Harm and Perez stood in the darkness and waited. They were an eighth of a mile from the gate. The road doglegged around several older buildings. Rabb hadn't said anything since asking for a location like this. Perez glanced at him, the Commander was the epitome of intense concentration. The captain was trying not to fidget while his mind played a spirited game of Second Guessing: What if this wasn't the gate? Would they be able to get close enough to the trucks without being seen? Could he have found a better location? He had contacted Bell and Tyler and told them to take another gate. Obviously, the people on duty at Gate Four were in on the scam. Would the two be able to pick up the trail again? Perez could feel a trickle of sweat run down his back. It was another warm, moist Memphis night. He tried not to think about what it would be like crammed into a small area without enough air... God, he hated waiting!

The low rumble of truck engines galvanized their attention. Perez trotted across the street and the two men faded into the shadows of the buildings. The first truck came into view, gears clashing as the driver downshifted to make the turns. According to Rabb, the Colonel and Lieutenant were on the third truck. Perez didn't feel quite right calling it lucky but it did make things less complicated. To be sure, he repeated the truck serial numbers over and over to himself - a litany against nerves.

The driver of the last truck slowed down to take the first turn, up ahead the taillights of the middle truck were already disappearing around the next. He hadn't been this nervous since he made his first run, well over eight months ago. This was the first time he'd had human cargo aboard and he didn't like it. Running a little blackmarket scam was one thing but that woman marine officer had looked half dead already. He didn't know what to do. He was in too deep now to get out; on the other hand, he wanted no part of murder. He could tell that Ruffin sitting beside him was having the same uncomfortable thoughts. The two men were so distracted by the night's turn of events, they never noticed the two dark shapes that detached themselves from the shadows and closed swiftly on the back of the truck.

Rabb and Perez leaped up onto the rear bumper, hanging with one hand on the tailgate while quickly undoing flapties with the other. As soon as there was a large enough opening, they scrambled inside. Perez immediately turned around and began retying the flap. Harm pulled out a small, powerful flashlight and checked out the interior. He spotted the only two unsecured crates of the cargo up towards the front of the truck where they had apparently slid. He tapped Perez on the shoulder and hurried over to the crates. Running his hands around the edges, he tried to pry the lid off with his fingers. No luck. Frustrated, Harm looked around for something to pull out the nails. Perez dug into another pocket and came up with a Leatherman tool. He started working the nails out while Harm scrubbed his hands impatiently on his pants. As soon as Perez got the lid off, he was up and shining the flashlight inside. It illuminated the frightened eyes of Lt. Singer. Harm grabbed the tool from Perez and immediately started on the second crate, leaving the captain to get Singer out and untied.

Working feverishly, Harm could have sworn it took an eternity to remove the lid. Finally, he was staring at a semiconscious Mac. Sweat was running down her face and her breathing was labored. He felt rather than saw the captain come up beside him and heard Perez say, "Let's lay this on its side and see if we can get her out that way." Carefully, they lowered the crate and slid Mac out onto the floor of the truck bed. Harm hissed to himself at the blood on her uniform blouse. He looked at Perez, "Captain, why don't you check and see if there's any clothes or blankets in this cargo?" He looked over at Singer who was staring wide-eyed at the still form of the Colonel. "Lieutenant?" She looked up at him, he could see she was having a tough time processing all this. "Lieutenant, why don't you give Captain Perez a hand?" He braced himself against the swaying of the truck and leaned over Mac.

Her eyelids fluttered open, "Harm?"

"Who else?," he said with a slight smile. He reached down and began unbuttoning her shirt. He needed to see how much damage had been done.

A hand came up and swatted at him ineffectually, "Not now... headache."

