Outside A Luxury Hotel – Washington, DC. 22:00 EST

The moment the door closed behind him, Navy Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. heaved a sigh of relief. Beside him, his partner, Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie gave a soft chuckle. “Come on, Harm, it wasn’t that bad.”

He gazed down at her, looking for any signs she was kidding. There were none. “Your diplomacy skills are improving, Mac, but you don’t have to keep up the act.” He started down the stairs, eager to put this night behind him.

“What makes you think it’s an act?” she asked from behind him. “I thought the Sec Nav’s speech was extremely effective.”

Harm stopped abruptly, turning to stare at her. Standing on the step below her, he was eye to eye with her. “Are you feeling all right? I’ve never known you to…” His voice trailed off as a sly smile spread slowly across her face.

In the soft light of the hotel’s opulent entryway, her eyes twinkled with an unmistakable ‘gotcha!’ “That’ll teach you to accuse me of having the diplomatic skills of a newbie private.”

He grinned back at her. “All right, so your diplomatic skills are fine. Just next time, don’t compare the Sec Nav to a houseplant just as I take a sip of my drink, will ya? I could feel the admiral’s glare from across the room. Now, can we get out of here before he finds out we’re gone and drags us back in there?”

“The admiral ‘strongly suggested’ we attend this reception, Harm. It wasn’t an order.”

“Have you ever known us to get away with ignoring one of the admiral’s strong suggestions?”

“True,” she admitted. “So, where are you headed from here?”

“Home,” he said on a sigh. “It’s been a long week. All I want now is a couple of days of peace and quiet.”

“Now that I can agree with! See you Monday.”

“Will do. Drive safe.” With a wave, he headed for his car.

Unlocking the door, Harm tossed his cover onto the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel. He wasn’t kidding about wanting a few days to relax. He was tired in a way he hadn’t been in a long time.

After a quick check for traffic, he pulled out onto the street. Mac’s headlights shone briefly in his rearview mirror, until another set of headlights on the right drew his attention. They were too high, too bright. Something was wrong. They were getting brighter.

Reacting instinctively, Harm spun the wheel, but it was too little, too late. At the last second, he threw his arms up to protect his face. A fraction later, the other vehicle slammed into his.

****

Pulling out behind Harm, Mac saw the other car approaching, but realized too late what was about to happen. She slammed on the brakes and watched helplessly as the approaching car slammed into Harm’s at full speed.

The impact drove his car sideways, caving in the passenger side. The screaming sound of rending metal filled the night. Ramming her car into Park, Mac fumbled for the door latch. She only had the door open a crack when a man appeared at her open window – or rather, a man’s torso appeared. In his hands he held a semi-automatic pistol, and it was pointed directly at her head.

A sudden realization flooded through Mac. This wasn’t an ordinary traffic accident. Someone was trying to abduct Harm, and possibly herself, and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it.

She risked taking her eyes off the gun in time to see two men wrench Harm’s door open and yank him from the car. They half led, half dragged him to a waiting car. At least he was alive. His stumbling attempts to keep up with his abductors told her that.

They shoved him roughly into the back seat of the dark colored car, then one of them climbed in after him. The other captor waved toward the gunman beside her car. He shouted something she couldn’t make out, but one thing struck her clearly. The words were in Spanish.

The gunman turned and bolted to the getaway car. Mac leapt from her car, but the assailants were already peeling away. As they sped past her, she caught a glimpse of the license plate. She managed to read the first three digits, but that was all.

Standing in the middle of the street, Mac watched the red glow of the car’s tail lights fading into the night. She’d never felt more helpless.

JAG HQ – 1 Hour Later

In full dress uniform, Admiral AJ Chegwidden strode into the bullpen.

“Admiral on deck!”

“As you were!” The response was so automatic, he didn’t even have to think about it anymore, but tonight it sounded a bit gruffer than usual, even to him. A quick glance around the room did nothing to take the edge off his nerves. There were far too many people here for this time of night. The only time the office was occupied at night was when there was a crisis.

Near the center of the room stood Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie, surrounded by several other members of the JAG staff. The scowl on her face couldn’t quite mask an underlying shadow of deep concern.

He crossed quickly to her. “I made excuses for my departure to most people, but I have informed the Sec Nav of the situation. Do we know anything further yet?”

“No sir,” Mac replied softly. “We’ve contacted the DC police, and they’re investigating the scene.” Her shoulders dropped in defeat. “If only I’d been able to get out of my car!”

“If you had, we might well be searching for both of you,” AJ pointed out. He didn’t need her beating herself up about her failure to prevent this. “We’ll find him. I promise you that.”

“Yes sir, we will,” she replied with more conviction. “I do have a couple of leads to help us do just that.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, sir. As the car passed me, I managed to get a partial license plate number. The DC police are tracing it, along with the wrecked car that crashed into Harm’s. There’s one more thing, Admiral. The men who abducted him, they were speaking Spanish.”

****

The first thing Harm became aware of was pain. His head was pounding and a deep, throbbing ache was spreading through his shoulders. He tried to move his arms, but couldn’t. His wrists were bound behind his back. Still just barely conscious, he couldn’t make sense of it all. There was some kind of accident – wasn’t there?

A loud droning sound finally forced its way through the fog in his mind. Groggy as he was, he recognized it instantly. A prop driven aircraft. That made no sense, but at the same time, it did. He could feel the cold of metal beneath him and smell the aviation fuel. He was on board a plane. He had to be.

What had happened to Mac? She’d been right behind him before the accident. What if she’d been hurt, too? The overwhelming urge to sleep pulled at him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fight it. As he felt himself being pulled under, his last thought was of Mac, her sly, triumphant smile beaming at him.

JAG HQ – 06:40

As tired as she was, Mac forced herself to concentrate on Lt. Roberts’ report. A small corner of her mind noted that he looked as exhausted as she felt. They had been at it all night, along with virtually all of the JAG staff. Admiral Chegwidden’s uniform looked a bit rumpled, but he hid the exhaustion well. Years of Navy SEAL training didn’t fade easily.

