Bell pulled into a parking space at the motorpool. Beside him, Tyler took a nervous breath, "Okay, showtime." The corporal got out, marched around to the passenger side and opened the door. Grabbing his briefcase, Tyler walked to the office with Bell trailing behind.

The PFC on duty at the front desk cast a bored glance as the young ensign opened the door and came in. His eyes widened considerably at the Marine corporal who followed him. "May I help you, sir?" he asked, his eyes still on the huge Marine, looming behind the ensign.

Tyler consulted a slip of paper in his hand, "I'm here to see Master Chief Wilkins."

"What about, young man?"

Tyler turned to see a stocky, older man standing in an office doorway. His salt and pepper hair was closely cropped and the muscles he must have had in his youth were slowly going to fat. "Are you Chief Wilkins?"

The Chief nodded. Technically, this young pup outranked him but he'd had ensigns like this for breakfast for more years than he could count.

Tyler assumed a self-important attitude, "I'm with the Judge Advocate General's office. A complaint's been filed about some of your trucks. I need to discuss it with you." He threw a haughty glance over his shoulder, "Corporal, why don't you find something to do outside? Try not to get lost."

Bell let a scowl chase across his face before once more looking impassive. "Yes sir," he growled. Turning around, he stalked out of the office. The Chief and the PFC exchanged looks of disbelief, the pompous little ensign must be out of his mind to annoy something that big.

Bell stood in the doorway for a minute and looked around. One thing he had learned growing up was that people always assumed that someone his size was automatically stupid. He was also aware that he looked older than he was, but he was still young enough to find all of this incredibly exciting. He'd been as surprised and pleased by the Colonel's trust as Tyler. However, he had learned to tone down his responses at an early age. He'd inadvertently broken a lot of things when he was young. This spy stuff beat breaking up brawls and ferreting out info on his computer all to hell. He and Tyler had decided that he would be less of threat wandering around the truck yard. Keeping his expression blank and limiting himself to one and two syllable words would probably convince most people he couldn't even count.

He started walking slowly through the yard, looking at everything and nothing. There were a large number of vehicles neatly parked, no doubt an equal number were out and about. Bell angled towards the maintenance sheds. Most of the enlisted who passed him, hurried by after one look. He stood outside the garage for a few minutes watching two privates wrestle with a carburetor. Casually, he turned to enter the building, only to have his way blocked by a staff sergeant.

"No unauthorized personnel past this point, Corporal," said the sergeant, looking up. He was a wiry, brown-skinned man.

Bell regarded him for about ten seconds and then said slowly, "I was looking for a pop machine." He could see one about twenty feet inside the door. He could also see a number of trucks.

"Sorry, Corporal. You ain't authorized and you ain't gettin' in," the sergeant crossed his arms.

"Okay, Sarge," Bell said equably, he turned around and ambled back the way he had come.

The staff sergeant watched him walk away and turned back into the garage, shaking his head, "Dumb as a stone... "

Ensign Tyler glanced at the Master Chief as they sat down in Wilkins' office. He needed to stretch this out as long as possible to give Bell a chance to look around. He rummaged through his briefcase for a minute or two until he thought Wilkins was going to explode. Then he pulled out a thick sheaf of papers, "I'd like to make sure we cover everything, Chief."

Wilkins rolled his eyes as Tyler shuffled through all the papers. 'God save me from the young.' Putting an expression of polite inquiry on his face, he said in a pointed tone, "Ensign, it would probably help if I knew why exactly you were here."

"Oh yeah, right," Tyler said, looking flustered. He managed to drop a stack of papers on the floor. He dropped to his knees beside the chair and made a show of gathering papers and sorting them. "Ummm, sorry, Chief." He got up and sat in the chair again. Tyler tried for a superior tone, "Chief, an environmental group based in Memphis has filed a complaint with our office about air pollution; specifically, your trucks. They claim that the following trucks have excessive exhaust problems." He pulled a sheet of paper out and handed it to Wilkins.