He chuckled quietly and continued unfastening, "I just need to look." When she didn't respond, he glanced up and saw her eyes closed again. Opening the shirt, Harm rocked back on his heels for a moment, jaws clenched. He heard a soft 'oh man' as Perez dropped down beside him, his arms full. Blood was slowly congealing along a long gash in her side. Her ribs were discolored from the earlier bruisings. It was the collarbone that drew his attention. Obviously broken, the ends had shifted and an ugly bruise covered the area. Harm guessed the rough handling she'd received after the break had forced the ends to move.

He glanced at Perez, who hefted the load in his arms, "No clothes, Commander, but we found a crate of towels and linens. The Lieutenant's checking through the rest." He stared at broken collarbone, "We need to fix that."

"I know," Harm said, taking some towels from the Captain and using them to pillow Mac's head. He wadded up another towel and pressed it against her side. He looked at Perez, "Start tearing some strips for bandages." He raised his voice, "Lieutenant?" He heard a faint 'Sir?'. "Have you found anything like water or alcohol?"

"Not yet, sir."

Harm gazed at Perez in frustration, "We have no way to clean out the damn wounds. Not to mention, with the amount of fluids she's been losing, she's probably dehydrated."

Perez nodded sympathetically, "Sir? The collarbone?"

"I know, I know," he ran a hand through his hair. "Any ideas how to do it?"

"Maybe," Perez said thoughtfully, "My youngest brother broke his collarbone falling out of a tree. The doctor put a figure eight brace on his shoulders. It pulled them back and kept the collarbone aligned. ... Improved his posture, too."

"Worth a shot," Harm said as he finished tying off a bandage to keep pressure on the gash. "Can you rig a brace?"

"Yes sir, give me a couple of minutes."

Harm busied himself, doing what he could to clean Mac up without benefit of water. Perez worked quietly and finally looked up, "Ready, sir." He indicated Mac, "She needs to be upright for a couple of minutes."

Harm grunted. "Give me a hand getting her up." He crouched alongside. Together, they lifted her up at the shoulders, trying not to jostle her anymore than necessary. Harm slid in front of her, letting her lean forward against his chest. Her head rested on his shoulder. Ordinarily, this would have been pleasant.

Perez slid the brace over one shoulder and then the other, taking a moment to pad each with a small towel. He eyed Harm a little nervously, "I'm going to start pulling, sir."

Harm nodded and placed a careful hand lightly over the break. As Perez exerted more and more pressure, he could feel the bones shifting. Mac's body began to go rigid, her breathing harsh from the pain. Suddenly, everything slipped into place. She slumped forward against him. Perez relaxed the pressure a bit and then tied off the brace. He looked at Harm, "It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to try and immobilize that shoulder and arm, sir."

Ten minutes later, they had done all they could. Now all Mac had to do was wake up. Harm settled down on one side of her, Perez on the other. Lieutenant Singer, after a fruitless search through the cargo, came back and quietly perched not far from the captain. Harm looked over at Perez, "Any idea how long we've been on this truck?" He couldn't help an involuntary glance at the still figure beside him. He wanted to hear Mac tell him precisely how long, right down to the second. He was beginning to worry that they had inadvertently hurt her more while trying to help. He wished she would wake up again.

Perez consulted his watch, "I think it's been about forty minutes." He looked around the interior of the swaying truck. The canvas top, while noisy, at least let enough air circulate so that it wasn't unbearably hot. "I wish we knew how long we're going to be stuck in here."

"Probably another hour, sir."

Both men stared with surprise at Lieutenant Singer. She had braced herself into a corner of crates and was sitting with her arms wrapped around her legs and her head resting on her knees. "I... We... " She gestured with her chin towards Mac, "... think we've figured out where they've been taking everything." The two men looked at her expectantly. "Bethel, Mississippi, sirs. Mrs. Jarvis' supposed hometown? We figured out a range with the amount of fuel and Bethel falls in that area. It's in the middle of Holly Springs National Forest so it's probably pretty isolated. We checked it out on the internet, there's private land interspersed with the public lands. It'd be perfect for some militia group to hide out."

Harm grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut, '... more damn wackos! How the hell were they going to get out of this?'

