Embedded Files
Prolog
Lieutenant Bud Roberts, Jr., one of the senior attorneys at the Navy's Judge Advocate General (JAG) headquarters in Falls Church, Virginia, stood and watched the news feed in the bullpen with amazement. The ZNN feed showed his mentor, former Commander Harmon “Harm” Rabb, Jr., doing what he did best, pulling off a miracle. Somehow Harm had managed to land a C-130 on the deck of the Seahawk at night. Bud couldn’t imagine why in the world Harm would need to do something so dangerous. The images showed Harm walking away from the plane with a small girl on his shoulder. Beside Bud, Lt. Colonel Sarah "Mac" MacKenzie, senior attorney and Chief Of Staff at JAG, watched as well, with a knowing smirk on her face. “Only Harm could have pulled that off”, she thought to herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she and seen his full megawatt fly-boy smile but there it was now on TV for all to see. But underneath the smile she could tell Harm was tired. “Oh my, on TV! What’s the CIA going to think about that?”, Mac wondered. Across the bullpen, Rear Admiral Albert Jethro“A.J.” Chegwidden, Navy Judge Advocate General, and Commander Sturgis Turner, another senior attorney,watched as well. A.J. turns to Turner, and says “I don’t think that stunt will end well for Rabb.” Turner nods in agreement as A.J. turns on his heal and heads back to his office wondering again how he was going to solve his lawyer shortage with Rabb gone.
Chapter 1
Harm sat across from Harrison Kershaw, the CIA Director, seething with anger. He had just returned from Libya, where he had completed a successful mission to pull an agent out of the country. Sure, he had been seen on ZNN, but he had saved the mission, getting the agent back safe and sound. And yet, Kershaw was berating him as if he had failed.
Kershaw was a stern man with piercing blue eyes and a no-nonsense attitude. He had called Harm to his office for a debriefing following mission in Libya. Harm knew that Kershaw was angry about the slip-up that had caused Harm to be inadvertently shown on ZNN.
"I did what I had to do to get that agent out of there, sir," Harm said through gritted teeth. "I made a split-second decision to modify the mission and get the agent's family out as well. And I still managed to avoid detection by the Libyan authorities."
Kershaw's face remained stoic. "That's not good enough, Mr. Rabb. Your actions have put this entire agency at risk. And being IDed on national television? That's just unforgivable."
Harm could feel his blood boiling. He had risked his life to pull off an incredible feat of flying, landing a damaged C-130 Hercules on the deck of the USS Seahawk, and yet Kershaw was focused on a few seconds of footage on ZNN.
Harm replies frustrated, “Unforgivable? This mission had no backup plans! So I landed a C-130 with no brakes on the deck of an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Mediterranean at night. I risked my life to get that agent and his family out of Libya.”
Kershaw responds sarcastically, “Yes, you certainly did a great job of drawing attention to yourself in the process. Do you have any idea how much damage control we've had to do since your little stunt?”
Harm tries to change tact and apologetically says, “Sir, I understand that my actions may have put the agency at risk, and I'm willing to take responsibility for that. But I did what I had to do to complete the mission.”
“That's not good enough, Mr. Rabb.”, Kershaw says, “You're a liability to this agency now. We'll have to seriously consider when and if we can use you in the future.”
Harm's heart sinks as he realizes the gravity of the situation. He had always prided himself on his flying while at CIA, but now it seemed that flying might not be enough.
“Yes, sir. I understand.” Harm responds, resigned.
The CIA director nods curtly and stands up, signaling the end of the debriefing. Harm rises from his seat and makes his way to the door, his mind racing with why he always catches shit for doing the right thing.
Later that day
Golfcourse
The sun was setting on the golf course, casting long shadows across the green grass. Harm approached Allen Blaisdell, his boss at the CIA, with a dark expression on his face. The last time he had seen Blaisdell was when he briefed Harm and Commander Beth O’Neil on the mission to extract Saed Labdouni from Lybia.
Blaisdell was standing at the bar, nursing a glass of scotch. Harm greeted Blaisdell with a nod and sat down beside him. "What's the occasion?" Harm asked, as he ordered a drink for himself. Blaisdell looked at him with concern. "I just wanted to check in on you. You look like you've been through a lot, Harm. I heard about your recent mission on the USS Seahawk. How was it?"
Harm took a swig of his drink before answering. "It was a nightmare. We barely made it out alive. But we managed to land the C-130 and save those refugees."
Blaisdell nodded, but Harm could see a glint of unease in his eyes. "There's something else, isn't there?" Harm said, sensing that Blaisdell was about to deliver some bad news.
Blaisdell took a deep breath before speaking. "The thing is, Harm, you were filmed by a TV crew while you were carrying that little girl off the plane. That's a clear violation of CIA regulations. I'm sorry, but I have to let you go."
Harm felt like he had been punched in the gut. "Fired again? Are you kidding me?"
Blaisdell shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harm. I wish there was another way."
Harm clenched his fists in anger. "You know what? This is just like JAG and you are no better than Chegwidden! I saved people lives and what do I get for my trouble? I got thrown under the bus. You people don't give a damn about anything except your own damn rules."
Blaisdell looked uneasy, but Harm could see that he was standing firm. "I'm sorry, Harm. But rules are rules. We can't have our agents being filmed by the media."
Harm felt a surge of rage. "You know what? I'm sick of all this bullshit. I risk my life out there, and for what? So I can get fired every time I do something heroic? I'm done with this. I'm done with all of it."
He stood up from the bar and walked away from Blaisdell, seething with anger and frustration. As he left the golf course, he felt like his life was spiraling out of control. Once again, he had been betrayed by the very institution he had sworn to protect. He knew that he was going to have to find a new path, but he had no idea where to go from here. All he knew was that the darkness was closing in, and there was no escape.
The Next Day
CIA Langley
The next day Harm’s was summonsed to Langley for his exit process. Harm stormed out of the exit interview, still fuming at the injustice of his situation. He couldn't believe that he was getting fired from the CIA, just like he had been forced to resign from the Navy to save Mac on that disastrous mission with Clayton Webb. It seemed like every time he did the right thing, he ended up paying the price.
As he walked through the CIA headquarters, he couldn't help but think of Catherine Gale, the CIA analyst who he had “married” when she thought her mother was terminal so he could get the details of Mac’s whereabouts. He shook his head in frustration at the thought of that little adventure. Absently he wondered, how much more “follow through” did he need to do before Mac realized the lengths he would go to for her.
As he made his way to the exit, he was stopped by a familiar face. It was Clayton Webb, the CIA spy who had caused him so much trouble in the past. Harm felt a surge of anger at the sight of him.
"What are you doing here, Webb?" Harm spat.
Webb held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I just wanted to say goodbye, Harm. I heard you're leaving the CIA."
Harm glared at him. "Yeah, thanks to you and your damn mission in Paraguay I’m out on my ass again."
