Reading Time: 132 Minutes

Title: Pit of Arrogance
Author: SASundance
Fandom: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Crime Drama, Drama, Episode Related
Relationship(s): Gen, background pairings.
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Canon typical violence, discussion of infertility issues, surrogacy and adoption, not MCRT friendly.
Word Count: 160,158
Summary: When the deputy manager of HR, Delores Bromstead, witnesses the MCRT’s junior agents’ insubordination of the Senior Field Agent, she decides she has had enough. If Gibbs refuses to enforce the chain of command on his team, then it is time for her to act. She might not be able to make Special Agent L.J. Gibbs follow agency rules and regulations, but she refuses to stand by and let the rookies continually get away with insubordination. Her actions will end up having far reaching repercussions for every member of NCIS, including Delores. Set during Forced Entry S02e09.
Artist: Kylia

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Chapter 23

“According to Agent Balboa, Director, NCIS has been attacked by an unidentified white powder that was dispersed in the MCRT bullpen when an anonymous letter was opened. Emergency biological protocols have been enacted, including shutting down the building’s air conditioning. We are now on lockdown until the CDC arrives and assumes control of the incident,” Cynthia Somers to Director Morrow, sounding remarkably calm.

He knew her well though, and Tom detected her underlying fear, not that he blamed her. This was every federal agency’s beta noire.

“Did Agent Balboa indicate who opened the letter?”

“Yes sir…he said it was Agent Gibbs!”

Ducky who had been listening to their conversation over the intercom, exclaimed in genuine distress, “Oh. My!”

In his rage that NCIS security had been breached like this, and in these post 9/11 times that wasn’t such an easy thing to do, a random thought occurred. The director couldn’t help wondering about the source of the attack. He wouldn’t put it past the CIA to do this to force his resignation. And even if they weren’t responsible, they would surely use the situation to their own benefit.

Morrow acted swiftly, contacting his boss, Philip Davenport over a secure phone line to inform him of the situation as it stood. Then he made good use of the building’s security feeds to get a read on how personnel were responding to what they had to assume was a serious threat to the agency.

So far, everyone was remaining calm, although the director was sure that people were scared. Hell, he was scared and like the vast majority of people in the build, he was probably not at risk either, but biological terror attacks by their very nature were invasive and it was natural to be afraid. It was the intention of terrorists to cause fear and panic!

Tom went back to review the security feed to find out exactly what had occurred on the 3rd floor that contained bullpens for the MCRT team and Balboa’s team. Also just next to the Most Wanted wall, a bunch of agents worked, most of them involved in overseas analysis and operations. Many of them operated on international time, depending on their area of expertise which meant that hopefully a lot of them had already gone home.

He was relieved that Ducky was with him when the security breach occurred, instead of stuck down in Autopsy so that he could get information straight from the horse’s mouth. Together they watched a replay of the actual incident. Gibbs appeared in the bullpen, his omnipresent cup of coffee in one hand. To the two men observing him, both knew him very well from years working together and it was abundantly clear that Jethro was not a happy camper, but then, he rarely exhibited any signs of happiness. Stalking past DiNozzo’s desk on his way to his own workstation, he propped then backtracked a couple of steps, picking up a sealed envelope on the senior field agent’s desk. Taking it with him, he made his way towards his desk, grinning maliciously.

After swiping the letter, he looked around and placed it on his desk, sitting down, Jethro booted up his computer as his head swivelled toward the passageway and a sombre-looking DiNozzo appeared coming from the direction of the HR Department. As Tom briefly wondered why he would have been in Human Resources, Gibbs’ grin seemed to grow as Tony made his way to his desk. The two agents exchanged a cursory greeting as DiNozzo gained his seat and focused on starting up his own computer.

Gibbs seemed to be saying something to DiNozzo and getting a muted response, picked up the letter he had taken off Tony’s desk and started waving it about. Something about the letter attracted DiNozzo’s attention. Although the footage was black and white, Tom thought there was some logo or mark on the back which caught the younger agent’s attention. Suddenly he was on his feet, gesticulating wildly as Gibbs looked far too smug to have gotten a rise out of his agent.

Ripping open the letter with his knife, as he went to extract the message within, a fine spray of a powdery substance was disseminated into the air surrounding the senior supervisory agent. At that point, his smirk was wiped from his face as he dropped the letter and the envelope on his desk and exchanged a concerned look with his underling.

Agent DiNozzo immediately sprang into action, not hesitating for a second as he enacted standard bioterrorism protocols. Even as the young agent leapt on his desk, sticking two fingers into his mouth, obviously whistling to attract everyone’s attention across the floor, he made an announcement. Morrow surmised it was that security had just been breached, and he was enacting the bioterrorism protocol. As he lept down from his desktop, he was already reaching into his bottom file drawer to extract a bunch of bottled water he lobbed at Gibbs with the dexterity of a former college athlete. Gibbs caught them deftly, nodding his thanks and proceeded to drench himself in an attempt to remove any particles from his person.

Meanwhile, Tony was on the phone, likely informing Hans Drexler, the Head of NCIS Security (or the ranking security personnel in his absence), about the biohazard that had just occurred. Keeping the conversation exceedingly brief, he started issuing instructions as he escorted his boss off the floor. Presumably, heading to the decontamination showers located next to Autopsy, which had direct emergency access to the autopsy suite which had a negative pressure necessary for quarantine purposes. Protocol dictated that after direct exposure, individuals surrender all their clothing which would be incinerated and undergo decontamination, showering immediately.

Knowing that the decontamination process would take a while, the director turned to Ducky, asking, “Any clue as to what we might be facing, Donald?”

Ducky looked suitably grave before raising the possibility that it might be anthrax. “However, Director, it could also be smallpox, bubonic plague, cholera or even something we’ve not encountered before,” he delivered the bad news gravely before admitting. “To be honest, it is sheer speculation at this point and while we must prepare ourselves for the worst, it could be a prank.”

“A prank,” Tom exploded furious. “This is NO prank, even if the contents of the letter prove to be some inert substance, rather than a bioterrorism attack, it is still an act of terror.”

“Of course not, but I meant that the contents might be something innocuous, such as face powder, talcum powder or foot powder.”

“From your lips to God’s ears, as you would say, Ducky. Not that I won’t still hunt down whoever did this,” he said viciously.”

“Quite right, too, Director. Especially if any of our people are harmed by this monster,” the medical examiner told him.

Looking at his watch, Ducky tsked. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to return to Autopsy so I may don the necessary personal protective equipment so that Mr Palmer and I can take blood samples from Jethro and Anthony, both being closest to the point of exposure,” he said brusquely.

“Do you think they’ve been compromised, Donald?”

“I fear that Jethro may well have been, which is why I need to return to Autopsy to ensure that they remain quarantined in the only place that has negative pressure to prevent any biological agent from escaping. Jethro will assuredly try to escape to track down the terrorist who somehow breached our security measures,” he said, seeming harried.“

“Yes, well, I’ll post an armed guard outside Autopsy to stop him. The only place he’s going as the one who opened the letter is straight to Bethesda, and he won’t be doing any investigating until the doctors clear him,” Morrow said with steely determination. What are the odds that Agent DiNozzo was also exposed?”

“Well, depending on what the biological agent was, being across the other side of their bullpen, his chances are much better that he escaped exposure. But Anthony will still need to stay in Autopsy until his bloodwork has been tested and deemed clear,” Ducky stated implacably.

