called gently.

She crawled over and Harm drew her between his knees. Mac turned on her side and brought her own knees to her chest, cocooning herself in his warmth. Harm wrapped both arms around her slender form and held her close, feeling the heat radiating from her. He was concerned about the fever raging in her since they had no water or medicine. Lifting one hand, he slowly slid his fingers through her hair. It had gotten longer in recent weeks, enough that she'd been putting it in a clip at the nape. It was silky to his touch and slightly damp from the heat. Harm pushed his fingers through to the ends then did it again, stopping midway to press his palm around her head. He repeated the caress over and over as he felt her relaxing by degrees against him.

"Sing to me."

The words were muffled against his chest and he tipped his head toward her.

"Sing to you?" he asked softly, confirming he heard her correctly.

"Please. Take our minds off this – just for a little while."

Harm leaned his head back against the cave wall and sighed. "Ahh, Mac, of all the things you would pick for a distraction – that's likely to bring Escobédo's men running."

He heard a slight noise from her and rubbed her back. "Was that a giggle I heard?" he teased gently. "Any particular song you'd like to hear?"

"No. Just sing to me."

He was quiet for a moment, thinking through the songs he knew and one that might do as she asked and distract her.

You and I in this moment, holding the night so close,

Hanging on, still unbroken, while outside the thunder rolls,

Listen now, you can hear a heartbeat,

Warm against life's bitter cold,

These are the days, the sweetest days we'll know.

There are times that scare me,

They rattle the house like the wind,

Both of us so unbending, we battle the fear within,

All the while, life is rushing by us,

Hold it now and don't let go,

These are the days, the sweetest days we'll know,

So we whisper a dream here in the darkness,

Watching the stars till they're gone,

And when even the memories have all faded away,

These days go on and on,

Listen now, you can hear a heartbeat,

Hold it now and don't let go,

These are the days…every day's the sweetest days we'll know,

The sweetest days we'll know.

"I love you, Sarah."

Harm felt every inch of his body freeze and his heart seemed to stop when he realized he'd spoken the tender confession aloud. He glanced Heavenward in silent reproach and braced himself for an explosion from her. It took him a minute to realize she hadn't moved. Carefully, he shifted to get a look at her face. She was sleeping deeply.

"Thank God," he whispered, his heart beginning to pound furiously.

The words had come without him even thinking about them and that scared Harm to his toes. It was getting harder all the time to remain distant from her. To remember they were partners and there was so much to lose if they crossed that last line. But maybe it was starting not to matter anymore. Maybe it was something he better think about changing his perspective on. He glanced down at her profile, seeing the sweep of dark lashes against her fever-flushed skin. In a few more minutes he wouldn't be able to see her in the dark but it didn't matter – he could see her just fine when he closed his eyes.

They got started bright and early the next morning, forging on through the trees and undergrowth. They found some plants and such to eat along the way but not enough to fill the gnawing aches in the stomachs. Harm was really worried about Mac but he kept it to himself and tried to keep both their spirits up as they traveled what they hoped was closer and closer to Panama City. She hadn't said more than a dozen words since they started out that morning and she could barely walk without hanging onto him. His one and only concern for the moment was to get her the hell out of the jungle.

Harm felt her grab his shirt from behind and he stopped. "What's wrong?"

"Do you hear that?" she asked. "It sounds like water."

Harm tightened his grip around her waist and listened for a moment. "Sounds like it. Come on."

They pushed on until the trees ahead finally parted and they found a waterfall rushing steadily into a clear pool. Harm found a safe place for them to get down to the edge and led her to it.

"I want to get in," she muttered.

Harm looked at the water. It was fairly clear and sparkling. "Not for long," he told her. "It's too dangerous for us to stop."

"'kay," she answered distractedly.

Harm knelt in front of her and made quick work of her boots then held her steady while she slipped off the too-large pants. Any other time the sight of her would inflame his senses but for the moment, he was too worried about her health to be looking at the long expanse of her legs. Her tender skin was mottled with fever and that was the only reason why he was willing to waste precious time stopping at the pool. He left her long nightshirt on knowing it would get wet and continue to keep her cool until it dried. Harm stripped off his boots but left his pants on and walked her into the water.

Mac washed everything that wasn't covered by the shirt she was wearing. The cool water felt heavenly against her feverish skin. Harm rinsed as well as possible from the waist up and doused his head. Mac finished and turned to him. Harm took the brunt of her weight as she all but collapsed against him, winded just from the effort of washing. His big hand smoothed over her wet hair, comforting her. She was trembling against him and he felt her muscles spasm beneath the touch of his hands. They left the water and she donned the remainder of her clothes. Harm led her to a small outcropping of rocks shaded by the cliffs above and they sat down.

"Are we going to be okay?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

"Don't make me a promise you can't keep," she warned, resting her hand on his leg.

"I won't," he answered.

Mac lifted her head and studied his face, her eyes taking in the lines of fatigue around his mouth and eyes, the shadow of beard on his jaws. The look in his eyes was familiar and warm as he returned her gaze. He lifted his free hand and touched her throat. His eyes darkened and he slowly tipped his head forward until his lips met her forehead. He held them there for a long moment, long enough to feel the heat of her satiny skin. There was no more time to worry about their station or their orders or their protocol. This was about their lives. And it was also about coming to some realizations.

"I'll protect you with my last breath," he whispered, his lips hovering right over hers, their eyes locked.

"And I you," she returned. "With my last breath."

His lips settled against hers with exquisite tenderness. For a long moment they hovered there, not moving. Waited until every nerve came to life. Until the tiniest line of each lip could be felt. He lifted his head slightly and gave her a tender smile.

The harsh echo of gunfire split the still afternoon air, cracking the rocks around them and scattering dirt at their feet. Harm yanked his gun out of his waistband and pushed Mac behind the rocks, following her down.

"Damn it to hell!" he swore. "I can’t believe I let them sneak up on us!"

"I should have know we wouldn’t be safe stopping," Mac murmured. "Did you see any of them?" she asked.

He shook his head.

Another round of gunfire hit the outcropping that shielded them, spraying rock and dirt.

"You have nowhere to go, Commander Rabb! Drop your weapon, Señor!"

Harm heard the sharp command come from behind him and he froze. Carefully, he glanced down at Mac. She gave a minute shake of her head and Harm dropped his gun. Hers followed his to the dirt and then they were surrounded. Harm's arms were viciously twisted behind his back and they dragged him away from Mac. Before he could get a word out, one of the men hit him hard, knocking him backward. He was hit again and yet again, so fast he couldn't get his balance to fight back. He couldn’t take them all at once and they beat him down to his knees in the dirt.