Webb looked contrite. "I know I messed up, Harm. I've been trying to make it up ever since."
Harm scoffed. "Yeah, I'm sure you have. Look, I don't have time for this. I've got to get out of here before I lose my temper."
Webb nodded. "I understand. Good luck, Harm."
Harm didn't respond as he stormed past him and headed for the exit. He couldn't wait to get out of this place.
As he approached the security checkpoint, he was stopped by a young agent. "I'm sorry, sir. You can't take that with you," she said, pointing to his CIA badge.
Harm sighed in resignation and handed over the badge. He watched as the agent deactivated it and placed it in a bin.
"Goodbye, Mr. Rabb," she said with a smile.
Harm didn't respond as he walked through the metal detector and out into the bright sunshine. He took a deep breath of fresh air and felt a weight lift off his shoulders.
As he walked to his car, he couldn't help but think of all the good he had done for the CIA, and yet he was being fired for being seen. He was angry at the agency for not recognizing his contributions and for treating him like a liability.
But as he drove away from the CIA headquarters, he knew that he was done with the agency for good. He would find a way to make a difference on his own terms, but right now he just wanted to forget everything and everybody. Harm pointed his car towards Benzinger's.
BenZinger’s Bar
Harm sighed and took another swig of his drink, staring into the amber liquid as if it held the answers to all his problems. He had been at Benzinger's for over an hour now, nursing his drink and trying to figure out what to do next. He wasn't ready to face the real world just yet, but he knew he couldn't stay holed up in his apartment forever.
As he sat there lost in thought, a familiar voice interrupted his reverie.
"Hey, isn't that Harmon Rabb?" Sturgis Turner said as he walked into the bar and spotted Harm sitting alone.
Harm turned to see his old friend and former colleague from JAG, Sturgis Turner, approaching him. "Sturgis, hey," Harm said, trying to hide his surprise at seeing him there.
"Long time no see, buddy. Mind if I join you?" Sturgis asked, pulling up a chair.
Harm shook his head, and Sturgis sat down, ordering a beer from the bartender. "So, what brings you here?" Harm asked.
Sturgis took a sip of his beer before answering. "Just finished up a case, thought I'd come in for a drink. What about you? Last I heard, you were working for the CIA."
Harm took a sip of his drink before answering Sturgis's questions. "Yeah, I got fired," he said, setting the glass down on the counter. "I don't want to talk about it."
Sturgis raised an eyebrow. "You don't want to talk about it? Since when do you keep secrets from me, Harm?"
"It's not a secret, I just don't want to relive it," Harm said, his tone clipped.
Sturgis nodded, recognizing the note of anger in Harm's voice. "I get it. But what about the C-130 incident? What happened there?"
Harm sighed heavily. "Long story short, I had to make a choice between following orders or doing what I knew was right. I chose the latter, and the consequences were… not great."
“Yeah, I saw the coverage on ZNN. That can’t mix well with field work”, Sturgis replied.
Harm shook his head in agreement. "I'm sorry, Harm," Sturgis said, laying a hand on his friend's arm. "That must have been tough."
"It was," Harm said, his eyes distant. "But what's done is done."
Sturgis nodded, sensing Harm's reluctance to talk about the incident any further. "So, what's next for you?
“I haven't really decided yet. Maybe I'll start my own law practice. Maybe I'll take a job as a private investigator. Who knows.", Harm responds.
Sturgis leaned in. "You know, you could always talk to Admiral Chegwidden about getting your old job back. The case load is so bad with you gone he’s bring in Carolyn Imes to help out."
Harm shook his head. "Carolyn Imes, that’s rich! Look Sturgis, I could never work for a man who had so little respect for me and who would leave one of his own to die on a mission he OKed."
Sturgis's eyes widened in surprise. "Leave someone to die? What are you talking about?"
Harm hesitated, but the weight of his anger and frustration was too great to keep inside any longer. "Look Strugis, I can’t go into details, but you’re a smart guy. I didn’t resign my commission so I could go off somewhere and get a sun tan. Chegwidden knew something had gone south, but he wasn’t doing anything to help one of his people in trouble. He just left that person out there to rot. That’s all I can say, the rest is classified. You’re an investigator, you can piece the rest together on you own."
Sturgis sat silent for a minute and looking stunned. "I had no idea, Harm. I'm sorry."
Harm shrugged. "It's not your fault."
Sturgis nodded in understanding. "I hear you. But just think about it, okay? You're too good of a lawyer to waste your talent."
Sturgis looked at Harm with concern. "Harm, you’re going to have to put this behind you. You need to move on."
Harm looked at Sturgis, his expression unreadable. "I know. But it's hard."
Sturgis put a hand on Harm's shoulder. "I get it. But you're one of the best lawyers I know, and you could make a real difference at JAG."
Harm didn’t respond so Sturgis continued, "Think about it, okay? If you do decide to go back to JAG, I'll be there for you. And I'm sure the Admiral would be willing to hear you out."
Harm smiled weakly. "Thanks, Sturgis. I appreciate it."
Harm nodded slowly, still lost in thought. Sturgis finished his beer and stood up. "I've got to get going, but call me if you need anything, okay?"
Harm nodded again and watched as Sturgis walked out of the bar. As he sat there alone, he knew that Sturgis was right. He needed to start moving forward and stop dwelling on the past. But he didn't know where to begin.
Union Station
That night Harm drug himself up the stairs to his apartment, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. As he opened the door, he was hit with a wave of emptiness. The refrigerator was empty, and he had no food. He realized that he had been too caught up in his work at the CIA to take care of himself.
He made his way to the bathroom, the sound of the shower calling to him. As the warm water cascaded over his body, he couldn't help but think about everything that had happened. Being fired from the CIA, the memories of his time in Paraguay with Sarah, and the betrayal he felt from JAG.
He was still angry with Mac for what had happened in Paraguay and for dating Clayton Webb, and he couldn't bear the thought of her reaching out to him. He needed space and time to sort out his emotions.
As he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, he dried himself off and made his way into the living room. There he noticed the answering machine blinking with a red light. He pressed the button and sat down on the couch, as the machine began to play Sarah's messages.
"Hey, Harm. It's Mac. I just wanted to check in and see how you're doing. I heard about what happened on the Seahawk, You looked tired Harm and I wanted to make sure you're okay. Ok, call me back."
The messages continued, each one more desperate than the last. Sarah was trying to reach out to him, but Harm didn't want to hear it. He deleted the messages, one by one, until there were none left.
As Harm sat there, his thoughts drifted back to Mac. He had loved her for years, and if he was being honest with himself, he loved her ever since they first met at JAG. He had resigned his commission from the Navy to go to Paraguay and find her. He wanted to tell her how he felt, to finally let her know that he loved her.
But everything had spiraled out of control. He had seen Sarah kiss Clayton Webb, and he felt like he had lost everything. He had always known that Sarah and Clayton had a complicated relationship, but seeing it with his own eyes had been too much.
