Author: TR
Subject: HBX February 2008 Challenge: Games of Pretend

This story is in response to the HBX February 2008 Challenge. It’s a little different from what I usually write. This is actually loosely based on a protection operation carried out on behalf of the King Abdullah of Jordan.

I don’t own JAG but if I did I would have let David and Catherine wear the matching sun glasses they picked out when they were out shopping together early in the second season.

Games of Pretend
by TR
Rated Mild


Harm smoothed the lapel of his Armani jacket, fastened the first button then the second, left the third open. Just enough to leave the piece he was carrying easily accessible if needed, and openly visible to the guests. Straightening his shoulders, checking and double checking every invisible listening aid, every miniscule recording device, he held out his arm for the woman beside him. She was stunning in pearl-cream silk. Her skin, deliberately darkened, looked like warm chocolate against the swirl of fabric. The dress draped over her hips, somehow simultaneously alluring, and tasteful. His heart kicked up a notch, but he didn’t let it show. He let nothing show, but the persona of defender, protector of the striking woman clutching his arm. A persona that took no measure of acting to appear authentic. He had protected and defended her since he could remember.

They stepped out of the corridor and into the ballroom. Resplendent with flowers, draping banners of silk, linen, towering pillars, marble floors, jeweled windows. Everything glowed, coated with gems, and laughter and firelight. The scents of blossoms, perfumes, and gourmet food mixed and mingled in the air.

He schooled his voice. Dropping it an octave lower, adding accent. “Are you ready your highness?”

Her contact altered eyes met his just long enough for her to nod her agreement, as was appropriate for their positions. Their stations.

They began their entrance and the crowd fell silent for a long appraising moment. She held her head high, walked to the center of the room in a way that oozed dignity, importance, power. The others waited, and when no formal introduction was given, the roar of voices rose once again. It was a night, a time, a place, full of dignitaries, Kings, Queens, pretenders. Harm wondered who they all thought she was, if they even cared. The women and men alike had been taken aback by her beauty, and if he chose to take a second to recognize it, his own as well. But the admiration faded into the fog of liquor and posturing, as beauty was also common place there.

Harm stepped away, scanned the peacocks in attendance and would have laughed had they not been there to save a life. Prevent a murder.

Mac released his arm, as was the custom, showing her willingness to interact with others. She noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye, her instincts had been right on the money. Their mark approached wearing a deep red and black velvet ensemble that, she surmised, would look ridiculous on any other man. On him it just looked appropriately…dangerous. His eyes, a stunning blue, were cold, calculating. His black wavy hair was flawless. He was a good deal shorter than she was, but she didn’t think he knew that. His gaze landed first on her left hand, then to her breasts, and then to her eyes. She saw him notice the color, and recognition slide over his face. ‘Perfect. Exactly where I want you.’

“Madame,” he said, bowing as he took her hand, briefly kissed it. She nodded, inclined her head in acknowledgement. Already the low grinding bass of his voice, smooth as whiskey, rolled up her spine, and clutched at the back of her neck. This guy was dirty. She struggled to stay neutral. To keep from burying a foot in his groin, an elbow in his throat. “Would you do me the honor of the next dance?”

Her amber, cat colored eyes sparked. “I’d be honored,” she replied. Her accent was flawless.

For the first time since the planning stages Harm began to believe that their little ruse may work. After all, Webb hadn’t been even on the same continent when the operation was conceived. They’d had so little time from the tip coming in to the day of execution, so to speak, he’d worried non-stop. Now, guard still up, adrenaline still in high gear, he began to believe.

As the music started he watched Mac stroll onto the dance floor with the other man. He followed, staying an acceptable distance from her. Close enough for his mission to be clear, far enough that if it hadn’t been for the listening device in his ear, he wouldn’t have been able to do much more than read their lips. And then only when they were turned toward him.

Harm heard her voice, tinny and hushed through his ear piece.

“I don’t believe I’ve made your acquaintance, Mr...” Her hand rose to the man’s collar in a subtle gesture of flirtation. The tracker was planted. As long as he had his jacket on, he was in their sights.

“Nor have I...” His eyes held hers. “...Princess.” She let her face go slack with faux surprise. He nodded in amusement. “Yes, I see you thought you’d be able to hide your identity. I’m afraid my dear your beauty is notorious, as are your eyes. Perhaps next time you should consider changing the color.”

Her mind laughed, right in his face. Her mouth said meekly. “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” They moved, right, sway, slight dip. When he brought her back into position she said, “your name?”