“He can work the investigation remotely from Autopsy, assisting Agent Balboa and his team while he awaits his test results,” Morrow said while Ducky nodded.

“Understood,” Ducky said, making for the door. I’ll keep you informed,” he promised.

Frowning, he said, “I’m serious, Donald. Gibbs is not to leave Autopsy until the CDC arrive and assess the situation,” he said. “I’m authorising you to use whatever means you have to keep him contained, even if you have to hog tie him or tranq him. He sets foot outside Autopsy, and the guards will shoot him and that is the last thing I want to have to do. But I will,” he cautioned his friend who knew how serious he was.

~oOo~

“Get out of my way, Duck,” Gibbs exploded angrily. “I have to find out who did this to us. They can’t get away with it.”

Ducky had been proven right. Gibbs was bound and determined to start tracking down the bioterrorist who attacked them. He’d convinced himself that the bioterrorism protocols initiated following the attacks on the Pentagon and the Twin Towers on 9/11 and the subsequent war on terrorism, along with the sending of anthrax via the mail, would have already irradiated and killed any biological agents. Ducky tried to talk him down, trying to appeal to Gibbs’ logical side. He argued that while theoretically, irradiating mail should render the usual suspects harmless, some evil genius had figured out how to create a biohazard that was indeed impervious to irradiation. Unfortunately, the angry former Marine wasn’t buying it.

“Jethro you must be patient and bide a wee. The CDC will be here soon, and they have decreed that you will be transported to Bethesda for medical monitoring while they await the results of your blood tests.”

“That bullshit, Ducky,” he yelled. “I’ve been scrubbed, sanitised, for all I know I’ve been sterilised. Now I have an investigation to open.”

“All in due time, Jethro. Then you can investigate to your heart’s content,” he to the fractious agent.

It was a prevarication. Ducky knew that the director had already ruled that his old friend was not going to be part of the investigation but still, it was best to keep Jethro from learning fact that for now.

Ducky’s immediate objective was to keep Jethro in Autopsy until the CDC’s arrival and it was just as much of a Sisyphean task as he feared. Reluctantly, he fingered the loaded syringe in the pocket of his lab coat. Although Director Morrow had authorised him to use it should it be required, he’d been hopeful that Jethro could be made to see sense. He didn’t want to tranq his good friend as Tom had ordered, if it proved necessary. It wasn’t advisable having been exposed to some unknown agent, but he would do his job.

Gibbs threw his hands up in the air, in agitation and anger. “How could I possibly still be contagious? You know me – I’ve never had a cold, never had the flu. I’M FINE,” he declared, the insane fire of a true fanatic alight in his normally ice-cold blue eyes.

His eyes reminded Ducky of a handful of individuals he’d encountered over the years. Demagogues and insane idealists who were fervently convinced of their own infallibility or in the case of a religious guru, of a direct link with the divine. It was definitely unsettling to see it in his friend and colleague whom he had so much admiration for, despite some of Gibbs’ more obsessive traits. The ME wondered what else he may have missed over the years.

The fanatical expression that Gibbs wore also had Anthony and Palmer exchanging alarmed looks, obviously equally as unnerved as he was. Ever the keen observer of human behaviour that he was, Ducky noticed Anthony’s unconscious reaching for his handcuffs. He also saw the exact moment when the young agent realised that he was wearing scrubs, not his well-cut suit. Remembering that his cuffs, firearms, knife, watch, along with his shoes, his very expensive designer suit and every stitch of clothing were all gone too.

Honestly, Ducky wished that Anthony still had his handcuffs on his person, although he also suspected that the former Marine, trained in special ops. had been trained to escape from them. Still, that was rather a moot point since Anthony’s cuffs were likely to be a pile of molten metal by now, and unfortunately, Ducky wasn’t in the habit of keeping a pair lying about. Perhaps in light of the situation they found themselves in and the unfortunate hostage situation last year, having handcuffs and the means to tranquilise an assailant hidden might be a wise precaution in the future.

Watching as Jethro paced, his agitation clearly mounting, he found a long-forgotten memory returning to his consciousness. Ducky recalled his stepfather’s bloodhound, Seamus, who was unusually a mild-mannered canine, beloved by all who knew him. The trusty bloodhound, as well as being a protector of their family, was also a highly trained tracker. Although it was debatable that Seamus had actually ever needed any training – his biological imperative to track was so deeply imbued in his DNA. His prowess was legendary; he helped various search and rescue teams and found innumerable lost trekkers on the Scottish Fells. Once Seamus caught a scent, he went from sloth mode into a beast possessed, his genetic imperative driving him forward, even when anyone tried to force him to take breaks.

In the end, his ability to continue to follow a trail even when it threatened his own safety and endangered those who followed him, had proven to be his downfall. He’d been retired from the local search and rescue teams, and he was forced to live out his golden years as a family pet. Ducky wondered if Jethro’s biological imperative to hunt down his prey, even when ordered to stand down, might incur a similar fate to Seamus. While the hound had seemingly accepted his fate with equanimity, provided they were careful not to trigger his scenting instincts, he feared the same would never be the case for his friend.

Surprisingly, it was young Anthony, who tried to reason with Gibbs while Ducky had been lost in his own memories.

“Look, Gibbs, I’m sure any self-respecting bug, if it dared to invade you, which I’ll admit, is remote, but even if it didn’t make you sick, it could still use you as a host to spread the contagion,” he told the increasingly frustrated agent.

“Like Typhoid Mary,” Jimmy piped up, nodding enthusiastically No doubt, he was hoping that Ducky would launch into an anecdote or deliver a lecture on some arcane facts about the famous spreader of death. Poor Jimmy didn’t cope well with an out-of-control, furious Gibbs.

Ducky, though had been watching Gibbs eyes. Like Seamus, Jethro had not been deterred by reason. He wasn’t even sure that he’d taken in Anthony’s argument, since all of the veteran agent’s energy seemed to be focused on the door to Autopsy and getting through it to freedom. Because he’d been watching his friend so closely, he caught the flicker just before Gibbs charged him, hell-bent on getting free. He must have realised time was running out before the CDC arrived and he needed to make a break for it now or it would be too late.

Anthony and Jimmy were a shade slower, but both rushed in to help restrain Gibbs as Ducky struggled to reach into his lab coat pocket to grab the sedative to knock Jethro out. The syringe, filled with enough tranquilising agent to fell a rampaging elephant or a stubborn-arsed Marine needed to be administered intramuscularly and Ducky favoured the buttocks. Unfortunately, there was no time for finesse, and as an opportunity presented, he delivered the syringe and two-thirds of its contents to Gibbs’ quad muscle. As the drug took effect, two individuals dressed in Hazmat suits with self-contained breathing apparatus entered Autopsy.

“What happened here? Has this man had a seizure,” one of the men demanded before introducing themselves as from the CDC.

Regaining their feet, Anthony and his young assistant moved a barely conscious Jethro off the floor, and deposited him on one of the autopsy tables, leaving the explanation to Ducky.

“No. No. Nothing like that. But Special Agent Gibbs was most insistent that he needed to start his investigation into the bioterrorism attack. Since we are still awaiting the results of his blood tests, I refused to let him leave the morgue which is the only area in the building that has negative pressure. I had to sedate him to stop him leaving.”