When they returned to Washington he had thrown himself into his work at the CIA, hoping to forget about Mac and everything else. But he knew that he couldn't run from his problems forever.
As he sat there in his empty apartment, he realized that he still loved Sarah. Despite everything that had happened, he couldn't help but feel drawn to her. He didn't know what he would do if she ever showed up at his door, but he knew that he couldn't keep running from his feelings forever.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He needed to focus on the present, on finding a way to move forward. He couldn't keep dwelling on the past and what could have been.
With a deep sigh, he stood up and made his way to the kitchen. He knew that he needed to take care of himself, to start eating properly and taking care of his body. But as he looked around the fridge, he saw that it was just as empty as his apartment. There was nothing, no life, nothing that could make it feel like a home. It was just a place to sleep, a place to escape from the rest of the world.
Harm returned to the couch, feeling lost and alone. He knew that he needed to get away, to put all of this behind him. He thought about flying to some exotic location, or maybe just driving until he hit the ocean. He needed to find a place where he could start over, where he could forget about all of his troubles.
But for now, he decided to stay at his apartment and try to make the best of it. He needed time to think, to process everything that had happened. Maybe tomorrow he would start packing for a new adventure, but for tonight, he just needed some rest.
Soon however His feeling of hunger returned. Harm left his apartment and got into his car, heading towards the Chinese restaurant down the street. As he drove, he couldn't help but think about his options. Maybe he could find a new job as a lawyer, although he wasn't sure if he was ready to go back to that kind of work. Maybe he could try his hand at flipping houses, or something else entirely.
He even considered going to San Diego to visit his parents, Trish Burnett and Frank. He hadn't seen them in a while, and he knew that they would be happy to see him. But he wasn't sure if he was ready to face them yet. He didn't know how to explain what had happened with the CIA, or how he had lost his way.
He pushed the thoughts aside and focused on his hunger, eagerly anticipating the Vegetable Delight he would soon be devouring. When he returned to the apartment, he sat at the small kitchen table and ate his food, savoring the flavors.
After eating, he checked his mail for bills and other important documents. He was exhausted from the events of the past few days and desperately needed sleep. He knew that he needed to make a decision about his future soon, but for now, he just needed rest.
He changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed, the exhaustion overwhelming him. As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for him. But he knew that he couldn't think about that right now. For now, he needed to rest and gather his strength for whatever came next.
Harm was sound asleep, but his dreams were anything but peaceful. In his first dream, he was once again trying to land the C-130 on the Seahawk. But this time, he overshot the landing and crashed into the sea, leaving him, Beth, the agent they rescued and his family helpless and drowning.
In his next dream, he saw the faces of everyone he had killed while working for the CIA, haunting him with their accusing eyes and silent screams.
But it was his final dream that shook him to his core. He was back in Paraguay, and he had found Sarah McKenzie tied to a table, being tortured by one of Sadik's terrorist henchmen. She was being shocked with a car battery, and Harm desperately tried to save her, but he was too late. In his dream, Sarah died in front of him, and he was left with a sense of overwhelming guilt and despair.
Harm woke up with a start, sweat pouring down his face. He realized it was all just a nightmare, but the images were still fresh in his mind. He got up, trying to calm himself down, and went to the kitchen to get a drink of whiskey. As he sipped his drink trying desperately to clam his nerves, he realized that he needed to be with his family. He couldn't face his demons alone anymore.
After a few minutes, Harm made a decision. He would go to San Diego to see his parents. It had been a long time since he’d seen them last, and he knew they would be happy to see him. Grabbing Blackberry, Harm checked the smartphone for available flights and found an early morning departure to San Diego. As he waited for his flight to confirm, Harm scribbled notes in a small notebook, trying to organize his thoughts and figure out what he wanted to say to his parents. He knew they would have questions about his sudden visit, and he wanted to be prepared.
He also checked his bank account to make sure he had enough funds to cover the cost of the flight and a place to stay in San Diego. He had some savings, but not much, and he knew he needed to start thinking seriously about his future career prospects. Once his flight was confirmed, he headed back to the bedroom and quickly packed a bag, got his things in order, and set his alarm for an early morning flight.
As he lay back down to sleep, Harm's mind was a jumble of emotions - fear, anger, uncertainty - but he tried to focus on the positive. He was going to see his family, and that was something to be grateful for. So he tried to quiet his mind and think about his next steps. He knew that he had to find a way to move forward, to make things right. But he also knew that he couldn't do it alone. He needed the support of his family.
Chapter 2
The next morning, Harm drove his sleek Lexus SUV to Washington Dulles Airport, the early morning sun barely visible above the horizon. As he drove, his mind wandered to the events that had led him to this point. He thought about Sarah MacKinzie and the painful memories of their time together in Paraguay. He wished he could go back in time, make different choices, and say different things, but he knew that was impossible.
He also thought about the Admiral's words, which still echoing in his mind. "You're not a team player, Harm. Maybe you should go wrestle alligators." It stung to hear those words, but he couldn't deny that there was some truth to them. He had always been a bit of a lone wolf when it came to taking the risks that saved other people, and that had caused him problems in the past.
But as he drove, Harm also felt a glimmer of hope. He was going to see his family, and maybe they could help him figure out his next move. He knew he needed to find a new path, something that would give him purpose and a sense of fulfillment. Maybe he could use his legal skills to help people in need, or find a new way to serve his country.
As he pulled into the airport parking lot, Harm took a deep breath and reminded himself to stay positive. He grabbed his bag and headed inside, ready to face whatever came his way.
As Harm made his way through the bustling terminal, he couldn't help but recall the conversation he had earlier that morning with his mother. Her voice was filled with joy and surprise when he told her that he was coming out to visit, and she insisted that he stay with them in their beach house in La Jolla.
Harm smiled at the memory, feeling a sense of comfort and relief at the thought of being with his family. However, he knew that there were conversations that needed to be had about his recent departure from the Navy and his time with the CIA, conversations that he wasn't looking forward to.
Despite the weight of those conversations, Harm couldn't shake the feeling of happiness that he felt knowing he would soon be with his loved ones. He made his way to the gate with a newfound sense of peace, ready to face the next chapter in his life.
Harm reached the gate and presented his ticket to the gate attendant. He then took a seat and waited to board the plane. Dispite the sense of relief that washed over him as he thought about spending time with his family in La Jolla, he had to shake off the lingering feeling of unease from his nightmares the night before. He needed to focus on the present.
As he waited, he noticed a group of three men standing in the corner of the waiting area. They tried to remain unseen, nervously scanning the crowd. Harm felt a chill run down his spine as he studied them. Something about their demeanor seemed off, and he couldn't shake the feeling that they were up to no good.
The men were dressed in dark clothing and had their faces partially obscured by hats and sunglasses, despite being indoors. They spoke in hushed tones, and their body language was tense and furtive. Harm couldn't make out what they were saying, but he had a sinking feeling that it wasn't anything good.
