Who Am I This Time?

Tuesday, 6 April 2004
1015 EDT
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie entered the Admiral's office and came to attention stance in front of his desk.  "You sent for me, Sir?"

"Yes, I did, Colonel," Admiral AJ Chegwidden replied.  He motioned to the vacant chair she was standing behind.  "Have a seat."

As Mac was moving around the chair to sit down, a movement by the fireplace caught her eye.  She looked up to see Clayton Webb watching her.  Mac's mouth opened slightly in surprise.  She'd left Clay in bed at her apartment only three hours ago.  He hadn't said anything to her about his coming to the JAG office today.  She took her seat quietly and waited; she'd know why he was here soon enough.  

The Admiral didn't keep her in suspense for long.  "You've heard of Mordechai Vanunu?"

Mac thought for a moment and then replied, "Yes, Sir.  He's the Israeli who was imprisoned for revealing information about their nuclear secrets to the UK press some years ago.  He was then illegally abducted in Rome and smuggled back to Israel for a closed trial.  I believe his sentence was 18 years."

Webb walked toward the Admiral's desk, "That's right, Colonel."  Mac tried to hide her grin.  It always sounded funny to her now when he called her by her rank.  "And his term is up on the 21st.  That's in two weeks."

"They're actually going to let him out?" Mac asked in a surprised voice.

The Admiral replied, "That's what they say.  Of course, if he does anything between now and then that the Israelis don't like, they'll have cause to keep him incarcerated longer."

"He won't," said Webb.  "He wants out.  He'll be careful until he's free."

"It's after he's free you're worried about?" asked Mac.

Webb nodded.  "We want to know if he told the British reporter everything he knew about their nuclear facility."

"Why?  Surely in 18 years, it will have all changed anyway," Mac reasoned.

"Not necessarily..." Webb countered.  

"We don't know that he has any more to say," Chegwidden interrupted.  "He might very well have told the reporter everything he knew."

"But the Israeli government doesn't think so, and they're going to put some pretty hefty restrictions on him when and if he's actually released this month," replied Webb.

"Restrictions?" asked Mac.

"Israeli security services are barring him from speaking to foreigners, traveling abroad, or even approaching foreign embassies.  They're afraid he might seek political asylum."

"Which, if he has any sense, he would try to do," added Chegwidden.

Webb continued, "What he wants to do is move.  He wants to leave Israel.  His family has roots in Morocco, and that's probably where he'd go if he could."

"So what does this have to do with me?" asked Mac.

"Well, like I said, he's barred from speaking to foreigners," repeated Webb.

"Which I am," Mac reminded him.

"But you don't look like it," Webb grinned.  "You have the right coloring.  You know Farsi."

"Farsi isn't the language of Morocco or Israel, Clay.  It's Arabic in Morocco and Hebrew in Israel; you know that."

He nodded, "But Farsi gives you the right accent... the right inflection in your voice.  And with your coloring, and we'd dress you in the right clothes, get you an Israeli passport..."

"You want me to make contact with Vanunu, is that it?  And find out if he knows anything he didn't already reveal?" Mac asked.

Both men nodded.  "You're the best candidate for the job, Mac," Chegwidden told her.  "But this is strictly voluntary.  You do not have to accept this assignment."

"So explain to me how I'm going to be able to meet this guy if he's going to be so well guarded."

"Not guarded, Mac," Webb replied.  "Watched.  They'll watch him, but they can't actually have guards attached to him.  They'll follow him, watch his movements, make sure he doesn't violate any of their restrictions.  But we're not expecting them to be able to listen to his conversations."

"I hope you're right," Chegwidden mumbled.

"So do I," Webb agreed, laying his hand on Mac's shoulder possessively.

Mac looked from one man to the other.  She spoke to Webb.  "So, last time I was posing as your pregnant wife," Mac smiled to herself at the irony of that.  "Who am I this time?  Am I supposed to just approach him like a faithful follower?  An old girlfriend?  A hooker?  Or what?"

Webb grinned, "Well, preferably not a hooker, Sarah.  I'd rather you didn't sleep with the guy, and if you go that route, you might have to."

"Mac, I think you'll have to determine that when you get there and have a better feel of what's happening.  Maybe a faithful follower to start with and then move on from there.  Remember, though.  The man's been locked up for 18 years.  He was in solitary confinement for the first 12.  One look at you and he might... well..." AJ faltered, not quite knowing how to phrase what he meant to say.

"I should keep my knee free, Sir?" Mac suggested.

He nodded in relief that she understood without his having to say it.  "Exactly."