At this point, one of the men in Hazmat suits demanded to know everyone’s identity.

“Doctor Mallard, NCIS’ Chief Medical Examiner,” he said with unusual brevity.

After DiNozzo and Palmer introduced themselves, the second CDC guy asked, “Did this man breathe in any of the contents of the envelope,” pointing to the unconscious Gibbs deposited unceremoniously on an autopsy table.

All eyes turned to Anthony, who shrugged. “Gibbs opened the letter, so yes, it’s possible he inhaled some of the powder, but he doused himself with water almost immediately. And we were in the decontamination showers within minutes, Max.”

“What about you?” the first CDC guy asked quickly.

“Less likely, but not impossible. I was approximately ten feet away when he opened the letter. And I hit the showers at the same time as Gibbs.”

The two men looked at Jimmy. “Um, I was down here in Autopsy,” he hastened to assure them.

The two stepped over to the other side of the room to confer before returning to address the NCIS personnel.

“Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen. He’s going with us to Bethesda for medical monitoring. Unfortunate that he needed sedating but unavoidable,” CDC guy number one said, pointing at Gibbs, out cold on the stainless-steel table.

“Going to need a gurney, the older CDC guy observed.

Ducky was fairly sure that had Anthony made such a statement of the bleeding obvious and Gibbs was compos mentis, he would respond with a sarcastic, “Ya think?”

Jimmy said, “ We have a spare one,” he offered.

The younger one shook his head. “We’ve got one in our van in your evidence garage,” he explained as his colleague pointed to DiNozzo.

“You can stay here in the morgue until your blood tests return if you agree not to leave until we’ve cleared you,” the older CDC guy said, speaking sternly.

Although Ducky thought privately that the gravitas of his directive, rather lost something with him wearing the Hazmat suit. He was certain to lighten the seriousness of the situation, it wouldn’t be long before Anthony started to refer to the men from the CDC as Teletubbies, and he admitted it was rather apt.

“Fine by me,” Tony responded. “I’d rather wait here than at Bethesda for test results,” he said. “At least here I can write up my report and help investigate, thanks to remote access to our databases.”

“Oh, and gentlemen. Mr Palmer will give you the vials of blood that we drew from Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo,” he said as the young man raced over to their refrigeration unit to retrieve the samples.

After the gurney arrived with CDC guy two, Gibbs was unceremoniously transferred and hustled out, while the three men were left to wait in Autopsy to learn the results of the blood tests. Ducky hoped that the building’s air conditioning could be switched on soon – the personal protective equipment of full face shield, double gloves and gowns over their scrubs were rather uncomfortable, if necessary until they learnt if Anthony was also infectious.

Ducky thought of Jethro, now on his way to Bethesda. He hoped Gibbs would prove resilient, but there was a big difference between a harmless cold or influenza virus and bubonic plague or smallpox.

~oOo~

Gibbs slowly regained awareness.

Why did he feel like a herd of elephants had stampeded all over him?

Why was everything blue – even his fingers’ looked blue?

Why was he in a glass box within another bigger room?

And what was with the unpleasant but far from unfamiliar feeling he was experiencing like he’d been drugged?

Had someone kidnapped him?

Gibbs suddenly realised he was in a bed, wearing deep blue pyjamas. Gibbs didn’t own any pyjamas – he slept in boxers and a t-shirt. Hadn’t worn pyjamas since he was a kid, mainly because his mom used to buy them for him until she died when he was fourteen, and then he never wore them again.

Suddenly a man in a hospital mask, wearing a white lab coat over a button-down shirt and dark grey trousers, appeared. Gibbs felt that he should be able to fit the pieces together, but his brain was sluggish. Had he been abducted by a mad scientist and drugged? He snorted, recognising despite, his blunted mental faculties, that thought sounded like some dumb-assed plot from one of DiNozzo’s movies.

The man spoke to him. “I see you’ve decided to join us, Agent Gibbs. My name is Commander Brad Pitt – and now I’m not joking; that really is my name,” he said as Gibbs frowned, not having a clue what the doctor was on about.

“You’re at Bethesda Naval Hospital in our infectious diseases department, and I’m your doctor,” he explained.

Groaning, Jethro felt the pieces all dropping into place. “The envelope with the lipstick that was on DiNozzo’s desk.” His anger about being served when he entered the office this morning, informing him that some jackass judge had signed a permanent restraining order to stop him contacting McGee, in person, by phone or via the internet, unless it pertained to official NCIS business for a period of no less than 12 months but may be extended up to three years if necessary. Should he have a legitimate reason to contact probationary Agent McGee, then Associate Director Vance would supervise their interaction, like he was some kind of domestic violence abuser.

Leon Vance, that ambitious wet behind-the-ears guy that McAllister recruited for some dumb shit mission to take out Arkady Zhukov and failed. He and Jenny Shepard, his probie had been sent in to clean up that mess several years later when he surfaced again. Leon would stab his own mother in the heart if it meant he could climb another step up the ladder, and this permanent restraining order – it had Leon fucking Vance’s fingerprints all over it. He must have been salivating when he realised that he had McGee under his authority, and decided he was going to make sure he kept him there to make Leon look good! Damn it, why didn’t he see this coming?

After opening up the court papers, he was fuming. So, when he’d noticed that damned letter on DiNozzo’s desk with the SWAK on it, he’d seen red.

He was so fed up with DiNozzo and his juvenile ways, never taking anything seriously. He was always cracking jokes, flirting with people, being nosy about stuff that was none of his damn business. His fragile ego getting hurt was what destroyed Gibbs’ perfect team. Finally, Jethro had three agents who, when he said JUMP, jumped. They’d followed his rules, dutifully ignoring dumbass rules that bureaucracy imposed on them, which made it twice as hard to put the dirtbags away.

He blamed DiNozzo, convinced he’d been responsible for Cate and McGee not returning to the MCRT – all because his feelings were hurt by not getting to boss them around. Then arriving here this morning and being served with by some snivelling, pimply-faced process server ordering him not to communicate with McGee, effectively preventing him from being able to get the probie back on the team had been the final straw.

He’d warned DiNozzo about messing around with his girlfriends on NCIS time. He felt he was well within his rights to open a letter that he’d left lying around on his desk. Let’s see how his agent liked it when people snooped into his personal stuff for a change. Unfortunately, in his blind rage about the restraining order cooked up by Vance and Admiral McGee, he’d failed to take one of his own damned rules into account. Seeing the letter with the lip-sticked lips on it, he’d immediately assumed that the envelope had been sent to DiNozzo from his latest conquest. It never occurred to him that the damned letter might not belong to his agent, far less than it was a bioterrorist attack.

“Why am I at Bethesda?” Gibbs asked heatedly. “I was brought here against my will,” he said, glaring at the Commander.

“The CDC made the call to transport you here because you opened the letter, as far as I was briefed.” Commander Pitt told him.

“They drugged me,” he growled, still trying to put the finer details together.”

“No, according to Dr Mallard, you attempted to leave quarantine without medical authorisation and refused to stand down. He said you refused to listen to reason, so he sedated you,” he said calmly.

“Thought it was against the law to drug someone without their consent,” he yelled, feeling like Duck betrayed his trust.