The fighting went on until Harm lost track of time. Swaying, he struggled to stay upright, swiping his forearm across his face to get the blood that was trickling into his eyes. Through a red haze, he saw the other men holding Mac down as she struggled to get loose. She was alternately screaming at them to let her go and calling Harm's name. She got one arm loose and punched the guy holding her as hard as she could. The man backhanded her so hard she would have fallen if the other man hadn’t been holding her.

Dizzily, Harm staggered to his feet, spitting blood out. With a cry of rage, he lunged for them but the man closest jammed the butt of his rifle in Harm’s stomach. The breath rushed out of his lungs and he doubled over. They hit him hard, three times in quick succession. Stars exploded before his eyes and he felt a tearing pain as something sliced his face. The men released him and he fell to the ground. The big man, the one who seemed to be in charge, kicked Harm, rolling him several times in the dirt. Harm heard a spate of Spanish and he was jerked upright again. They held him up like a sacrifice and the man hit him over and over until it all ran together, stealing his breath. The pain seemed to be coming from all directions. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't focus on the man in front of him. He could hear Mac screaming and there was an ominous of someone hitting her again. Harm struggled weakly against their hold, curses filling the air in English and Spanish. He felt the blood streaming down his face, into his eyes, the metallic taste filling his mouth. Another blow sent him back to the hard ground when they let go of his arms. Viciously, a booted foot came down hard on his hand, breaking his ring and pinkie fingers. A guttural moan slipped from Harm and he was dimly aware of Mac screaming his name. Another kick sent him over on his back, his body on fire with the pain.

"You take good last look, Señor."

There was blood in his eyes but Harm saw her struggling through the red haze. One of the men had a filthy hand over her mouth so she couldn't scream. He shifted, trying to find the strength to get up. The man standing over him moved a step closer and pointed his gun at Harm.

"Señor Escobédo will enjoy taking such a spirited beauty, eh?" The man jeered.

"Son…of…bitch. Don't you…touch…" Harm couldn't force the last word out as pain racked his body.

The gunshot echoed off the canyon walls high above them. The last thing Harm saw was Mac's horrified expression over the hand covering her mouth.

The man in charge shoved his gun in his waistband and took Mac's arm, roughly snatching her away from the men holding her. Her eyes were on Harm's prone figure.

"Let go of me!" she yelled. "You can't just leave him like that! Let me…"

The rest of her words were cut off when one of the other men cuffed her with the end of his rifle. She slumped against the man and he slung her over his shoulder without missing a step. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and let out of furious round of Spanish instructing the others to get rid of Harm's body.

"You bring a disgusting creature like this and tell me to put her to use? My clientele expects much better!"

"Madam, your 'clientele' is hardly better than this filthy hellhole you operate. Do what you wish with her as long as you continue to give her this." The man tossed a small pack to the older woman. "She gets 20 grams a day."

"You want I should save her for my best?" The woman asked craftily.

"Do what you wish," The man answered. Then he smiled darkly. "Give her to everyone."

" Mi dios! Maria! Consigue el carro!"

The disgustingly filthy heap on the ground was a man, most likely dead from the looks of him. The old farmer got down on his knees and hesitantly touched the man's shoulder. Flies and mosquitoes were feasting on his prone figure, drawn by the blood covering him. He was so dirty it was hard to tell what he even looked like let alone if he were alive. The man heard the sound of hooves as his daughter approached from behind with their wagon. Shooing the insects away, he rolled the man over. He couldn't tell much from the bloody mess that remained of the stranger's face. He put his hand over the man's nose and mouth and felt the faintest stirring of air. Getting to his feet, he managed to get the much taller man up far enough to push him into the back of the wagon. The stranger would probably die anyway but he would do what he could.

When he arrived back in their little village, he stopped at what resembled little more than an adobe square with a roof and got out. He carried the man inside and dropped him on the bed. Rapid-fire Spanish flew between the farmer and the grizzled old man who lived in the hut as the farmer explained finding the stranger. He told the old man to do what he could, if anything.

"I want to go to Panama to lead the team."

"A.J., you're not a SEAL anymore. Leave the rescues to the men trained for it."

"The hell you say," A.J. growled. "I want Rabb and MacKenzie found now. I can't trust that to anyone else."

"Be reasonable, A.J., we don't even know where they are or if they're still alive. They knew the risks involved when they agreed to take the assignment."

"Mr. Secretary," A.J. started slowly rising from his desk and clenching the phone tighter. "With all due respect, these are my top two people. You may not hold your employees in the same regard but I value the lives of these two and I will not just stand back and wait for some word on whether they're alive or dead!" A.J. ended, his voice rising until he was yelling.

"You'll do as I say, Admiral Chegwidden, or you'll be cleaning the toilets in Leavenworth. You got that?" The SECNAV asked coldly. "I'll have Webb order a team in immediately to do what they can. If you want to be any help at all, you'll do well to remember that your place is there at JAG and not traipsing through a damn jungle!"

Before A.J. could respond, the dial tone sounded in his ear. "Damn it!" he swore, slamming the receiver down. "You better make sure he finds them, Mis-ter Secretary, or I'll be on my way whether you like it or not!"

The old man took careful care with Harm. After cutting away the remains of his tattered clothing, he cleaned him up. It took awhile but eventually the blood and grime was gone. There were two bullet wounds, a minor one with a crude bandage in his side and a fresh one in his chest. Most likely the one meant to kill the young man. It was deep but luckily the crucial organs had been spared so the old man stitched it closed and bandaged it tightly to keep out infection. He also set the bones in his fingers and stitched the wide cuts on his face. Somewhere under the scruff, he could see that the American was young and handsome but whoever beat him did a good job trying to destroy that face. He wouldn't come away without some permanent reminders. The old man wondered at the stranger's condition. Most likely he'd crossed paths with the Jefé or one of his men. Bad news, they were.

The old farmer had come back briefly after taking his daughter home to their hut to see if the American was still alive. The old man simply nodded, continuing to shake a medicine pouch over Harm's prone form. Blue smoke curled around his head from a mangled cheroot as he watched over his patient. It was up to their God now to save the young man. Maybe only to send him back to the Hell he'd just escaped from.