The Master Chief looked dumfounded, "You've got to be kidding."

"Sir," Tyler said.

"What?" Wilkins said, looking puzzled.

"Sir," Tyler repeated, "You have to call me Sir. I outrank you." He watched the Chief's face turn an interesting shade of puce and added self-righteously, "Don't make me put you on report."

The office personnel jumped when the door to Master Chief Wilkins' office slammed shut. The yelling started a few moments later and slowly grew in intensity and volume. Every minute or so it was punctuated with an explosive 'Sir'. The PFC at the front desk cringed a little, listening to it. That arrogant little idiot no doubt deserved every moment but he still couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for the kid. He was startled when he realized that, at some point, the Incredible Hulk had returned. For a big man, he moved very quietly. It was a trifle unnerving.

Finally, there was silence and the Chief's door opened. Tyler walked out, wide-eyed and white-faced, clutching his briefcase. Looking neither left nor right, he marched out of the office without a word. Bell hurried after him. They were silent as the Corporal pulled out of the parking lot. He looked worriedly into the rearview mirror, "Pick? Are you all right?"

Tyler looked back at him, and said loudly, "My ears are still ringing." He worked his jaws, trying to get his ears to pop. He leaned back in the seat and said, "I've haven't been yelled at like that since I got caught stealin' Mammy Jackson's prize cantaloupe outta her truck garden. I think I'd pay good money to see Mammy and the Chief in a set-to." Bell shook his head and chuckled, the ensign was a surprising little guy.

JAG office
Memphis NAS
1435 Local

Mac watched Bell and Tyler leave the conference room in search of a quiet place to type up their official report. She shook her head in amazement, she had no idea they would work so well together. Looking over at the others, she saw Harm and Perez stifling smiles. Singer, for the most part, looked disgruntled. Mac wasn't sure if it was because the Lieutenant had wanted to be part of the action or if she thought their success was some sort of threat to her goals. Either way, she needed to get over it.

Mac cleared her throat and said with a smile, "Those two turned into quite a team." She looked at Perez, "You might just lose Corporal Bell to JAG."

Perez grinned back, "Not if I can talk Tyler into working for me."

Harm got back to the business at hand, "From what Bell said, it sounds like we need to get into the maintenance garage and look around."

Perez nodded while Mac said, "I agree."

Harm paused, he was going to have to be very careful with what he was about to say. Taking a deep breath, he began, "I think it should be me and Perez." He watched the stormclouds gather on Mac's face and hurried on, "I'm not trying to be overprotective, Mac." He gestured towards her, "It's just that you're not at one hundred percent yet. You don't have full use of your left arm and you can't tell me that everything else has stopped hurting." He held his breath, waiting for her reaction. Actually, he was trying to protect her. The thought of these people getting their hands on her scared him to death. For once, though, he had a legitimate reason to keep her out of harm's way.

Harm let out a relieved breath when Mac finally nodded reluctantly. The next part would be trickier. He was pretty sure what she would suggest next and he didn't want her anywhere near the motorpool.

"You're not going in there without backup," Mac said, eyeing the two of them. She knew what Harm was trying to do. He was just lucky that this time there was justification for his position beyond his normal modus operandi. Running, jumping and climbing were pretty much out of the question for her for the time being. She could see Harm gathering himself for his argument if she should suggest herself. With just a hint of devilment in her eyes, she said blandly, "Take Bell and Tyler with you. Singer and I will play cavalry from here." The look on Harm's face as he mentally re-grouped was almost worth the frustration she was feeling about not being able watch his back.

They worked on a general plan until Bell and Tyler came back and then spent the next several hours trying to cover all the angles in a little more detail. Finally, Mac called a halt. "I think we've beaten this one to death. It's 1720, let's take a break and then meet back here at 2030. The office should be secured by then and we can use it as a base of operations." The others nodded, gathering papers, and began to file out of the room.