“I’m going through Commander Rabb’s cases for the past two years,” Bud was saying, “but there are a lot of them. It’s going to take some time.”

A voice from behind them interrupted. “Whatever you’re working on will have to wait, Lieutenant.”

The voice was unmistakable. Mac spun around as Clayton Webb strode up. With his usual arrogance, he afforded Bud and herself only a brief glance before turning his attention to Admiral Chegwidden. “We need to talk.”

“My office.” The admiral led the way and gestured for Bud to close the door behind them.

Webb looked at each of them in turn. “I just got word that Carlos Estruga has escaped from prison. Where’s Commander Rabb? Estruga was making no bones about the fact that he wanted a piece of Harm for what he did to him in Colombia.”

Mac’s heart slammed into her boots. Estruga. It all made sense now.

Admiral Chegwidden’s scowl seemed to darken the whole room. “Estruga doesn’t just want a piece of Commander Rabb, he wants all of him, and it looks like that’s exactly what he’s got.”

“What are you talking about?” Webb demanded.

The admiral filled him in quickly. By the time he was done, Webb was pacing the room. “Why didn’t someone inform me earlier?”

“Why didn’t you inform us about Estruga?” the admiral countered.

“Because I didn’t know! I just found out. He escaped two weeks ago, but no one bothered to inform our office. It came up during a discussion on another matter.”

“Well that’s just great!” Mac exploded. “Someone with a known grudge against a JAG officer escapes from prison and no one thinks to inform you or us? What kind of –”

“Save the recriminations,” the admiral ordered. “We can deal with spreading the blame after we have Commander Rabb back. Mr. Webb, now that you do know about Estruga, what kind of intelligence do you have on him? Do you know where he might be hiding?”

“No, but if anyone this side of the Panama Canal – or the other side for that matter – does, I’ll find out.”

“That would be appreciated.” The admiral’s bland tone didn’t fool anyone. It wasn’t a request.

****

Consciousness returned slowly, reluctantly giving up its hold on Harm. His head still pounded unmercifully, making him glad the lighting was so dim. He was still dazed and confused, but it was obvious something had changed. The floor under him was now wood, not steel. Instead of the loud drone of a prop engine, there was only silence. A dank, musty smell invaded his senses, confirming his impression that he was no longer aboard the plane. He was in some kind of shack or shed. Cracks around the door let in just enough light for him to make out dusty shelves on the wall and piles of burlap sacks on the floor in the corner.

His hands were still tied behind his back, and the deep ache in his shoulders was rapidly approaching unbearable. The ropes cut into his wrists. They felt slick, probably with his own blood, but not enough to help him slip free.

Through the fog in his brain, Harm tried to get a handle on what was going on. The last thing he remembered clearly was leaving the reception with Mac. He remembered teasing her about something as they went to their cars, and he remembered pulling out onto the street. There was a blinding flash of headlights and a loud crash. He vaguely recalled someone hauling him out of the wrecked car, but the rest was just a blur of jumbled images, sounds and smells. A bumpy car ride. The drone of a prop driven plane, and the cold metal of a cargo hold.

Now, he was in this shed. The dank smell and high humidity forced Harm to concede that he probably wasn’t in Washington any more, but where he was, he couldn’t begin to guess. Before he could give it any more thought, the ill-fitting door of the shack slammed open, flooding the room, and Harm’s sensitive eyes, with blinding light.

Recoiling sharply, Harm forced himself to keep one eye open a slit. He saw a blur of movement, then two pairs of rough, strong hands grabbed his arms. They yanked him up and dragged him outside. With his ankles still bound, Harm couldn’t even attempt to get his feet under him.

Pain blasted through his shoulders as they slammed him against the shed wall. They held him there as another man stepped in front of him and planted his feet in an arrogant, dominant pose. Recognition fired a sudden surge of anger in Harm’s gut.

“Estruga.”

A broad, mocking smile flared on the man’s face. “So, you remember me, Commander Rabb. I’m honored.”

“Don’t be,” Harm spat. “I never forget a defeated enemy.”

Estruga’s smile slipped, but he recovered quickly. “Defeated? I don’t think so, señor. It is I who am holding you, no?”

“Not for long. My people will find me, Estruga, and when they do, you’re going right back where you belong – to prison!”

Estruga laughed out loud. “Take a good look around you, Commander. We are in the middle of the Colombian jungle. Even if your people knew where to look, there are thousands of square miles to search.”

The harsh reality of Estruga’s words settled in the pit of Harm’s stomach. If Estruga had managed to get him to Colombia, the chances of being found were extremely slim.

“Please, Commander, don’t be concerned. I have every intention of returning you to your friends.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Why nothing. I don’t plan to trade you. As I said, I will willingly return you.” All semblance of cordiality faded from Estruga’s face, replaced by a deep-seated hatred. “As soon as I’m finished with you.”

Throughout the exchange, Estruga had been standing with his hands behind his back. He stepped forward now, raising his right hand in front of Harm’s face. In it, he held a full hypodermic syringe.

“Your government had the audacity to accuse my brother of selling drugs and threw him in one of your jails to rot! You destroyed my efforts to have him returned to me, and for that you will pay.” Estruga took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost conversational tone. “Drugs are a vile, evil thing, Commander. They can easily destroy a weak-willed man.” Moving to within inches of Harm’s ear, he whispered, “How strong are you, Rabb? I think it’s time we find out. This is a special concoction I’ve prepared just for you.”

Cold fear rippled through Harm as one of the men holding him roughly grabbed his hair, yanking his head back and immobilizing him while the other gorilla freed the rope from his wrists and pulled his arm forward.

“Estruga, don’t do this!” Harm strained against his captors. “No! Don’t do it!”