Shadows were swimming around the edges of her vision. She struggled to open her eyes, aware of someone hovering nearby, just out of her sight. It was dark in the room and she was lying on a bed. Her body felt so heavy…and she was hot. Restless hands pushed at the sheets over her and her visitor moved closer, stroking her cheek. She wanted to pull away from the intruding touch but she simply didn't have the strength. Her body was on fire, her mind beyond her control. Overhead a cool breeze drifted over her.

Scenes raced through her mind like pictures in an album. She could see them beating Harm, hitting him over and over until his big body was in the dirt. He kept trying, struggling to get to her and they just kept beating him down, laughing at his attempts.

She shifted restlessly on the sheets, her head rolling from side to side on the pillow. She moaned, remembering the pain they were inflicting on him. She couldn’t get away from the men holding her. She couldn't get to him and they just kept hitting him. The last thing she remembered was the sound of a gunshot, echoing off the rock walls. And the force of the bullet slamming him back against the ground, settling in a puff of red dirt.

Her scream brought swift footsteps and a cool hand against her forehead.

She closed her eyes, deciding it was too much work to try and see who was talking and let sleep overtake her again, pulling her down in a dark well.

"Son of a bitch! What the hell do you mean they failed! Failure was not an option!"

Webb clenched the phone tightly in his fist as A.J.'s furious voice blasted him over the lines. "There's a mole, Admiral. There's no other way they could have known a rescue team was on its way. I don't know who it is but you can damn well bet I'll find out! Someone tipped Escobédo off that we were coming after Harm and Mac."

"Who would have known? Just who is this man you have on the inside?"

"I know it wasn't him," Webb stated fervently.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just know. I already have a lead on where the leak is."

"I'm coming down there. I'm not trusting anyone else to go after Rabb and MacKenzie."

"Call and let me know when you're coming in," Webb answered, knowing there wouldn't be any way to dissuade the Admiral from coming.

Just as A.J. slammed the phone down his door opened and Tiner looked in.

"Sir, Mr…"

"Secretary is here. Thank you, Petty Officer, but I can announce myself."

The man walked past Tiner and into A.J.'s office. "I got word from Agent Webb that the rescue failed," he stated without preamble.

"That's right, it did. I'm on my way there now," A.J. returned, slipping into his uniform jacket and reaching for his cover.

A.J. stopped and turned cold eyes to the shorter man. "With all due respect, you can take your orders and go to hell with them, Mr. Secretary. Every time Rabb and MacKenzie agree to help Webb something happens to them. This time I'm not going to stand by and let them take the fall for a mission gone wrong. They are not CIA operatives, they're my officers and I won't leave them in Panama to rot."

A.J. walked right past the man and reached for the door.

"I'll have you charged for insubordination," the SECNAV threatened. "You're throwing your entire career down the drain!"

"I don't care if you charge me with going AWOL. I'm still going," A.J. answered, opening the door without a break in his stride.

"Attention on deck!" Tiner called as A.J. passed him.

The SECNAV dogged A.J.'s heel. "Don't be stupid, Admiral! You'll ruin everything you've worked so hard for!" he called, ignoring the JAG employees who were trying hard not to stare.

A.J. hesitated then and turned, his gaze sharp from beneath the brim of his cover. "Then I suggest you tell Leavenworth to prepare a cell for me because there’s no way in hell you’re going to stop me from going."

"Don't say one word about my career," A.J. warned as he walked pact Webb into the younger man's temporary hidey-hole.

"I wouldn't dream of it. They can have mine, too," Webb stated gravely.

A.J. stopped short and turned to look at the young agent. "Had a change of heart about what's good for the country?"

Webb shook his head. "Just some of the people working for it. I don't know the identity of our mole yet but I know he's inside the SECNAV's office."

This caught the older man by surprise. "What? How could you know that?" A.J. demanded.

"I just do," Webb answered quietly. "No one else knew about the rescue mission outside of me and the one who okayed the order. That was the SECNAV. I don't want to believe it but given his adamant refusal of your involvement, I certainly hope it isn't the SECNAV himself."

The two men just stared at each other for a long moment.

"If it is, he'll be the one cleaning toilets in Leavenworth," Webb stated coldly.

Harm's consciousness returned by degrees. He felt strange, heavy, like his body wasn't his own anymore. Very slowly, he opened his eyes. The room he was in was bright with sunshine. Next to where he was lying, a strong breeze blew a long, transparent white cloth back and worth, whipping it out like an unfurled flag. Gingerly, he shifted. Pain shimmied through him but not the pain he remembered feeling… when? When did he feel the pain? Was it days? Weeks? Or simply hours that he'd been unconscious?

Very carefully, he rolled on his side and into a sitting position. His surroundings looked like a little one room hut. The walls were cracked adobe and it was hotter than hell. It looked clean enough but it was obviously a place of poverty. Taking a slow, deep breath, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and settled his bare feet on the stone floor. For a moment he sat there, the simple act making him winded. His body felt like it was patched together. Cautiously, he lifted both hands to his face, finding the uneven tracks of stitches and scabs. There was curved row of stitches around the outer corner of his right eye, another at the edge of his hairline. The rest of his face felt like a piece of shattered glass; cracked and jagged. He pulled the sheet away at the waist and found the gunshot wound bandaged. Beneath it felt as if it were pulling so it must have been stitched closed as well. And around his chest was another bandage, tight and binding under his arms and around his back.

Then he remembered.

The terror in Mac's face, her screams and his attempts to keep fighting. And finally the bullet to his chest. One he was sure was supposed to have killed him. They must have taken her! He started to rise but the movement was too much at once and he sucked in a sharp breath as pain battered him. He counted to ten slowly and took several deep breaths. Carefully, he tried again, pulling the sheet around him to hide his nudity. It took him some time to get across the one room house to the open front door. The sunlight blinded him momentarily until his eyes adjusted. Sitting outside whittling in the shade of a wood overhang, were two men: one around the Admiral's age and one that appeared much older than that.

"Hola. Habla English?" Harm asked gruffly, his voice hoarse from unuse.

"Who are you?" Harm asked him.

"Diego, Señor. In the desert - yo le encontre, yo pensaba que usted estaba muerto. You have been very ill."

"My name is Commander Harmon Rabb. How long have I been here?"

"A week, Señor. You were hurt very badly."

"A week?"

Stunned, Harm felt the ground sway beneath him. The old man rushed forward to grab his arm, steadying him.

"You rest now, Señor. You must gather your strength."

"I can't," Harm ground out. "I have to go. I have to get to the Embassy, to my people. My partner… was there anyone with me? When you found me?"