“Ah, well, under most circumstances, perhaps that’s so, but when an individual is a threat to themselves or someone else, it is permissible. I understand your boss not only authorised it, but the director ordered Dr Mallard to stop you from leaving the negative pressure of the Autopsy unit. Apparently, he thought you might not follow orders and had an armed guard with orders to stop you if you tried to leave before you had medical clearance. All things considered, I think you were lucky your friend sedated you.”

“Well, then where the hell is DiNozzo?”

“DiNozzo?” Brad asked.

“My agent,” he growled. ‘He was in the bullpen with me when the envelope got opened. Why isn’t he here, too?”

“I knew a DiNozzo…in college,” the commander mused. “Well…anyway, to answer your question, your agent didn’t try to leave quarantine and he also agreed to remain there until he received medical clearance. So as far as I know, he’s back at NCIS.”

“Fine, ya made your point, Commander. I’ll go back and wait in Autopsy ‘til the results are in. At least I can start investigating this goat rope,” he said impatiently, getting out of bed, still a little wobbly from the sedative.

“Gibbs, listen to me. That was some hours ago. We got your test results back a little while ago. I’m sorry, but you’ve been infected with Y Pestis bacteria,” Dr Brad Pitt spoke gravely.

Seeing Gibbs’ look of confusion, he clarified his statement. “You have pneumonic plague…you aren’t going anywhere but back in that bed.”

Chapter 24

By the time word came back from Bethesda notifying them that Tony’s blood tests had cleared him of infection, Abby and the CDC had independently confirmed that the powder was a biological agent – Yersinia Pestis – otherwise known as pneumonic plague. Gibbs’ tests were a different matter; he had been infected. Slowly, over several hours, test results came back revealing that everyone else in the bullpen, other than Gibbs was clear, including Jane Goodfellow from Finance.

She had the misfortune to walk past the MCRT bullpen just as Gibbs opened the tainted letter. Clearly, the poor accountant must have broken a mirror or walked under a ladder because she had only returned to work that day between bouts of chemotherapy after being diagnosed with breast cancer. Since Jane was incredibly vulnerable to infections and viruses due to the chemo, it must have been a horrific time for her, having to wait to learn if she’d been infected. She, along with several others on the third floor with medical conditions, had already been placed on stress leave and offered counselling by HR.

While the HR manager Marla Sweeten, and her deputy, Delores Bromstead frankly scared Tony, he’d been on his way back to his workspace from their department when the security breach occurred. He’d headed there early this morning with three envelopes in his suit jacket pocket – dressed for work in his favourite suit, a grey summer weight Ermenegildo Zenga suit, an Armani tie, a pale blue Dolce and Gabbana shirt and his sinfully comfortable Gucci shoes! For some reason, when he handed in his letter of resignation to the director, Gibbs, and HR, he felt the inexplicable need to look as professional and in control of himself as possible.

He just knew that Gibbs was going to be pissed off and lash out at him, and while Tony was no pushover – or at least he didn’t used to be until Gibbs began his not-so-subtle campaign to undermine his authority – he’d been surprised how submissive he’d become. He wanted to withstand Gibbs berating him for daring to leave, or worse, mocking him, pointing out all his many personality flaws and his zero chances of finding anyone else who would want to put up with all of his BS. He figured that at least he was a sharp dresser and could look the part of a federal agent, even if he was merely mediocre. Oh sure, Gibbs when he hired him, had told him ‘Rule number 5 you don’t waste good’ and that had certainly helped Tony decide to join Gibbs’ team. But around two years later, when he’d hired Caitlin Todd and had McGee assigned TAD, which wasn’t something he usually did, all the putdowns and undermining had begun. And he found himself questioning himself and his worth to Gibbs.

After all, when Gibbs quoted his rule 5 before offering him a job. Tony had been one of the youngest detectives to earn a gold shield. His first job as a detective saw him assigned to a coveted position on the Homicide table while other Dees had to earn their way up to investigating murders. So, though he hadn’t ever been good at accepting praise, he had enough self-confidence about his and Danny Price’s closure rates that he felt it justified Gibbs’s comment. Well, that and his first few months, he had to endure a lot of hazing from the other agents, who felt slighted that he’d been picked for the DC’s premier team ahead of them. Tony felt that their jealousy confirmed that he hadn’t just been hired because he resigned from BPD after figuring out his friend and partner was dirty.

Yet, just two years later, that rationalisation about why he was hired came crashing down. Gibbs hired Caitlin Todd, who had no investigative or forensic experience at all. Hell, she argued with Ducky about Commander Ray Trapp’s time of death and couldn’t understand why they took crime scene photos AND sketches of the scene. Sure, she had lots of experience… protecting high-profile targets, but the MCRT wasn’t a protection detail. They investigated crimes – major crimes. As for profiling, well he wasn’t going there! So, Tony decided that perhaps Gibbs hadn’t hired him because he was a good detective, maybe because he was also athletic and good at chasing down dirtbags – and he was a damned good athlete and very good at running said dirtbags to ground.

And then there was Timothy McGee, who had no prior investigatory experience either, but he definitely knew his way around a computer keyboard. He was tech-savvy and could, and frequently did, hack into databases without the slightest compunction. But still, there was more to being an investigator and a field agent than someone who knew how to navigate the cyber world, or maybe Tony had wildly overestimated his own prowess. Especially if despite being appointed as the MCRT’s senior field agent, the two former agents (newbie investigators) were told that they could ignore him when he gave them an order.

Granted that both agents had requested transfers to other teams, (although in McGee’s case, it might not have been his idea), but what happened when Gibbs decided to hire new agents to replace them? Sure, it was a different dynamic, just the two of them. Gibbs didn’t have the luxury of stage managing the team and playing the director when it was just the two of them, he had to pull his weight and not stand around yelling at them to find him a clue. However, DiNozzo was under no illusions that once the team expanded, Gibbs would start undermining him again. Anthony DiNozzo would, in all probability, be forced back into his role of senior field agent in name only. If he stayed and put up with it out of some misguided sense of loyalty for Gibbs giving him a job, it would destroy what was left of his self-respect until he was nothing more than comedic relief. Oh, and he did all the mountains of paperwork.

So, he’d gone down to HR first thing this morning to put in his resignation, thinking that if he’d already lodged it, then when he handed in his notice to Gibbs, if he tried to browbeat him into staying because he needed at least one agent to be a team leader, if would already be a fait accompli. He was pretty sure that Delores Bromstead and Marla Sweeten – would be ecstatic when he handed in his letter of resignation and started processing it immediately. He was as certain as he could be that neither lady was a fan of his! He was, after all an acquired taste according to Abby…like a piercing!

Tony was not so lacking in self-awareness that he didn’t realise he was far from perfect and that he pissed off a lot of people, some without even trying. But he also knew that a huge flaw in his psyche was his need for attention from male authority figures he looked up to, which was undoubtedly connected to an abusive and emotionally neglectful upbringing. Basically, he craved their approval when he was in their presence and abased himself in ways he found humiliating just to achieve that approval. The ultimate irony was that if he did manage to win their approval, he had no idea how to process it, so he would shrug it off as unimportant because his messed-up upbringing with a pair of deeply flawed addicts had left him with no idea how to what do when he got praised.