Harm looked over at Mac, "Dinner?"

"I'm not sure I feel like going out again, Harm," Mac said apologetically.

"Well, how about Chinese at the VOQ?" he persisted. He got to the conference room door first and held it open for her.

"That sounds like a plan," she said, locking the door behind her.

Harm looked at Ensign Tyler who was waiting for them out in the bullpen, "Tyler, are there any Chinese places that deliver around here?"

"Two or three, sir," Tyler replied, "The Golden Dragon is probably the best."

"Great," Harm said, "How about taking us to the VOQ?"

VOQ
Mac's Room
1910 Local

Harm finished up the carton of food and looked over at Mac. She was picking through the rest to see what was left. "Mac, it's time to talk."

She sighed a little and leaned back, "I suppose so." Seeing him watching her expectantly, she scrubbed a hand through her hair and glanced at the ceiling. Directing her gaze back to him, she said simply, "Don't yell." Taking a breath, she jumped in, "When we get back to DC, I'm going to talk to the Admiral and then I'll probably resign my commission."

"WHAT?" Mac gave him a stern look and he lowered his voice, "But why? Mac, you're a Marine. This is crazy... "

She laughed mirthlessly, "And therein lies one of the problems. Harm, I've been seeing a therapist for over a month now. She's a civilian Emma Fine recommended, so it wouldn't show up on my permanent record. 'Archangel' was making me nuts. Every time I closed my eyes, some part of that nightmare would reach out and slap me. The Admiral is the only one I told, I thought he deserved the option of replacing me as Chief of Staff." She shook her head a little at the hurt expression on Harm's face. "I know you think I should have told you, but I just couldn't deal with it. Harm, those first couple of weeks back, you would get worked up if I stubbed my toe. Having you analyze my every word and expression to gauge how I was doing, was more than I could take at the time. Anyway, gradually things seemed to be getting better and then this internet porn case came along... "

Harm groaned and covered his face with his hands, "And I show up on my white horse and knock you out of the box. Mac, I'm sorry."

"Harm," Mac put a hand on his arm and waited for him to look at her, "I'm not blaming you for this." She gave him a quirky little grin, "Not when I can blame you for so many other things... being over-protective, occasionally insensitive, chronically late... and being my best friend." Harm offered up a weak smile and she continued, "Don't you see? At the first whisper of trouble, from Singer no less, the Admiral sends you to help. How can I serve under a CO who thinks I'm going to crack up at the first sign of stress on a case? It's not fair to him, it's not fair to me. At first, I thought about just transferring but this kind of thing follows you. I don't need to listen to a whispering campaign about how I used to be the JAG's Chief of Staff until I went bonkers. So... I've talked to Webb."

"You didn't," Harm said in shock.

"I did." Mac sat back and folded her arms, "C'mon Harm, after some of the situations Clay's gotten us into, how much more dangerous can it get? It won't be so bad, I'll still be doing something worthwhile and I could probably be stationed in DC. We would still see each other." She hesitated a moment and added slowly, "I guess, providing you would want to."

He looked at her in surprise, where did that come from? "Of course, I'd want to see you." He leaned forward a little, "I think you're wrong about the Admiral." He held up a hand when she started to speak, "I agree that he made a mistake, sending me out here so quickly; but he did it out of concern. I know he trusts you. Are you dead-set on this?"

"No, like I said, I'm going to talk to the Admiral first. Then I'll make my decision, nothing's carved in stone."

Harm breathed a quiet sigh of relief, there was still a chance he could change her mind.

Mac looked at the assembled group. They had decided it would be unwise to assume that the JAG office was unwatched. What they were hoping was that these people were still focusing on her. Tonight, they would adhere to the pattern they had established over the last two days: working late into the night. The key change would be Mac and Singer being last in the building. Bell and Perez would leave first, followed after forty-five minutes by Harm and Tyler. The four men would rendezvous several blocks from the motorpool at 2200. Mac and Singer would leave for the VOQ at 2330. They would be accompanied by the other small change in the pattern: a MP that Perez assigned to them for the evening. If everything went well, Harm and Perez would already be in Harm's quarters at the VOQ.