Thursday, 29 April 2004
0815 EDT
CIA Headquarters
Langley, Virginia

Mac glanced around the table.  She was relieved that not only Clayton Webb was present, but so was Admiral Chegwidden.  There were several men and women she didn't recognize, but she knew the Deputy Director of the CIA well enough.  

It was no surprise when he opened the meeting.  "Good morning, everyone.  Admiral; Colonel.  Thank you both for coming over here this morning."

"I appreciate your letting me know about the briefing this time, Mr. Kershaw," the Admiral said, getting in a little dig about the Deputy Director's not having informed him of the briefing after Mac's stint in Paraguay.

Kershaw nodded, acknowledging the barb, but not commenting on it.  "Well, Colonel.  You made contact with Vanunu.  What'd you learn from him?"

"Nothing, Sir."

"Nothing?"

Mac shrugged her shoulders slightly.  "Nothing, Sir."

"Colonel, are you telling me that he told you absolutely nothing?"

She shook her head.  "No, Sir.  He told me lots of things.  However, none of it was new news."

"Why don't you start at the beginning, and let us be the judge of what's new news," suggested one of the unknown women.

"Fine.  On 9 April, I arrived in Tel Aviv and made contact with your agent there.  On 12 April..."

"Skip to when you met with Vanunu, please, Colonel," Webb instructed her with a slight grin.

Mac nodded.  "Very well.  On 21 April, Vanunu was released from Shikma Prison in Ashkelon.  His brother Meir was there.  I'd met Meir on several occasions before that, hoping to establish a camaraderie with him."

"Did you?" another woman asked.

"Yes, I did.  He was convinced that I was completely supportive of his bother's actions and willing to do anything to help Mordechai readjust to life outside of prison."

"Anything, Colonel?" one of the men interrupted.

Mac looked straight at him.  "Anything."

She heard one of the men say to another, "Damn, no wonder Webb uses her on assignments; she ought to be an agent, not a Marine!  She's wasted over there..."

"Gentlemen, please... one discussion?" Kershaw interrupted them.  "Please continue, Colonel."

"Meir suggested that I stay at his home until he got there with his brother on the 21st.  Which I did."

"But that's not where they went," one of the women intruded.

"That's right.  It's not," Mac agreed.  "When the newspaper printed the address of the house where Mordechai was going to live in Tel Aviv, it was no longer safe for him to go there.  Most Israelis consider him a traitor..."

"That's what he is," mumbled one of the men.  "You give away secrets about your country, you're a traitor."

"Israel isn't his country.  He's from Morocco, remember?" said one of the women.

"We got important information about Israel's nuclear prowess because of him.  I say he's a hero," another man contradicted.

"Doesn't matter that he was born elsewhere.  He's a citizen of Israel," argued another woman.

"People!  If I have to clear this room, I will!" warned Kershaw.  There was again silence around the table.  "Colonel?" 

"He's not really safe in Israel is what it boils down to," she said simply.  "Too many people want him dead."

"We know that, Colonel.  What about your meeting with him?" prodded Webb gently.

"When they didn't arrive at Meir's house, I went home.  That's what Meir told me to do.  He said that if it looked dangerous for Mordechai, they'd go to my place instead of Meir's since no one really knew about me."

"Your place!?" barked Webb.  "Sarah!!  Why the hell did you agree to that?" he demanded.  "What if they'd searched the apartment and found... God knows what?"

Mac almost giggled.  "There wasn't anything for them to find, Mr. Webb.  My apartment in Israel was considerably less... appointed... than my apartment in Georgetown."

The Admiral laughed when Webb blushed.  He looked around the table and muttered under his breath, "Go on, Mac."

"I found them there when I got home, and Meir introduced me to his brother.  I made dinner; we talked; Mordechai told us about some of the experiences he had in prison."  She took a deep breath before continuing.  "After dinner, Meir left us alone... obviously they'd discussed it before I arrived.  It had been 18 years since Mordechai had been with a woman.  He was... um... rather..."

"Horny?" supplied one of the women.

"Concupiscent," finished Mac.

"Like I said, 'horny'," said the woman.  The others laughed... all except Mac, Webb, and the Admiral, that is.

"He was rather insistent that we move to the bedroom.  I thought it best to go along with him at that point."  She expected to hear a few chuckles and was surprised when there weren't any.  "As soon as we were in the bedroom, he started pawing at me.  I avoided his reach as best I could and continued talking to him... trying to get information.  Finally he grabbed me and pinned me on the bed.  I thought it might be easier to get him to talk if he thought he was getting somewhere, so I didn't throw him."

"Could you have thrown him?" asked Kershaw.

Mac looked almost insulted.  "Of course!"  Kershaw nodded; his respect for Mac continued to mount.