Tony didn’t trust himself not to be persuaded to stay on because Gibbs had no one else, or because the director needed someone ‘who could handle Gibbs’ BS. He’d thought by informing HR first, he stymied any attempts to change his mind. As for the myth that he could handle Gibbs’ crap, he wasn’t so sure about that. When it was just the two of them, maybe Gibbs’ sarcastic comments and putdowns were easier to slough off fairly easily, but when he did it in the presence of a junior agent with a concerted intention of belittling him, it was far too much like what Tony’s father used to do. And while he had an excellent game face, having discovered early on with his father that it was important to never let him know that his vitriolic words had scored a hit, it was just a façade. Words that were intended to hurt always did, they were corrosive and often came back to haunt you when you least expected them to.

Besides, just because he was used to being verbally abused, was that any reason why he should continue to accept behaviour that was harmful to his mental well-being? He decided enough was enough, and felt sure that by going to HR first, neither Gibbs nor the Director could pressure him into reversing his decision to start anew. Unfortunately, he’d wrongly anticipated that HR would start processing his resignation as soon as he walked out their door. Boy, had he miscalculated big time!

Deciding that Delores was a few degrees less intimidating than Marla Sweeten, he’d asked to see her and also, she was always in early in the mornings. He’d handed her his resignation, totally unprepared for her reaction.

“I’m sorry you feel like this is your only course of action, Agent DiNozzo. NCIS has failed to provide you with a healthy and safe workplace. We let you down and for that, I must apologise.”

Huh! What!

Okay, he was not expecting that reaction…never in a million years. Dancing on her desk, high-fiving her boss, organising a celebratory lunch…these were all things his fertile imagination could see happening. Never did he expect her to apologise to him on behalf of the agency. After all, Tony knew she didn’t approve of him.

“But while I acknowledge that you have legitimate grounds for resigning, ones that I noticed, which you failed to include in your resignation letter, I’d like to point out that leaving the agency is not the only option you have available to you. Why not consider transferring to another team, either here in DC or any one of the various offices around the country or even overseas,” she asked him seriously.

Her response was so unexpected it forced an honest response out of him.

“Agent Gibbs hired me for his team, and the rest of the agents here never tried to hide the fact that they thought I wasn’t good enough to be an agent…at least not an agent on the MCRT. I thought they were wrong, that I’d been hired on merit. Until Gibbs hired agents with no experience, so I guess they were right about me all along. Figured I’d look for a job as a detective somewhere,” he blurted out, looking appalled at his unintentional oversharing.

Shocked by his candour, the severe expression on her face, softened a little.

“Well, as to the former, I’m sorry that you encountered those reactions but if it helps any, everyone I spoke to or that came forward to support my insubordination complaint was extremely positive about your abilities. I’m sure you would find a lot of teams that would welcome you joining them.”

Flabbergasted by her statement, Tony was bereft of words, not knowing what to say. He had not foreseen this scenario and was ill-prepared to counter it. Seeing his stunned expression, she offered more information.

“Many of the senior agents told me that you are always willing to give insights on cases when they get stuck. You apparently do a lot of unofficial consulting work and don’t mind helping junior agents when they have questions or are struggling with cold cases,” she said. “I certainly had no idea how much you help out on other teams,” she conceded.

“Plus, even your detractors who find your bullpen antics are a distraction were behind you one hundred percent for trying to school your junior teammates about sexual assault crimes. Many agents were appalled at their readiness to suspect Laura Rawlins and take the word of the man who intended to rape her,” the deputy manager told him. “I was impressed by what you said,” she admitted.

Seeing his surprise, Delores shrugged her shoulders. “Back when I was at college, as part of one of my psychology courses, I was assigned to work as a volunteer on a rape crisis helpline. I saw firsthand how the Justice system, from the police to the courts, can re-traumatise a survivor of a sexual assault or rape. Some survivors have gone so far as to describe it as being attacked all over again, having to face the sceptical and sometimes hostile attitudes of cops, lawyers, and judges.”

Tony nodded comprehendingly. He knew that a lot of survivors felt that way.

“Thankfully, times have changed since then, but attitudes are still not as enlightened as they need to be. Which was why I was so shocked by Agent Todd’s readiness to believe what turned out to be a serial murderer and rapist. I expected less prejudice from her, especially.”

While Tony agreed, he decided it was better to remain mum about his former teammates. This interview was not going as he had anticipated.

Meanwhile, Delores was not done yet.

“What about if I look into openings on teams within the agency that you might want to consider. Now that you know that you have a lot of admirers here, would you be willing to hold off on resigning, at least give me a few days to put some alternatives together and let you look them over. It would be a real shame to lose you. I think you underestimate your worth – I’ll warrant you’d be inundated with job offers by all the alphabets if they heard you were resigning,” she told him.

Tony was shocked that Delores, the Human Resources Dragon-Lady was trying to persuade him not to resign but to offer him a transfer, so he couldn’t counter her arguments and meekly ended up agreeing to reconsider his options. As he left her office and made his way back to his desk, he was bemused, because his well-thought-out decision and exit strategy were temporarily on hold due to his complete inability to process positive attention. Learning that colleagues he didn’t even work with respected his skills had left him feeling uncomfortable like he had a massive itch and could reach it to scratch it. He’d agreed to Delores’ request to rethink his options because basically he had to get out of her office.

And now he was in limbo again.

But all of those somewhat selfish concerns were swept away in a riptide of emotions when Gibbs opened the SWAK, which had somehow managed to breach the bioterrorism protocols that the bosses had instituted in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks. Their vain hope that their irradiation procedures would have rendered any potentially harmless pathogens impotent had disappeared after Abby had started analysing the powder. Whoever had sent it had managed to circumvent their security protocols, so now Gibbs was infected with pneumonic plague, and while he was pissed at the man, that didn’t mean Tony wished him any harm.

No one deserved to get the freakin plague!

However, while waiting to hear about Gibbs’s status, Abby and Ducky had busy in the lab, trying to determine what the powder was. Tony was reviewing security footage, wondering why Gibbs took a letter off his desk and trying to figure out how it got there in the first place. Reviewing the security footage, it revealed that Ben Winters the mail room guy had done an early morning delivery of packages of mail that would have come into the NCIS office late yesterday to be processed before being allocated to recipients. Sure enough, Ben had placed the SWAK envelope on Tony’s desk, but the poor-quality video made it hard to see details of who it was addressed to, except that there seemed to be a logo. Unfortunately, the video footage quality didn’t lend itself to zooming in and enhancing details like regular footage.

Which left Tony even more curious about why someone would send him a letter containing white powder. He couldn’t think of any mad scientist who he’d pissed off enough AND had access to anthrax, plague, cholera etc., lending credence to the theory of it being a sick prank. Sure, some of the women he dated became a little stalkerish or volatile when his three-week date ‘em and break up post Wendy Miller protocol was enacted. Most of the time, though the people he went out with weren’t looking for a serious commitment either which was who he gravitated towards after his fiancé Wendy broke his heart.

But a few, and it really was just a few, had started out saying they weren’t looking for a commitment, but then when it was time to end things before, they got serious, suddenly said they were in love with him and wanted more. Which inevitably led to messy breakups, and once, he ended up taking out a court order when what had initially been a lovely young lady, turned into a loony stalker that turned up at work, at crime scenes and where he went running. She would bump into him at the supermarket, his favourite hangouts, even his gym and told everyone he was her significant other.

So, it was barely possible that he might have dated someone who would send him a letter filled with talc, and while it was not very likely, it was more plausible than someone who had access to bioterrorism pathogens having a big enough grudge against him who would breach protocol and put the whole building on alert. Tony really tried hard to avoid whacko bunny boilers in his line of work, so he really didn’t see that happening.

