'PEOPLE VS. CHEGWIDDEN'   (Part III of the 'Carnival' Series)


Author: Daenar
Rating: 12+
Disclaimer: JAG is property of Belisarius productions, CBS and Paramount. No copyright infringement intended. 

Category: Drama/Action/Romance (H/M)

Spoiler: Harm and Mac have to go to their limits and beyond to save their fatherly friend from a seemingly hopeless situation. Sequel to 'Dissonance'.

Many thanks to Kate and Valerie for highly appreciated contents advice. And, of course, to Heather for beta-reading!

Author's note: The whole case is entirely fictional. No reference to any real cases involving real persons is intended. Any resemblances to real cases may be caused by using the osha-slc.gov-site for research on the medical part concerning the case. The medical information concerning the private lives of the main characters derives from a magazine article that I read years ago, describing the exact situation that I now used for the story. 

I don't know what the testing facility inside the NFESC looks like, so let's just pretend it looks like I describe it. I don't know, either, if tests like the one I refer to are even done at NFESC. Let's, please, pretend that, too. 

I'm no doctor, no lawyer and no aeronautical engineer, either. So, if anyone of you belonging to one of the categories finds my story getting overly unrealistic, just blame it on my overzealous fantasy, okay? Thank you!

In my universe, Sergei and Singer didn't leave. And Meredith simply doesn't exist!
___________________________________________



Sun, Feb. 14th
2133 ZULU
The Roberts's residence
D.C.



Claire Farnham double-checked once more the red 'recording' light on her camcorder. Making sure that there would be enough tape left, too, she quickly retreated to the other end of the living-room where Harriet and Bobbi were setting the table. From a comfortable armchair nearby, Sarah Mackenzie-Rabb watched the whole scene, smiling, five-months-old Michael Harmon Roberts asleep in her arms.

Right now, Mac was at peace with the whole world. The picture that Claire was trying to capture on videotape made it impossible not to be. Shifting little Mikey so that he wouldn't rest too heavily on her eight-months-plus pregnant belly, she leaned slightly forward to have a better view. Claire joined her on the sofa next to her armchair and even Bobbi and Harriet interrupted their task to draw nearer and watch in amusement:

In the middle of a circle of about ten cheering kindergarten kids, all in costume, Harmon Rabb, Jr. and Sturgis Turner were facing each other, panting and grinning, each of them carrying a child on the back. Harm knew his sides would be black and blue in the evening from the way little AJ Roberts put the spurs to his 'horse' but he was enjoying himself way too much to really care. Raising his eyebrows to his Academy pal, Harm got a knowing grin in return. Tyler Crane, AJ's best friend from kindergarten, didn't treat his 'horse' too well, either, but Sturgis would never complain as long as Harm didn't. What kind of impression would that make on Bobbi?

"Sir Albert, Sir Tyler, cross your swords," Admiral Chegwidden ceremoniously proclaimed. Harm and Sturgis came to stand nose to nose so that AJ and Tyler could make the long cardboard tubes touch that they were using as swords. The admiral looked over at Fred Prumetti who was holding a little flag high in the air and at Bud who held a hooter in his hand, grinning.

Harm smirked at Sturgis. "Don't you dare knock me off my feet, buddy," he whispered threateningly.

"I'll spare you for now," Sturgis hissed back, "But once AJ is off your back you'd better run."

"Let's see who's going to run," Harm grinned.

"Rabb, Turner, horses don't talk," the admiral thundered.

"No, sir," came the automatic reply that caused four high-pitched fits of laughter from the far end of the room.

"Can we start, Uncle AJ?" little AJ asked, his voice letting it show that he was impatient to win the final point that would make him the winner of the entire tournament. 

"Sure, Captain," the admiral smiled, then once again pulled himself up to full height. "Honorable knights, turn your horses around," he announced. Harm and Sturgis exchanged a last quick grin and then turned around until they stood back to back. 

"Resume your positions," the admiral said. Harm and Sturgis each made ten wide steps in opposite directions and came to a halt again.

"Prepare," Chegwidden shouted, raising his arm. "May the best win! Attack!" With that, he let his arm come down quickly, signal for Fred to get down the flag and for Bud to honk the horn.

Harm tried not to wince as he once again felt little AJ's heels make rough contact with his sides. Instead he lowered his head a little and galloped in Sturgis' direction, seeing him come towards him as well. As they were passing each other, a soft 'cloc' indicated that the cardboard tubes had found their targets, while a flash and a humming sound were a sure sign that Bud had managed to capture the crucial moment on celluloid. Harm and Sturgis came to a halt on their adversaries' starting positions. Harm felt a drop of sweat trickle slowly down his forehead, hoping it wouldn't directly make its way into his eyes because he couldn't wipe it away. 

On Chegwidden's signal, Bud and Fred repeated their tasks and Harm and Sturgis set off for clinch once again. Another 'cloc'. Harm inwardly groaned. That meant they'd have another go. He sincerely hoped that this time one of the eager little guys would miss and that his torment would be over. He was way too exhausted for his liking. Again, the commanders resumed their positions and the admiral gave the signal to attack. Just then, the drop of sweat finally made its way through Harm's eyebrow and right into his left eye. His vision slightly blurry, Harm galloped a little off track, making little AJ miss Tyler's weapon and instead giving Tyler the opportunity to pat AJ on the back with his cardboard tube. 

"Awww, Uncle Harm, you made me miss him!" Little AJ was more than a little upset.

"So sorry, sport," Harm panted, slowly letting the boy slip to the ground, "But with sweat in my eye I couldn't see clearly." 

"I hereby solemnly proclaim Sir Tyler Crane winner of today's tournament!" the admiral declared. Cheers and clapping went up for the winner.

Little AJ was still frowning at his godfather. Harm knelt down in front of him. "You know, an honorable knight congratulates the winner and offers him his service," he suggested with one eyebrow upraised high.

AJ seemed to consider the advice. Finally, his face lit up. "Honor is somefing nice, isn't it?"

Harm bit back a laugh. "Yes, it is. All officers have it, too, if they're good officers. Like your dad or Uncle AJ, for example."

"And you?"

"Yeah, Fred and Sturgis and me, too." Harm found it increasingly difficult not to laugh. "And your mom and Auntie Mac."

"Okay." AJ had made up his mind. He went over to Tyler and then looked back up at Harm. "How do I... umm... what you said?"

"You bow and say: 'Sir Tyler, I'm at your service.'" Harm explained. The others watched their exchange with ever-widening grins. 

"Umm, Sir Tyler," little AJ exercised a nearly perfect bow in front of his obviously flattered friend, "I'm at your surface." Then he proudly turned back to Harm. "Right?"

"Yeah, right," he answered, chuckling. "Okay, enough for now. Your mom and Aunties Mac, Claire and Bobbi got the stuff ready to feed all of you honorable knights. Come on." He shooed the children to the extra-long coffee table that was set with brightly colored cardboard plates and plastic mugs. Screaming and laughing, the whole group of kids instantly climbed onto the chairs. Still grinning broadly and enjoying themselves tremendously, the five 'adult kids' joined the women.

"Boy, I'm getting way too old for this," Admiral Chegwidden sighed and pressed a hand to the small of his back. He and Fred had had to play horse during the first three rounds as well until their riders had dropped out of the competition. AJ felt every single muscle in his body but his beaming face and the twinkle in his eyes belied his complaint: he was having the greatest time. When Harriet had called and invited him to help with his little namesake's carnival party he'd instantly agreed, at the same time feeling a slight pang at the thought that he should have done those kind of things with his own family, not that of one of his officers. But he had quickly consoled himself. 'JAG is my family. They're all my kids, and even when they call me 'sir', it somehow feels like 'dad'. So don't be sorry for yourself, Chegwidden, you have all the family you could want to have.'

AJ watched as Bud walked over and took little Mikey from Mac's lap. Family life had never worked out for him. He and Marcella were too different. AJ had been young and ambitious, trying to advance his career, and although he'd hated to do so, he'd had to leave her and Francesca by themselves far too often. But he had thought that, once he'd established a decent professional life, it would become the basis for a happy family. What AJ hadn't expected was that, by that time, he'd have lost his wife. Not to another man but to an increasing despair that had built up in her because of him, the man who always left her alone. Francesca hardly knew him when he and Marcella finally split. And until many, many years later, AJ hadn't known that Marcella would have wanted him to come back until she had finally drawn the line and remarried.

There had been other women in AJ's life, of course, after his failed marriage. But he had never come close to thinking about a family again, except for once... AJ quickly banished the memory from his conscious. After the Danny-affair, he and Sydney Walden had been unable to exchange even a single friendly word. But it still hurt that it had to have ended that way. They had shared very beautiful moments.