"How far did you let him take it, Colonel?" asked a voice she couldn't identify... but everyone else in the room sat up a lot straighter when they heard it.

"I'm sorry, who asked the question, please?" she asked.

Kershaw cleared his throat and said, "That would be George Tenet, Colonel.  The Director of the CIA."

"Thank you, Mr. Kershaw," Mac replied, then addressed the unseen attendee, "Well, Mr. Tenet, I would have to say we got to third base."  She said it in a clear, even voice, with no trace of pride or disgust.

"Third base.  Is that the old version of third base or today's version?" Tenet asked.

Mac bit her lips together to keep her eyes from welling with tears.  "Today's version, Sir."

Webb groaned.  Chegwidden closed his eyes and lowered his head slightly.  The women at the table smirked.  The other men shifted uncomfortably in their chairs.  "Colonel, we appreciate the sacrifice you made.  I'm sure that's not something you do lightly, and we do understand what dedication to your country that level of sacrifice entails.  Thank you.  Please continue."

"Thank you, Mr. Tenet," Mac said softly before she continued.  "Actually, Sir, Vanunu convinced me that he told everything he knew 18 years ago to the British reporter.  He truly doesn't know anymore about Israel's nuclear ability."

"You're absolutely certain of that?"

"Yes, Sir.  I am.  I had him eating out of my hands, Mr. Director.  He told me things he's never told anyone else.  He would have told me if he'd known anything more.  I sincerely believe that."

"If you're convinced, Colonel, I'll defer to your opinion.  We're finished here, Kershaw."  And the voice was gone... and the slight hum that Mac hadn't noticed before disappeared.

Kershaw looked around the table at his people.  "You're dismissed."  Once the 'extras' left the room, Kershaw laid his hand over Mac's trembling one.  "Sarah, I'm sorry for what you had to go through."

She looked up at him and smiled.  "Believe me, Mr. Kershaw.  This was nothing compared to dealing with Sadik Fahd."

He nodded and smiled at her.  "Thank you."  He left the room and waited outside the door for the Admiral.  He knew he'd be the next one to leave.

Chegwidden stood up from his chair and came to attention stance.  When she saw what he was doing, she quickly rose from her chair and copied his stance.  Then he surprised her by saluting her.  She returned his respectful gesture, and he quietly left the room.

She felt Clay's arms slip around her middle and he pulled her back against his chest.  "Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry.  I never should have asked for you..."

"Shhh," she whispered, turning in his arms.  "It's okay, Clay.  He didn't hurt me."

"But he touched you."

"Actually, not as much as I touched him," she confessed.  Clay's eyes opened in surprise.  "I preferred it, and he didn't seem to mind at all."

"No, I'm sure he didn't."  Clay kissed her on the mouth.  "But how did you convince him not to have intercourse?"  Mac blushed lightly.  "Mac?  You said third base.  You didn't..." he swallowed hard.  "You didn't let him..."

Mac smiled, "No, Clay.  In fact, he never touched me below my waist.  I did him, of course, but he didn't touch me."  Clay looked confused, so she continued.  "I told him I was pregnant."

Clay laughed.  "And he believed you?!"  She nodded.  "That's great!  Leave it to my little Sarah to come up with a whopper like that!"  He draped his arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the door, never noticing the pinched expression on Mac's face.

Thursday, 20 May 2004
2355 EDT
Sarah MacKenzie's Apartment
Georgetown, Washington, DC

Mac heard the door open and knew Clay was finally back from his latest assignment.  He'd been gone for weeks.  He leaned in the doorway and whispered, "Honey, I'm home."

Mac laughed lightly, "And I'm still awake.  Come on in."

Clay laid next to her and pulled her into his arms.  "I missed you," he whispered in her hair.

"I missed you, too," she purred.  

He reached up to pet her, and she flinched.  "Something wrong, Sarah?" he asked, concerned.

"Just a little sensitive these days," she said.  She was going to say more, but Clay captured her lips with his... one thing led to another... and they both fell asleep exhausted... Clay's clothes strewn on the floor and Mac's nightgown under her head.  

The next morning, Mac awoke 30 minutes late.  She hurried through her morning routine and rushed out the door without disturbing Clay.  'I sure hope he can make lunch today.  I really need to tell him about this baby.'  

When Clay awoke hearing her slam the front door, he rolled over and smiled.  Then he saw the blood on the sheets.  "Aah, that's why she was so sensitive last night.  It's that time of the month."  He climbed out of bed and found the note she left for him on the bathroom counter.  "Lunch today?  I'd love to, Sarah."