Of course, there was a third possibility – someone bribed or blackmailed Ben Winters to smuggle the letter in, bypassing the usual mail safety protocols, and Tony’s desk was just picked, at random. He contacted Director Morrow to share these observations with him, via the videoconferencing set-up Ducky had down in Autopsy. Morrow agreed that while they were waiting for CDC approval to begin forensic examination on the actual letter and its contents, interrogating the mail room worker was a good avenue of investigation. He told DiNozzo he would have Winters report to his office ASAP and Tony could observe.

Not having seen Morrow interrogate anyone, he wasn’t sure if that was such a good plan, but Tony also wasn’t stupid enough to say that to his boss. He knew though, that the normally even-tempered director was beyond irate. Unlike Gibbs would have been, if he was here, Morrow was still in control of his emotions. Tony didn’t think he’d try to throttle Ben…more likely he’d threaten to ship him off to Guantanamo Bay.

Deciding to let Ducky and Abbs know what was happening and check to see if Major Mass Spec had anything yet, he was not surprised when Abby immediately sprang to Ben Winter’s defence.

“Tony, you’re wrong about him. Ben wouldn’t do that.

“Why not, Abby?”

He’s a great guy. He’s a vegan,” she objected strongly.”

Jimmy, tasked with keeping Tony company in Autopsy, and ensuring the agent didn’t leave the negative pressure autopsy area, snorted cynically. “Umm, Abby, Adolph Hitler was a vegan.”

“No, actually, he was a vegetarian. There’s a big difference,” Abby said archly. “Vegans are so against cruelty; they won’t even use cosmetics tested on animals.

Feeling like a lecture from Ducky on the differences between veganism and vegetarianism was imminent and wishing to avoid it at all costs, Tony decided to have the last word.

“Even if Ben is a vegan, Abby, it doesn’t rule out the possibility that someone blackmailed him. Besides, remember the radical eco-warriors who killed a submariner just to get aboard the USS Philadelphia? They were also prepared to kill a submarine full of submariners with Saran Gas to save the whales. Maybe this is an eco-terrorist attack on NCIS.”

Seeing her face fall, he was quick to move on. “Abs, what can you tell me about the envelope? Is there any information that might help us track down who did this?”

Distracted from the thought that a vegan might do something cruel, she examined the letter in a clear hermetically container.

“It’s just addressed to NCIS Special Agent,” she said.

“So why did Ben leave it on my desk,” Tony wondered out loud as Abby flinched. “What else?”

“There’s a return address – 27 Old Mill Bottom Road, Annapolis, Maryland.”

Tony, using the computer in Autopsy, quickly typed in the address. “That’s a hotel – the Admiral’s Bay Hotel.”

There was no way to know if the address was a ruse, or not, but it would need to be checked out. When they were cleared to leave the building. At the moment aside from questioning the mail boy, as many people quaintly referred to the fiftyish male, they were restricted with what they could investigate. He hoped Abby was right about him as Tony liked Ben…it didn’t mean he would give him a free pass though. Not after he put the SWAK on Tony’s desk.

“Anything else you have on the envelope without testing it?” he asked, knowing she was waiting on approval from NCID (National Centre for Infectious Diseases) for permission to find out if it contained more than just the powder, already released when Gibbs opened the letter.

Abby nodded. “There’s a Maryland postage stamp.” Her face fell.

“What’s the matter, Abby?” Tony asked her, trying not to sound impatient.

“Ducky chimed in, “It’s been cancelled, Anthony. So if it didn’t go through the Ion Beam facility in Bridgeport, New Jersey, that kills any contents that contain DNA to kill it, it could be that the contents are still active. As you know, all federal mail is funnelled through the facility and irradiated,” he sighed.

Abby also looked grim because if the letter hadn’t gone through Bridgeport, then it should never have been distributed. At the very least, it should have been immediately flagged for investigation, and Ben Winter had been a mail guy long enough to know that. Despite the moniker, mail boy Ben was no kid!

Confirming that he wasn’t the seemingly innocent that Abby thought, Director Morrow contacted Tony to let him know that Winters insisted on having a lawyer present when they questioned him. The director expressed his concern that this might be payback for Gibbs blackmailing the CIA into sacrificing that piece of shit, Guyman Purcell last month. Tony agreed, and for what it was worth, he expressed that it might also be a warning from disaffected elements in Mossad since Gibbs threatened to expose their Mole, Ari Haswari. It could even be Haswari, operating independently. There was no love lost between him and Gibbs, and he was certainly in a position to obtain biological weapons.

The director and Tony discussed the fact that the Hamas terrorist, Yasir Qassim had infected himself with basic variola smallpox last year. They also found the biological agent in the nasal spray, which they found in his apartment after NCIS killed him. Thankfully, they had taken him out before he could infect the Israeli soldiers who’d been staying at the Little Creek Navy base, training on Hurricane boats. So, given the timing and the mutual animosity, DiNozzo conceded that the director had a point. As theories went, terrorism made more sense than some pissed-off mad scientist.

While they waited for Winter’s lawyer to arrive, Major Mass Spec identified the powder that was collected from the bullpen by the CDC to be yersinia pestis, aka the bubonic plague. The results of the blood tests that Ducky had taken from everyone on the third floor had finally come back from the Bethesda pathology lab. Everyone on the third floor was cleared of being infected. Except for Gibbs. Not that it had shocked anyone – as soon as Abby identified that the powder was something harmful Ducky had anticipated the result since he had opened the letter. Chances were high that he would be infected, but Abby seemed particularly distressed.

After being cleared of infection, Tony was free to leave autopsy. He and Jimmy made their way to the lab to find Abby half-heartedly arguing with the Director when he ordered her to check out the contents of the envelope to see if there was anything else that would help them trace who was responsible.

She argued that NCID hadn’t authorised her to do so and that she might inadvertently destroy evidence.

“When will the CDC samples you gave them arrive in Atlanta, Dr Sciuto?” he demanded impatiently.

Glancing at her watch, she replied, “They should be there in…well now.”

And there’s no chance this isn’t the plague,” he clarified.

“No, director.”

Then open the letter,” he ordered her sternly. We don’t have time to waste.

Donning the hermetically sealed gloves, she discovered a letter that the scientist immediately recognised as being written on 32-pound cotton rag paper.

Meanwhile, Ducky was waxing lyrical about the beautiful calligraphy and mourning that Victoria Mallard possessed beautiful handwriting before her shaky hand, made calligraphy difficult.

The Director, who was still in his office, inquired sarcastically if they could please read him the letter.

Ducky elected to read the letter out loud since Abby looked devastated by the first page of the two-page missive, as Ducky quaintly referred to it.

“If you are reading this and have not initiated biological attack procedures, I suggest you do so immediately since the powder dispersed by opening this envelope contains genetically altered Y. pestis“.

As he took a breath, Abby manipulated the pages to reveal the rest of the letter. Jimmy gasped. Tony wasn’t entirely sure what genetically altered Y. pestis meant, but clearly, based on Palmer’s reaction it wasn’t good, and he exchanged a worried look with the director as Ducky recommenced reading the second page.