"Shouldn't this be a hospital?"

Harm's eyes snapped open. He looked down to see Mac's dark eyes watching him. "MAC!"

She winced and he was instantly contrite. He continued in a softer tone, "Oh god, Mac. I'm sorry. I'm just glad you're awake. How're you feeling?" He knew it was kind of a stupid question, but he just couldn't help himself. She was awake!

"Peachy." Her body was one giant ache but at least it was bearable. She was also desperately thirsty but if Harm hadn't offered her anything yet... "No water?"

Harm shook his head, "Sorry."

"Lousy service, remind me not to come here again," Mac had been relieved to see Harm - she thought she'd been dreaming earlier, "Where are we? How did you find us?"

Harm smiled and then nodded towards Singer, "We think we're on our way to Bethel. Perez and I were still in the warehouse when they dragged you two in. The captain knew a place where the trucks would slow down enough for us to get aboard without being seen." He reached towards her when she tried to push herself upright, "Hey... "

Mac arched an eyebrow at him. She decided she'd just found the one part of her body that didn't hurt like hell. "Harm... if we're going to try to escape these lunatics, I can't do it horizontally. At least let me work my way back to vertical a little bit at a time."

Grudgingly acquiescing, Harm went so far as to support her while Perez hurriedly mounded bundles of linens behind her. Leaning back carefully, Mac surveyed the plethora of bandages encircling her. Looking at the two men, she said wryly, "If you were going for the mummy look, you forgot my legs."

Perez grinned at her, "This is only a B horror flick. We didn't have the budget."

Mac smiled back... that didn't hurt too much.... and directed her attention to Harm, "This wasn't the Acme Assassination Gang, was it?"

Harm shook his head, "No, I don't think so. All evidence to the contrary, they weren't supposed to kill you, just grab you."

"Damn, I think they should have practiced more."

"Would all of you just stop it?!" Three sets of eyes turned surprised looks at Lieutenant Singer. She was staring at them, her hands curled tightly into fists. "What is the matter with you? We're stuck on some godforsaken truck headed for some godforsaken place where someone is going to kill us! How can you be so goddamn flippant?!"

Harm put out a hand. "Lieutenant... " he said soothingly.

"NO! This isn't fair! We aren't supposed to be here!" She glared at Mac, "We could have been back in DC by now. We SHOULD have been back, but you had to start looking into this damn case! What the hell is the matter with you?! This is YOUR fault!!" She sat there red-faced and breathing heavily.

"Lieutenant." Harm's voice was considerably colder.

"Harm," Mac said quietly, "Would you and Captain Perez excuse us for a moment?" Harm looked at her incredulously, they were in the back of a truck for godsakes. Where did she expect them to go?

"Harm," Mac said again, her tone becoming a little more pointed. Harm threw up his hands and stared at Perez, who just shrugged. Together they made their way to a corner.

"Lieutenant," Mac gestured her closer and said wearily, "Grow up."

Singer stared at her open-mouthed. Mac continued inexorably, "You're a Naval officer, life is seldom fair and we're not dead yet. Deal with it." She closed her eyes for a moment, her head was pounding, the pain being echoed by her shoulder and her side. She decided she could cheerfully kill someone right now for a glass of water and a Volkswagen-sized Advil. Possibly even a cranky JAG lieutenant... Mac opened her eyes slowly, Singer had retreated back to her corner, the picture of sullen resentment. Oh well, the Lieutenant was in for a Rabb-sized attitude adjustment as soon as they made their escape.

"Mac?" Harm and Perez worked their way back to her. "How're you doing?" In the dim light, Harm wasn't sure if she was feeling better or worse. He'd bet money on worse, dehydration couldn't be helping.

"Fine," she was lying through her teeth and they both knew it. "Forty-two minutes, more or less, and we can get out of this chicken outfit."

"Yeah," Harm smiled, "Listen, why don't you rest a little? We promise not to party without you."