Estruga gave a soft chuckle and raised the syringe, squeezing out a single drop of fluid. “We must be careful not to have any air bubbles, eh, Commander? After all, for you to receive the full effects of my cocktail, you have to live through it.”

Every ounce of strength Harm had left went into one last surge against his captors, but it wasn’t enough. Fear edged over into raw terror as he felt the needle prick his skin. Then the world tilted and Harm felt himself sliding down a long, kaleidoscopic tunnel into hell itself.

JAG HQ – Three days later

Mac watched from her office as Webb strode in like he owned the place. He was just arrogant enough to figure that, since he paid federal taxes, he did own it. With a deep breath, Mac stowed her dislike for the man. Right now, he was their best chance of finding Harm.

With a glance in her direction, Webb headed straight for the admiral’s office. Mac caught up with him at the door and followed him inside.

Admiral Chegwidden looked up from his desk. “Give me some good news, Mr. Webb.”

“All right. Would Estruga’s probable location be good enough for you?”

The admiral straightened abruptly. “It would.”

“Where is he?” Mac demanded.

“In Colombia. My sources have tracked him to an abandoned village in the jungle.”

“Is there any word on Harm?” Mac took an involuntary step forward. “Have any of your ‘sources’ seen him?”

“Not directly, but the rumor is they’re holding someone in that village. I’m leaving for Colombia in an hour. I’ll let you know when I have more information.”

Mac came to attention in front of the admiral’s desk. “Sir, request permission to accompany Mr. Webb.”

“Now just a minute,” Webb blurted. “Admiral, I don’t need a sidekick!”

Mac opened her mouth to protest the description, but Chegwidden raised his hands, silencing them both. “Commander Rabb is a member of my staff, Mr. Webb. I’m sure the Sec Nav would appreciate our desire to assist in the commander’s recovery. Can’t you?”

The veiled threat was clear. Webb blew out an explosive breath. “All right, the colonel goes.”

“And Lt. Roberts,” Chegwidden added.

Mac thought Webb was going to burst a blood vessel, but in the end, he threw up his hands in defeat. He glared at Mac. “One hour, Colonel. Don’t be late!” He spun on his heel and strode for the door.

Mac couldn’t resist a parting shot. “Actually, it’s fifty-seven minutes.”

Webb paused, mid-stride, his back going rigid, then, wisely, he kept on going.

****

By the time they arrived in Colombia, Mac was ready to explode. They were so much closer to finding Harm, but things seemed to be proceeding at a crawl. During the flight, Webb had been in touch with some of the mysterious ‘contacts’ he always seemed to have. They had confirmed activity in the abandoned village, but no one had been able to positively identify Harm.

They checked into a dingy Bogota hotel and gathered in Webb’s room. As usual, he wasted no time on preliminaries. “I’ve got a team standing by, ready to hit the village –”

“Is that wise, sir?” Bud asked quickly. “If we don’t know Commander Rabb’s exact location, he could be injured in a raid, even killed!”

Webb glared at Bud. “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, we have a team standing by, but we’re waiting for intel from a recon team. They’re trying to confirm Rabb’s presence.”

“So what do we do in the meantime, sit on our thumbs?” Mac’s frustration was reaching the boiling point.

“Yes, Colonel, that’s exactly what we do. Doing anything else could get your precious Commander Rabb killed!” Strangely, Webb’s expression softened, something Mac didn’t think was possible. He paused a moment, glancing at the floor before meeting her gaze again. “Have you considered the fact that he might already be dead? Estruga’s had him for three days, almost four. There’s no reason to think—”

“There’s every reason to think,” Mac shot back. “Harm’s alive. I know he is.”

Colombian Jungle Village – 14:00 local time.

A unique and terrifying mix of anticipation and dread flooded though Harm when he heard the tell-tale rattle of the lock on the door. It had been hours since the last injection, long enough that his stomach was beginning to cramp. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t begin to think about escape. In this condition, he couldn’t fight off a wet feather.

Estruga appeared at the door, the now familiar syringe in his hand. Harm’s gaze fixed on the needle, his mouth going dry. The liquid inside represented everything evil and vile that he had ever despised, but the ache in his gut spoke of its equally powerful allure.

Every time Estruga injected him, reality fractured into a million pieces, fragments of sounds, sights and smells. The first few times had been utterly terrifying, but he’d started to adapt. Estruga had realized that and the last injection had been so powerful, he’d almost come apart.

The thought of what the drugs were doing to him sickened Harm. He hated the loss of control over his own mind, but as the drugs wore off, he hated the empty feeling even more. The cramps, the tremors, the sweating. They came later, as the last of the drugs left his system.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the syringe as Estruga came closer. It represented everything that terrified, enraged and disgusted him, but still he wanted it.

Dear God, help him – he wanted it!

Bogota Hotel – 18:30 local time.

The rusty lock on Mac’s hotel room door groaned loudly, but finally yielded to her key. She’d done nothing more than drop her bags in the room before meeting with Webb. Now, with nothing to do until Webb heard from his team, she was hoping unpacking would be at least a temporary diversion. Fat chance! She’d hardly eaten or slept since this whole thing began. Nothing could chase away the memory of watching helplessly as Harm was whisked away into the night.

Dropping her key on the scarred and battered dresser inside the door, Mac turned to pick up her suitcase then froze. On the bed was a large white envelope that hadn’t been there before. Nerves instantly on high alert, she slowly scanned the room. Nothing else was out of place. The room didn’t even have a closet and the bathroom door was wide open, so she knew there was no one else in the room.

But there had been. Grabbing the envelope, she carefully broke the seal. Inside was a single piece of paper.

Colonel:

If you want Commander Rabb returned to you, come alone to the village in the jungle. We know you are aware of it. Your Mr. Webb seems so proud of his ability to gather intelligence. A rather accommodating member of his team ensures the information flows both ways. I assure you, we will be long gone before you can mount any form of rescue attempt. Your only chance is to come alone tonight at 11:00 p.m.