Harm decided to distract himself by thinking about his upcoming visit with his parents. He hadn't seen them in a long time, and he was looking forward to spending time with them. He smiled as he remembered the last time he was at their house in La Jolla, sitting on the porch with Frank overlooking the Pacific ocean, watching the waves as they crashed against the shore.
But he also knew that the visit wouldn't be all fun and games. He would have to face his past and explain things to his parents. He didn't know how they would react, but he hoped they would understand.
As the boarding call was announced, Harm gathered his things and joined the line of passengers. While he waited to board the plane, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was being watched. He tried to dismiss the feeling as paranoia and refocus on the upcoming visit with his family. But the men's presence kept nagging at him, and he couldn't help but watch them out of the corner of his eye. Little did he know, their evil plans were about to unfold, and he would be caught in the middle of it all.
Harm sat down in the plush leather seat in the back of the first-class section of the Boeing 747-400. He gazed around the cabin, taking in the luxurious surroundings, from the crystal glasses and silver cutlery to the soft pillows and thick blankets. The wide, comfortable seat was a welcome change from the cramped coach seats he was used to flying in during his time with the Navy.
Despite the exorbitant cost of the ticket, Harm couldn't help but appreciate the extra legroom and ample space to stretch out his 6' 4" frame. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the chance to relax during the long flight.
As Harm opened his eyes, he noticed three men making their way down the aisle, looking gruff and impatient. They pushed past other passengers and were rude to the flight attendant, making Harm uneasy. He couldn't help but wonder who they were and what their business on the flight was.
They were dressed in dark clothes and had tense expressions on their faces. One of them was bald and had a scar above his left eyebrow, while the other two had long beards and looked like they hadn't slept in days. Harm tried to ignore them and focused on his magazine, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
The flight attendant came by and asked if he needed anything to drink. Harm ordered a scotch and soda, hoping that it would calm his nerves. As the flight attendant walked away, he noticed the three men glaring at him. Harm quickly looked back down at his magazine, pretending not to notice. He flipped through the pages of a travel magazine, trying to distract himself from his racing thoughts. As the plane taxied towards the runway, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping the flight would be uneventful.
Soon the plane started to taxi down the runway, and Harm felt the familiar sensation of takeoff. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Thankfully, the jumbo jet continued its climb to 32,000 feet. Harm was just starting to relax when the plane settled into its cruising altitude and the pilot turned off the seat belt sign. Suddenly, Harm felt a jolt, followed by the sound of commotion from the front of the plane. His eyes flew open and he saw the three gruff men from earlier rush towards the cockpit.
Harm's heart raced as he watched one of the men pull out a gun and he quickly realized what was happening. The three men were hijackers and Harm sat briefly frozen, watching in horror as the terrorists took control of the plane. He couldn't believe what he was seeing - this was something he had only seen in movies. The man with the gun pointed it at the flight attendant, demanding that she open the cockpit door. The other two men started to move towards the front of the plane, looking for something. The flight attendants tried to stop them, but they overpowered them with ease. In just a few seconds, two of the men had produced a small IED quickly blew open the locked door. Then numerous shots were fired as the cockpit was sprayed with bullets.
Judging from the screams coming from the cockpit and the way the plane was being tossed about, it was clear the flight crew had just met an unfortunate end. It seemed like 9/11 was happening all over again. Harm knew that he had to act quickly to save himself and the other passengers. Without hesitation he unbuckled his seat belt and stood up. In a rage fueled by the months with the CIA he lunged at one of the hijackers, tackling him to the ground. Looking around for something to use as a weapon, he found a nearby briefcase and quickly dispatched the hijacker beneath him. Harm couldn’t celebrate his victory however, as a second hijacker turned fromm the cockpit to find his associate’s head flattened against the 747’s floor. The scared hijacker wielded his gun towards Harm’s head when suddenly a fellow passenger brandishing a stainless steel coffee pot swung it in a blured arc and collided it with the hijackers already marred face. The man was caught off guard and stumbled back. Harm took the opportunity to grab the gun from the man's hand and point it him. "Get down!" he shouted, hoping that someone would come to his aid. To his relief a Sky Marshall appeared overpowering and incapacitating the terrorist.
With his own handgun drawn the Sky Marshall made his way to the flight desk, Harm following closely behind. Upon entering the Sky Marshall quickly aimed and dispatched the remaining hijacker with a single marksman like shot to the invader’s head. As the hijacker slumped over the 747’s control yoke, Harm could feel the jumbo jet plane start to go into a dive, lifting those who were standing off the floor and into the air. He knew instantly that he had to stop the dive before it was too late.
Harm managed to right himself and he struggled to get the dead terrorist out of the pilot’s seat. The Sky Marshal quickly recovered as well. He pointed his gun at Harm’s head and shouted for Harm to stand aside. But Harm didn’t relent and he yelled that he was a former Naval fighter pilot as well as a C-130 pilot for government and that he could fly the plane. Pausing only a second, the burly Sky Marshall considered his options and then relented, trusting Harm and helping Harm into the pilot’s seat.
Harm’ could help but to think back three years prior when he climbed into the left seat of another 747…
<flashback>
Harm's palms were slick with sweat as he wrestled with the controls of the massive 747. The wind was howling,as he dropped the landing gear to slow the plane causing the North Korean MIGs to overshoot. He had never flown anything this big before, but he knew as the MIGs came around again and position themselves for another shot that he had to do something bring the jumbo down safely. Harm heard the US Air Force pilot yell, “Missiles inbound, break hard left now!” and he gritted his teeth forcing the Queen Of The Skies into a hard left bank. Despite the flares released by the F-15s and Harm’s evasive maneuvers, chaff from the exploding North Korean missile set the 747’s number three engine on fire.
After stabilizing the big jet, Harm quickly pulled the number three fire-handle shutting down the engine and extinguishing the fire. Safe for the moment the F-15s escorted Oceanic Flight 105 back to South Korea and Harm hoped he could land this buss. When they approached the Air Force base , the Air Force ATC guided Harm in as he re-lowered the landing gear.
As he looked out of the cockpit window, he could see the runway stretching out in front of him. It was illuminated by the bright lights of the airport, but Harm knew that they were coming in too fast. The plane was hurtling towards the ground like a missile, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.
"Come on, baby," he muttered under his breath, his fingers tightening on the controls. He was sweating buckets, but he refused to give up. He was coming in too hot, and the plane was shaking with the force of the descent. It felt like he was riding a roller coaster, hurtling towards the ground with no brakes.
Finally, the wheels hit the runway with a bone-jarring thud. Harm could feel his teeth rattling in his head as he fought to maintain control of the plane. He deployed the brakes and brought the plane to a stop, his heart racing with adrenaline.