"Uncle AJ!" Little AJ's voice woke the admiral from his reverie. He bent down to the excited boy.

"Hey, Captain! What's up?"

"Uncle AJ, you must come and sit wif us and tell us somefing about pirates!" The little boy tugged at AJ's hand and looked up at him expectantly.

"AJ Roberts, let Uncle AJ have his coffee first!" Harriet shouted from the couch. 

"It's okay, Harriet," AJ shouted back, laughing, "Maybe you could bring me a cup to the children's table. So I can let Bobbi and Claire have a little break."

"Sure, sir!" Harriet instantly busied herself with the admiral's mug, grinning to herself. She loved watching her CO become a family man. It did him good. 

AJ let himself be dragged towards the crowd of kids that were eager to listen. Sitting down on little AJ's chair and taking his namesake to his lap, the admiral grinned at the expectant children. "So, you want to know something about pirates? Well, how about... uhm... yeah, let's start with this one: about three hundred years ago, in a region far south from here, there was..."

"He's great with them," Harm murmured in Mac's direction as he sat down on the armrest of her armchair, his eyes never leaving his CO. 

"Yeah." Mac watched with a content smile as the children began to ask questions that AJ readily answered. Little AJ beamed with pride about his Uncle, the Admiral. After a few moments, Mac decided to turn her attention back to the conversation between the adults.

"How's the Cramer case going, sir?" Bud asked Harm.

The commander shrugged. "I went to question the Lt. Cmdr. yesterday. Evidence seems pretty clear. She left her research team alone for a few moments when the test had already begun. The engine was running in neutral when the injection pump failed to control the amount of fuel that evaporated into the system. She claims she had to get her testing checklist from the control room. We have a witness that confirms this. Lt. Cmdr. Cramer explains that the engine would have blown anyway because the damaged part that probably caused the explosion was actually inside the combustion chamber. It wouldn't have been discovered in any prior inspection. It seems the engine was checked the day before, and everything, according to the protocols, went smoothly. So no one would have checked again before testing. And had Cramer been present, she wouldn't have been able to stop it, either. She'd most probably be at Bethesda right now, with the three injured engineers and technicians. That's it."

"Sir, you're gonna base your defense on the fact that her presence wouldn't have prevented anything?" Fred asked with a grin. "Sorry, Commander, that's not gonna work." 

Harm frowned. "Sturg, could you tell your second chair he'd better wipe that grin off his face? He's not seen Mac and me together in court, yet."

Sturgis leaned over with an angelic smile. "Who's afraid of the big, bad Rabb...?"

"I'm only sorry that right now I'm not in combat shape," Mac snapped with a cocky smile. "If I were..."

"Hey," Sturgis replied, laughing, holding his hands up in defense, "I'd never dare to insult a Marine!"

"Better for you, bubblehead..." Harm murmured, only half-joking.

"Anyway, brace yourself, Rabbs," Fred just added, exchanging a quick, grinning nod with Sturgis.

"Uhm, sir," Bud cut in thoughtfully. "It strikes me as kind of odd that a skilled and experienced engineer would leave something as essential as her checklist in another room."

Harm's face sobered. "To admit the truth, that's the only part that I don't really understand either. But as her defense counsel, I believe her when she tells me she'd had personal problems that day with her husband. But still that's not very professional behavior. You're right about that."

Just then, they heard the shrill beeping of a cell-phone somewhere in the room. A moment later, AJ called out to them: "Could anybody just take over with the kids for a moment, please?"

"Sure, sir." Harm rose and took his godson from the admiral who lunged into his pocket and, pulling out his cell-phone, quickly left the room.

"So, guys," Harm faced ten disappointed faces, "What did the admiral tell you? Maybe I can finish it until he comes back."


Closing the kitchen door behind him, AJ flipped his cell-phone open without glancing at the display. "Chegwidden."

"AJ?" 

The admiral jumped at the sound of her voice. 

"This is Sydney."

"Uhm... Sydney. Hi. What can I do for you?" His reply was as guarded as he could bring about.

"Er... I'm sorry, I really feel stupid about calling but..." she paused, seemingly distressed. AJ simply waited for her to go on. "AJ, I... there's something I need to show you. It scares me and I don't know what to make of it."

He could hear highway noises through the receiver. "Where are you?" he asked warily.

"I'm calling from a phone booth somewhere off the Beltway. I'm on my way home now. Could you... could you please meet me there in half an hour?" Sydney's voice had quite an uneasy edge.

AJ frowned. He didn't really want to see her, especially as it probably had something to do with her darling Danny, who'd probably gotten into trouble again. But he still was too much of a gentleman to reject a plea for help. "Uhm... sure. I'll be there."

Silence. Then a low, somewhat relieved "Thanks, AJ." The line went dead.

For a minute, AJ just stared at his cell-phone, puzzled. Then, sighing, he snapped it shut and returned to join the others.

"Uhm..." he cleared his throat. Everybody, except the children, of course, instantly looked at him. "I'm sorry, but something's come up. I've got to meet someone." He smiled and tried to keep his tone light and succeeded in fooling everybody but Mac who shot him a quick worried glance. 

"That's a pity, sir, but duty's duty," Harriet sighed with a good-natured smile, rising to show her CO to the door. 

"Sir, anything we could help you with?" Mac ventured carefully. 

AJ smiled. "I'll be okay. See you tomorrow, all of you!"

"Aye, sir!" came a collective, smirking reply. 

'I just love those big kids!' AJ thought as he left the house, chuckling to himself.


The party continued for some time before a second cell-phone started to ring. Instantly recognizing Mac's melody, Harm gave her a hand up as she struggled to get up from the deep, soft armchair, handing her her purse and watching her vanish into the kitchen, as well. 

Mac leaned back against the kitchen counter, flipping her cell-phone open with her left hand, resting her right hand on her belly as she had gotten used to during the last months. "Rabb?"

"Mac? This is Chegwidden." His voice was low, guarded and somewhat strained.

Mac instantly snapped to Marine-mode. "Sir? Everything okay?"

To her astonishment, she heard a bitter chuckle. "Not quite. Get your husband and meet me at the D.C. police department. I might need my lawyers."

She drew a sharp breath, dreading the next question. She'd instantly known that something was troubling him when he left the party. "What happened?" she asked, her stomach tightening.

"I've just been arrested for the murder of Doctor Sydney Walden."



Mon, Feb. 15th
0112 ZULU
D.C. Police Department
Washington, D.C.



"Easy, Marine," Harm admonished her as he tried to catch up to his wife who was literally running up the stairs that led to the entrance of the building. "The little one doesn't like to be shaken."

Mac obediently slowed down her pace and smiled at him. "I'm sorry. It's just... I'm worried."

"Hey, that's okay." Harm put his arm around her shoulders upon reaching her. He cast her a warm smile that didn't quite succeed in hiding his own uneasiness. "I don't feel too good myself. But we mustn't lose our heads right now. Maybe we can straighten this out in a few days." He sighed.

"Yeah..." Mac couldn't quite bring herself to believe him. Her sense of foreboding had proven right once too often by now. Absentmindedly, she gently stroked her belly as if she were asking her daughter to forgive her for running.

They showed their military IDs to the policeman on duty and were led to their 'client'. AJ was already sitting in the small interrogation room when they entered. Mac was shocked when she saw his face. His expression had lost the aura of unperturbed calm and control that it normally held. AJ somehow looked haunted and... vulnerable. Neither of the Rabbs had ever seen their CO like this.

"Admiral..." Mac instantly walked up to him and as he rose to greet her, gentleman to the last, she hugged him tightly, hesitating only for the briefest moment, causing him to jump slightly in surprise. Harm just stepped close to them and silently placed his hand on AJ's shoulder.

AJ briefly closed his eyes. He had felt very lonely when he had first been asked if he wanted to inform his family that he had been arrested. "No, just my lawyers," he had answered. The Rabbs' reaction upon seeing him had reassured him that he did indeed have a family, sort of. Right now, this knowledge caused enormous relief. Clearing his throat, AJ after a few moments drew back from Mac's embrace and stated in an overly gruff voice: "Now, Colonel, you don't even know if I'm guilty or not."

Mac knew he had meant it to be an embarrassed joke but nevertheless she earnestly looked at him. "You're not."

"Well, right. Good intuition." AJ rumbled on, confusedly looking around as if to search for chairs that he could offer to his officers. 

Harm decided to help his CO keep his countenance and get into the matter. He pulled up a chair for his wife and helped Mac sit down before lowering himself onto another chair after AJ had again taken his seat at the other side of the small table. "What exactly happened, sir?"