Time seemed to drag by and for once, Mac wished her internal clock wouldn't keep her apprised of every miserable second. Finally, Perez and Bell were out the door. She leaned back in her chair and watched Harm talk to Tyler. The young ensign had been growing noticeably more nervous. Harm eventually got him wrapped up in a convoluted and wildly improbable fighter pilot story. Listening with half an ear, she began to wonder if forty-one minutes and twenty-three seconds was enough time for Harm to finish his epic. Suddenly, it was time. Harm tossed her a jaunty smile and a thumbs-up, as he and Tyler headed out the door.

Now it was just Mac and Singer. She looked over at the Lieutenant, "Why don't we go over the motorpool records one more time and see if we can find anything else of interest?" Singer nodded, anything would be better than sitting around staring at the walls and each other. They sat side by side, comparing notes and figures. Mac picked up the fuel consumption record and frowned. She glanced over at Singer, "Have you run across anything that tells us how many miles to the gallon these trucks get?"

Lauren frowned in turn, shuffling through another stack, "Just a minute." She quickly sorted through a different set, "Here. Okay... loaded, they average about twelve miles to the gallon. Unloaded, about fourteen... hmpf, not much better."

Mac ran a finger down a column of figures, "Let's see, every three weeks - fuel consumption jumps about 135 gallons. She started scribbling on a spare piece of paper, "That's 45 gallons a week, assuming they're going to the same location each time." She ran through a few more equations and then looked at Lauren, "Hand me that map, would you? Thanks." Singer watched as she copied the mileage scale onto a piece of paper, "Okay, let's figure 13 miles to the gallon. With 45 gallons, 1 truck would go about 293 miles, one way. I think that's too far." Lauren nodded in agreement. "All right, 2 trucks would go about 146 miles. That seems more reasonable. And 3 trucks would go 98 miles, 4 trucks - 73 miles. I don't think it would be any closer than that." She worked on the mileage scale for a minute or two. "Hang on a sec." Mac went into the bullpen for a minute and came back with a pushpin. Attaching the scale to the pin, she spread the map flat and stuck the pin on Millington, TN. She punched a pencil through the paper at the 145 mile mark and glanced at Singer, "Hold the map still." Carefully, she drew a circle on the map with her makeshift compass, then repeated the process using the 70 mile mark. Pulling the pin out, she looked down at the two circles, "There's our range."

The two women bent over the map, looking for anything that might be a possible location. Suddenly, Lauren said, "Hah, look here ma'am." She put her finger on the map. Mac leaned over and read the name of the town. She looked up at Singer and smiled, "I believe you've found it, Lieutenant. Nice work." She grabbed the fuel consumption log and wrote across the top: 'Bethel, MS, hometown - Mrs. Allan Jarvis.'

At 2325, Mac took one final look around and then locked the conference room door. She and Singer followed the MP, PFC Morris, out to the car. Mac waved the two of them on and paused long enough to lock the front doors as well. Turning, she hurried up the walkway. Morris was on the far side of the car. He was unlocking the driver's side door when he gave a startled yelp and disappeared from view. Mac and Singer stared in shock for a moment, then Mac started to move forward. Singer glanced back, her eyes widened and she yelled, "Colonel!"

Mac spun around, her hands automatically going into a defensive position. A black-clad figure was shoving an object towards her. She threw out her left arm in a reflexive blocking move. The stun gun hit the plastic brace and sizzled. Her assailant froze for a split second in surprise. That fast, the heel of Mac's hand smashed into his face, sending him reeling backwards. She stayed close, hitting him hard in the chest while sweeping his legs out from under him. The maneuver turned him horizontal in the air before gravity took over. He landed heavily on his back. Mac followed him down and grabbed a handful of hair. She lifted up and then slammed down, bouncing his head off the pavement. Scooping up the stun gun, she spun back towards the car, still in a crouch.