The air traffic controller's voice crackled over the radio, congratulating him on a successful landing. Harm couldn't believe it - he had done it! He had landed the 747 like a pro, even with all the odds stacked against him.
As he looked out of the cockpit window, he could emergency vehicles descend upon the on them. The night air was electric with excitement, and Harm couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. Despite Mac’s crack about taking a boat next time, he had never felt more alive than in that moment, when he had been flying the massive 747 and bringing it safely to the ground.
Harm leaned back in his seat and let out a whoop of triumph, his heart pounding with excitement. He knew that there would be more challenges ahead, but for now, he was content to bask in the glory of a successful landing.
<end flash back>
…..Harm hoped to pull of another Miracle this time.
As Harm took control of the plane, he could feel the immense weight of responsibility on his shoulders. The cockpit was in shambles and he had to rely on his basic Navy flight training as he worked stabilize the aircraft. He pulled back on the yoke with all his strength, gritting his teeth as he fought to level out the plane. The passengers in the cabin screamed as the plane shuddered and bucked, but Harm refused to give up. He had to keep the plane in the air, no matter what. Finally, he felt the plane start to level out, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Unfortunately the terrorists had done a number on the plane. All five EFIS displays were down, two smashed by bullet holes and splattered with blood. The secondary air speed indicator was also shattered by gunfire. With only the secondary attitude indicator and altimeter still working Harm knew his biggest concern was airspeed. If the plane flew too fast he might over stress the structure and the big jet would break apart in mid air. If the plane flew too slow it would stall and similarly fall from the sky. He quickly assessed the damage and realized that he needed ATC’s help.
With shaking hands, Harm reached for the pilot’s headset only to find a bloodied and tattered mess. He yelled out to the Sky Marshall to grab the co-pilots headset. The Marshall reached over the dead co-pilot and carefully retrieved the headset. Fortunately, this one was not damaged and he handed it to Harm. Harm quickly placed it on his head and plugged it in. As he keyed the mic button on the yoke he hoped the radio was still set to the proper frequency. "Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is National Flight 1745. We've had a hijacking but have regained control of the aircraft. The flight crew is dead. I am a former US Navy pilot and I am flying the plane. Most of our flight instruments have be shot up so we don’t have any airspeed indicator. Requesting immediate assistance, over."
The controller's voice crackled through the speakers. "National 1745, this is Indianapolis Center. Just to confirm your are a former US Navy pilot and your flight crew is dead? Can you please state your altitude, heading, and airspeed?"
Harm looked down at the instruments, but they were all dead. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. "Indianapolis Center, National 1745. My name is Harmon Rabb, I’m a former Navy pilot. Hijackers shot up the flight deck and seized control. Both pilots are dead. We have regained control of the aircraft but primary flight instruments have been destroyed. We only have the secondary attitude indicator and altimeter working. Please tell me my airspeed."
The controller's voice was calm and reassuring. "Copy that, 1745. We show your ground speed at 275 knots. We're going to need you to try and maintain altitude and head towards the nearest airport. Can you do that?"
Harm nodded to himself, feeling a glimmer of hope. "Copy that, center. We're going to do our best. Please keep talking us through this."
The controller's voice crackled over the radio, giving Harm instructions on how to steer the plane towards the nearest airport. Harm gripped the yoke tightly, sweat pouring down his face as he fought to keep the plane steady.
He could see the airport coming up in the distance, but it looked impossibly far away. The plane was shuddering and shaking, and he could feel the engines straining under the weight of the damaged aircraft. But he refused to give up.
Finally, he saw the runway coming up in the distance. It looked tiny, like a thin strip of concrete stretched out in front of them. Harm took a deep breath, feeling his heart racing in his chest.
"National 1745, this is Cincinnati approach. You're coming in too fast. Reduce your speed and maintain your current altitude."
Harm nodded, feeling his palms sweating on the yoke. He gently adjusted the throttles, trying to bring the plane's speed down. It was like trying to slow down a freight train with his bare hands, but he refused to give up.
With a sickening lurch, the plane started to lose altitude again. Harm felt his stomach drop as he fought to bring it back up. The controller's voice was urgent in his ear, guiding him through every step of the landing process.
After 20 tense minutes of maneuvering, Flight 1745 crossed the threshold of runway 36 right and Harm brought the nose of the plane down, hoping to touch down as smoothly as possible. Despite his best efforts, the plane hit the ground hard, jarring Harm's teeth in his head. Somehow he managed to keep it from bouncing back up. With the wheels firmly on the ground, he heard the cheers and applause of the passengers behind him. The engines roared as they reversed thrust and the huge 747 hurtled down the runway, slowly coming to a stop.
Harm let out a long, shuddering breath, feeling the weight of the world lift off his shoulders. The passengers erupted into cheers and applause, grateful to be on solid ground. "Flight 1745, Cincinnati Tower. You did a great job. We're sending emergency services to your location now”. “Copy that Tower, we are all breathing again here. Thank you for all the help.”, he replied. he continued to communicate with the tower, receiving instructions on the best way to shut down the aircraft.
Once the plane was safe Harm looked over at Sky Marshall, a small smile of satisfaction forming on his face. "We did it," he said. "We got them safely to the ground. My name is Harm by the way." The Marshall nodded his own relief evident on his face, “Tim Jackson”.
Chapter 3
As the passengers disembarked from the 747, they flocked around Tim and Harm, many of them taking out their smartphones to capture the heroic Marshall and pilot who had saved their lives. Harm was grateful for the appreciation, but he was also eager to get on with the next steps of the process. He made his way down the staircase, feeling the weight of exhaustion and adrenaline weighing heavily on him.
Airport security was waiting for him at the bottom of the steps, and they escorted him to the terminal building for debriefing. The FBI was the first to interview him, peppering him with questions about the events that had transpired on the plane. Harm recounted the events as best he could, grateful for his military training that helped him stay calm and focused throughout the ordeal.
Once the FBI was done with their interview, the NTSB came in, asking Harm about his background the, the damage to the cockpit, and how he got the 747 safely down . Again Harm did his best to answer the questions, but he was feeling more and more drained by the minute.
Finally, the interviews were over, but Harm was informed that he should check into the Airport hotel for the night. The FBI and NTSB would follow up with him in the morning. He was the released back out into the airport, but he was met with a swarm of reporters waiting for him with cameras and microphones, all clamoring for his attention and looking for the next big scoop. Harm knew better than to engage them so he refused to answer and made his way to the airport Marriott. He was exhausted and he simply wanted to get to his room and make arrangements to resume his trip to his parents house.
As the day wore on, the news spread about the heroic pilot who had landed a damaged 747. The passengers continued to share their videos and pictures of Harm, and the public hailed him as a hero. But for Harm, the experience had taken its toll, and he was grateful to finally make his way to a hotel room, eager to put the events of the day behind him and move on with his life.