The letter was unsigned, but that didn’t surprise her. Her mind spinning, Mac stared at the note. One of Webb’s team was passing information to Estruga. There was no way she could confront him with it, though. He’d spend hours trying to find the mole and by then, it would be too late.

But going alone into such an obviously dangerous situation was against every policy and procedure the military had. Chegwidden would probably bust her down to private and send her to Alaska for the rest of her life. She weighed what was at stake here: Harm’s life or her career. The choice took only a millisecond.

Stuffing the note in her pocket, Mac grabbed a few things from her suitcase and slipped out the door. She had some planning to do and equipment to gather, and she only had four hours and twenty-three minutes to get it done.

Colombian Jungle Village – 19:00 local time.

Harm felt as though his body weighed a thousand pounds, but at the same time, he felt as though he was floating, drifting three feet above the floor. He shook his head in an effort to clear it, but that only made the sensation worse. Even in the dim lighting, the colors in the room seemed to bleed into one another, forming a mass of wavering shapes so garish it hurt to look at it.

The rattle of the door opening scraped along his raw nerves and he started violently. Estruga’s two henchmen grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. The abrupt motion made his stomach lurch and he fought to hang onto what little was in it. They dragged him outside into the night air. Estruga was waiting.

“Good evening, Commander. I trust you’re enjoying your stay with us. Unfortunately, it’s nearing its end.”

It took Harm several seconds to piece together the meaning of the words. His stay was ending? How? What was happening now?

At a nod from Estruga, his henchmen yanked Harm roughly away from the shack, out into a clearing. All around him, sounds and sights jumbled together into an indefinable blur, but Harm got a vague impression of a large shape looming in the dark. His captors shoved him through an opening and he landed on a hard metal floor. The plane again? That didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.

The whirr of a large, well-tuned engine filled his head, banging around inside like a rock in an oil drum. It wasn’t the plane, it was a helicopter. Someone shoved him into a seat and strapped him in as the chopper lifted off. Across from him, Estruga leaned forward, shouting to be heard over the helo’s roar. “I have a parting gift for you, Commander. I want to be sure you will never forget our time together.”

Grabbing Harm’s wrist, Estruga yanked it forward and jabbed a needle into Harm’s forearm. A tingling sensation flared at the injection site, spreading until his entire body burned in an inferno that swallowed him whole.

Bogota Hotel – 19:16 local time.

Bud Roberts stepped into the hotel corridor and locked his room behind him. He barely had the key out of the lock when Webb charged out of his room across the hall. “Where’s Col. MacKenzie?”

“In her room, I imagine. I was just going to see if she wanted to get something to eat.”

“For once, Roberts, would you forget about your stomach! Estruga’s on the move. I just got word that he’s cleaned out the village.”

Bud’s heart slammed into high gear. He followed Webb the short distance down the hall to Col. MacKenzie’s room. Webb pounded on the door. “Colonel?”

There was no reply.

With a hard look at Bud, Webb raised a foot and slammed it into the flimsy door. Exploding inward, the door came apart. Bud was right behind Webb as he charged into the room.

The empty room.

Col. MacKenzie’s suitcase lay open on the bed, several articles of clothing strewn across the faded bedspread. It looked as though the room had been searched, but something didn’t seem quite right. Webb charged to the window, checking the lock. He spun on his heel. “It’s secure. What the hell happened in here? If the colonel was taken by force, why bother to lock the door?”

“I don’t think she was taken by force,” Bud announced. He crossed to the bed and carefully pushed aside some of the clothing in the suitcase. He felt a flush of embarrassment as he moved aside a lacy white bra. “The colonel’s utility uniform is gone. So is her sidearm.” Bud looked up, confident he knew at least part of the answer. “Sir, she’s gone somewhere on her own.”

“What are you babbling about?” Webb demanded.

“It looks to me like she changed into her utilities. See, these clothes on the bed are the ones she was wearing earlier. The colonel changed into uniform and took her sidearm when she left.”

“Damn her! What kind of heroics is she planning?”

“I have no idea, sir, but if you ask me, and I know you didn’t but I’m going to say it anyway, I think beats sitting here like roosting pigeons.”

Colombian Jungle Village – 22:56 local time.

Tension skittered up and down Mac’s spine as she waited beside the jeep. She resisted the urge to seek the cold comfort of the sidearm tucked into the back of her waistband. On the far side of the clearing, she could just make out the shape of several abandoned buildings, mostly small shacks and huts. Something that looked like it might once have been a well loomed off to the right. It all looked so calm and peaceful, bathed in the pale glow of moonlight, but the scene did nothing to ease her fears, nor did the waiting. She forced herself to take a deep breath. She was three minutes and forty seconds early. There was still time.

Fear joined the tension dancing through her. The last time Estruga offered to return a hostage, all they found was a corpse. If history repeated itself… But no. Harm was alive. Something inside made her sure of that, just like she was sure that coming here alone was one of the stupidest things she’d ever done.

At least she’d done everything possible to prepare for this mission. Her survival pack and rifle were tucked away safely beneath one of the trees at the edge of the clearing. If this thing went south in a hurry and she had to abandon the jeep, at least she’d be equipped to get herself out of the jungle.

Mac blew out a breath to ease the tension wracking her body. An old saying ran through her mind: “prepare for the worst, but expect the best.” She had to keep that attitude. Things would work out for the best. She’d recover Harm, alive and unhurt. She had to, because if anything every happened to Harm…

In the stillness of night, she heard a faint sound. It took only a fraction of a second to identify it. The soft whap-whap-whap of a helicopter rotor grew steadily louder until she could just make out a silhouette against the moonlit sky.

The chopper hovered low to the ground near the center of the clearing, its spotlight creating a pool of light on the ground. The side door opened and several shadowy figures appeared. They rolled something to the threshold and pushed it off. Even in silhouette, Mac instantly recognized what it was.

A body.

Harm’s body.