AJ studied his hands as if in deep thought. It took him a full minute to respond. Harm felt Mac's cold hand clench his fingers. They waited.

"You remember that call I received at the Roberts'?" AJ finally looked up to meet his officers' worried glances. It wasn't a question. The Rabbs only nodded.

"That was Sydney. She sounded somewhat troubled." AJ paused and with his right hand wiped his face, sighing. "I was..." looking down, he let out a sad chuckle before facing his friends again with a gruff helpless half-grin. "You can imagine that I was rather surprised."

"I guess," Mac answered with a warm smile. Harm silently returned AJ's grin, never letting go of Mac's hand.

"Well," AJ went on, almost matter-of-factly. "She was calling from a phone booth somewhere off the Beltway as if she didn't dare to call from a personal phone. And she asked me to come and meet her at her house in half an hour. Said she wanted to tell me something that she'd come across and didn't know what to make of it. She seemed scared."

"And you went to see her," Harm concluded, careful to wear an absolutely neutral expression on his face and to keep his voice guarded. He didn't want AJ to notice that he was surprised that the admiral had so deliberately complied.

AJ's smile was sarcastic. "What was I supposed to do? Ignore an obvious plea for help? I'm an officer, Commander, in case you didn't know."

Harm knew better than to feel offended. He could distinguish no traces of hurt or reprimand in his CO's voice. This was just Chegwidden's way to react to a situation that emotionally shook him and endangered his usual unperturbed calm state of mind.

Mac thought it wise to take over. "And what did you find when you got to her?"

"Her." AJ's voice was tight and he stared right through Mac's glance, not seeing anything. "The door wasn't locked so when she didn't answer the bell I just walked in. Then I found her. In the entrance, stabbed with a butcher's knife. She was still conscious." 

The last words had come out in a mere whisper. Mac's grip on Harm's hand tightened painfully. But before either of them could even think of what to reply to AJ's horrible tale, the admiral went on, as if on autopilot, still staring into the great nothing, not acknowledging his friends' presence.

"I wasn't thinking of the consequences. I called 911 and knelt down to support her, tossing aside the knife. I should have known I was acting foolishly. I mean, cases like this one cross our desks every so often. But I... I... wasn't able to think. All I knew was that a woman that meant a lot to me was dying, right there, before my eyes. And I couldn't do anything to prevent it. All I could do was hold her."

Harm swallowed. He didn't want to intrude his friend's grief but they had to get back to the hard facts. "So... your fingerprints would be on the doorbell and on the knife and..." he helplessly looked over to his wife in whose huge dark eyes he could only detect the same dread he was feeling himself right now.

"And I was found with her, yes." AJ had shaken himself from his state of haze and regained his usual gruffness. "Danny came in and... well... jumped to conclusions. And then the police and the ambulance arrived. The paramedics couldn't do anything."

"Were there any traces of a fight, sir?" Mac tried to keep her voice steady, switching to Marine-mode. She hoped the professional distance might help to prevent the situation from getting out of hand. Her co-workers instantly followed her example.

"No. She must have opened the door herself and been completely surprised by the attack. And there were no other fingerprints on the doorknob or on the knife. Somehow the attacker must have known I'd come to see her and thought it wise to let me play the role of the suspect. CSI wasn't able to find any other traces whatsoever until now. And Danny didn't really come to my aid by telling the police that his mother had been thinking about calling me for a couple of days but didn't dare to. He told them that she feared seeing me and that they both couldn't imagine how I'd react and that he'd begged his mother to keep me out of it all because, as he put it, 'Chegwidden's always wanted to interfere and tell us how to live our lives.' So that's it." It was obvious that AJ had no delusions about his present status as the primary suspect, given all the evidence against him.

"Do you have any idea what Dr. Walden could have wanted to tell you, sir?" Harm asked.

AJ frowned. "None whatsoever. I can only assume it had something to do with Darling Danny."

"We'll get into the matter first thing in the morning, sir," Mac said. "Any instructions for the office?"

AJ smiled. "I guess it would be useless to try to dissuade my chief of staff from defending me? Given her state, that is."

Mac smiled back, glad the mood had somehow lightened. She put her hand on her belly. "Our little Trisha just let me know that she wants no one other than her mommy and daddy to defend Uncle AJ. So I fear it's a hopeless case, sir."

"I see. Harm, I want you to take over as temporary JAG, though. I know it would have been Mac's task but I don't know how long this is gonna take and before long Mommy will be occupied at home. Right? So, Mac, I'll let you defend me, but you'll still start your maternity leave tomorrow, understood?" AJ looked at his officers.

"Aye, sir," they replied in unison, smiling.

AJ rose from his chair, his officers immediately following suit. "Go home now and get some sleep, will you? Especially you, Mac. I'll be all right."

Once again Mac hugged her CO and silently stepped aside. Harm took the hand that his CO offered him and squeezed it tightly. "We won't let you down, sir. We'll get you out of this." His gaze was intense.

The admiral gave him a half-smile in return. "Don't make promises you can't keep, son."

"I haven't yet." Harm smiled a little slyly.

"I'll watch him closely, sir," Mac cut in with a smirk. Then she sobered and took Harm's hand. "But you have our word of honor."

"Well, right." AJ let the old gruffness return to his voice to hide his emotion. "Anyway, even if you don't get me out of this, I know you won't let me down, guys. And now go home and get some rest. Or do I have to make it an order?"

"No, sir," Harm grinned. He put his arm around Mac's shoulders and guided her outside. AJ watched them leave, a sad smile on his face. 'I'm not so sure you'll convince those people of my innocence, Commander,' he thought. 'But I thank you for taking the family part.'



Mon, Feb. 15th
0542 ZULU
Rabb residence
Arlington, VA



"Harm?"

"Hmm?" Sheets began to rustle at Mac's right side and a moment later she felt her husband's face hovering near her own. "What's up? My favorite Marine can't sleep?" She could hear the smile in his voice through the darkness.

Smiling herself, she reached up with one hand and stroked his temple with her fingertips. "Not really."

"Care to share?"

"It's the admiral," she sighed.

"Come here." Harm lifted the blanket to allow Mac to move closer. She turned to lie on the other side and spooned up to him. He immediately encircled her in his arms and pulled her close. They lay in silence for a couple of minutes, silently enjoying each other's closeness. Then Mac spoke up.

"The situation is pretty desperate, isn't it?"

Harm gently kissed her neck and sighed. "Yeah. If Sydney's murderer really wanted to make it look like the admiral did it and if CSI doesn't come up with something really quick, we'll have nothing but the missing motive to base our defense on."

"That's not enough."

"No, it isn't. We'll have to have a little conversation with Petty Officer Third Class Daniel Walden, I suppose." Harm's voice held a tight edge. "If she knew her attacker I wouldn't be surprised if he came from Danny's former friends' sphere of influence. I'd really hoped the Navy would straighten him out but obviously it didn't work."

"Remember to give him the benefit of a doubt," Mac calmly admonished. "Sure, he's the first lead we have and we'll start looking for a link to his drug-dealing friends, but there might as well be something totally different involved. Don't jump to conclusions, Commander."

"Aye, ma'am." Harm's silent chuckle made his breath caress her neck and sent a shiver down her spine. For a moment they were silent. Then Mac sighed.

"You know, sailor, somehow I've been dreading something like this. I mean, hasn't life been just too perfect during these last months? Listen: first we get married. I'm pregnant with a seemingly healthy child. Then we find this wonderful house, like you promised, with a huge front porch swing and a lovely garden. Neither of us has to transfer out of JAG. Harriet has another adorable little son. Bud finishes his rehab and returns to full duty. Fred prolongs his stay in Washington. Jeannine's boyfriend leaves her and as she comes to visit us for Christmas, she falls in love with Sergei and makes him forget about Singer. Something just had to happen." Mac involuntarily shivered.

Harm tightened his embrace. "Shhh," he whispered soothingly, "Now don't you dare feel guilty for being happy, Marine. You, of all people, deserve all this, after that hell of a youth you had. Don't get the distorted idea that Chegwidden's trial is some sort of poetic justice for your personal happiness. The admiral himself would court-martial you for that, you know."

Mac, with a content sigh, snuggled even closer to her husband. "I know. It's just kind of hard to accept. And I'm really worried about him. After Uncle Matt, the admiral's been the closest thing to a father I ever had."

"Me, too," came Harm's somewhat strained, low answer, "Even though I always had Frank. But I know how you feel, honey."