"No, Señor, I only found you," Diego answered. "You were in the barranco.

"Where?" he asked sharply.

"How you say – ravine?"

Harm's mind spun trying to process everything. If he was found in a ravine then they dumped him somewhere. That meant Mac could be anywhere, too.

"Please," Harm asked, turning his gaze to the shorter man. "I have to go. Will you help me? Please? I'll do anything I can for you but, please, just help me get back to Panama City."

Diego looked like he might protest again but he saw the desperate look in Harm's eyes. "Si, of course, we will go when you are ready."

The old man who'd worked so hard to save Harm's life studied him with wizened old eyes. "Venganza es absurdo."

"What do you mean?" Harm asked when the old man got beyond his limited Spanish.

"Revenge is foolish. Be careful, Commander."

"I just have to find my partner," Harm whispered, barely able to get the words out.

They left a short time later in Diego's wagon. He could only take Harm as far as the tiny town beyond his village but he knew someone there with a truck that would take Harm into Panama City. The man who took Harm in the truck didn't speak any English at all but Harm managed enough to thank him when they reached the city just after dark. Harm was gritting his teeth against the pain coursing through him as he walked around the truck to the Embassy gates. The guard there stared at him through narrow eyes, his gun aloft.

"Who goes there?" he barked.

"Commander Harmon Rabb, JAG," Harm called, holding his hands up to show he was unarmed.

"Commander, we had word that something—" The younger man broke off abruptly and shifted his rifle to the other hand. "Do you have any identification on you?" he demanded, eyeing the scruffy man in tattered clothes outside the gate.

"No, I've been on an undercover assignment."

"Come inside the gate and keep your hands where I can see them."

Harm did as he said and the gate was closed behind him with a clang. Without a word, the young Sergeant motioned for Harm to start walking and they headed for the front doors of the Embassy building. Another Sergeant was at the desk in the small lobby.

"Where's the picture of Commander Rabb?" the one with Harm asked.

The desk Sergeant produced a file and gave him the requested item.

"A lot of people are going to be anxious to talk to you, Commander," he stated as he handed the picture back to the desk Sergeant. "Let me help you, sir. I'll get our medic."

He supported Harm, who was struggling to stay upright, and steered him toward a hall off to the right. Harm was dimly aware of the young Sergeant barking out orders as he led the way to a room. He lowered Harm down to the mattress and headed for the door.

"Stay put, Commander. I'll be back in a few minutes. I have to get back to my post but I'll send someone to see to you."

"No, wait, you don't unders—"

But he was already gone. Harm sank back against the pillow, cursing steadily as sweat trickled down his back. His hands were shaking like an addict's and he clenched them into fists, struggling to breathe slowly.

Another Marine Sergeant came in carrying a black bag. "Commander Rabb, glad to see you. Looks like you've been through hell, sir. You can rest easy now and let me have a look at you then we'll get you a shower and clean clothes and something to eat. When did you eat last?" he fired rapidly.

"Sergeant!" Harm growled angrily. "Would you just stop and listen to me for a minute?"

That got the young man's attention. "Yes, sir," he answered smartly. "Sorry, sir, you just seemed to be in pain."

"I am but I don't have time to worry about that now. Has anyone seen Colonel MacKenzie? Do you know?"

"No, sir, I don't, but I believe she is still missing. If you think you can get by for a little while longer, I'll take you straight to Colonel Boyd and you can ask him."

"Please," Harm nodded, breathing heavily. "I'll be fine but I have to know where she is. I'll talk to Colonel Boyd in a few minutes. Is there a phone I can use to call JAG?"

"Yes, sir. You can use that one right there," he pointed to the bedside. "I'll be back for you in ten minutes."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir."

He left the room, closing the door behind him. Harm carefully eased himself into a sitting position and reached for the phone.

"Lieutenant Roberts."

"Bud?"

"Commander!" Bud exclaimed. "Oh, my, God, sir, where are you? Are you all right? Is the Colonel with you? Have you seen the Admiral?"

"Whoa, Bud, stop. One question at a time. What do you mean have I seen the Admiral? Where is he?"

"He's in Panama City, sir. After the rescue team failed their mission, he went down to join Agent Webb in looking for you. It was quite a scene. The SECNAV was here and the Admiral left against his orders. They were yelling across the—"

"Bud," Harm interrupted. "You can tell me all about that later. I have to talk to the Admiral. Mac is still missing. They took her and left me…" he stopped speaking and drew a deep breath. "They left me for dead but a villager helped me and got me here to the Embassy. Can you get a hold of the Admiral?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, Commander, I'm just so glad to hear your voice. Are you all right?"

"No, Bud, I'm not," Harm stated heavily. "I imagine I will be one of these days but not now. I have to find Mac. Call the Admiral now and tell him I'm at the Embassy and she's still missing."

"I will, Commander. I'll call right this minute."

"Thank you, Bud."

Harm hung up the phone and rolled over on his side, pain racking his body. He knew he probably didn't make much sense to Bud but as long as the Admiral got there, that was all that mattered.

A.J. and Webb barreled into the Embassy full bore, their faces grim.

"Where's Rabb?" A.J. demanded without even offering a greeting.

The young petty officer at the desk jumped up to salute but A.J. waved him off. "Just take me to Rabb."

"Take that hall, second door on the left," the young man explained, indicating the hall on the right.

A.J. led the way, his longer strides taking him away from Webb. He pushed the door open and barreled in, stopping short when he saw his junior officer.

"Harm?"

Groggily, Harm shifted on the mattress and lifted his head. "Admiral?"

For a moment, A.J. just looked at his younger officer. He'd been badly beaten from the looks of it and Lord knew what else. "Are you okay?" he asked finally.

"I'm managing," Harm muttered. "What are you doing in Panama?" he asked, looking over A.J.'s shoulder at Webb.

"I came to get you and Mac," A.J. answered matter-of-factly. "We'll explain it to you later. Do you know where she is?"

Harm's eyes clouded. "They took her when they…when they caught up with us," Harm answered with some difficulty. "They left me and an old man…a villager – found me and got me some help. That was a week ago."
"A very long week," A.J. agreed grimly. "I got here just over a week ago when the rescue team sent to retrieve you and the Colonel failed."

"There's a mole," Webb put in, taking a few steps toward the bed. "It's coming from the SECNAV's office."

"Wait, wait," Harm sighed, struggling to sit up. A.J. gave him a hand and he drew a slow, measured breath. "I don't understand. A mole in the SECNAV's office? How did you find that out?" he asked.