He bounced off the chopper’s skid, then dropped to the ground more than ten feet below. Mac was on the move before he hit the ground. Pelting to his side, she dropped to her knees as the chopper lifted and slid away. Mac struggled to turn Harm over while at the same time fishing out her small flashlight.

She snapped it on and shone it on his face. What she saw nearly made her ill. Harm’s face was gaunt and drawn, his skin a pasty gray except for the blue-black smudges beneath his eyes. Her hand resting on his chest told her he was breathing, but his respiration was shallow and weak. He was out cold, whether from the fall or from other injuries, she couldn’t tell.

Stuffing the butt end of the flashlight in her mouth, Mac caught him under the armpits and started dragging him toward the jeep. The chopper was still buzzing around above them like an angry mosquito and the last place she wanted to be was out in the open with a wounded man.

Mac was in good shape, but dragging Harm’s dead weight didn’t go quickly. She’d only managed to get a few yards before she had to stop and shift her grip. As she looked over her shoulder to judge the distance to the jeep, the helicopter took up a position just beyond it. With sick certainty, Mac realized what they were about to do. She dove over Harm, covering his limp form an instant before the jeep exploded in a ball of flame. Over the roar of the fire, she heard the chopper peel away and disappear into the blackness.

****

It took what seemed like forever, but Mac finally managed to drag Harm out of the clearing and into one of the huts bordering the jungle. He was semi-conscious now, so she took a risk and left him long enough to retrieve her survival pack and rifle from their hiding place.

Dropping her pack beside Harm, Mac knelt and pulled out a small but powerful battery lantern. Flicking it on, she set it on the floor and turned to examine him more closely. He was barely conscious, his head rolling from side to side. He made a feeble attempt to slap her hands away, mumbling something incoherent.

“Easy, Harm. It’s me, Mac. Take it easy now.” The soft words seemed to have no effect. He was totally out of it, and she didn’t understand why, until she took his wrist to check his pulse. All up the inside of his forearm, tiny pin pricks dotted the skin in tell-tale tracks. Mac froze, her eyes going wide with a sickening realization.

They had not only beaten and tortured him, they’d pumped him full of drugs.

Mac swallowed hard against the rise of bile and emotion that clogged her throat. “Oh, Harm,” she whispered. “What have they done to you?”

She didn’t really have to ask. Estruga was a Colombian drug lord. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what sort of drugs he had injected Harm with. Mac understood the dangers of drugs and addictions, perhaps better than most people. Her own struggle with alcohol had been a hard and painful lesson. Something cold and hard settled itself in Mac’s gut. If Estruga’s brutality left any lasting consequences for Harm, Estruga wouldn’t live to enjoy his triumph.

Mac had to fight the urge to grab her rifle and hunt Estruga down on the spot. Right now, her first responsibility was to Harm, to get him out of this god-forsaken jungle and back to safety. In order to do that, she had to get him on his feet. Somehow. She didn’t know how much his system had been screwed up by Estruga’s drugs, but she had a feeling it was going to be bad.

Firmly but gently, she slapped his cheeks. “Come on, Harm, wake up. It’s me, Mac.” He swiped at her hands again, harder this time. A groan rumbled from his chest. She pushed his hands away and struck his cheek a little harder. “Harm? Damn it, sailor, snap to!”

Even her command tone failed to reach him, but her pestering was making him more agitated. Fists clenched, he flailed wildly now. “No more…enough…don’t touch me…” His eyes flashed open suddenly, blazing with a wild fury.

Mac’s blood chilled in her veins.

There wasn’t the slightest hint of recognition as he looked at her. He was completely lost within whatever hallucination the drugs had called forth. In this condition, Harm could be very dangerous, to himself and to her. Somehow, she had to get through to him.

She rocked back on her heels, giving him some space, and spoke in a soothing, soft tone. “Easy now. It’s all right. No one’s going to hurt you. Do you recognize me?”

Curling in on himself, Harm recoiled against the wall, but his eyes lost a bit of their wildness. He studied her for a long, long time. Finally, he uttered one soft word, almost a plea. “Mac?”

She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. She didn’t even try. “That’s right, it’s me. It’s Mac. You’re going to be all right. I promise you. No one will hurt you anymore.”

Harm lifted a hand, rubbing his forehead. “I… I can’t think straight. It’s all fuzzy. Where… What happened to me?”

“Estruga. Do you remember him abducting you?”

Harm was silent for a long moment, as if trying to make sense of her words. “He…no…I can’t….”

In a blur, Harm surged to his feet, his blue-gray eyes again wild and glazed. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me! Needles in…in my arms!” He looked down at his arm, saw the needle tracks, and frantically tried to brush them away. “Get them off me! God, they’re all over me! GET THEM OFF!”

Helpless frustration welled up inside Mac. She had to get him under control, before he hurt himself, or her. Seeing him like this was killing her. She’d known for a long time that Harm was a man who carried a lot of pain, but he’d found a place within himself to keep it buried. Now, all of those hard-won defenses were gone. He was scared, hurt and confused, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Quickly, she backed off a little further. Her words didn’t help him; her touch terrified him. What else did she have? How was she supposed to help him find his way back from his own private little hell? Fear clogged her throat. There had to be a way, but how!

And then, as quickly as it had come, Harm’s panicked rage disappeared. He staggered backward and dropped to the floor, his back again pressed to the wall. He stared into space, oblivious to the world around him.

Her chest on fire from holding her breath, Mac gazed at him. One desperate sob escaped her throat. Helplessly watching him go through this was going to tear her apart, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t leave him long enough to go for help.

Slowly, Harm’s eyes drifted shut, his head dropping to one side. Unsure how long he would sleep, Mac went into action. If they had to stay here until he was well enough to travel, they were going to need water at the very least. In one corner of the hut, she found a fairly intact bucket. The handle was missing, but there wasn’t much rust. It had been stored upside down and was reasonably clean. Grabbing it, she hurried out to see if the strange shape she had seen in the darkness was, in fact, a well.