Mac suddenly realized that Harm was taking this whole affair far harder than he had wanted to make her see. 'Stupid squid,' she gently scolded him in her thoughts, 'This leaning-on thing is supposed to be mutual, remember?' She carefully turned in his arms and kissed him softly. "I'm only glad that we have each other."

Even in the darkness she could see his beautiful, warm smile light up his face. "Tell me about it, Sarah." His hands were gently caressing her back. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Harm." Mac closed her eyes and buried her face in the curve of his neck. After a few moments he heard her muffled voice. "Make love to me, Harm?" 

"You want me to?" he gently asked. "What does the little one say about it?"

Mac softly wriggled out of his embrace and, with a quick, smooth movement, removed her silk nightgown to reveal her belly. "Ask her," she invited him, smiling.

Harm shook his head, chuckling, and placed a loving kiss on her navel. Then he put his flat hands on the impressive swell. "Hey, Trisha," he said softly, "Would you mind if I showed your mommy how much I love her?" He waited a few seconds until he had felt his tiny daughter move. "It's okay with her," he declared with a smug smile, letting Mac remove his T-shirt and then pull him down to her.

"Could have told you," Mac murmured against his mouth before she let herself be swept away by Harm's tender caresses.



Mon., Feb. 15th
1411 ZULU
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA



With long, quick strides, Harm crossed the bullpen from the elevator right to the admiral's office. "At ease, everyone listen." The staff turned expectantly and the room fell silent.

Harm felt far less confident than he tried to appear. How do you tell your subordinates that their CO has just been arrested for murder? Anyway, the sooner he got it over with, the better it would be. He and Mac hadn't revealed any of the particulars when they had left the Roberts' party to join the admiral. So the news would be equally shocking for everyone. Harm could tell by the way Harriet, Bud, Sturgis and Fred were exchanging quick worried glances, that speculation had already reached its high point when Chegwidden hadn't arrived at his usual time this morning. Better at once relieve the tension of insecurity.

"The admiral asks me to inform you that yesterday he was arrested by the Washington police."

A collective gasp floated through the room. A 'thud' indicated that Tiner had dropped the book he had been holding.

Harm swallowed and went on. "Admiral Chegwidden is accused of the murder of Doctor Sydney Walden. We all know that is not true, but the task will fall on Colonel Rabb and me to prove it. With the colonel starting her maternity leave today, the admiral has put me in charge of headquarters as temporary JAG. We'll hold our first staff meeting at 1500. That is all. Dismissed." He turned and entered AJ's office, pointedly closing the door behind himself. Half a minute later, he quietly opened it again and pushed it slightly ajar to be able to see his coworkers' reaction to his dreadful news.

Harriet had paled visibly and was right now in Bud's arms, the lieutenant holding her tightly and seemingly at a loss about what to say. Tiner and Sturgis were quietly discussing possible consequences, should the case go further than the Article-32 hearing. Fred could be seen in his office, firmly holding on to the receiver of his telephone as if it were some sort of an anchor. He was obviously trying to call Claire. And Singer was sitting at her desk, staring blankly at her monitor, not moving for an entire two minutes. But somehow Harm refused to believe that Miss Icebreaker could have been shaken by his news. Carefully, he closed his door and with a sigh sat down in AJ's chair that all of a sudden seemed huge.

A little while later, he heard a knock on the door. Tiner popped his head in. "Lt. Singer would like to see you, sir."

'That's what I needed.' Sighing, Harm nodded. "Tell her to come in, Tiner."

"Aye, sir."

The lieutenant stepped into the room and came to attention in front of him. To his astonishment, Harm detected a somewhat unsure and... guilty look on her face. 

"At ease, Lieutenant. You wanted to talk to me?"

Singer's gaze never wavered but her voice seemed slightly tight. "Yes, sir. Sir... I thought I should inform you about a phone call I just received." She waited for Harm's reaction.

"Go ahead."

"It was about the admiral's Article-32 hearing. I suppose the normal procedure would have been to call you first, sir, as you're the temporary JAG. But the officer who called me told me she wanted to talk to me first. And she asked me to sit second chair to prosecution. I declined."

Harm willed his eyebrows to stay in place. Singer had declined an offer such as this? Of her own free will? And even more, she'd come to him and informed him about a call she had received from some high-ranking officer that could be in the position to push her career? Did miracles ever cease to happen?

"May I ask why you declined the offer, Lieutenant?" he ventured, trying to sound neutral.

Singer's mouth showed the thinnest of cynical smiles. "I suppose you're surprised that I did, sir. Actually, I'm surprised myself. But I did attend the Academy once, too, Commander, and I haven't been as completely unreceptive to the Code of Honor as you may think. The admiral may not like me. But he's always been fair. And, frankly, I don't think he did kill Doctor Walden. So I won't be the means of some personal revenge crusade that some navy captain unknown to me seems to want to pull against him. And his defense counsels, for that matter."

Harm had to admit he was impressed. He could tell from Singer's expression that, had the person in question been someone else, she would immediately have taken the opportunity to advance her career. But she seemed to value the admiral as a just person and obviously didn't like the idea of being used for ulterior, personal motives of whoever it was who took the prosecution. 'Wait a minute,' he suddenly told himself, 'A captain? She? A personal revenge crusade against certain members of this office? It couldn't be...' He sat up straight in his chair and locked his gaze with Singer's.

"What was the name of the captain who called you, Lieutenant?"

"Captain Allison Krennick, sir."



Tue, Feb. 16th
1534 ZULU
Walden residence



Yellow tape, reading 'Police - do not cross', was fluttering in the strong wind. The police had secured a vast area all around Sydney Walden's house. The street where she lived had been blocked, keeping out any onlookers and any journalists, too, which was fortunate as the case had already begun to attract public attention. The U.S. Navy's JAG arrested for murder - ratings had gone up for the news networks ever since word of the affair had leaked out.

The clouds hanging over Harm were just as thick and gray as the ones currently coming in from the north, telling of a nearing blizzard. Harm carefully steered the navy blue JAG sedan through the crowd of zealous reporters, keeping the windows shut tightly. No way would he issue a single comment right now. 

The whole of yesterday afternoon and a good part of the evening he and Mac had spent reading Daniel Walden's service record, the process files of his drug-dealing trial, information about the background of his former friends, general information about the latest developments on the narcotics market, everything. They had had long and frustrating telephone conversations with the police investigators, trying every possible way to come up with an idea of where to look for further evidence, but it all came to nothing. No traces, no clues, nothing on the list of telephone calls Sydney or Danny, who was on leave right now, had made, no unusual developments or events connected to Sydney's medical practice or to her or Danny's financial situation. Danny's service record still remained clean even after triple scrutiny. The seemingly obvious solution to this case was that the admiral had killed her - at least according to the DCPD. 

They had tried to find out what Sydney might have wanted to tell AJ. Harm had gone to her practice and questioned all the nurses. None of them had the slightest idea of what the nature of her news might have been. And none of them had even noticed that she might have been troubled by something. She seemed to have concealed it well. Without much hope, he and Mac would now try to find something in her house, although it had already been searched several times by the local investigators. Webb was in Afghanistan and out of reach. Damn. Of course, he would have to be gone the one time they really needed him.

And then there was Krennick. 'Captain' Krennick. Harm frowned. Sure, she had always been his superior in rank, but somehow he couldn't help wondering how on earth a disagreeable person like her would succeed in getting herself promoted. It couldn't have been for outstanding professional success. He'd have heard about that. Opposing her in court would be difficult, though. He was the more skilled lawyer, matched only by his wife, but Krennick was cunning and potentially dangerous. She tended to have aces hidden up her sleeve. At least this time he would be spared her non-too-subtle personal approaches. Harm cast a quick look at his left hand on the steering wheel. The thin gold band on his fourth finger still amazed him every time he saw it. The hint of a smile for a moment softened the lines on his forehead. Everything seemed half as hard to endure if you knew you had Sarah Mackenzie at your side.

"Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie-Rabb and Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., from the JAG corps," Harm told the policeman at the cordon, showing him their IDs. "We're Admiral Chegwidden's defense counselors." If the policeman was astonished to see that one of the lawyers was obviously very pregnant, he didn't show it. He let them pass, shooing off the reporters that, for the present, had to be content to have at least caught the names of the defendant's attorneys. And they were married. Might be worth the while to do a little research on the admiral's and his officers' personal background. Family stories always worked well.