"Too many things have gotten out that were meant only for me," Webb answered. "Escobédo knew the rescue team was being sent in and his compound was deserted when they got there. My orders come directly from the SECNAV's office so it has to be someone on his side. They knew we were coming after them."

"Could it be him?" Harm asked, voicing their earlier suspicions.

"Could be," Webb nodded. "You can bet I'll find out. Are you well enough to leave here?" he went on.

"Yeah," Harm answered, swinging his legs to the floor.

A.J. helped him stand up and grabbed his arm when he swayed.

"Sure about that?" Webb grinned briefly.

"I'm sure," Harm stated heavily. "Let's go."

Webb pulled the car up in front of a small rundown cottage partially hidden by a stand of trees. He and A.J. helped Harm out of the back and got him inside. There he got another surprise.

"Shane!"

"Hey, squid. You look like hell, man. I guess I can't leave you alone anywhere."

"Watch your mouth, Michaels. When I get back on my feet I'll whip your ass."

"Promises, promises," the younger man grinned, as he walked forward.

The two clasped hands and hugged briefly. Shane helped Harm further into the room to a chair and he collapsed in it gratefully.

"It's good to see you," Harm told him. "What are you doing here? I thought you were covering London on the ship?

"There was no need for me to stay there after London jumped ship and Admiral Chegwidden said another pair of hands were needed," he shrugged casually, belying the seriousness of the situation.

"London jumped ship? What are you talking about?" Harm questioned.

"The day before you and Mac were taken. I'm sure that's why Escobédo's men came after you. Everything happened so fast and the two of you were gone before we even had all the details," Webb explained. "If we'd had any indications he wasn't on the carrier, I would have pulled you two immediately."

"He must have identified us to Escobédo," Harm mused. "We had Escobédo, I know we did. That's the only way he could have changed his tune so fast. London must be into this much deeper than we first thought. Webb, can your man find out where they took Mac?" he asked quietly.

Webb slowly walked across the small room to the little kitchenette and leaned one hip against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. "I'll get word to him and see what he can find out."

"She could be anywhere after this much time," Harm said, almost to himself.

"I want you," A.J. interjected, "to go lie down and rest."

"I can't, Admiral."

"You can and will if I have to tie you to the bed. You're no use to us in your present condition. I'll make it very simple for you, Commander. You either rest now and regain some of your strength or I won't let you go after Mac."

Harm glared angrily at his superior. "Sir, I'll be fine. I just—"

"Need to rest," A.J. interrupted. "Now."

Harm opened his mouth to say something else but the look in A.J.'s eye silenced him. Hostility in every step, he rose from the chair and walked toward the tiny bedroom Webb pointed to. He took off his shoes and tried to find a comfortable position on the twin that was too short for his tall frame. Deep inside he knew the Admiral was right. He was exhausted just making the trip from the Embassy to the cabin. Despite the many thoughts playing havoc with his mind, he was asleep in minutes.

The woman on the bed was awake again. From the shadows across the room, the one assigned to take care of her watched. She was very sick and it was the only thing keeping the Madam from letting the men have her. She told the Madam it might spread to their clients, could possibly be fatal. The Madam had backed away immediately, afraid she might catch something just from being in the room. The dark haired woman stirred restlessly, sighing in a drug-induced haze. Whatever was in the injections kept her out of it and she slept almost constantly. She didn’t give her all of the stuff. Just enough to make her sleep. She was showing signs of Dengue fever. Not fatal in most cases but they were without medical care and it could ultimately kill her.

The door to the small room flew open and the man who brought her to the brothel, the one who worked for the Jéfe, came in. He issued a command for her to get out and leave them. Quickly, she scurried to her feet and slid past him, disgusted by the very sight of him. The man locked the door behind him and slowly walked over to the bed.

"Señor Escobédo promised me a treat for bringing you to him. I'm here to collect, Señorita. You will remember me this time, will you not?"

His smile was feral as he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it over a chair. From the bed, the young woman watched through expressionless eyes. His gut hung over his waistband but he had no trouble releasing the front of his jeans. He came toward her, his eyes hungry as they traced the lines of her bare form beneath the thin bed sheet.

"I will pleasure you, Señorita, beyond your imagination."

She remained motionless, even as he climbed on top of her, his heavy weight pressing her into the mattress. He pulled the sheet away from her breasts and squeezed them cruelly, his mouth on the creamy skin of her neck.

Very carefully, her arm moved, stretching out level with her head. There on the bedside table, her questing fingers found the small knife her mysterious caretaker had left behind earlier, forgotten in a distracted moment. Her mind blank, the woman lifted both arms, hands around the knife, and plunged it straight into the man's back. Roaring with surprise and pain, he reared straight up then fell off of her onto the floor. She remained where she was on the bed, her mind floating, moving only to pull the sheet up.

"We have a lead. Not the one we wanted but the next best thing."

A.J. and Shane got up out of their chairs as Webb clicked off his cell phone.

"What kind of lead?"

They all turned to see Harm coming out of the room, one hand pressed against his side. "Does he know where she is?"

Webb shook his head grimly. "Unfortunately, no, but he does know where we can find the men who took her and left you I the ravine."

"Let's go," Harm muttered.

"We can't move until tonight," Webb returned.

"What the hell for? We're wasting time!" Harm yelled, his temper flaring up.

"Commander! Get your head on straight, damn it! If we don't move carefully from here on out she really will be dead and maybe the rest of us with her. We can't act without careful planning and you know it," A.J. stated angrily.

For a minute Harm locked eyes with his CO in a silent battle of wills. Then the younger man looked away.

"You're right, Admiral." Was all he said and then he didn't have to say anything else because they could see what he felt in his face.

"There's a ratty little bar in the bad part of the city where they hang out. He said they should be there tonight so that's where we'll be, too. If we go in like this we'll stick out like a sore thumb so I'll go see if I can round up the proper clothing," Webb told them.

"We have two choices," Webb announced as he turned off his phone.

"Bad and worse?" Harm guessed.

"That about sums it up," Webb sighed. "We have Mac's location and I know she is the top priority. However, if we wait too long to take down Escobédo's compound, we could lose him and London. They know it’s only a matter of time before we get there."

Harm's gaze narrowed. "Can you put together a new team to go after Escobédo without anyone knowing about it this time?"

Webb nodded. "I can arrange for anyone I want to get down here."