“I have genetically altered the Y. Pestis to render it impervious to antimicrobials. However, there is an antidote, which if administered within 32 hours of infection, will eradicate the disease. To procure the antidote, NCIS must make public the true results reported in Dossier R 0377.”

Chapter 25

There was deadly silence as they considered how much time had already elapsed since the security breach. It was already many hours ago.

Finally, Director Morrow cleared his throat. “I take it that antimicrobials are antibiotics, Donald?”

“Yes, Director, they are indeed.”

Tony immediately started searching for the file R 0377, locating it and putting it up on the screen. He also sent the data to Morrow.

“It was a rape case. The victim was Sarah Lowell. Age 21. Senior at Vassar. Raped Feb 10th ’01, at the Admiral’s Bay Hotel in Annapolis.” He reported, trying to stay focused on the case and not the fact that Gibbs’ situation seemed doomed unless they could find out who raped a young girl four years ago.

“You must remember the case Anthony,” Ducky addressed him calmly. “It was only a few months after you joined us. Chris Pacci’s team offered to take the case because you and Jethro already had a double murder and they’d just tied up a major fraud case.  Agent Jenkins and Chris thought because they had two female agents, they could handle it and she was right, their probie was able to make a connection with the poorvictim, who the hotel maid found naked and tied to the bed, two days after she was raped.”

“Duck, please contact Cassie Yates in Norfolk. Explain what happened and tell her I need her help.”

Morrow interrupted. “I’ll do that, Agent DiNozzo. She’ll be here in approximately fifteen minutes.”

Despite the terrible gravity of the situation, Tony snorted in disbelief.

“From Norfolk, Director. Not even Leroy Jethro Gibbs could drive from Norfolk to the Navy Yard that fast. Although maybe by helo,” he said musingly.

“That’s true, but Agent Yates is working a drug sting in Anacostia,” he said before picking up his phone and making the call.

“Tony, why do you want Cassie, I thought she was working Narcotics suppression,” Abby questioned him teary-eyed.

“Four years ago, Cassie was Pacci’s probie, and she interviewed Sarah Lowell,” he reminded her as Morrow informed him Cassie was indeed on her way.

Tony remembered the case now – at least the bare bones of it, since Pacci’s former team, including SFA Tess Jenkins, junior agent Wes Moorland and their Probie, Cassie Yates, were in the bullpen right next to the MCRT. The one where Balboa’s team now resided. He continued to outline the case up on the plasma grimly.

“Lowell was visiting Annapolis to register for an advanced study program at Saint John’s. Annapolis Police had the case for three days before they called us in.”

“They found a Navy suspect?” Jimmy asked.

“Actually, they found a dozen of them. Firsties, all partying at the Admiral’s Bay Hotel on the night of the assault.

“Firsties?” Abby asked, not acquainted with that term.

Tony knew she was freaking out about her beloved silver fox, which was partly why he was filling them in on the case, hoping for insights.

“Academy seniors, Abbs. They just got their fleet assignments, but DNA testing cleared them, and we closed our investigation.”

“Someone wants it reopened,” Ducky observed grimly. “They went to a lot of trouble to make sure we did.

Tony nodded. “We need those Annapolis PD files on this case.”

Morrow offered to arrange for them to be sent, and Tony was grateful. Morrow could throw his weight around and cut through the bullshit.

“Once they arrive, I’ll have Balboa and his team comb through them, Agent DiNozzo. You and Agent Yates focus on the NCIS side of the investigation. And Dr Sciuto, I’ve just been in contact with NCID. They have given you the authorisation to destroy the Y-pestis and start a forensic investigation of the notepaper and the envelope,” he said.

Morrow hesitated, dreading the answer, he also knew they needed to know the truth. Turning to Ducky, he asked with his heart in his mouth, how long did Gibbs have.

Looking frighteningly grave, Ducky replied. “Not all that long, I’m afraid. Dr Pitt informed me that he already has an elevated temperature. While he thankfully has no other symptoms yet, it won’t be long until the disease starts attacking.”

Morrow chimed in, “How long, Donald?”

“Without antibiotics?” he asked rhetorically, before choosing his words very carefully but still ended up alarming them, nevertheless.

“Once Jethro starts coughing, which I fear will be soon, and when his sputum becomes bloody, he’ll only have a few hours left to live. In the 14th century, the novelist Boccaccio wrote that plague victims had lunch with their friends and dinner with their ancestors in paradise.”

“But this isn’t the 14th century, Duckman,” Abby wailed as she clung to Tony, on the verge of a meltdown.

“True, we have supportive therapy such as oxygen, ventilation, hydration and such, but without antibiotics, the chances of recovery are poor.”

“But surely general health and resilience is much improved in the 21st century, and Gibbs has never even had a cold or flu,” Abby argued with him obstinately.

“True, my Dear, but while Gibbs is a fit man, he also isn’t exactly a young one anymore.”

“But he’s never had a cold, never had the flu. He’s never had allergies. Ducky. No pesky bugs have ever managed to infect him,” she said, clinging to the belief he was somehow superhuman.

“I’m aware, Abigail,” Duck told her wryly. “The fact that he never had a cold or flu may point to an extraordinary immune system, but his lack of exposure might also be his downfall. Never having to fight a harmless viral infection, his immune system could be overwhelmed when faced with fighting off such virulent pathogen, which will already be attacking Jethro’s pulmonary system,” he explained to Jimmy, Tony, Abby, and the director.

“Anything else,” Morrow asked, feeling the ME was holding something back.

“Unfortunately, Jethro’s lifestyle does him no favours and I have warned him about it in the past. His excessive, unhealthy liquid diet of bourbon and coffee, eating far too much takeout with scant regard for wholesome food and his lack of proper sleep may finally prove to be his undoing,” he finished wretchedly, as Abby started to sob in earnest.

No one, not even Abby, tried to argue with Ducky’s prognostication, probably because they, like Tony, were remembering all of his sleepless nights spent at his desk last year while he was hunting down Ari Haswari. He refused to go home and sleep in a bed, napping in a chair and picking at the food the team ordered for him. He would spend most of the night staring at his computer as it ran facial recognition software, searching through various federal and international databases. All the while consuming far too many litres of the black tar he drank, loaded with caffeine.

Sometimes, Tony thought he’d come in one morning and find Gibbs had had a stroke.

It was at that point Cassie Yates strolled in, looking every inch the high-class hooker she was pretending to be in a dress that clung to her tall, slender frame like a second skin. She certainly looked nothing like the tough-as-nails federal agent she was.

“Hey guys, Director Morrow said you needed my help.”

Abby pulled herself together and stepped away from Tony. No one mentioned the wet patch her tears had made on the front lefthand shoulder of his NCIS-issued evidence coveralls.

Smiling weakly at the statuesque agent, Abby observed, “Cassie! Wow! Are you suppressing drugs or selling them?”

“Working undercover. Everything I’m wearing has been confiscated, even the La Perla underwear. I figured I didn’t have time to change into my Special Agent threads.

“And we’re grateful for your promptness, Cassie. I’m not exactly dressed professionally, either, Tony said with a shrug, “Time is not our friend. We’re looking at a narrow window, 32 hours, in total, to find answers to who is behind sending us the plague.”

“Thank goodness it isn’t anthrax, though. Anthrax scares the crap out of me,” she, sighed in relief.

Looking at Abby’s watch since his own had been destroyed in the bio-attack, Tony said, “Damn it, we only have just under twenty hours left to find this supposed antidote.”