Harm parked the car in front of the house and quickly went to help his wife get out. He was glad that Mac had somehow overcome her stubborn Marine pride after the insulin attack she had suffered back at the naval college. The few dreadful moments of insecurity, not knowing if her child would live, had taught her to accept the help of others for the sake of her daughter. So, whenever Harm would now offer her a hand or an arm to help her get up, sit down or anything, she would always take it and give him a grateful smile in return. And Harm was glad to be able to play the gallant knight. But he also knew that, in a few weeks' time, it would all be over. As soon as their daughter would be born, he was sure that Mac would instantly take up her stubborn Semper-Fi attitude again. The same stubborn Semper-Fi attitude he had fallen in love with so many years ago. 

They entered the house and were at once greeted by a tall man in a dark suit. "Colonel, Commander, I am Special Agent Colin Spearman, FBI. I'm conducting this investigation."

Harm and Mac exchanged a surprised glance. The Feds? "Cmdr. Harmon Rabb, Jr., JAG corps. And this is my partner, Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie-Rabb," Harm introduced them. 

Spearman cast a quick glance at Mac's maternity uniform and then at the wedding bands the officers wore. Then he looked up and flashed them a puzzled, but sincere smile. "Congratulations."

With his most charming flyboy-grin, Harm simply replied: "Thank you, Agent Spearman." And the topic was passed over.

"Tell me, Agent Spearman," Mac spoke up, curious, "When did the Bureau take over? And why?"

"When your husband called the PD yesterday and informed them about a possible connection to drug-trafficking and dealing, the investigators decided to contact us, ma'am," Spearman explained. "Although we still can't establish any hints between the actual case and the Daniel Walden trial by now," he added, casting an almost excusing look in Harm's direction. "But if you would like to take a look around... maybe you can find something that we didn't." He didn't sound too convinced.

Mac turned to follow Spearman upstairs whereas Harm decided to examine the ground floor. He knelt down as he reached a spot where the carpet was covered with large stains of dried blood and footprints that he easily recognized as the admiral's. Few people in D.C. wore original Italian Valleverde shoes. After a moment, a shadow fell over him. He looked up and willed himself to refrain from groaning.

"Hello Commander. Nice to see you again. It's been too long." Allison Krennick's smile hadn't changed for the better. It still seemed calculated and threatening.

Harm rose and came to attention. "Captain..."

"At ease. So, you and your partner are storming to the rescue of your friend?" She gave him a small, not unfriendly, pitying frown. "Might very well turn out to be a hopeless case."

"I don't think so, ma'am," Harm answered evenly.

Krennick moved a little closer and lowered her voice. "It might depend on the negotiating qualities of the admiral's lawyers."

Inwardly swearing, Harm still managed to smile. He wouldn't be impolite. But if he had to be direct, he sure as hell would. Bless Mac for her excellent timing. At that very moment she descended the stairs again and, with a smile that everyone except Harm would have judged brilliant, neared the two navy officers and came to attention.

"Captain Krennick, ma'am."

"At ease." Krennick let her gaze wander openly up and down Mac's body. "I guess congratulations are in order, Colonel," she stated in a guarded voice.

"Thank you, ma'am." Mac's smile never faltered. Harm tried hard to hide his grin.

"Well, who is the lucky one?" Krennick smugly winked at her, casting Harm a quick See-other-people-aren't-as-stiff-as-you glance.

At this Harm stepped up to Mac and put his arm around her shoulders. "Captain, I guess you already know my wife, Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie-Rabb?"

Krennick's eyes popped open for a fraction of a second but she quickly controlled her reaction. "Yes, I do. Only that I wasn't aware that you were married. On the file it only read 'Mackenzie'. Well, Colonel, seems you've tamed the lone pirate. My compliments. Harm..." With a nod to both of them, she quickly turned and went to find Spearman.

Having saluted the captain, Harm gave his wife a quick loving smile. She returned it, squeezing his hand. Then they turned back to business. 

"Did you find anything upstairs?"

"No. Seems Sydney didn't keep many things in her bedroom. Mostly clothes and a few toiletteries. No documents. Danny's room is practically empty. He only sleeps there and keeps his belongings on the Coral Sea. I don't think football equipment and old toys are what we're looking for. The third room's a guestroom. Nothing to see. And you?"

Harm sighed. "Nothing down here. I was just examining the bloodstains when Krennick appeared. If you take a look at the kitchen and the living room, I'll go over the folders on her desk in the little home studio," he proposed.

"Okay with me." Mac disappeared into the kitchen and Harm went over to Sydney's desk to lower himself on the chair and open the drawers.


Two hours later they were on their way back to Arlington. Harm wanted to drop Mac off at home, leaving her safely on the sofa, legs up, a cup of tea by her side and lots and lots of pages he had found in Sydney's desk for her to read. Harm didn't really expect that Mac would find anything in the files he had taken with him. But as she hadn't been able to discover any hints, either, on what must have troubled their CO's former girlfriend, the documents were their final thread of hope. Both officers were rather silent; frustration and worry once again clouding their good humor. Suddenly, Mac's cell-phone rang. Frowning, she attached it to the car's intercom and flipped it open.

"Rabb."

"Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie-Rabb? This is Kimberly Archer, 'People' Magazine. Colonel, our readers remember you and the commander from our news coverage regarding the Dwayne Myers band concert at Carnegie Hall. They are keenly interested in the Chegwidden affair and in how you and Cmdr. Rabb deal with the situation that must be hard for you, especially in your state. We would like to set a date for an exclusive interview with the two of you, say, next week?"

Mac and Harm exchanged a quick, incredulous stare. How on earth had that woman gotten Mac's private cell-phone number? Surely Tiner had been fooled by some make-believe explanation, stressing the importance of reaching the colonel. 

"Colonel? Are you still with me?" Kimberly Archer was getting a little impatient as the silence lingered on.

"Uhm... yeah." Mac cleared her throat. "Miss Archer, we..."

She didn't get any further. The journalist, probably smiling widely and signaling 'thumbs up' to her colleagues, cut in. "Great. So, what do you say? How about Monday? That would leave us another two days for a few nice cover photos."

"Miss Archer..." Mac tried to be patient.

"We could also do it all in one day if that's more convenient for you. I could drop by at your house with my photographer so people would get a nice impression, too, of how you live."

"Excuse me, Miss Archer, but..." Mac's articulation was decidedly more pointed this time but the reporter went on, obviously not even noticing that the subject of her article had something to say.

"So I guess, we'd have to schedule our meeting for the evening, so your husband's at home, right? We could..."

"I beg your pardon!!!" Mac yelled in boot-camp voice, causing the joyful babble to stop immediately. Mac earned herself an appreciative flyboy-grin as she went on, very calmly, very clearly and deadly serious. "Miss Archer, I don't know how you've come by this number but let me point out a few facts to you. First: my husband and I are 'not' interested in any interviews whatsoever. Second: the way you drag people's private lives into public while - or worse, because - one of the Navy's finest officers is fighting unjust charges is simply disgusting. And third: don't - you - ever - dare - call - this - number - again!! Do I make myself clear??" Harm grinned as he imagined the journalist holding her cell-phone at a two-feet distance from her ear, wincing.

"You did indeed, ma'am," came the very quiet answer.

"Fine. Have a nice day, Miss Archer," Mac said in a honeyed voice and, grinning, snapped the cell-phone shut.

"You could have made an appointment and then shot her, you know..." Harm chuckled softly.

"I'm one of the impatient kind," Mac replied with a lopsided grin.

"Thanks for reminding me."

For a while they rode on in silence. Mac from the corner of her eye looked over at her husband. His concern showed clearly on his face, from the frown on his forehead to his narrowed eyes and the thin line of his tightly set mouth. She sighed.

"Any ideas what we tell Judge Helfman tomorrow morning?"

"No."

"I'll go over all those pages until you come home. I'll have them done when you get back," she offered, wanting to ease his worries. Not that she didn't share them, far from it. She was extremely worried about the case. But her Marine shell would at least prevent her from being eaten up alive by her fears. Harm, on the other hand, was at the verge of plunging himself into the matter so deeply that he once again threatened to drown in it. Like with his father. Like with Darlyn Lewis. Like he maybe would have with her own trial or with Sergei's case, had the matters not been resolved relatively quickly. It was in his character to overstep the boundaries of his own strength if anyone he cared about was involved. And it was a trait of his personality that she deeply loved, although it scared her.

He echoed her sigh. "Thanks, Mac. Let's hope there's something in it."

Her heart ached, hearing the sadness in his voice.



Wed, Feb. 17th
1357 ZULU
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA



Admiral Chegwidden nervously wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, then squared his shoulders and tightly smiled at his attorneys. "Let's get it over with, guys."