“Vicente’ Vergori.”

Harm whispered, knowing she would hear him through her corresponding device. “A common alias he uses. Turn your Highness. Now.”

Mac feigned interest in the other side of the room, and smoothly turned the shorter man toward the “noise”. Harm saw a woman standing in the wings, step forward, just a hair. Monitor their movements.

He whispered again. “Good. He has at least one guard, a woman. Blonde hair, purple gown, 3 O’Clock.”

Vergori raised his eyebrows at the unexpected move. “Princess?”

She shook her head and perfectly executed an expression of ‘don’t mind me, I’m just crazy.’ “I apologize most ardently. I thought I saw a...disturbance. Don’t let it be known, but there was much debate as to whether I should attend the dinner this evening. Our sources have heard of threats toward my brother, toward me for my support of him and the treaty. I’m afraid I’m a little skittish.”

She saw something dark rise in his eyes. The anticipation of the kill, the decaying of the soul. He ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. She swore a pound of grease rolled and sloshed in her stomach. “I can’t imagine anyone being so calloused as to harm a lovely creature like you. Now, your brother...he’s made many enemies. If you’d like I can ask a few of my men to keep him in their sights.”

‘I just bet you would.’ “Thank you Mr. Vergori. You’ve taken a load off my mind.”

The last strains of the music sounded, as he bowed to her. “It’s my pleasure Princess.”

She gave him a regal nod, thanked him for the dance, and with a grace that impressed all, she turned to glide from the dance floor and toward Harm. She noticed a figure in purple following Vergori at a discrete distance.

“I need a shower.” She murmured in disgust, keeping her eyes straight ahead, smiling through it.

“I don’t doubt it. Is he the one?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “He bought our cover story before I had to say anything. I guess yellow eyes are very rare. He walked away “knowing” that I was the King’s sister. He’ll try to take him down. It’s him alright. But he won’t pull the trigger himself. He’ll have a minion do it.”

Harm nodded. Subtly switched frequencies, and relayed the information. Turning back to Mac he said. “We need more.”

“I know, but I couldn’t very well interrogate him given the present circumstances.”

“True. You’ll need another dance with him before the night is over. How long until showtime if the tip pans out?”

“An hour 13 minutes.”

He nodded. “Then we have time to get your face out there.”

She stepped away from him without further comment. It wouldn’t do for their cover for her to be seen consorting with her body guard for too long. It simply wasn’t done. They’d told him to blend. To be seen and not heard. Not an easy task with his build. They’d said if he couldn’t do it, they’d send another agent with her. He swore he could do it. He’d be damned if she was going in without him.

He watched her from a safe distance. And was sure he made an appropriate impression when every man who approached her sent a look his direction. Perfect. Everything was going perfectly. Until he saw her. Standing at the edge of the hall, camera man beside her. She looked beautiful. More settled than he’d ever seen her. He almost didn’t recognize her. And what the hell was she doing there?

Feeling his eyes on her she turned, shock gave way to a smile, as she made her way toward him.

He kept one eye on Mac, who was dancing with another peacock, as he turned to Renee’. “Hello Renee’.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mac miss a step, look his direction. “Easy Marine.” He said into the microphone.

“Harm? I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Same goes. I thought you were doing the mom thing.”

Renee’s eyes fell on the dance floor. “I am. I work too. It helps to have a husband who works from home.”

“You’re working?” He looked around. “Here?”

“I was offered a mint to join a special projects government news crew. We cover official Gala’s, International events. That sort of thing.” She gestured. “What about you, are you here with Mac? I heard you two were involved...”

For a moment he let the nerves show. “I’m not involved with Mac. And right now, she’s not Mac...”

She studied him for a long moment. Her voice dropped, eyes held a surprising wisdom. “What’s going on?”

He said nothing, let her draw her own conclusions.

She put a hand on his arm. “Something’s going to happen. Can you let me in on it?”

“No.” He hesitated. He couldn’t let her in, but neither could he allow her to get hurt. “Are you here to cover the King?”

She frowned. “Not in particular. Wait, YOU’RE here to cover the King.” She bit her lip. “So the tip was right.” She looked around, turned to face the room. “What can I do?”