Darting across the edge of the clearing, she reached the small round structure. It was a well, and there was water in it. She offered up a quick and silent prayer as she scooped up a bucketful and darted back to the hut.

Inside, she fished a couple of water purification tablets out of her pack and dropped them into the bucket. The saline tablets would make the water salty, but it was better than risking a bad reaction to tainted water.

Harm was still asleep, slumped against the wall. Even in sleep, with all the tension gone, he looked terrible. Mac wondered when the last time was he had eaten any solid food. That would have to be the first order of business when he awoke, but for now, all she could do was wait.

Grabbing her rifle, she moved outside and sat down beside the door. From this vantage point, she could keep an eye on the clearing, but still hear if Harm awoke. Something told her Estruga and his men wouldn’t be back. They wouldn’t have relinquished Harm, only to come back and recapture them both. Still, she felt better out here where she would have advance warning if anyone did approach.

At least, that’s what she told herself. She didn’t want to admit the truth, that she really didn’t want to be in there, didn’t want to witness the slow destruction of one of the strongest men she knew.

Surrounded by the quiet sounds of the jungle, Mac let her mind wander over their dilemma. Harm was too unpredictable to drag on a three-day hike through the jungle, but she knew Bud, and maybe even Webb, had to be going crazy with worry by now. If only she could—

A terrifying scream ripped through her thoughts.

Mac came up off the ground before the echo had died. Bolting inside the hut, she found Harm crushed into a corner, arms flailing as he fought off unseen demons – again. He screamed a second time and the sound cut straight through to her soul. She desperately wanted to make it all end, to have back her strong and sometimes arrogantly confident “flyboy.” She wanted it as much for his own sake as for hers. Stripping Harm of everything that defined him like this was far worse than even death.

God, would it never end? A deep dread began to seep into Mac’s heart. What if Harm’s mind had been permanently damaged? Who knew what drugs Estruga had used, or in what combination. What if the psychological effects weren’t temporary?

Even as these thoughts tumbled through her mind, Mac was easing toward Harm. She tried to think of something new to say to comfort him, but came up empty. “Easy, Harm. No one’s going to hurt you. The man who did this is gone now. You’re safe here.”

As before, she had no idea if the words did any good at all. His hallucinations seemed to play themselves out regardless of what she said or did, but at least it made her feel like she was helping.

The moment she saw some of the tension drain from his body, Mac moved closer. She saw him start to stagger and caught his arm, lowering him to the floor. Slipping off her jacket, she tore a strip from the back. Dipping the rag in the water bucket, she gently wiped the sweat from his forehead. Mac felt as wrung out as Harm looked. Watching him like this was pure, agonizing hell – and that’s when it hit her.

This was exactly what Estruga had planned. He not only wanted to put Harm through hell, he’d engineered it so she would have to sit by helplessly while it happened.

Damn him! If she ever got her hands on that slimy bastard.... Desperately, Mac fought to hang onto her temper. Harm needed her right now. Later, she could give in to the urge to put her fist through something.

Harm was fading out again. The glazed stare unnerved her even more than the panicked outbursts. Knowing he would be reasonably safe for a while, Mac went back outside. She had to do something to get her fuming temper under control. Under normal circumstances, she would have gone for a run, but that wasn’t possible, so she settled for twenty minutes of hard calisthenics. It helped, but not enough.

As quietly as possible, she peeked into the hut. Harm was asleep. She almost envied him the blissful oblivion. For her, sleep would be a long time coming. Easing the door closed, Mac prowled the village, inspecting the other huts and exploring a short distance into the jungle. She checked back often, but Harm was out like a light.

Nearly three hours went by. Mac knew every inch of the village and most of the terrain for several hundred yards into the jungle. That knowledge might come in handy later, but the more honest part of herself recognized what she was doing. She didn’t want to go into that hut again, didn’t want to watch such a strong and confident man being taking apart piece by piece.

Still looking for things to do, Mac slipped into the hut and retrieved her canteen. It would keep drinking water colder and cleaner than the bucket. She filled it at the well and dropped in a purification tablet. Screwing the cap on tightly, she took it back to the hut.

Five feet from the door, Mac heard an unmistakable sound. Bolting inside, she flung the canteen in the direction of her pack and flew to Harm’s side. He was on his hands and knees, retching violently. It seemed to go on for hours, but all she could do was hold him, supporting his head with a palm on his forehead.

His skin was clammy and between retches, she could feel him trembling so hard he had trouble supporting himself. She recognized the signs instantly. Withdrawal. Her own stomach clenched painfully. She had thought the worst was over, but she was wrong. Harm’s hell was just beginning.

****

Every nerve in Harm’s body was on fire. His stomach spasmed again but there was nothing left to come up. He was dimly aware of Mac beside him, holding his forehead, her other arm across his shoulders. Muscles knotted to the point of agony, it was all he could do to straighten up and rock back on his heels. His whole body trembled so hard he couldn’t keep his balance and dropped over onto one hip.

Mac stroked his face with a damp cloth, wiping his forehead and then his mouth. A second later, the smooth metal of a canteen touched his lips. Gratefully, he sipped the cool water. He tried to take the canteen from her but he was shaking so hard it nearly slipped. Mac wrapped her hands around his and helped him take another drink.

He shouldn’t have bothered. He’d hardly had time to swallow before the water came back up again. He barely managed to roll away in time. Mac was beside him in a flash, bracing his shoulders again. Awkwardly, he tried to push her away. He didn’t want her to see him this way, but she just gently moved his hand aside and held on tighter.

****

Throughout the rest of the day, and into the evening, Harm threw up more times than Mac could count. Or rather, he tried to. Long after there was nothing left in his stomach, the retching continued. Mac felt like crying. She knew his guts must feel like they were turning inside out.