Harm and Mac exchanged a quick, uneasy glance that didn't go unnoticed by AJ. "Pull yourself together!" he rumbled in a low voice and added with the same strained smile: "I know there isn't much to be said in my favor right now. I don't expect the impossible." He shrugged, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "In a few weeks, when it gets to the actual trial, you'll hopefully have dug up something substantial, right?" It was meant to be a joke, but it failed to make the officers smile. A low, sad "Aye, sir." was his only answer. He frowned, but thought it better not to say anything.

AJ wasn't aware that not even one of the four-hundred-plus pages that Harm and Mac had taken home from Sydney's desk had given them so much as the hint to a hint about who might be involved in the affair. Mac, true to her word, had been finished examining them when Harm had returned from the office the day before. But he'd only had to look into her huge, incredibly sad eyes to get the answer to his unspoken question if she would be able to give them hope. Silently she had stepped up to him and embraced him tightly. 

None of them had had the heart yet to tell their CO of their newest failure. They could still do it after the hearing when they would talk about a strategy for the court-martial. By now, none of them doubted that there would be one.

"Okay, let's go," Harm finally agreed as the bailiff opened the huge oak doors and they stepped into the courtroom.

The whole JAG office had to be deserted as all of their coworkers were quietly sitting in the audience. Lt. Singer was the only one among them that somehow managed to look relaxed. But even she wore a sober expression on her face. Harriet was chewing her lower lip and tightly holding on to Bud's arm. Fred was subconsciously folding and unfolding his handkerchief over and over again in his lap until Sturgis laid a gentle but firm hand on his arm. Mattoni was staring at the prosecution desk, barely able to contain his anger about seeing Krennick sit there, quietly arranging her files. 

Next to the captain was sitting a young man that had earlier been presented to them as Lieutenant Melvin Hobbes, of the Great Lakes JAG office. A quick call to Carolyn Imes had informed Harm - and the rest of the staff that had been listening to the loudspeaker - that Hobbes, like Harm, was an ex-pilot turned lawyer. Only that his change of designator had been of his own free will. He had, at some point, come to the conclusion, that being a lawyer might turn out to be an easier life. Nevertheless, he was still in full possession of his flyboy ego and, being a good-looking, blond giant, displayed an amount of self-confidence that Mac found disturbing and Harm considered plain disgusting. He himself had never been like that, had he?

Upon announcement, all rose as Judge Amy Helfman and her staff entered the courtroom, looking grave and somehow uncomfortable. Mac noticed that, unlike her usual easy attitude, the judge stuck strictly to protocol and only looked up when it was necessary. As the preliminaries were dealt with, she turned her attention to Krennick and requested the captain to bring forth her charges. 

Exchanging a quick, confident smile with Hobbes, Krennick rose, let her gaze quickly meet Harm's, and walked in front. "This case is plainly obvious. When it goes to trial, prosecution will prove that Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden, JAG of the Navy, on Sunday, February 14th, went to see his former girlfriend, Doctor Sydney Walden, assaulted her in her house and killed her. We have the testimony of her son, P.O. Daniel Walden, who confirms that the admiral had previously interfered in their lives and that Doctor Walden feared seeing him. And P.O. Walden furthermore claims to have dissuaded his mother from contacting him in a certain matter yet unknown to all parties, as he fully shared her concerns regarding the admiral. We have evidence at hand that Admiral Chegwidden had indeed been in the victim's house at the time of her death. Her son testifies to having witnessed seeing his mother die in the admiral's presence. We have the admiral's fingerprints on the murder weapon, no other fingerprints were found. We have a police statement that says that Doctor Walden must have known her assaulter and admitted him to her house. We can prove that the admiral and Doctor Walden did not end their relationship on friendly terms and that he has been observing P.O. Walden's career in the Navy carefully ever since. Therefore, prosecution maintains that it is necessary to press murder charges against Admiral Chegwidden and to convene a court-martial against him."

Casting one last satisfied look in the direction of the defense, Krennick nodded at Judge Helfman and returned to her seat. The judge turned her attention to Harm who now rose and stepped in front.

"Your honor, if this case should go to trial, our defendant will proclaim himself not guilty. It is true that he went to see Doctor Walden at the time of her tragic death but he did it because she had asked him to come and meet her. Admiral Chegwidden and Sydney Walden had been completely disconnected for several years by the time the murder occurred. Therefore their private lives cannot be considered a motive for this crime. AJ Chegwidden did not murder the doctor." Knowing he had to stick to the hard facts, Harm swallowed the fiery defense discourse that his mind urged him to make, and turned to sit down. But he was interrupted by the judge's voice.

Knowing well that for an Article-32 hearing her interference might be a little unorthodox, Captain Amy Helfman couldn't refrain from speaking up. Incredulous, she had listened to the commander's weak attempts to establish a defense. This was by no means the Harmon Rabb she knew. She had been glad to hear that Rabb and Mackenzie had taken the JAG's defense, knowing that if there were anyone who could get him out of this mess, it would be the HQ wonder team. But what on earth had happened to their faculties? Judge Helfman knew that the commander and the colonel had to be aware that their strategy - if there was one - wasn't worth the paper it was written on. But what had really shaken her was the expression of defeat and resignation that she had detected in the eyes of the tall officer and his partner who were known to her as two of the toughest fighters on earth. If even those two had already given up the fight...

"Commander?"

Harm stopped short and turned, noticing at once the barely hidden concern in the judge's voice. "Your honor?"

"Do you have witnesses who confirm that Doctor Walden called the admiral?" Judge Helfman felt strange in the role of the investigator but she couldn't just let the commander walk away.

"The whole JAG office witnessed him receive a call, ma'am." Harm had immediately understood what the judge was trying to do. He bit his lip to refrain from yelling at her that whatever she would come up with would lead to nothing but frustration. So he just waited and concentrated on his breathing, willing himself to keep his rage in check.

The judge sighed. "Did anyone overhear the admiral actually talking to Doctor Walden?"

"No, ma'am."

"Did the admiral mention to anyone that he was about to go to Doctor Walden?"

"No, ma'am."

"Does the admiral's cell-phone show that Doctor Walden called?"

"The call was made from a public payphone, ma'am."

"Is there anything the defense might want to add?"

"No, your honor."

Judge Helfman closed her eyes for a brief moment after Harm's monotone answers, sighing. Then she resolutely grabbed the gavel and looked at the congregation.

"Take your place, Commander. A court-martial will be convened regarding the murder charges against Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden. The date will be set in a few weeks' time. Taking into consideration the gravity of the crime in question, the accused will remain in custody. Court is in recess." The gavel fell so vigorously that it broke upon impact. Judge Helfman frowned, rose and left the courtroom. 

"See you soon, Commander, Colonel," was all that AJ said gruffly as the guards were about to accompany him out of the courtroom.

"Aye, sir." Mac's hand sought Harm's as she tried to steady her voice. Then she left the room together with her colleagues, knowing that Harm wanted a minute to himself.

Harm let himself fall onto his chair, letting out his breath and burying his face in his hands, supporting his head by resting his elbows on the table before him. Like this, he just sat there for three whole minutes, trying to come to terms with this nightmare. The quiet solitude of the deserted courtroom slowly helped him to calm down. Suddenly, the sound of a voice made him jump.

"I told you it wasn't going to work, Commander." Allison Krennick shut the door behind herself and walked up to Harm's table. Sighing, he pulled himself up and came to attention.

"Ma'am..."

"At ease." She frowned. "Oh, come on, Harm, there's no one here. Drop the formalities."

"Aye, ma'am." He folded his arms in front of his chest, waiting.

"You are pretty desperate, right?" Her words were open and sincere. Harm thought he would have felt more at ease had she been gloating over his defeat. 

"Yes." Unemotional honesty might work, he decided.

Krennick stepped closer, lowering her voice. "We might be able to work out a deal, though, if your client cooperates."

Stiffening, Harm warily eyed the blond captain. She was good-looking, he had to admit. And it was clear that she knew it. He tried not to let his anger rise. He was married, damn it! Didn't that mean anything to her?

"I don't see any room for negotiations, ma'am."

Krennick lightly put her hand on Harm's arm, looking up to him. "Oh, I do. I could explain my ideas to you in private. I'm sure your wife, in her state, needs to rest a lot and would even be glad to have her husband leave her in peace for a little while."

Harm felt his hand clench the lapel of his uniform jacket as he tried to stay calm. "My wife happens to sit second chair," was the only thing he said. 

Krennick frowned slightly and decided to try the direct approach. Rabb was a pilot. He had always been flattered by female attention. A fighter pilot never let an easy prey slip away. Not even a wedding band could change that. "You could always inform her about any deals once they are made. Negotiating is your prerogative as primary defense counsel. And..." Krennick let her voice drop an octave, stepping still closer to him, "You might thank me for providing you with an opportunity to get a break from female pregnancy roller-coaster and to have some of the fun you must have been missing for some time now." She invitingly raised one eyebrow.