"I want one of us in charge of the team," Harm stated.

"But you can't go," Shane interjected. "I'll take the team if you want and let the Admiral and Webb go with you."

Harm faced his friend. "You sure?"

"Yep." Shane flashed them a grin. "Hell, man, it's not every day someone in my shoes gets to lead a handpicked Ops team!"

"By the time this is all over you may be wishing it was someone else in your shoes," Harm returned dryly.

"We’ll see."

It took Webb an hour on the phone to arrange for the members of the new team. Harm chafed under the delay because it was time away from going after Mac. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep his cool. He was growing more worried by the second that something was going to happen to her before they got there. Now that Escobédo knew they were onto him, he could have her killed or even whisked away to another hiding place before they could get to her.

"They’ll all be here within the next few hours. I put in calls for them to have immediate access to anything they need and it’s classified on my orders so word won’t get back to the SECNAV," Webb announced, interrupting Harm’s train of thought.

"Who’s coming?" he asked. "Anyone we’ve worked with before?"

"I called for your friend Jack Keeter because I know you trust him. I also pulled John McKaye, Gunnery Sergeant Galindez, and Kyle Holland, you may remember him helping us in Benghazi when we went after Commander McShane."

Harm nodded thoughtfully. "I’d trust any of those men with our lives."

"Michaels will take command and they’ll leave immediately for the compound so we need to get in gear and gather everything they’ll need," Webb went on.

"You have access to that kind of stuff?" Admiral Chegwidden asked. "Never mind, I forgot who I was talking to for a minute," he added dryly.

"My man at the compound is aware of what’s going on. He’s going to make contact with Michaels after the team arrives and then he’ll get the hell out of Dodge. I don’t want his identity known because he’s too valuable of an operative. I need him for other assignments."

"Fine," Harm nodded once. "He’s been a lot of help to us. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to him."

"If Michaels is going to lead the team to get Escobédo then you’ll have to take Gunny with you so you’ll have someone fluent in Spanish," Webb pointed out.

"You’re right," Harm answered.

"I’ll go with them and you can put Gunny in my place," Webb stated.

Harm only nodded, not needing to answer. He knew Webb was feeling the heavy weight of guilt but they couldn’t blame him for what had gone wrong. He’d asked for their help and they agreed – they weren’t forced. But helping Webb had given them the chance to get Frank London so it was mutually beneficial. This was just another risk in their line of work.

Harm was really glad to see the men who’d become good friends and fellow soldiers over the years but under the circumstances, it wasn’t a very happy occasion. The men arrived one by one from wherever their current duty stations were, greeting Harm with words of support.

"It’s good to see you, old son," Keeter said, clasping Harm’s hand.

"Good to see you, too. Glad you could make it," Harm told him.

"You’re the man, Harm. I wouldn’t be here for anyone else."

Gunny popped in shortly after and spent a few minutes talking to Harm and the Admiral before they were interrupted by John’s arrival. Kyle Holland followed him up the front steps of the small cabin.

"Good to see you, old man. You’re getting a little up in years for us to be bailing you out of jams."

Harm managed a slight smile for John McKaye, his fellow Commander and RIO from his time on the Nimitz. "You know what they say about the proverbial bad penny."

"One of these days I’d like to run into all of you under good circumstances," Kyle stated wryly as he shook hands with the other men.

"Next time you get to D.C. I’ll buy you a beer," Harm promised.

Kyle smiled slowly. "I’ll take you up on that."

"Everything you’ll need to go after Escobédo is at this address," Webb began, handing a slip of paper to Shane. "There’s a helicopter, too, and a pilot on standby. He’ll be in radio range so let him know you’re there and you’ll be one your way. We roll at 1700," Webb explained. "Any questions?"

"Are we bringing anyone back alive?" Shane asked quietly, his voice carrying a hard edge they all recognized.

Webb the younger man’s eyes squarely. "Do what you have to," Webb ordered coldly. "That includes London. He’s already chosen his side."

Shane gave a short nod of his dark head and spun on his heel.

"Let’s go," Harm ordered, knowing the other men would take care of their task without any further help from him.

They’d waited until it was closer to dusk before going directly to the whorehouse. Harm, A.J. and Gunny got into Curundú and parked behind the small, two-story building. The low income, high crime area was not heavily policed and housed every imaginable kind of scum. It showed in the filth and decay of the buildings and general environment. Criminals ran rampant so the three men didn’t think twice about walking straight into the whorehouse with their guns drawn. The main floor was dirty and rundown, occupied by two couples on opposite sides in various stages of foreplay. Gun aloft, Harm strode toward the stairs. A spate of Spanish came from behind and he turned to see Admiral Chegwidden step into the path of an older dark-haired woman with way too much bad living showing in her face. Gunny stepped up to her and began speaking to her in Spanish.

"We’re looking for an American woman brought here over a week ago by Señor Escobédo’s men. Where is she?"

"What makes you think she is still here?" the woman spat angrily.

Gunny grabbed the woman’s arm and jerked her toward him. Slowly, he raised his gun and held the barrel right under her chin. "Where is she?" he asked again.

The woman’s eyes darted between him and where Harm and A.J. stood. "The Señor will kill you!" she hissed.

"I’m going to kill you if you don’t tell me where the woman is," Gunny said again.

She launched into another tirade, cursing him with every word she could think of and then she spit in his face. Gunny released her arm and hit her with a vicious backhand, knocking her against the wall behind her. He pointed his gun at her, purpose evident in every line of his tall form.

"This is the last chance you get, old woman. What room?"

His blow had knocked the bravado right out of her and she pressed trembling hands to her bleeding face, crying.

"At the end of the hall," she whispered.

Gunny spun on his heel and Harm started up the stairs even as Gunny was giving the directions to him. He ran on ahead of Admiral Chegwidden, gun raised. Grasping the doorknob, he took a slow breath and shoved the door open. A young woman with long, black hair jumped when the door banged into the wall behind it. Aiming his gun into the room, Harm swung carefully from left to right to make sure there were no hidden surprises before walking in all the way. His attention went right to the woman on the bed. The young girl ran to him, clutching his arm and talking to him in Spanish. Gunny came in and pulled her away from Harm, explaining to her that they were there for the other woman and they wouldn’t hurt her. She let loose another long burst of words and Gunny looked toward Harm.

Very slowly he approached the bed, almost afraid of what he would find. Mac appeared to be sleeping, her breathing shallow and labored. Almost afraid to believe he was really looking at her, Harm carefully leaned over her still form. Her chest rose and fell very slowly with the effort to breathe and her skin was mottled red from the fever.