Around four o’clock, the muscle spasms started. They came on suddenly and with such violence, Mac thought at first he was convulsing. It seems as though every muscle in his body contracted at the same time, forcing an involuntary groan from his throat. An instant later, he went slack, gasping for breath. Mac took his hand, offering what little comfort she could. The next spasm hit and his hand contracted around hers in a grip that threatened to break bone. Gritting her teeth, Mac made no effort to remove her hand, not that she would have been able to, anyway.

When he relaxed again, she eased her hand from his and dug through one of the outside pockets on her pack. For possibly the first time in her life, she was grateful for the need to carry the powerful muscle relaxants she had relied on since she was thirteen.

Something in the back of her mind warned against giving a sick man any kind of medication, but she had to do something. Harm was getting weaker by the hour. He had been through so many kinds of hell in the past week that she was beginning to wonder how much more he could take.

Finding the pill bottle, she popped the cap and shook out three of them. Walking on her knees, she grabbed the canteen then scooted over to Harm’s side. “Here, see if you can swallow these.” Putting the pills in his mouth, she helped him take a drink of water. He was too racked with pain and tremors to do anything more than weakly comply.

For nearly twenty minutes, Mac watched him go through round after round of agonizing muscle spasms. Scared he would injure himself, she sat down and managed to pull him part way onto her lap. Wrapping her arms around him, she braced herself against the wall and held him against her, protecting his head from the hard surfaces around him.

Gradually, the intensity began to ease and each one was a little less violent than the last. Maybe the pills were starting to take effect.

He was winding down again. She could feel the tension bleeding from him as he leaned against her. His breathing slowed from desperate gasps, gradually becoming deeper and more regular. He groaned softly, swallowing hard. Not wanting to disturb him, Mac hooked the strap of her pack with her foot and dragged it closer. She retrieved the canteen lying on top of the pack and held it to his lips. He took several sips, then managed to take the canteen and drink the rest without help.

Handing her the nearly empty canteen, he let his head tip back against the wall. He leaned into her even more as he relaxed further. His eyes drifted shut and she thought he was dozing off again, but a few seconds later, he startled her by speaking, his voice rough and scratchy. “Mac?”

“Yeah, Harm?” she whispered back.

“Thanks.”

Turning slightly, he rested his head against her shoulder. She felt the last of the tension flow from him and knew that he had drifted off. Very gently, she brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, and then gave in to the urge to run her fingers softly across his face. Nearly a week’s worth of beard growth roughened his cheeks and jaw, adding to the shadows on his face.

Would those shadows ever disappear completely? Would she once again see those clear blue-gray eyes glowing at her with an intensity that could shake her very foundation? Offering up a silent prayer for this, and more, Mac rested her head against his and closed her eyes. For now, the storm was over and they could both sleep.

Bogota Cantina – 21:00 local time.

Bud stepped into the nearly nonexistent lighting of the cantina and stopped to let his eyes adjust. After a moment, he spotted Webb sitting at a table in a back corner. Threading his way through the chipped and stained tables, Bud slid into a chair beside Webb. A waitress silently appeared and plunked a full beer bottle in front of him.

Bud had switched to civilian clothes and Webb had changed from his usual suit to something more casual, but Bud still had the feeling they stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. No one in the bar gave them so much as a glance, but he still felt like he was being sized up by everyone in the room.

Webb took a swig of his beer. “It appears you were right, Lieutenant. It took some digging, but I confirmed that Colonel MacKenzie rented a jeep not more than an hour after we last saw her.”

Bud nodded, quickly swallowing his first mouthful of the bitter stuff Colombians called beer. “And I found out she bought a bunch of other supplies, including a rifle.”

“I just don’t get it, Roberts. I thought you military types were taught to take orders.”

“We are, but we’re also taught to think for ourselves.”

Webb eyed him critically. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Colonel MacKenzie wouldn’t have gone off on her own without a good reason. She must know something that we don’t.”

“Be that as it may, it’s entirely possible she’s going to get herself killed. If the colonel went to the village to try and rescue Commander Rabb, she would have found out that they bugged out.”

“Then why isn’t she back here by now?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out, Lieutenant. We leave at first light.”

Colombian Jungle village – 04:45 local time.

Harm awoke slowly, drifting in that lazy place between sleep and full consciousness. He didn’t ever want to leave this drifting peace. Something had changed. He felt safe and protected, wrapped in a soft cocoon.

The warmth came from beside him and it took him a moment to realize he was curled against Mac in a more intimate position than he’d ever permitted himself to even imagine. His head was pillowed against her breasts, his arm draped across her belly. The gentle rise and fall of her breathing told him she was still asleep. Weak rays of morning light filtered beneath the door. It had to be just after dawn.

Mac had drawn a survival blanket over both of them at some point during the night. Her arm across his back kept it from slipping. Somewhere in the jumble of tangled memories, he recalled her rubbing his back, her touch and words easing him down from the rabid fears that had roared through him.

Shame, guilt and a hundred other things he couldn’t name flared and threatened to consume him. The fact that she’d stood by him through it all somehow made it that much more disgraceful. She shouldn’t have seen that. He shouldn’t have put her through any of this.

A subtle shift in her breathing alerted him a moment before she squirmed beneath him. Still weaker than a baby, he managed to push his weight off her. She kept a protective hand on his shoulder.

“How you feeling?” she asked quietly.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Like something that’s been through a blender.”

She chuckled softly and brushed his hair from his forehead. “If your humor’s coming back, you must be feeling better. Think you can eat something?”

The very thought repelled him. “I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure? You need to get your strength back. I’m willing to bet it’s been at least six days since you’ve had a decent meal.”

“Six days!” He stared at her, incredulous. He’d lost track of time long ago, but surely it hadn’t been that long.

“Take it easy,” she said gently. “Time tends to run together when you’re...well, you know...intoxicated.”

The realization struck Harm hard. Mac would have a better understanding of what he had been through than anyone else he knew. He searched her face, wondering how many of her own demons had been resurrected as she watched him battle his. “God, Mac, I am so sorry.”

“What for?” she asked with a laugh.