Mac was making her way from her office to the break room when she noticed a group of officers watched the news of the hijacked 747 on ZNN in the JAG Headquarters bullpen. She recognized the hero of the hour, her former JAG partner Harm, looking handsome as ever but also looking tired and worn out. She hoped he was okay, but she knew that they were no longer on speaking terms since Admiral Chegwidden unceremoniously confirmed that Harm’s separation papers had been processed, effectively firing Harm from JAG.
As she continued to watch, Admiral Chegwidden walked into the bullpen and over to her. Mac turned to greet him. They exchanged pleasantries, but the tension between them was palpable. Mac was unsure of Chegwidden ever since her return from Paraguay.
The ZNN reporter on the TV announced that the man who landed the 747 was the same person who had landed the C-130 on an aircraft carrier a few days prior. Mac couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for Harm's heroic actions, despite their current situation.
Admiral Chegwidden, on the other hand, was less than thrilled. He still harbored some resentment towards Harm and was annoyed that the media was once again focused on him. Nevertheless, he knew that Harm's actions saved the lives of many, and for that, he had to give him credit.
At the Pentagon, Edward Sheffield, II,the Secretary of the Navy (SECNAV), and William Mordorman, the Chief of Naval Operations (CNO), were meeting in the SECNAV's office when they saw the breaking news story of Harm and the 747 on CNN. The reporter identified Harm as a former Navy top gun pilot who had flown F-14s, and recounted his service record with two Distinguished Flying Crosses. The reporter also noted Harm's service in the Gulf of Sidra and Somalia, along with his landing of a damaged 747 in North Korea in 2000, also mentioning the incident landing the C-130 aboard the USS Seahawk.
Edward Sheffield II was born into a prominent political family. His father was a US senator and his mother was a well-known socialite. Growing up, Sheffield was given every advantage, attending the finest schools and receiving a top-notch education. After graduating from Harvard with a degree in political science, he followed in his father's footsteps and entered politics.
In his early years in politics, Sheffield served as an aide to his father and gained valuable experience and connections. He quickly rose through the ranks and was elected to the US Senate at the young age of 35. He became known for his intelligence, sharp wit, and ability to work across party lines to achieve results.
In his second Senate term, Sheffield was appointed to the Select Committee on Intelligence, where he quickly established himself as a leader. He was a key player in the investigation of a "dirty bomb" attack that was foiled by the JAG team, and the committee's findings ultimately led to the removal of the Secretary of the Navy, Alexander Nelson.
After several successful terms in the Senate, Sheffield was appointed by the President as the new Secretary of the Navy. He brought his intelligence and political acumen to the position, leading the Navy through a challenging time of budget cuts and shifting priorities.
Despite his success, Sheffield's political opponents were always looking for ways to bring him down. His opponents accused him of being too cozy with defense contractors and criticized his handling of several high-profile Navy incidents. However, Sheffield was always able to deflect these criticisms and maintain his position of power.
Overall, Edward Sheffield, II was a shrewd and accomplished politician who had a long and distinguished career in public service. Despite his many achievements, however, he was always aware that his position was tenuous, and that his opponents were always looking for ways to take him down.
Mordorman turned to the Sheffield and asked, "How in the world did we let Rabb separate from the Navy? He's one of the most distinguished pilots we've ever had. He’s a literally a walking Navy Poster child and the press is having a field day wondering why he isn’t an Admiral. Don’t forget he’s the pilot that that played tag with that dirty nuke and saved an entire carrier group."
The SECNAV sighed and replied, "It wasn't my decision, it was the JAG's. Don’t forget Rabb has a checkered past. He crashed that F-14 during a night trap while he was a Lieutenant. He crashed another F-14 in the Atlantic in 1999. He was accused of killing that JAG Lieutenant a few months ago. Rabb left the Navy voluntarily to go after McKenzie on that botched CIA opp in Paraguay. AJ had enough of Rabb and processed his separation request."
On the other hand, William Mordorman was born on May 22, 1954, at a Navy base in San Francisco. He grew up in a military family, with both his father and grandfather serving in the Navy. His family moved frequently throughout his childhood, and Mordorman attended several different schools as a result.
After graduating from high school, Mordorman attended the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. He excelled in his studies and was quickly recognized as a natural leader. Upon graduation, he was commissioned as an ensign in the Navy and began his military career.
Mordorman's early assignments were in the aviation community, and he quickly proved himself as a skilled pilot. He flew numerous missions with Patrol Squadron 42 (VP-42) at the Naval Station at Sangley Point, and later served as an instructor pilot in VP-31 at Naval Air Station Moffett Field. His expertise in aviation led to command positions in VP-45 (the Pelicans) and a Patrol Reconnaissance Wing in Hawaii.
Mordorman's career continued to advance, and he gained valuable experience on the staff of commander, Carrier Group 5 aboard USS Saratoga (CVA-60). As a flag officer, he served in a variety of positions, including Director of Air Warfare and Chief of Naval Personnel, where he oversaw recruitment and retention efforts for the Navy. He later became the Vice Chief of Naval Operations (VCNO), the second-highest-ranking officer in the Navy.
Throughout his career, Mordorman was known for his strategic thinking and leadership abilities. He was a strong advocate for increased funding for the Navy, and he played a key role in shaping the service's modernization efforts. His dedication to the Navy and its mission earned him numerous awards and decorations, including the Legion of Merit and the Distinguished Flying Cross.
Despite his many accomplishments, Mordorman remained a humble and approachable leader. He was deeply committed to the welfare of his sailors and their families, and he often went out of his way to mentor young officers and sailors. His leadership style was characterized by a strong sense of integrity and an unwavering commitment to excellence, and he was widely respected throughout the Navy.
Mordorman shook his head in disbelief. "AJ hasn’t been the same since that bogus Lindsey investigation that you instigated a few years ago. He’s held on to those people way to long and you know it. And we both know Rabb shouldn’t have been put in that position. He should have been ordered to Paraguay not to allowed to separate just so AJ could keep his nose clean. AJ needs to consider retirement.”
The CNO continued, ”Besides, Rabb’s first crash was a result of misdiagnosed night blindness and the second crash was due to shoddy F-14 maintenance. Don’t forget he’s the one who found that fatal flaw in that F-14 control system we tried back in 1996. He earned his first DFC saving Admiral Boon with those bad eyes and his second in combat. Then he added a Silver Star for playing tag with that dirty nuke. Then, just months after he was acquitted following that bullshit NCIS witch hunt, he not only saved that Marine Colonel’s ass down there in Paraguay, bailing AJ out in the process, but he also took out a truck full of stingers that were in the hands of that terrorist cell while he was at it…with a goddamn Stearman biplane no less!! We can't let someone with Rabb's experience and leadership go unused. We need to recall him to the Navy. We need to get him back in uniform!"
The Sheffield was still resistant, but the Mordorman insisted. He stated that he would put Harm on his staff, and that they could find a suitable position for him. The CNO felt that Harm was precisely the type of officer that the Navy needed in times of crisis, and that they should not let his talents go to waste.