Friday, 21 May 2004
1135 EDT
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia

Mac was trying to get used to the idea of Admiral Chegwidden's retiring at the end of the month.  It had surprised everyone that morning when the SecNav arrived to make the announcement.  The Admiral was extremely happy about it, it seemed.  He was looking forward to coaching a Little League team in McLean, visiting his daughter in Italy, and traveling for pleasure for a change.  Mac just knew that she'd miss him. 

Her mind wandered then to Harm.  She felt so badly for him.  He loved his mother a great deal, even though he seldom called her and even less often made a trip out west to visit her.  Her sudden death during the wee hours of this morning had shaken him terribly.  She wished she could have gone with him like he asked, but she couldn't.  Something had held her back; she wasn't exactly sure what, but she just knew that she needed to stay home.  He said he understood, but Mac knew he didn't.  How could he?  She didn't even understand it.  She'd always been there for him in his times of need... even though he wasn't usually there for her to depend on.  She'd never failed him... until today.

She felt a little light headed and decided to get herself a drink of water.  She stood up and started walking toward the door.  The room began to sway and she blinked, trying to get her bearings.  Suddenly she felt a stabbing pain through her middle.  She grabbed herself and screamed as she collapsed on the floor of her office.

"Colonel!"  "Mac!"  "Someone call 9-1-1!"  "Colonel MacKenzie!"  "Get a medic up here!"

Mac could hear the shouts of her friends and co-workers as she laid on the floor moaning in pain.  "Clay," she whimpered.  "Clay..."

She felt strong arms lifting her head and then heard a deep voice.  "Mac?  Can you hear me?"  She knew it was the Admiral.  She nodded her head slightly.  "Are you in pain?"  She nodded again.  "Where does it hurt?"  She moved her hands back to her stomach.  "Your abdomen hurts?"

"Clay... Clay..." she whimpered again.

The Admiral looked up and seeing his yeoman, said, "Go call Clayton Webb at Langley.  Tell him to meet us at Bethesda."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

"The ambulance is on its way, Admiral," Lieutenant Bud Roberts told him.

"Good."  The Admiral looked back at Mac.  "Mac, can you sit up?"  She nodded, but then didn't have the strength.  "How about if I help you lean against the wall?"  The Admiral was just about to move her when Clayton Webb walked into the bullpen.

He wondered at seeing the crowd gathered around Mac's office.  "What's going on?  A party?" he quipped. 

But when people turned to see who made a joke at a time like this, he saw their distraught faces.  "Mr. Webb!" cried Bud.  "Admiral, Mr. Webb is here!"

Clay knew something was very wrong and he quickly moved through the crowd to Mac's office.  "Oh, my God!  Sarah!" he cried, seeing her on the floor with the Admiral's arms supporting her.

"Clay?  Clay... oh... Clay... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," Mac's tears began to flow and she couldn't hold them back.

"What happened?" he demanded of the Admiral.

AJ shook his head.  "We don't know yet.  She just collapsed in pain.  Abdominal."

"Honey, have you ever had your appendix out?" Clay asked gently.

"The ambulance is here!  They're on their way up!" someone called out.

"Sarah, answer me," Clay was down on one knee now and pulling her into his arms as AJ released his hold.  "Honey, have you ever had your appendix out?"

But Mac couldn't answer.  All she could do was cry.  The paramedics arrived with the stretcher and Clay lifted her from the floor into his arms.  As he rose, they all saw the pool of blood she'd been lying in.  As one collective gasp, a prayer went up, "Dear God!"

Clay laid her gently on the stretcher but didn't release her.  The paramedics tried to get him to move, but he held fast.  "Sarah?  Sweetheart, stop crying now.  Honey, I love you.  Do you hear me?  I love you."

She hiccupped and blinked a couple of times.  "I'm so sorry, Clay."

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" he asked the unnecessary question.

"Not anymore," she cried.  "I'm losing our baby.  Oh, Clay, I'm so sorry..."

"It's not your fault, Sweetheart.  It's not.  It's no one's fault."

"I'm so sorry..."

"Honey, I love you.  Do you hear me?  I love you.  We'll have another baby.  Lots of 'em.  As many as you want.  Do you hear me?"

"Another baby?" she whimpered.

"As many as you want, Sarah.  We'll have as many babies as you want.  I love you, Sweetheart."

"I love you, too, Clay."

"And you're going to be just fine.  You have to be."

She sniffed and looked up at his tear-streaked face.  "Why?"

"Because I have another role for you to play.  And it can't be anyone but you.  You're perfect for it."

She smiled, "Who am I this time?"

Clay smiled back.  He leaned over her and whispered, "My wife."

The end.