"She’s says the Colonel is suffering from Dengue fever," Gunny called from behind him.

"What is that?" Harm questioned, his eyes never leaving his partner’s face.

"Tropical fever, sir. Chills, dehydration, muscle aches. It’s something like having the flu. Not fatal unless complications arise," Gunny answered.

"Mac, can you hear me? Honey, it’s Harm," he whispered, his mouth at her ear.

Mac stirred and very slowly her lashes lifted. She stared at him for a long moment, her expression distant and impassive. Recognition began to filter in and she lifted a trembling hand to her mouth. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her image of him.

Harm smiled tenderly and reached for her hand, pulling it away. "You’ll be all right now. I’ve come to get you," he whispered, his eyes roaming over her haggard appearance.

Her mouth moved but he couldn’t hear what she was saying as her breath wheezed in and out. He leaned closer and felt the silky brush of her mouth against his ear. Her words were disjointed but he thought she said something about death and pain. He pressed the smallest of kisses to her mouth and smiled again, pushing back the rush of emotion that swamped him. She looked really bad and he knew he needed to get her some kind of medical attention. She appeared frail and weak, her cheeks hollowed and dark circles rimming her pain-glazed eyes.

"Everything’s going to be fine," he murmured. "I’m going to get you out of here now."

"Commander, this girl has been taking care of the Colonel. They left drugs to be given to her each day. She said she didn’t have any choice but to give them to her because they were checking but she said she didn’t give her all of it."

Harm turned and looked at the girl cowering behind the Gunny. "Tell her I’m grateful for all she’s done."

He turned back to Mac as Gunny relayed the message. Moving more quickly now, he pulled the sheets free and wrapped Mac up in them. Sliding his arms beneath her frail form, he started to lift her and before a searing pain ripped through his chest. Gasping against the onslaught, he rested her against the mattress and took shallow breaths. A.J. was at his side instantly.

"Too much, Commander," he reminded under his breath. "I’ll take her."

Harm knew there was no way he’d be able to carry her down the stairs and out to the car so he silently backed up, cursing their circumstances. A.J. swiftly lifted her, his gun beneath her knees as he crossed the room to the door.

"Let’s get the hell out of here," Harm muttered.

Harm went first with A.J. and Mac in the middle and Gunny bringing up the rear as they went back down the stairs. The old Madam was nowhere to be seen nor were the two couples they’d encountered, leaving the front room empty. They moved swiftly to the car and got in, Harm in the rear holding Mac in his arms. Then they were headed for the Embassy.

From the protection of the dense undergrowth surrounding the compound, five figures moved in silently from different directions. Of the tasks ahead, theirs would be the easiest to accomplish with no extraction to perform. Moving swiftly, they planted detonators at various points along the stone wall. They would have minutes to get out of range before the timers went off, effectively taking care of Escobédo and his men and the traitorous Captain London.

"This is Redeye," Shane murmured into his radio. "Are we a go?"

"Check Redeye. Green is a go."

"Blue is a go."

"Black is a go."

"White is a go."

Receiving word from each of them, Shane moved farther into the trees, feeling his heart begin to race. He pressed a switch on the small black control in his hand and a tremendous explosion ripped open the early evening stillness. The ground shook beneath his booted feet as he ran on, getting farther and farther from the now-destroyed compound. He got back to their meeting point seconds ahead of the rest of them. As Keeter, Webb, Holland and McKaye came into the tiny clearing to join him, the men didn’t utter a word but instead clasped hands with each other in silent victory before heading out to retrieve the Jeep they’d left a short distance away.

It was a tense, silent ride straight back to the Embassy. Dusk was starting to fall as they parked a short distance away, looking all around before climbing out of the vehicle. A.J. took Mac from Harm in the backseat then the three of them headed for the Embassy grounds. Darting between passing cars, their eyes scanned the immediate surroundings for anything out of place. It was getting dark and it made it difficult to see at a distance. Lights were beginning to come on in the streets and surrounding shops as well as around the perimeter of the Embassy itself. The guards patrolling the front gates weren’t visible but they would be within shouting range. They made it to the sidewalk and came toward the gates. The guard appeared and A.J. identified himself in low tones. The young Corporal immediately opened the heavy iron gates.

The squeal of tires captured their attention just as a black Suburban swerved to a halt in the middle of the street. The doors flew open and several men jumped out – and Harm’s eyes went immediately to those of Captain Frank London. Gunfire exploded before anyone could form a thought. The guard returned fire as A.J., Harm and Gunny pushed past him inside the gates. Harm and Gunny both returned fire as A.J. went toward the building with Mac. The driver of the Suburban went down with a grunt and the man next to him threw a grenade toward them. It fell short of its mark but it hit the stone wall to the right of the gate and blew. Debris showered over Harm and Gunny as that portion of the wall crumbled, the gate hanging off its frame. From the Embassy, Marines came running, taking spots up alongside Harm, Gunny and the man on the gate. As more of Escobédo’s men fell, Harm saw London edging away from the fray, looking around him for an escape route.

"Give me your rifle!" Harm ordered.

The guard did so and took Harm’s gun in exchange.

Harm ducked through the torn up gate to the sidewalk, ducking low behind a parked car. He looked past the bumper and saw London start down the sidewalk, away from the gunplay. Harm went the same way on his side of the street, careful to stay behind the cars along the curb. They came up on an intersection and glancing quickly to see if anything was coming, Harm darted into the street, rifle aloft.

"London!"

Frank London swung around at the sound of Harm’s voice, his gun aimed at the young Commander. "Don’t be foolish, Rabb! You’re in no shape to take me on!"

"Don’t bet on it, London!" Harm growled. "There’s no way in hell you’re getting away from me. By now your man Escobédo is dust. You take one step away from that spot you’re standing in and it’ll take them a month to count the holes."

"You don’t have it in you, Commander. It just continues to show how foolish you are," he taunted, stepping into the street.

It was almost dark now and the few cars on the road were stopping, unsure of the scene in the middle of the street. Harm became slowly became aware that the gunfire in front of the Embassy was dying away. He kept the rifle steady on London.

"We underestimated that you’d jump ship, London, but if you ever thought you’d get away with this then you’re the fool. Peña knew what you were up to and so did his men. Some covert operation you were running," Harm sneered.

"That punk is lucky you put him in the brig or he wouldn’t have lived long enough to talk," London shot back.