"Okay," Mac refrained from nodding her head, it would probably upset Harm when it fell off her shoulders.

"Great, let us give you a hand getting settled." As before, Harm held on to her while Perez rearranged the padding. He leaned her back carefully and watched as she closed her eyes. When he rested a hand lightly on her forehead, her eyelids flickered momentarily and then stayed firmly closed. He waited until she drifted off, her breathing regular and steady.

Harm shifted to a more comfortable position and saw Perez watching him. "Worse?" the captain asked quietly.

Harm shrugged in frustration and said softly, "She feels hot."

"It's hot in here," Perez pointed out.

"I guess," Harm lapsed into silence. The attempts on her life had scared him. The fact that these people wanted her alive scared him even more. He kept coming back to what Mac had told him about Charlie Jacobs - that the bastard had found a buyer for her. Surely, that couldn't be it. That had been months ago, Jacobs was dead and buried. Anyway, it didn't matter; he would get her out of this. Somehow.

*******

Tyler peered anxiously ahead into the darkness. He could just barely make out the taillights of the last truck. They hadn't heard anything from Captain Perez since he had contacted them about the gates. He'd been pretty terse, only saying 'Gate 6, pick up 4'. Bell said he was afraid of his transmission being overheard. For that reason, they hadn't tried to make contact themselves. He felt way out of his depth, he was pretty sure Tink did too. Neither one was really sure what to do in a situation like this.

First, there'd been the shocking message that the Colonel and the Lieutenant were on one of the trucks and that they had to follow. Then the call about the gates. Then... nothing. He and Tink had discussed it to death as they tried to maintain a discreet distance. Was the Colonel there involuntarily or had she managed to smuggle herself on board? Where were Commander Rabb and Captain Perez? Tyler had been thinking about calling the State Police. Bell had argued him out of it, pointing out that they didn't honestly know if any crimes had been committed ... and they didn't know where they were going.

Tyler blinked, where were the taillights? Oh damn! ... "Tink?"

"Yeah," came the bass rumble, "They must have turned... "

They slowed down a little, each scanning the sides of the road anxiously. Tyler's head whipped around to look behind him, "There!" Bell hit the brakes and then backed up quickly. They stopped and looked down a narrow country road, Tyler looked at Tink nervously, "They'll know we're following now."

Bell grunted thoughtfully and then turned off the headlights. Tyler stared at him, "This is nuts. We're gonna wind up in a ditch."

"I can get us out of a ditch," Bell said, starting down the road. "Just watch out for trees."

Tyler had thought it had been nerve-wracking before, but this was worse. Time and again, he was positive they had lost the trucks and then a taillight would appear ahead. Even as his night vision improved, there were places under the trees where it was still black as pitch. They had their windows rolled down, Bell was driving by ear as well as sight. They could hear when the tires left the asphalt, something that had kept them out of more than one ditch. The only good thing was that the trucks were going much slower too.

The car glided to a halt. Tyler looked over at Bell in surprise, "What are you doing?"

"Over to the left," Tink leaned back in his seat so Tyler could see past him. In the distance was the glow of electric lights. "They just came on a minute ago. I'll bet that's where the trucks are going."

"How far do you figure?"

Bell shrugged, in the dark, distances could be deceiving. "A mile maybe, more or less. I think we should go the rest of the way on foot." They got out of the car and Bell went around to the back and opened the trunk. He pulled out a couple of small backpacks, then opened a long case and grabbed two shotguns and a box of shells. He worked the action on both to make sure they were empty. Standing and thinking for a moment, he handed them to Tyler and reached back into the trunk. Pulling out a pair of slings, he took the shotguns back and attached them, then handed one to Tyler. Silently, they loaded the weapons. Bell looked over at Tyler, "Let's go." Shouldering their packs, they headed into the woods.