He looked closely at her now. She seemed so different. So focused. So subtle. She still looked like herself, but there was a professionalism, an insight that had been lacking before. He feared that that insight had come from sources not all together pleasant. “I admit to nothing, but...stay out of the way...I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She nodded. “I’ve covered this kind of thing before. Only there were children involved...” She gave a momentary shudder, stopped, narrowed her eyes, thinking. “I’ve got a pretty powerful microphone on that camera.” She wrote down the frequency. “Have your people patch into it. Let me know who to focus on. If whatever you’re trying to prevent is prevented, I’ve got a hell of a story. If not, we did our best.”

After another moment’s hesitation he switched channels. “Did you guys catch all of that?”

This time it was Kershaw’s voice that came through. “Can you trust this woman? ‘Cause if you can’t you’re cover has just been blown.”

“I can trust her. We can trust her.”

“You’re absolutely sure?”

His eyes went to Renee’s. “Absolutely sure,” he said and gave her a small smile.

“Good. Tell her to tail Vergori.”

“Will do.”

He turned to Renee’. “See that man dancing with the woman in red and white?”

She narrowed her eyes. “The one who looks like Zorro and Liberace had a kid?”

Harm laughed. “That’s the one.”

He held her eyes. She got it. “Okay. He’s the one.”

Harm nodded. “Text the frequency to this number...” He flipped open his phone and showed her the number.

“You got it.”

When someone walked by, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for your number handsome,” she said.

“Thank YOU.”

She nodded. And before she made her way back to her crew, she commented on how different Mac looked, and how he was a fool.

45 minutes he watched Mac mingling, smiling, laughing, and at one point crying with the other guests. Sad stories did that to her. And more, if people were to buy that she was the Princess, she needed to bond with them. The king had 6 younger sisters. Luckily for her, the youngest was not very well known. Only by her notorious yellow eyes, and striking beauty. She’d been sheltered, and had only come out with written political statements supporting her brother and the impending treaty. The real Princess was waiting in a CIA surveillance room, monitoring the situation. She’d only briefly had time to meet with Mac, and give her a sense of the kind of person she was. Luckily for everyone involved, Mac was a quick study.

Harm felt every muscle in his body tense one by one. It was getting down to crunch time. Renee’ was on the job, surprisingly adept at being simultaneously invisible and in Vergori’s personal space.

He heard Kershaw’s signal and informed Mac that he was switching channels. “What have you got from the media circus?”

“He’s got two with him. Both female. Low profile.”

“He changed it up.”

“Looks like it. Better than last time. Last time it was all kids.”

Harm felt his stomach roll.
“Vergori is a wild card. It’s hard to tell what he’ll do. But whatever he’s planning, it’s soon. Be ready. He has no killing MO. No consistency. When the mood strikes, he strikes. Sometimes with weapons, sometimes with poison, sometimes with his own damned hands.”

Harm straightened. “Understood. Who are the two?”

“The women in purple, and red and white, fur wrap. You see them?”

He’d noticed and committed to memory both of them at some point during the night. They’d seemed to rotate around Vergori in shifts. He doubted anyone would have noticed that they had any particular attachment to the assassin if they weren’t looking for it. Which, he guessed, was the point.

“I see them. Let me check with the...Princess. Are you patched into her?”

“We are. She’s been making the rounds, and...is really is a dynamic human being.”

Harm couldn’t help the pride that entered his voice, shown on his face. “That she is.” He switched over. Luckily she stood alone, pretended to read a written card. She’s received many from various people over the course of the night. “Your highness do you copy?”

“Yes.”

“Vergori’s got only two.”

“Women.”

“Yes, you’ve noticed then?”

“I have.” Mac turned toward the crowd. Scanned. “Do we have developments? I see an old friend has...caught up with you here.”

“She’s tailing the mark.”

“Who would have thought...learn anything interesting?”

“He’s the one, that much is certain. What we don’t know is how he’ll do it. Only that it’s going to be soon, and depending on his mood, fast and bloody, or cold and impersonal.”

Mac frowned. “I think it’s time for me to have another dance with him.”

“Be careful Baby.”

“Baby? You only call me Baby when...” She took a deep preparatory breath. “It’s time then. Forget the dance. It’s time. You be careful too...Baby. I’m going in.”

He watched as Mac swayed her way over to Vergori. “Mr. Vergori?”

“Ah, Princess, I was hoping to speak to you again before the night was over.”

She winked. Dropped her voice to seductive whisper. “Only speak?”

She saw his eyes widen. “That’s the second time you’ve surprised me Your Highness.” His eyes flashed, and she saw the demon behind the man. “I can’t say that I care much for surprises. I would have thought that a woman in your station would have more...discretion.”