"You jumped ship, Captain. In my book that’s enough to have you cleaning the dumpsters at Leavenworth. I won’t even begin on what you did to Colonel MacKenzie and I. You’re a traitor and I intend to personally see to it that you spend the rest of your life locked up in a cage."

Had the Colonel been there, she wouldn’t have recognized the cold, emotionless voice of her partner. The last vestiges of his humanity were hanging by a thread as the pure hatred he felt overtook him. It pushed away the pain in his battered body and the medals of valor awarded him and the oath he took when he became an officer. It stomped out duty and country and honor – all the things he’d spent his adult life trying to uphold and protect and left in their place a single burning desire to see the man before him cut to shreds. To inflict slow, excruciating pain on the older man the same way he’d made them endure it. He wanted to make sure that Captain Frank London experienced every second of the hell that he’d visited upon Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, never mind what he, himself, had experienced.

But from somewhere inside he held on. Unrecognizable, it held him to all the promises he’d made and the vows he’d taken. Something far stronger than honor and duty for he would have recognized those upstanding feelings. The force driving him now wasn’t upstanding. It was dark and threatening. Maybe he’d never be able to explain or understand what kept him from killing London in cold blood. But he would be able to explain the instant London feinted to the left and fired his gun.

The rifle reverberated in Harm’s grip, sending a hail of gunfire at London. He knew the minute they found the mark as the older man’s body drew straight up. His face seemed to radiate shock, as if he couldn’t believe Harm had actually got him. Harm waited, froze in his spot. London raised his gun to fire again and Harm reacted on instinct, pulling the trigger. Two more bullets slammed into London, this time flinging him across the hood of the car behind him. The gun fell from his hand and clattered to the pavement and it was over.

Just like that.

For a long moment Harm wasn’t aware of anything else around him. The traffic, the noise, the shouts from the guards at the Embassy, all faded into nothing. He felt a roaring in his ears and his vision narrowed until only London’s body remained in his focus. He slowly felt the world begin to right itself. Felt the breath flowing in and out of his lungs, felt the hard ground beneath his feet, didn’t feel any new bullet wounds – which was a good thing – and remembered that his partner was somewhere in the Embassy deathly ill. The now dead London was no longer a problem and forgotten just that quickly.

Shouting drew Harm’s attention as he headed back to the Embassy. He saw men running from the opposite direction and heard Webb’s voice.

"Rabb! What the hell happened here? Are you okay?" Webb called as they jogged toward him.

Two guards ran past Harm toward London as he met up with his friends. "I’m fine. I need to get to Mac," he muttered, already veering away from them toward the gate.

Gunny met up with them, breathing heavily from the excitement and exertion of their fight with Escobédo’s men. "You okay?" he asked.

"Fine," Harm snapped. "Where’d the Admiral take Colonel MacKenzie?"

"They’re inside. I’ll help get things cleaned up out here," Gunny promised.

"You do that," Harm muttered distantly, his mind already inside.

He walked away, not even noticing if any of the others followed him or not and went inside. The Admiral was in the lobby talking to another Colonel. A.J.’s sharp gazed missed nothing from his junior officer.

"He dead?" he asked in a low voice.

Harm simply looked at him. "Yes," he answered flatly. "Where is she, Admiral?"

"The staff Meds are with her. They’ll be out as soon as she’s stabilized. I want them to look at you, too."

"I’m fi—"

"That’s an order," A.J. interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Harm just continued to look at him, his eyes dead. "Where do I go?" he asked.

"Straight down that hall. You can’t miss it," A.J. instructed.

Harm walked away without another word.

A.J. looked back to Colonel Boyd, the commanding officer at the Embassy.

"He looks like some of the Vets I’ve met over the years," Colonel Boyd murmured. "Shell shocked."

"He is," A.J. murmured. "Can you arrange immediate transport for us? I want to get everyone back to D.C."

"I’ll take care of it," Boyd promised.

"Admiral!"

A.J. turned as Webb came in.

"Everyone okay?" he asked.

"We’re not dead," A.J. returned frankly.

The corner of Webb’s mouth lifted. "Then we’re doing good. Gunny told us what happened outside. We leveled the compound," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with feral satisfaction.

"Speaking of taking care of things," A.J. said, "there’s a young girl at the whorehouse I want you to have picked up," he told Webb. "Gunny talked to her while we were there because she spoke Spanish but she took care of Mac and helped keep the Madam from turning her over to the customers. We owe her a major debt for that so get her back to D.C, or wherever she wants to go so we can do something for her. I want her out of that filthy place."

"I’ll take care of that." The new voice belonged to Kyle Holland who came through the door followed by the others. "I’ve done what I can for you anyway."

A.J. stuck his hand out to the other man and they exchanged a firm shake. "We owe you one, Agent Holland. Thank you for stepping in to help."

"Not a problem, Admiral Chegwidden. Tell Rabb and MacKenzie I’ll be thinking about them."

Several hours later they were beyond tired and headed for downright vicious. As soon as the attending physician at the Embassy released them for travel, the bedraggled group boarded two helos for D.C. All but Harm and Mac were taken to Andrews while the second helo deposited them on the helipad at Bethesda. Now hours after their ordeal in the street fronting the Embassy, Harm was finally installed in a chair at Mac’s bedside. He’d refused admittance to a bed of his own but he hadn’t gotten away unscathed. He ripped the crude stitches open in both wounds and had a flesh wound in the arm he never even realized he had. After they stitched him back together and applied fresh dressings, he was finally allowed in to sit with Mac.

For a long time he simply sat and looked at her. He was so far past tired that he was numb. Somewhere a small thought intruded that his mind was shutting down in order to deal with the trauma and stress they’d been through. Harm refused to even think about anything except her progress. The doctors confirmed that she had Dengue fever and they put her on a rigorous regimen of antibiotics. The effects of the drugs Escobédo was giving her were already wearing off and she would have no ill affects from them.

Leaning forward, Harm picked up her hand, holding it cradled in the palm of his. Idly, he studied the small outline, trailing one finger over her knuckles. All of the emotion seemed drained from him. The worry and fear from before was gone, somewhere in the background. As fiercely happy as he was that she was alive and would be all right, he felt almost disconnected from the whole thing. Drawing a slow breath, he laid his aching head down on the edge of the bed near her hip, holding her hand against him, and closed his eyes.

There would be time enough to think about what happened. Time enough for the memories and the rationale to flood in on all of them.

Time enough to remember the taste of death.

The End