Fuming, Harm grabbed his folders, tugged them tightly under his arm and raised himself to full height. He hated having to answer anything to her bold request, especially as their private lives were of no one else's concern, let alone Krennick's. But he had to be plain, once and for all. His stare might have stabbed the female officer when he calmly replied.

"I have been married for more than half a year now, ma'am. Very happily married. My wife is the most extraordinary woman I have ever met in my whole life and she means everything to me. I am missing nothing whatsoever and, with all due respect, Captain: should you feel inclined to engage into any social contact with a pilot turned lawyer, you might want to consider turning to Lt. Hobbes. May I be dismissed?"

Krennick's stare had turned as angry as his own. "Dismissed, Commander." Her words were sharp and cold. Harm turned and walked out of the courtroom, knowing well that the situation hadn't become any easier for their CO just now.

The blond captain watched as the object of her hidden desires left the room. 'Damn you, Mackenzie,' she silently swore. 



Thu, Feb. 18th
0623 ZULU
Rabb residence
Arlington, VA



For hours, Harm had been brooding over his files, searching the Internet, perusing books, rummaging through folders and all the file cabinets that could be found in their house. Somehow he knew he was being foolish, acting out of his desperation and frustration, but what the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't let down his CO. There had to be a way out of this mess. There had to be!

Mac had gone to bed two hours ago, exhausted after having gone on with her own research for ages. Of course, Harm knew she had to take care of her health, and she had every right to take her necessary break, clear her head and get a refreshing good night's sleep. But tonight, his emotions were clouding his judgment to some extent, leaving him with a feeling of being left alone and let down by his wife. 

She had been trying to talk him into abandoning his futile and aimless search and save his strength, to continue in the morning and calm down a bit. But, as his stubborn going-on had met with her equally stubborn attempts at getting him to shut down his computer, emotions between them had heated up quickly and they had ended up arguing. Mac had - not really without a reason, as Harm grudgingly admitted to himself - told him that he was, once again, being driven by emotion, trying to come up with some solution out of the blue without having any substantial plans. Like he had been in Russia. Only then she had helped him pull it through. Today, she had just sworn under her breath, slammed the bedroom door shut and gone to sleep. 

Although Harm still hadn't come to the point where he could openly admit to her that she was right in calling him foolish, deep inside his soul he was hurting badly. He wished he could overcome his pride more easily, go upstairs, apologize and ease the pain that he knew she was feeling just like he did whenever they fought. But right now he couldn't.

He finally came to the conclusion that his attempts to develop a new defense strategy were indeed futile. Sighing, he disconnected from the Internet, switched off his computer, put all books and folders back into place and quietly went upstairs. As he slipped under the blanket he, for a moment, felt the need to wake Mac, take her into his arms and tell her he was sorry. But then he decided against it, content that she was sound asleep and not wanting to disturb her. She needed her rest more than he did. He could still apologize in the morning.


When his alarm-clock told him it was time to get up, he immediately noticed that Mac's side of the bed was empty. Frowning, Harm got up and descended to the kitchen, only to find it deserted, the dishes she had used for her early breakfast still standing in the sink. Then he noticed a note she had pinned to the refrigerator.


Harm,

I hope you remembered that I'm off to N.Y. with Claire for my appointment for Trisha's heart examination. Hopefully, I'll be back in the evening. You won't be able to call me as I'll be inside the hospital all day, but we'll be fine. I'll call you as soon as we're on our way back.

I'm sorry about last night. Love you,

Mac


Damn. He had forgotten about that. Two weeks ago while doing a routine screening, Claire had detected slight irregularities in their daughter's heart rate. She thought it was nothing to be overly concerned about, but she had still advised Mac to get it checked out by a specialist in pre-natal medicine. They'd surely be back late tonight, if not tomorrow. Harm's conscience was stirring. He really should have apologized yesterday night. He didn't want her to think that he was still mad at her, especially when she had been right about his behavior. But at the moment there was nothing he could do about it. By now, they would be boarding their flight at Dulles and they would have switched off their cell-phones. Maybe he'd have a chance to talk to her if she called on the way from the airport to the hospital.

He showered, dressed, had a quick cup of coffee and headed for JAG, only to bury himself once again in his research. After the screwed Article-32 yesterday morning, no staff member dared to disturb him. In the solitude of AJ's mahogany-furnished office, Harm desperately searched again and again for the needle in the haystack, the one fact that no one had mentioned yet and that might blow Krennick's solid charges against the admiral. But it all seemed pointless.

At one point, Tiner's voice addressed him over the intercom.

"Sir, Admiral Chegwidden's on line one for you."

"Put him through, please, Tiner."

"Aye, sir."

Harm wiped his face with his hand. He had been dreading this conversation. He drew a deep breath and decided to get it over with. "Sir?"

"Hello Commander. How are things going?" AJ's voice sounded tired.

"Smoothly, sir. Only two new cases today, a Drunk and Disorderly and a minor AWOL. Both at Norfolk. How are you, sir?"

AJ's laugh held a slightly sarcastic note. "That was one hell of a defense you laid out there yesterday, son."

Harm swallowed. "I am sorry, sir, but that was all we had. We are working on it, sir, I swear."

"I know." AJ sighed. He knew the commander too well not to worry. "Don't let this affect you too much, Harm," he quietly counseled. "Stick to your duties, alright?"

Harm smiled despite himself. "Duty always comes first, sir," he lied.

AJ cleared his throat to hide his grin. He knew Harm was being insincere. "Glad to hear it. But Harm," his voice suddenly turned sober, "I mean it. Don't get carried away with your concern. For Mac's sake."

"Too late for that, sir," Harm ruefully replied.

"I feared it would be. I take it she is mad at you for being stubborn?"

Harm shook his head with a sad smile. The admiral knew his 'family' too well. "You've hit the nail on the head, sir. Only that she thinks that I'm mad at her, too. I didn't apologize yesterday and today she's off to New York for a medical examination and it hurts having things unresolved."

"Then learn from it, son. I'll go back to my Shakespeare now and I expect to hear from you only when you have news to tell, right?" AJ gave his voice an extra gruff edge. He didn't want the commander to hear that he was moved that the younger officer had just confided in him and talked about his personal life.

"Aye, sir. Permission to speak freely?"

"Go ahead, Rabb."

"We all miss you over here, sir."

"Well, then it's up to you and the colonel to see to it that I get my six out of here quickly to grace you with my presence."

"Will do, sir," Harm chuckled and put down the receiver when he had heard the 'click' on the other end of the line. For a moment he just stared blankly at the telephone. Then he shook himself from his lethargy. Mac hadn't called and by now she would be inside the hospital walls. 'God, let everything be okay,' he silently prayed. Resolving that the best way to clear his head was a change of occupation, he sat up straight in his chair and pulled out the Cramer case file. He would have to work on it anyway and the Chegwidden case at the moment just led to dead ends. 'Better get your thoughts onto that one, Hammer,' he advised himself as he began to skim the file to remember the particulars.



Thu, Feb. 18th
2102 ZULU
NFESC
Washington Navy Yard
Washington, D.C.



"Here we are, sir. Controlling." The young ensign looked expectantly at him as Harm stepped into the room.

"Thank you, Ensign, you may go now."

"Aye, sir." The young man saluted, turned and left Harm to himself. The commander slowly had a look around. Lt. Cmdr. Cramer and her team had been assigned a rather small testing facility, situated at the far end of the Naval Facilities Engineering Service Center. The tests were executed in a small hangar. At the side, offices and rooms for technical support were located on two levels. Huge windowpanes opened the view right into the testing hangar to allow the personnel to follow the procedures. The main control room was located on the first floor. Right under it was the room that the engineers used to observe the testing procedures from, while Controlling was usually occupied by technicians and computer specialists. 

According to her own statement, Maryann Cramer had left the observation room on the ground floor and gone up to Controlling when the testing had already begun. As the technicians explained, she had come in in a hurry, taken a stack of papers from a table at the back and, equally hurriedly, left the room again to return to her colleagues. What didn't quite add up was the fact that she hadn't joined her team until approximately four minutes later, if Harm could trust the engineers' statements. He didn't have Mac's timing but a blind man could see that an officer in an obvious hurry wouldn't need more than twenty seconds to descend from Controlling to Obs. What hadn't Cramer told him? Harm frowned as he started to walk around the place and hoped for an inspiration.