She saw Lauren's assailant finally make contact with his stun gun. The Lieutenant's eyes went wide, before rolling up in her head. She slowly slid down the side of the car. Mac launched herself at Singer's attacker. He turned towards her with a roundhouse swing. She ducked underneath, coming up inside his guard and shoving the stun gun into his torso. Triggering it, she had a moment's satisfaction watching him go rigid, before collapsing. Suddenly, she was hit hard from the right. Mac smashed sideways into the ground, the attacker landing on top. There was an audible pop and white-hot pain flashed through her. Frantic, she started scrambling. She couldn't afford to get caught on the ground where their strength and weight gave them a distinct advantage. Her foot came into contact with something soft, she pulled back and kicked as hard as she could. There was a muffled groan and she broke free, staggering to her feet. Her left arm was hanging uselessly at her side. The pain in her shoulder was pounding through her in time with the frantic beat of her heart.

A stinging blow to her back sent her stumbling forward. Mac managed to turn without losing her balance. Lauren's assailant was back up and following her, telescoping baton in hand. She backed away, knowing she wouldn't be able to elude him. Black spots were dancing in front of her eyes, obstructing her view. She shook her head, attempting to clear her vision. Then an arm snaked around her neck from behind, yanking her painfully upright and cutting off her air. Abruptly, her side felt like it was on fire. She thought she heard someone angrily yell no as she sank into darkness.

Motorpool
2225 Local

Harm and Perez flattened themselves against the side of the maintenance garage. They could hear voices and engines rumbling. Harm gestured towards a window a little ways down, Perez nodded. Carefully, they crept down to the window and took up positions on either side. Harm eased upright, looking into the garage. Ducking back down, he moved over to Perez and whispered, "Two enlisted, but I can't see much more. We need to get inside." Perez nodded and gestured with his head towards the back of the building. Cautiously, they began to move. Five minutes later, they were crouched beside a narrow door. Perez reached up and gently tried the handle. He looked over at Harm and mouthed 'locked'. Smiling at the frustrated look on the Commander's face, he reached in the back pocket of his black fatigues and pulled out a small leather case.

The sudden rattling of the doorknob was all the warning they had. Going in opposite directions, they threw themselves down and tried to blend into the shadows. A man stood silhouetted by the doorway, before letting the door bang shut behind him. The brief flare of a match and then the glowing coal of a cigarette told them why he had come out of the building. Five long minutes later, he stubbed out the cigarette and went back inside. Perez was at the door moments later. He tried the knob and then grinned at Harm. The man had forgotten to re-lock it. He started to open it when Harm put a hand on his arm. Speaking softly, Harm said, "Let me check in with the Dynamic Duo." He pulled out a small hand-held and spoke quietly for a few moments. Turning back, he smiled at Perez and gestured towards the door, "After you."

Perez eased the door open and quickly scanned the area. Seeing it was clear, he and Harm slipped inside. The maintenance garage was a very large building. Towards the back, were rows and rows of shelves containing truck and auto parts, as well as neat stacks of tires. All the bays were occupied, most by vehicles in various stages of repair. The last three bays, however, held three large trucks - their engines idling. Harm and Perez exchanged glances, there was going to be a run tonight. Perez pulled out a small digital camcorder out of a side pocket. Harm touched his arm and then pointed up. The captain looked up at the shelving behind them and then back to Rabb. Harm made a 'follow me' gesture and stealthily began working his way back to the shelves. Perez shrugged, put the camcorder back in his pocket and followed.