Vicinity of Bethel
Holly Springs Nat'l. Forest, MS
0235 Local

Harm adjusted his grip on his pistol and glanced over at Perez. The captain looked back and nodded. They were poised on either side of the tailgate. Mac and Singer were deeper in the truck, hopefully out of the line of fire. The truck had finally stopped a few minutes ago and backed into some sort of building. They could see light filtering in around the flap. They heard the cab doors slam and crouched lower behind the tailgate. A few minutes later, their pistols were pointed at the startled faces of the driver and his partner. Harm put his finger to his lips and then gestured them into the truck.

After a nervous look to the side, the two men clambered aboard. The driver's eyes widened when he saw Mac and Singer. Harm's own eyes widened when he heard the man whisper, "Thank god, ma'am. I was scared you were dead!" The driver looked at Harm and jerked a thumb at his partner, "Me and Ruffin didn't want no part of this, sir. Blackmarket's one thing but kidnap and murder? Uh-huh!" They turned when they heard Perez hiss a warning. He had been dividing his attention between the two men and keeping watch. The driver looked at Harm, "Let me handle this, sir. I can get rid of them." When Harm hesitated, he said, "Sir, you can always shoot me." The Commander gave an abrupt nod and the driver scrambled out of the truck.

They heard him greet the arrivals, "Billings, Morton. What do you boys want?"

"Hey Mario. Where's Ruffin?"

"Call of nature. What do you want, Billings?"

Billings' voice lowered, "We were just wondering about your... ahh... 'special' cargo."

"What about it?" Mario's tone was flat.

"Well, none of the bosses are here yet and we were thinkin'... Why not have a little fun while we can?"

"No."

"Oh c'mon, Mario. Look, you don't have to if you don't want to. Hell, you don't even have to be here. Just go take a stroll, we'll help you unload the rest of the stuff when we're done."

"No. Beat it."

"What? You want 'em all to yourself? Is that it, Mario?" Billings hissed angrily.

There was the sound of fist hitting flesh and then Mario's voice, low and menacing, "Come on Morton, I'll kick your ass too." There was a brief silence, then Mario's voice again, sounding disgusted, "You two haven't got any more brains than the bottom of my boot. Get the hell out of here before I get mad." A minute later, Mario climbed back into the truck, "You need to get out of here before those jackasses put two thoughts together and come back with reinforcements." He glanced at the two women, "Beg your pardon, ladies."

Harm smiled at him, "We're planning on it. Where the hell are we?"

"Just south of Bethel, Mississippi, sir. This is part of the National Forest." He rubbed the back of his neck, "There's militia runnin' around down here. Bunch of damn rednecks pretending to be soldiers and drinking beer; we're smack dab in the middle of their playground. Their leader's some nut who lives and breathes conspiracy theories - thinks 9/11 was done by the CIA with the government's blessing. Calls himself Rev. Trask and if there's a religious bone in his body, then I'm Jesus Christ. I don't know which is worse, them or the Klan." He sighed, "You better get a move on, sir. Once you're out of the building, head northeast and stay away from the locals... and the local cops. Hell, stay away from everybody - I think they're all part of it, one way or another."

"Okay, Mario. Just one more thing, would you have a spare shirt or jacket?" Mario gave him a puzzled look, Harm waved towards Mac. "Too much white showing for a night run."

Mario looked over at her, he could see the bandages. "Just a minute," he disappeared out of the truck. Harm heard a cab door open and shut and then Mario was back. He was holding a dark windbreaker, "Here." He looked at Harm, "Let Ruffin bring the forklift over, we can use it to cover you." They watched as he and his partner disappeared out of the truck. Harm walked over to Mac and knelt down to help her get the jacket on. She looked at him with a small grin, "Rabb luck." He smiled back and glanced over at Singer, "Ready?" He threw Mac's arm across his shoulders and stood her up, tightening his grip when her legs buckled. He heard her murmur softly, 'Lost my sea legs, give me a minute.' Gradually, she took on more of her own weight and then said 'Okay.' They moved over to the tailgate where Singer was waiting with Perez.