He threw a quick "At ease, continue." at the two engineers present in Obs and let his gaze wander, not sure what he was looking for. As he studied the items present on the nearby bookshelf, he couldn't help overhearing the engineers' conversation.

"Yeah, I guess the shareholders were pretty upset when they heard that," one just said, pointing out something to the other in the newspaper he was reading. 

"Holy... yeah, I guess they were," the other engineer agreed, shock evident in his voice.

"Hope you sold your Branwick shares in time, Pete?" the engineer with the newspaper asked mockingly.

"Sure, I had to buy my wife that villa at the Riviera, remember?" Pete replied in the same mocking tone. Sobering, he went on. "But this time I'm sure Branwick's gonna kick the bucket, Joe. They invested billions in the project and again North Star beat them. The contract is safe and sound. Not even the incident can change that."

Harm looked up from the brochure he had been perusing. Were they referring to the same incident he was investigating? Trying to look totally absorbed in his reading, he started to listen intently to the engineers' conversation, observing them from the corner of his eye.

"I'm afraid you're right," Joe agreed. "I was puzzled from the start how a small company like Branwick could even think of competing with them. They must know that the Navy's got contracts with North Star that date way back. We've bought hundreds of engines from them. The technical personnel are familiar with their specifications. What made Branwick think they could outrun them this time?"

Pete shrugged. "I have no idea. I heard they were having problems in general, though. So maybe this was supposed to be the final huge effort to try and reach safe grounds? I mean, had they gotten the Navy order, their problems would have dissolved in no time... whoosh, bank account in order. They were pretty desperate, I think."

Joe gave him a lopsided grin. "So they must be gloating over our little mishap here."

"Poetic justice..." Pete mused.

Harm was intrigued. Maybe he had just stumbled over a hint of what really lay behind the scenes. What if this small firm, Branwick, had actually wanted the North Star engine to fail the test? 'Don't jump to conclusions, Hammer,' he admonished himself. 'It doesn't have to be sabotage, it could just be an ordinary malfunction that led to the explosion.' But he had tasted blood. He decided it was at least worth to check out this theory. 

He turned, cleared his throat and casually asked the engineers if he might just for a moment use one of the terminals.

"Sure, sir, go ahead," Pete answered with a smile. Harm chose the computer farthest off whose monitor faced a corner and couldn't be overseen from the room. He quickly logged on the internet and surfed his way up to the homepage of Branwick Industries: the company was part of a small consortium of rather different enterprises, Branwick Industries, specialized in aeronautical engineering, Baxter and Connelly, hazardous freight forwarding, and Minton Greenwood waste disposal. Harm skimmed through the company's history: it had been founded in 1930 by Carl Branwick, and the company proudly retained that the firm had always remained property of his family. 

Switching to the Financial Times archive, Harm learned that Branwick had successfully fought several attempts of corporate take over by other firms. The company had had proficient clients, mostly firms that built small civilian aircraft like his stepfather's jet. But like too many companies whose economic well-being was linked to commercial air travel, after 9/11 the numbers of orders had diminished dramatically. Branwick shares had begun a steady decline, and right now the company seemed to face bankruptcy. An article that dated a year ago, told Harm that Branwick's chairman, Nicholas Bernstein, had decided to start acquiring new clients and that he was hoping to establish contracts with the military. No wonder, Harm silently admitted. The military would right now be one of the very few faithful buyers of aircraft parts. So the company had invested whatever capital they could bring forth into the development of fighter turbines. But in the end, the major order that they had been speculating on had once again gone to the global player North Star. 

A suspicion started to rise at the back of Harm's mind. He couldn't bring himself to believe Lt. Cmdr. Cramer guilty, but he felt he couldn't completely trust her, either, due to the four-minute hole in her tale. Once more trusting his instincts more than his intellect, Harm logged out, got up and headed for the locker room.

Knowing that he still had half an hour before the shifts would change, he quietly entered the changing room and quickly picked the lock to Cramer's locker. Rummaging through it, taking care, though, not to change the order of Cramer's belongings, he searched for anything that might establish a connection between the engineer and either North Star or Branwick. And at last his patience and intuition were rewarded: in a stack of paper, somewhere in between thermal calculations and printouts of testing routines, he found a ripped-off letterhead of Branwick Industries.

"Now we're finally getting somewhere, Commander," he grimly muttered to himself as he stuffed the sheet into his pocket, quickly closed the locker and headed for NFESC security. 


Fri, Feb 19th
0227 ZULU
NFESC
Washington Navy Yard
Washington, D.C.



By now, Harm had a rather clear image of what must have happened when the explosion had occurred. But to his surprise and dismay, it was different from what he had expected. Upon request, he had been given tapes of all security cam recordings of the four minutes in question and of the hours that lay between the last inspection of the engine and the test. He had hoped for some sign of Maryann Cramer within the hangar - or of anyone, for that matter - who could have sabotaged the machine. But until Cramer's staff had gathered for the actual testing, no one had ever entered the hangar at all.

But on the other hand, while turning his attention to the fatal four minutes of Cramer's absence from Obs, he had been able to clearly identify her as she quickly entered the network supply room that lay next to Controlling and that had been deserted at the time of the incident. The engineer went in, quickly deposited a few pages from her file behind the heater and quickly and quietly left the room again, just as the explosion could be heard. Out of curiosity, Harm had continued to watch the same tape, and two minutes later, a technician had been seen enter the room, stride over to the heater, take the pages and leave. Whistling through his teeth, Harm had understood what he had at hand: the explosion seemed to be accidental, maybe, but Cramer might be involved in a case of industrial espionage. But where was her motive? Why would she risk her career for some firm that had lost a contract? 

As security had left him alone in the spare video observation office, Harm was able to make a copy of the tape in question and then return all originals to the archive, claiming not to have found anything of relevance. He felt that he first needed additional confirmation of his theory before making it public. He decided he had to go back online and check the Branwick site for possible hints.

Mac still hadn't called. Harm presumed that she must still be at the hospital and he tried to ignore the gnawing feeling that something had to be wrong if the tests took that long. He was sure, though, that Claire and her patient would not come back tonight. So he decided to stay at the NFESC and do a little additional research. Not wanting to draw attention, Harm went in search for another computer, outside Controlling.


When Lt. Cmdr. Maryann Cramer emerged from the dressing room to begin her shift, she became aware of the lights coming out of the network administrator's office. 'That's strange,' she thought, nearing the door, 'Guy is never at the office after 1700.' Peeping inside the room, she immediately recognized the tall dark-haired figure at the computer that sat with his back in her direction. She was about to go in and greet her defense counsel when she stopped short in her tracks, becoming aware of the particular design of the web page the commander had just opened. Branwick Industries. Holding her breath, Cramer withdrew and hurriedly went to her own desk in the adjoining room, switched on her computer and, with a little programming, established a link to the administrator's terminal.

Meanwhile Harm had found what he had hoped for. He had quietly clicked his way through the biography of Nicholas Bernstein and had come across a picture of his family: him, two teenage sons and his wife, Kristen Cramer-Bernstein, general manager of Minton Greenwood. Cramer. Should this 'coincidence' be related to the family tradition Branwick was so proud of? Harm printed out his findings and immediately searched on until he came by the biography of Carl Branwick's daughter Cheryl that had inherited the company after his death. At 32, she had married a certain Murray Cramer with whom she had two daughters, Kristen and... Maryann. Bingo. There was the motive. A proud family never let their ancestors' work die. A grin began to spread over Harm's face as he prepared to leave and go home.

As Maryann Cramer witnessed the accuracy and obvious right direction of her attorney's research on her own screen, her heart rate slowly but steadily increased. Casually telling Pete and Joe that she had - once again - left a vital file at home, she excused herself from her shift mates and left for her car, always taking care never to let a tall, dark-haired officer out of her sight.


Harm parked his SUV in front of their house. He decided to leave the evidence in the car as he would need it at the office anyway and was afraid to leave anything at home, endangering it to mingle with Mac's organized home chaos. He locked the car and stepped onto the sidewalk as he heard a voice call his name. He turned - and found himself face to face with Lt. Cmdr. Maryann Cramer, pointing a gun at him. Before he could think of a single thing to say, he heard the gun go off twice and immediately felt a searing pain in his gut and on his forehead. As he doubled over, gasping in agony, he felt gloved hands pull him down on the concrete and search his pockets. 'Mac! Help!' he thought. Then everything went dark.

The stars were shining above the heavily bleeding figure, lying in the fresh snow, as, in the victim's security pocket, a cell-phone started to beep, its unanswered ringing leaving a Marine colonel up in New York wondering if her husband was still mad at her.



To be continued...