The Sheffield relented, realizing that it would be difficult to refuse such a compelling argument. He agreed to consider recalling Harm to active duty, but only after calling Kershall over at CIA. The SecNav wanted to figure out why Rabb was on Flight 1745. Mordorman was pleased with the decision, knowing that he could count on Harm to be a valuable asset to the Navy once again.
Chapter 4
DoubleTree by Hilton Hotel, Cincinnati International Airport
As Harm settled into his room at the DoubleTree by Hilton Hotel just outside the airport, his mind raced with everything that had just happened. He thinks back to the moment when he took control of the plane and landed it safely, and he can barely believe that he's still alive. The adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins during the flight has worn off, and now he feels exhausted and sore all over.
He sat down on the bed and reached for his phone, his fingers shaking slightly. After a moment of hesitation, he dials his parents' number. His mother, Trish, picked up after a few rings.
"Hello?" she says.
"Mom, it's me," Harm says, his voice shaking slightly.
"Harm! Oh, thank God. We saw the news coverage and we were so worried about you."
"I'm okay, Mom," Harm said, trying to reassure her. "I was on the plane, but I helped to take down the hijackers and land it safely."
There's a pause on the other end of the line, and then his mother's voice comes through, trembling with emotion. "Oh, Harm, we're so proud of you," she says. "Your stepfather and I were so worried when we saw the news. We didn't even know you'd left the Navy until we saw that business about the C-130 and the Seahawk the other day…."
Harm sighs, knowing that this is going to be a difficult conversation. "Yeah, I left a few months ago," he says. "I’ll tell you about it when I get out there."
There's another pause, and then his mother says, "Well, we're just glad you're okay. We'll have to talk about all of this when you get here." Harm nods, even though his mother can't see him. "Yeah, we will," he says.
She puts his stepfather on the phone, who tells Harm he's proud of him for his bravery and quick thinking.
Frank suggests sending a private plane to pick Harm up and bring him to San Diego, but Harm insists he will be fine and that he'll catch a flight as soon as he's done with the FBI and NTSB interviews.
Frank gives the phone back to Trish, and she asks when Harm can continue out to San Diego. Harm reassures her, "I'm planning on coming to San Diego as soon as I can. I just have to deal with the FBI and NTSB first."
"Of course," his mother says. "You take care of yourself, okay? We love you."
"I will, Mom," Harm says. "I love you too."
He hangs up the phone and leans back on the bed, feeling exhausted but grateful to be alive. He knows that he's going to have a lot of explaining to do when he sees his parents, but for now he just wants to rest and recover from everything that's happened.
Trish Burnett sat at the kitchen table in her La Jolla home, staring out the window at the Pacific Ocean. Her husband, Frank, poured two glasses of red wine and sat down across from her. They had just hung up with their son, Harm, who had survived the hijacking of Flight 1745.
"Did you hear how tired he sounded?" Trish asked, taking a sip of wine.
Frank nodded, his brow furrowed in concern. "I know, I wish we could do something to help him now."
Trish's mind wandered as she thought about what could have driven Harm to leave the Navy. She begins to feel a sense of dread. She knows something is not right, but she can't quite put her finger on it. Frank can sense her unease and asks her what's wrong. Trish hesitates for a moment before finally speaking up.
"I don't know, Frank. It's just that... something feels off. Harm sounded exhausted, like he's been through hell. And now he's out of the Navy? I can't help but wonder if something happened that forced him out."
"I can't imagine anything that would make Harm voluntarily leave the Navy," Frank said, interrupting her thoughts. Frank furrows his brow, his mind racing. "Do you think it could be related to that investigation the SECNAV’s office did last year that Harm told us about?" he asks, his voice low and serious.
Trish nods, her eyes wide. "It's possible. But I can't shake this feeling that there's more to it than that. And what about Sarah? She's still with the Marines, right? Why would Harm leave if she's still there?"
Frank leans back in his chair, deep in thought. "I'm not sure, Trish. I'm going to make some calls to some of my old contacts in the DOD and see if I can learn anything. Maybe they can shed some light on the situation." Trish nods, grateful for her husband's connections. But despite his efforts, she can't shake the sense of unease that something terrible has happened to Harm and not just the things she’s seen on ZNN.
As they finished their wine and cleared the table, Trish continued to ponder. Harm's sudden departure from the Navy and his involvement in the hijacking left more questions than answers, and she couldn't help but think there was something they were missing. Frank asked, “Are you allright?” Trish nodded, "Let's hope we can get some answers soon. I hate feeling so in the dark about all of this."
Mac Appt
Mac watched the evening news with a mix of relief and nostalgia. Her former partner, Harmon Rabb, had once again pulled off another miracle, this time defeating a group of hijackers and landing a damaged 747. But as the news segments played out about the hansom former Navy pilot, she couldn't help but wonder what could have been.
Mac had always admired Harm's bravery and skill as a pilot, but as she watched him on the news, she couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if things had been different. She knew she had feelings for him, but the timing had just never been right. The last few months were just another example in a long line of examples.
Sitting on the living room couch, Mac's thoughts shifted to Clayton Webb. She had a complicated relationship with him. They had dated a couple of times after the events in Paraguay, and Mac had been drawn to him initially by his charm, wit, and intelligence. Webb had also been a comforting presence in the wake of the tragedy that occurred in Paraguay.
However, as time passed, Mac began to realize that Webb was not what he seemed. His work with the CIA involved a great deal of secrecy and deception, and he often lied to her about where he was and what he was doing. She found it difficult to trust him, and it put a strain on their relationship.
Mac had tried to make things work with Webb, but the constant lies and secrets eventually became too much to bear, and she ended the relationship. It was a painful decision, but she knew that it was the right thing to do.
Now, after seeing Harm shying away from the reporters in Cincinnati, Mac couldn't help but think about her past with him. Mac had always felt a deep connection with Harm. Though they had both dated other people over the years, Harm had always been there for her. Seeing him in action today reminded her of what she loved about him. His courage, his determination, and his unwavering loyalty to his friends. When Harm resigned his commission to save her in Paraguay, Mac thought it was a sign that he loved her. But under the stress of the mission they both said things that should have gone unsaid. Then she had blurted out “never”, and once they returned to Washington Harm joined the CIA, and they had lost touch.
As she sat there contemplating she rewound what she had just heard in her own head. “…what she loved about him…” “…she loved about him…” She loved him. Now, she began to consider whether she had been wrong when she told Harm that having a romantic relationship with him was impossible.