“For putting you through this. I mean, this had to bring back some pretty painful memories.”

She shook her head. “Not as many as you’d think, besides, you don’t have anything to apologize for. None of this is your fault, Harm, and don’t you dare blame yourself. There’s only one person I blame for this.”

He nodded, feeling the same way. Mac eased herself from him and stood up. “You rest some more. I’m going to fill the canteen. I’ll be right back.”

Grabbing the canteen, she slipped out the door. Harm watched her go, then carefully pushed to his feet. He swayed like a sapling in a hurricane, but managed to stay upright. Amazingly, his stomach gave a tentative growl, as if exploring the concept of once again accepting food. Undoubtedly, Mac had rations stored in her pack, but it was on the floor at his feet and at the moment, that was much too far down to think about. There was no way his fragile sense of equilibrium would put up with something like bending over.

He did manage to make it to the door, swinging it open to admit the fresh morning air and soft light. It took him a moment to spot Mac, off to the left at a squat round structure that must have been the well. She turned, starting back with that purposeful stride he’d come to know so well.

She was halfway back to the hut, close enough to see her smiling at him, when he heard the tell-tale sound. A helo, inbound in a big hurry. Mac heard it too, and started to run.

She almost made it back to the hut, but not quite. The helo sprang into view and a second later, a hail of bullets sprayed the clearing. Mac put on a burst of speed as Harm took a few steps toward her, desperately wishing he could do something more than watch, but in his weakened condition, he’d be more hindrance than help.

Mac dived through the door, taking Harm down with her onto the hard wooden floor. He stretched one foot out and kicked the door shut. The flimsy wood did nothing to stop the bullets, but at least it kept the shooter from getting a clear shot. Together they belly-crawled to the far corner, slipping behind a broken table that had been lying on its side.

“It’s got to be Estruga,” Harm said breathlessly, “but what the hell is he doing coming back?”

“He had to know I’d go to ground till you were well enough to travel, and he knows you’d be over the worst of it by now,” she answered, ducking around his shoulder to peer toward the door. “He’s probably decided not to take any chances that you might be able make it back alive and report this.”

It made sense – and it made Harm sick. Estruga was the most heartless human being he’d ever had the misfortune to come across. He had to be stopped, once and for all, but at the moment, Harm didn’t have a clue how to accomplish that. They were pinned down more effectively that an insect in a display case. Sporadic gunfire riddled the hut every few minutes, preventing them from even getting out from behind the table.

“We’ve got to do something,” he told her. “We can’t just sit here and wait for them to run out of ammo. I—”

He stopped abruptly as she threw up a hand, demanding silence. “Hear that?”

He listened harder. The deeper, richer tones of a second, larger chopper played over the sounds of Estruga’s helo. “What—who—is that?”

A bright smile lit Mac’s face. “The cavalry!”

****

Adrenaline whipped through Bud’s veins as their helo banked sharply and turned on the other chopper like a scrapping dog going in for the kill. From the open side door, one of Webb’s men opened fire again with incredible accuracy. The gunner in the other helo dropped out the door, landing on the ground below. Swinging on a new target, the CIA agent emptied his clip at the enemy’s tail rotor. It exploded in a hail of sparks and the chopper began spinning wildly. It bucked and kicked, nearly crashing into their own helo before finally plummeting to the ground.

Two more of Webb’s men leapt from the chopper before it touched down, coursing the short distance to the enemy helo, their weapons at the shoulder. Webb bailed a second later, and Bud was right behind him.

****

The moment the enemy fire quit strafing the hut, Mac and Harm crawled slowly to the door. Mac managed to swing it open a crack and peek out. She saw Estruga’s helo drop to the ground, landing in a heap of twisted metal. Grabbing her sidearm, Mac took a bead on the chopper’s open door, providing cover for the green-garbed soldiers who were advancing from the second helo.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Webb and then Bud jump from the chopper and run toward the downed aircraft. They and the soldiers started yanking men out of the side door. It was over.

Mac’s entire body seemed to deflate. She let her arms drop to the ground, her thumb instinctively flicking on her sidearm’s safety. She took several deep breaths before pushing to her feet. Beside her, Harm started to rise and she turned to help him.

As they stepped out into the open, Bud spotted them instantly. He charged in their direction. “Commander! Colonel! Are you two all right?”

Harm and Mac looked at each other for a long, silent moment. “Yeah, Bud,” Harm replied finally. “We’re doing just fine.”

Bethesda Naval Hospital – 13:00 the following day.

Harm lay propped up in bed, and IV tube attached to his left hand. They’d pumped him full of more stuff than he’d thought his body could hold, but whatever they’d used had worked miracles. He felt almost normal – physically. Emotionally, the last day and a half had been a roller coaster.

A warm, slow triumph slid through him when he learned that Estruga had been taken into custody, shaken and bruised from the helo crash, but he also felt a little cheated. He had not been able to even see Estruga. But then, maybe that was a good thing. Harm was more than a little scared by the things his imagination wanted him to do to the man.

A soft tap at the door dragged him out of his thoughts. Mac stood, smiling a little shyly. “Up for a visitor?”

“You bet!” He pushed himself a little further upright. “Come on in.”

She crossed to the bed, stopping a pace away. “So how are you feeling?”

“Not bad, considering. They tell me I’ll be out of here in a few days.”

“Good, that’s good.”

An awkward silence rose to fill the room. Mac seemed uncomfortable, and Harm wasn’t sure why. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just... I’m still so furious. What Estruga put you through...”

“I know,” he said softly. “It was a nightmare. But if I had to go through hell...” He took her hand, holding it tightly in his own. “At least I had you beside me.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Thanks, Mac.”

A tender, almost sad smile tugged at her mouth. With her free hand, she gently brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. It was a gesture he’d come to recognize. He heard, and understood, all the unspoken words it was meant to convey.

She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. “Any time, Harm,” she whispered. “Anytime.”

The End.