Chapter 7
A cave somewhere in Afghanistan
The whip cracked, adding yet another red gash to his lacerated back.
"Tell me what I want to know," Ahmed, the Afghani leader reiterated slowly, watching a look of pain flicker across the prisoner's face, as his body jerked forward from the blow. "Tell me, and I will make this stop."
"Harmon ... Rabb ... Jr., Commander ... United ... St-tates ... Navy ... 989 ... 54 ... 8 ... 301..." he managed through clenched teeth.
"I am not interested in your name and number," the Afghani snapped. "I could have read that off your dogtags! What happened to our informer? What other places are your people planning to hit?"
The usual silence was his response, and the Afghani barked an order to the man holding the whip. The man nodded, pulling out a little bag that was tucked under his belt. Ahmed looked deep into the prisoner'' eyes, smiling slightly as in anticipation of some pleasant thing. To Harm his smile resembled a hyena's grin as it was about to munch on its prey.
"You know there is an old American saying, Commander -- something about pouring salt on one's wounds."
He paused, his grin widening at the confused look on the American's face. "I have always wanted to test the merit of that saying." He nodded to his man to go ahead, noting gleefully the fleeting look of terror in the pilot's eyes at the realization of what was about to happen, as his body tensed in anticipation of the pain.
The man behind him pulled out a fistful of white substance, and with a flick of a wrist, the salt crystals were poured onto the gaping wounds on his back. It felt as if thousands of red-hot coals were imbedded into his skin. He never imagined that something could hurt so much. His back was on fire. His breath caught in his throat, and he opened his mouth, gulping for air like a fish thrown out of water.
"I can make it stop," he heard faintly. "Just tell me what I want to know..." The words faded away, drowned out by the pain, and he squeezed his eyes shut, praying for the temporary relief of oblivion. The darkness wasn't forthcoming, however, and his agony endured until his interrogator grew impatient and called out to one of his men.
A sudden rush of cold water startled him, but he soon reveled in its soothing coolness, as it washed down the salt. When it was over, Harm risked opening his eyes again. The face of his tormentor came into view, and the Navy Commander shuddered at the absolute bestial look in the older man's eyes.
Something glistened ominously in Ahmed's hand, catching the tiny speck of sunlight that made its way into the damp interior of the cave. Harm gazed down at the narrow blade with sharp jagged edges -- the new instrument of his torture, as he pondered
involuntarily how much longer he could survive. And then, unbidden, a face of a young woman appeared to him out of the maze of his semi-delirious mind. Her large brown eyes smiled at him, drowning out the grim, dreary interior of the cave, the leering faces of his captors. His dry, cracked lips moved almost imperceptibly, forming her name, as he felt the sharp jagged metal enter his body, slowly tearing through his flesh.
"I need you, Sarah," was his last conscious thought.
* * *
Same time
Sarah MacKenzie's apartment
The scream of his name died on her lips, and Sarah Mackenzie bolted upright in her bed, her body drenched in cold sweat. Her dark eyes were wide with horror -- the nightmarish images from her dream still vivid before her. The clock at her bedside ticked away the remaining minutes of the night, as she hunched up on her bed, arms clutched tightly around her knees, oblivious to everything but the sound of her own wild heartbeat pounding in her ears.
The past three months have been hard on everyone. The Admiral has been grim and irritable; Bud requested an early termination of his medical leave and sat secluded in his office, buried in work; Sturgis has grown even quieter than usual; even Tiner lost some of his childlike carefree spirit. And poor Harriet... Sarah remembered finding her sitting on the staircase the day they were told about Harm's disappearance, her face buried in her hands.
Flashback
"Harriet, what's wrong?" she asked her then, sitting down next to her.
The young Lieutenant lifted up her tear-stained face and sniffled mournfully, as she looked at her friend. "It's all my fault, Ma'am," she whimpered, wiping her eyes.
"What are you talking about?"
"I brought this on him," she was openly wailing now. "I ... I told him that ... that he ... sh-should ... have ..."
Sarah started, remembering that scene at Bethesda and the expression of utter defeat on her partner's face. Shaking off the memory, she wrapped her arm around the younger woman.
"You didn't mean it, Harriet," she said quietly. "Besides, you had no control over the circumstances."
"Neither did he, Ma'am," Harriet objected, "when Bud was injured, I mean. But I blamed the Commander anyway." She paused, biting her lower lip. "And, Ma'am, for some split second there at the hospital, I think I actually did mean it..."
Mac didn't know what to say to her then, so she just sat there next to her in silence, feeling her own heart lurch painfully in her chest.
End flashback
"God, please let him be alive," Sarah Mackenzie whispered into the receding darkness of her room. "He has to be..."
The harsh ring of the phone broke through the otherwise perfect silence of the room, and she reached for it slowly and mechanically, not bothering to turn on the light.
"Mackenzie," she said, her voice low and expressionless.
"Mac? Mac is that you? It's Webb." The special agent waited for a few moments for a response. Not receiving any, he decided to continue. "Mac, I'm sorry for such an early call."
"I was awake," she replied in the same flat voice.
Clay sighed with a mixed feeling of worry and relief. "I may have some information about Harm," he said cautiously, hearing her sharp intake of breath at his words. "I'm going to see your Admiral in an hour. Meet me in his office." With this he hung up, leaving her alone with her thoughts.