Was he just a friend or was there more? Was he even a friend anymore? She had left him nearly 20 messages over the last several weeks and he hadn't responded to even one of them. Then she remembered the news stream from a few days earlier. Her former partner had once again pulled off a daring rescue mission, this time landing that damaged C-130 on the USS Seahawk. Even as she watched him carry the little Libyan girl on his shoulder, she couldn’t help but notice that he looked tired. The news feeds today only confirmed her suspicions. Harm looked absolutely exhausted as he tried to avoid the sea of reporters at Cincinnati Airport, perhaps more tired than she had ever seen him. Could it just be that he hadn’t had the opportunity to respond to her?
As her mind continued to contemplate, her thoughts returned to Paraguay and the little hotel room there. “You did it for me?”, she had asked shocked at the revelation that Harm had resigned his commission to come to Paraguay to look for her. Rabb responded the way he often did when confronted with a question about their relationship, with only a knowing look. Then later while lying in that tiny bed she asked, “Riddle me this flyboy, why?” Again what she got back is another classic Harm diversion tactic, “I think you know why.” But then came the awful conversation that followed, with all his snarky remarks. She just began to assume he simply did it out of loyalty to her as a friend and co-worker.
But what if she was wrong? She remembered saying, “It was nice to have somebody state his intentions.” What if resigning his commission and coming to Paraguay was Harm’s way of stating his intentions? Now that she thought about it, he surely had shown how much he was willing to do to follow through. Mac realized she had said it herself, “You gave up your commission, traveled 5000 miles to find me, and damn near got killed” Could it be that he did love her, but was just too insecure to say it? And because of that, instead of saying the words he displayed his jealousy?
Despite all of Harm’s favorable qualities, he could say some really nasty things to her. Thinking of those times Sarah began to tie them all together. They all came when she was involved with other men. They all came at a time when all Harm had to do was say the words and she would be his. But instead of saying what she longed to hear, he would give her some cryptic signal. She on the other hand would think that he doesn’t feel the same way as she does and the cycle would repeat. But what if he had said "I love you" in that hotel room would she have had any doubt? The man had given up nearly everything to come save her, so if he had told her he loved her she would have had no reason to doubt it. So given the actions behind the words did he need to say them at all?
Mac tried to look at it from Harm’s perspective. “Maybe he’s afraid you don’t feel the same?”, she asked herself. “After all, I’ve never said the words to him either”, she thinks. “If I were Harm, and I told him I didn’t feel the same after he professed his love for me, it would devastate me!” The revelation was so powerful yet so simple. After all these years how could she have missed it? Could it be that despite all his confidence and bravery he was just too scared to tell her he loved her? Then she remember something else he had said in the past when she asked, “Are you only this way with me?” OMG, she thought as she remembered his answer, “Only with you.”
Maybe it was time for her to put on her big girl pants and take control of her relationship with Harm. Maybe it was time for her to tell him how she felt and see where it led.
As Mac considered her options ZNN droned on in the background. “Welcome to Breaking News on ZNN, I'm your anchor, John Matthews. Before we return to our top story lets take a look at other aviation news. Today we have some alarming news coming out of Blacksburg, Virginia. Grace Aviation, a local aviation company run by a 14-year-old minor named Mattie Grace Johnson, has been shut down by the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA).
The FAA investigation found shoddy maintenance practices at the aviation company after a near-fatal incident involving a crop-duster and some power lines. The incident has sparked concerns about the safety of the company's operations and prompted the FAA to take action against the company.
But that's not all. There is a warrant out for Thomas Johnson, Mattie father, who was in charge of the company's operations. He is being sought for embezzlement, drunk driving, and child endangerment. Johnson has been accused of putting the lives of both his employees and customers at risk by allowing unsafe practices at the company.
As a result of the investigation, Mattie Grace Johnson has been taken into custody by the Blacksburg Department of Child Protective Services. Her relatives are currently traveling to take custody of her, as she will not be allowed to return to the aviation company.
This incident has raised serious concerns about the regulation and safety of small aviation businesses. The FAA has stated that they will be increasing their inspections of small aviation companies across the country to ensure that similar incidents do not occur in the future.
We will continue to monitor this developing story and bring you the latest updates as they become available. When ZNN returns, more on our top news story. How did the hijackers of National Flight 1745 get a gun and an IDE aboard the plane?”
Mac got off the couch and shut off the TV, she couldn't help but think that she had to do something. Calling Harm and leaving messages hadn’t worked. Besides, he wasn’t home to hear them. She couldn’t call or text him as she no longer knew his mobile number. She couldn’t email him because she couldn’t get through to his CIA address. Maybe she needed to approach this the old fashioned way, with a letter.
Deciding on this approach,Mac walked over to her desk, taking out a pen and a piece of paper. She sat down and began to write, her heart pounding in her chest.
Dear Harm,
I know that we haven't talked in a while, and I'm sorry if I've been distant. I just wanted to say that I miss you, and I think about you all the time. Watching you on the news today made me realize how much I care about you.
I know we've had our ups and downs, and I've said things that I regret. But I want you to know that I love you. I always have, and I always will.
I don't know what the future holds for us, but I hope we can at least be friends again. I’m hoping letting you know how I feel will empower you to tell me how you feel. And if you feel the same maybe we can where things go from her
Please call me back when you have a chance.
Love,
Mac
As she read over the letter, tears streamed down her face. She knew that this was a risky move, but she had to take the chance. She couldn't keep her feelings bottled up any longer.
Mac folded the letter and put it in an envelope. But where to send it? Harm was clearly not in Washington. After the C-130 incident she doubted he would be on assignment with the CIA any time soon. “Where was he going?”, she wondered aloud. She tried to recall some of the endless details ZNN was reporting on the events of the day. One thing that struck her was it was reported that Harm had been sitting in the first class section of the 747 when he sprang into action and disabled a hijacker with a briefcase.
One thing that Webb had complained about during one of their dates was that “the company” never sprang for first class tickets. From this Mac inferred that Harm was not on CIA business at the time. Next she checked the internet to find the details National Flight 1745. It had departed Dulles International Airport non-stop for San Diego International Airport. San Diego, she wondered, “Why was he going to San Diego?” Again, she thought back to the first class ticket. Harm wouldn’t spring for a first class ticket unless he had to. “Why would he have to buy a first class ticket”, she vexed. Maybe he bought the ticket last minute? Deducing the flight was not business related and assuming that he bought the ticket last minute left Mac with the conclusion that Harm was flying for personal reasons. “So if he was flying for personal reasons, why go to San Diego?”, she asked herself. After a second of contemplation, the light went on. “To see his parents!”, she said out loud.
She knew it was a long shot but she also knew this couldn’t wait until Harm returned to Washington. Taking a chance, she looked up the address of Trish and Frank Burnett in La Jolla CA. She addressed the envelope to Harmond Rabb, c/o Trish and Frank Burnett, 1234 Seaside Drive, La Jolla, CA 92037. She grabbed her coat and headed out the door, determined to get to the post office and send the letter priority mail.
She grabbed her coat and headed out the door. As she walked down the street, she couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness in her stomach. She had no idea how Harm would react to her letter, but she knew that she had to take the chance.
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