Fifteen minutes later, they were snugged down on one of the higher shelves, with a bird's eye view of all three trucks. There had been a few tricky moments for the shorter Perez, but Harm had been there with his long reach to help out. Perez pulled out the camcorder and began recording. Harm got out his hand-held and updated Bell and Tyler on their current situation. Forty-five minutes later, Harm tapped Perez on the shoulder and pointed to his watch. They would need to leave soon. It had been a good night's work. Chief Wilkins had been by twice and Bell's staff sergeant seemed to be in charge of the convoy. There were eight other enlisted men working around the area, checking tires and making sure loads were secure. Harm had written down the serial numbers stenciled on the trucks and quietly relayed that information to Bell.

They started to pull back when their attention was caught by a car pulling into the building. Perez heard Harm's quick intake of breath as three black-clad men got out. They leaned forward to listen. By some trick of acoustics, it was easy to hear normal conversations in spite of the distance. Perez pulled his camcorder back out and zoomed in for a better look. Two of the three were looking a little worse for wear. Perez felt his stomach drop when a fourth man got out and hauled a bound and gagged Lieutenant Singer out behind him. Beside him, Harm had gone rigid with shock. They heard the staff sergeant laugh.

"What the hell happened to you? Did this little lady give you a hard time?" Several of the enlisted men who had drifted over, started sniggering. They laughed out loud when Singer wrenched her arm from the grasp of one of the men to stand on her own. She managed to look terrified and defiant at the same time.

"Not her," said one of the black-clad men. "It was the other bitch... goddamn Marines." The other two walked back to the car and opened the trunk. They pulled a limp figure out and dragged it forward before dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. It was Sarah MacKenzie.

"Goddammit!" another voice bellowed. Chief Wilkins stalked forward and glared at the men. "You were told to take her alive!"

"She is," one said defensively. He shoved a toe under her shoulder and rolled her over on her back, causing a ragged moan. "See?"

Chief Wilkins stared down at her and then looked back at the men, "Which one of you idiots stabbed her?"

One of the men cautiously raised his hand. Wilkins stomped over to stand in front of him. "She broke my nose!" the man said nervously. A moment later, he was flat on his back with the Chief standing over him. "If she dies before she gets to where she's supposed to go, I will kill you." He looked up at the rest of the men, "Get them on a truck, we're running late." He turned and walked away.

Up on the shelves, a desperate struggle was going on. Perez was doing everything he could to keep the Commander in one place. The two men strained against each other in dead silence. They were evenly matched. Although Rabb was larger, Perez was more heavily muscled. He needed all of it as he struggled to contain the older man. He didn't know what Harm was planning to do and he'd have bet money the tall commander didn't know either beyond his need to get to the Colonel. Finally, he managed to get his mouth close to Rabb's ear. He hissed frantically, "Stand down, Rabb! Goddammit, Stand down! We're wasting time!" Underneath him, Harm suddenly collapsed, breathing hard. Perez dove into a pocket for his hand-held, "Bell! Tyler!" he whispered urgently, "Follow the trucks when they leave! You hear me? Don't lose them, they've got the Colonel and Lieutenant Singer on board!" He heard a startled 'Yes Sir!' before shoving the small radio back in his pocket. He looked down at Harm, "Commander?"

Harm was staring down at the floor of the building. "Those bastards put them in crates! ...They shoved her into a crate like some side of beef and nailed it shut... How the hell do they expect her to breathe?" he said in a hoarse whisper. A cold rage seemed to settle over him. He turned and swiftly began climbing down, Perez hurrying to catch up. They made it across the building to the backdoor in record time. Once outside the building, Harm spun and pinned Perez with a glare, "What gate would they go out?"

The captain went over the layout of the base in his mind, he looked at Rabb, "Gate Four, it's close and opens out into a warehouse district. There'll be hardly any traffic at this time of night." He pointed off to the east, "It's that way, about a mile."

Harm took off at a jog in the indicated direction, Perez hustled up alongside him. Harm looked over at the Captain, "Is there any place we can get close to the trucks without being seen?"