“And is a man in your station afraid of a woman?”

The blue of his eyes nearly turned to coal. “No.” He said, controlled.

“Ah...” Was all she said dismissively. She abandoned the seduction. It had served it’s purpose. “I couldn’t help but notice a man staying close to my brother, is he one of yours?”

The hesitation was barely there, but she caught it. She knew full well the man guarding the King was an agent. “Yes. I did promise to look after him for you. Maybe it would be beneficial for you to remember that I always keep my promises.”

“Even the promises you make through your minions Mr. Vergori? Which one of them broke into the office of my brother’s chief advisor and before he murdered him in cold blood, “promised” to do the same to the King?”

His face turned blotchy. “Princess, I would be careful about hurling accusations about. Your brother has many enemies. Why you’ve loosed your venom on me, I can’t imagine, but I have had quite enough.”

“You’re right. He has many enemies. And how would one of those enemies do away with him Mr. Vergori? What do I need to look for?”

He gave her a humorless laugh. “You’re going to protect him is that it? You alone?”

“With my life, if I have to.” Her cat eyes bored into him.

“Then I wish you every bit of luck you possess. You’re going to need it.” He turned away from her, all narcissism and arrogance. Stopping a passing cater waiter, he selected a melba toast with a mound of caviar. “You really must try the caviar here my dear, it’s superb.”

With that he turned to walk away. Her voice was steel. Her accent thick, and threatening. “You will not get away with this.”

He faced her. His voice was like jagged shards of sugar. “My dear, I already have.” He popped the toast into his mouth, chewed with relish. She noticed his finger pressing over his Garnet cuff link.

“Detonator!” She whisper screamed, and took him down.

Harm mobilized. “Where? Princess?”

“Cuff link.” Her voice came is gusts as she hog bound Vergori and put a knee in his back. He fought like a mad man. Clawing, rolling, kicking out. He struck out, scratching a streak across her face. She didn’t flinch, only buried the heel of her stilletto at the apex of his thighs. He quit moving. Moments later the room was swarming with agents. They took Vergori away, and Mac got to her feet.

“The King...the King is fine. No explosion.” Harm’s voice came in loud and clear.

She panted, scanned the room wide eyed. Met Harm’s eyes from across the dance floor where he sheltered the King. “It’s a triple.” They came to the simultaneous conclusion. Her feet were on the move the moment she saw the woman in purple reach up and fondle her necklace. The signal was audible, a slight whine, over her listening device. “The woman in red, get the woman in red!”

They pounced, and just in the nick of time. Harm tackled the woman in red, flinging her white fur wrap away and destroying the detonator in the process. The whole business was over in less than five minutes, but by the time the King was escorted into safety, all the would be assassins in custody, and the guests calmed down so the din was merely a hushed multilingual mess, Harm and Mac felt like they’d been put through a cement mixer and twice as gritty. They sat together on the sidelines and watched all the players finish the scene. Renee’ was working frantically to piece together the story for an impromptu broadcast. Agents, while still reassuring the guests that they may remain where they were, swept the place thoroughly. Their part, their ruse was over. They didn’t realize that they were sitting so close together, hands clasped until Renee’ made her way over to them, flushed with excitement, and adrenaline.

Harm smiled. “You get your story?”

She grinned back. “I did.” She turned to Mac. “Nice to see you again.”

Mac smiled in greeting. “Renee’.”

Renee’s eyes dropped to their clasped hands. Raised an eyebrow. “‘Not involved with Mac, Harm?”

He laughed. “No Renee’, not “involved” with Mac. Actually...” he pulled out a ring set. “I’m married to her.”

Renee’ watched as he slid the rings onto Mac’s finger. “Good for you. For both of you.” She turned to Mac. “It was always you, you know.”

Mac nodded. “I know...Now.”

“Well, I wish you both the best. Thanks for the faith Harm, and for letting me be a part of this. It’s the best story I’ve landed yet. Certainly turned out the best.”

“You’re welcome. Take care Renee’.”

Her smile was for them both. “You too.”

They watched her walk away, noting the air of contentment about her.

“Well,” Harm said. “We still have time for a dance.”

Mac lifted his hand, kissed it. “Just a dance?” This time the kiss was soft and brief and for his mouth.

“Never just a dance Mac.” Then he kissed her face, avoiding the bandage where her skin has been sliced, and lead her to the dance floor.

End of scene. Good? Bad? Ingrown hairs? Let me know.