Cassie nodded. “Right, then we better get a move on.”

She moved to Abby’s computer. “Can I use your backup computer to call up my notes on the Sarah Lowell case, Abbs?”

“Tony already got them, Cassie,” Abby told her.

“No, not the case file. I’m looking at my own personal notes, I kept on the case,” she explained. “There might be something in there to help us figure this out. But if I remember rightly, Sarah had traumatic amnesia.”

Ducky clucked sympathetically. “That was hardly surprising, given her ordeal. Poor child, it took so long to rescue her.”

Morrow, who was still observing, spoke up. “I think it’s time to bring her back in for questioning. If we must reopen the case, perhaps after four years, she might have remembered something we can use,” he decided. “I’ll have Agents Cabot and Jacob’s question her.”

Tony exchanged a look with Cassie. “Good idea, even if she doesn’t remember anything new, she still might know who’d be prepared to do this to force our hand. Plus, if nothing else, we need to rule her out as a suspect.”

As Cassie started reading through her training notes on the interview that Pacci conducted with the very traumatised Sarah Lowell, Tony began to pace. Something was nagging at him.

Pausing, he looked over at the forensic scientist. “Abbs, this genetic engineering of the Y-pestis microbes wasn’t something that your average meth head would be able to cook up in a makeshift lab, right?”

Shaking her black pigtails forcefully, she replied, “No, Tony. This took a hot shot molecular biologist and a big-buck lab.”

He nodded his thanks. Abby had just confirmed what he already suspected but, he still felt like he was missing something important. He wished he could go for a run – he did his best thinking when he was pounding the pavement. Making do, he strode laps around Abby’s lab when it hit him.

Freezing, he whirled around to stare at the undercover agent. “Cass, if Sarah Lowell had traumatic amnesia, then how the hell did she remember that it was a midshipman who raped her?”

“She didn’t. It was her mother who questioned the hotel staff and a waitperson reported he’d seen a bunch of midshipmen in the hotel that night she was raped.”

“What do we know about her mother?”

Cassie pulled up a photo of her mother, Hanna Lowell. “Recognise her?”

Tony shook his head. She looked like just another corporate type.

“No. Should I?”

Ducky and Morrow both looked puzzled.

“She looks vaguely familiar,” Morrow conceded.

“I agree, Director. Perhaps I saw her here during the case,” Ducky mused

Agent Yates pulled up another photo of a 1970s peace protest, asking. “How about this one?”

There was a picture of a mass demonstration. The photo was black and white, so maybe it was old…possibly the Vietnam War era. A jeans-clad young bare-breasted woman with large peace signs painted on each breast had been hoisted up by fellow demonstrators to take centre stage.

“Good God, YES!” both Ducky and the Director exclaimed in chorus and then looked a mite sheepish.

Ducky said, “That photo was on every front page newspaper in the world. She was more famous than Hanoi Jane.”

Tony saw something and asked Cass to blow up Lowell’s headband, revealing a message. Make love not war, but what was really significant was the SWAK

“Is Hanna Lowell a microbiologist?” Tony demanded.

“No, Tony, but the best in the world work for her. Hanna is CEO of Lowell Pharmaceuticals,” Cassie exclaimed grimly.

Morrow cursed loudly, which was highly uncharacteristic for the controlled man.

Regaining control of himself, he said, “Agents DiNozzo and Yates, I’ll call in a warrant for you. You grab a change of clothes and meet me in my office asap!”

Both agents acknowledged his order.

“Ducky, I want you to go to Bethesda. I need a SitRep regarding Gibbs’ medical status, please.”

By the time they reported to the director’s office, Tony had already lined up an agency vehicle, and Tony signed for a new Sig Saur and backup, plus a new shoulder and ankle holster and requisitioned a new phone. Morrow told them that the warrant was approved, and on its way but while they waited impatiently, he presented him with his replacement NCIS badge and ID, plus an agency credit card as his wallet was down locked in his desk, awaiting irradiation to kill the Y-pestis microbes, along with every other agents’ too.

Twenty minutes later, the agents were making their way to the corporate headquarters of Lowell Pharmaceuticals.

Looking across at Cassie, Tony asked, “What’s up, Partner?”

“This is too easy, Dino. Custom paper and calligraphy that’s traceable. A gene-altering bio attack.

“You know think Hanna Lowell sent it?”

“I don’t know, but I do know someone sure wants us to think she sent it.”

Having gained immediate access to Hanna Lowell’s office, thanks to the power of a federal warrant, Cassie who was uneasy about everything being too easy regarding how the evidence led them right to Lowell, didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Instead of wasting time indulging in polite chit-chat when they gain access to her office, the CEO rebuked them for taking too long to arrive.

“I was expecting you ages ago. I made sure to leave you plenty of cookie crumbs,” she scolded them patronisingly.

“You left more than cookie crumbs, lady,” Tony told her scathingly as per their plan to crack her as quickly as possible.

Driving over, they decided he would channel his Gibbsian persona, and Cassie would be the ‘good cop’ because, having already checked employee records, they knew she had scores of microbiologists working for her. If Lowell Pharmaceuticals was responsible for the bio-attack, they wouldn’t have time to interrogate everyone. To be more accurate, Gibbs didn’t have enough time for them to interrogate every, they need to zero in on the scientist responsible and get them to talk ASAP.

“Yes, I did, and I regret that you made me resort to such a dramatic act, but I was left with no choice when NCIS lied to cover the Academy. If you want your antidote, then make an announcement in the press identifying the midshipman who raped my daughter and then, this will end,” she told them pitilessly.”

“Funny, Ms Lowell, you say you regret it, but it doesn’t look like it to me,” Tony refuted her words sharply.

“Sarah never recovered from that weekend. It destroyed her, and finding the man who did this will help her heal.”

Cassie stepped in, trying to make her understand that DNA testing cleared all of the twelve suspects.

“Hanna interrupted her. “Do you take me for a fool? Don’t you think I know hope easy it is to dope a DNA test?”

“You love drama, don’t you? Hopefully, you’ll still enjoy it when you’ve spent the rest of your life in a federal prison,” Tony told her harshly.

“Wow, that long?” she snarked, looking utterly unconcerned.

That was when it hit him why she wasn’t bothering to hide anything. Tony realised this woman was dying and probably believed she wouldn’t live long enough to see out a trial and therefore had nothing to lose. Time to shake her up then.

“You might not last that long, Ms Lowell. Sarah says you’re sick, but she is still a young woman. How do you think she’ll cope with federal prison? Not well, I’d wager.”

He saw Cassie’s eyes widen in shock as he gave her a small shake of his head to remain silent. He needed to change the power dynamic and help flush out the microbiologist who helped her carry out the bio-attack. Gibbs was rapidly running out of time – hell it might already be too late for him unless he got the antidote soon.

“Sarah had nothing to do with this,” she said, becoming distressed.

“She’s already helping us with our enquiries,” he said as his phone pinged with an incoming call from Morrow.

He answered it – because he wasn’t Gibbs, who would probably ignore the President if he dared to call while he was in the middle of an interrogation.

As he listened to Morrow. He learnt that Sarah Lowell had confessed to making up the rape four years ago. It had been a prank by her boyfriend, who left her tied to the bed when he went out to get food, only to be killed by a hit-and-run driver.

“She. What?” Tony yelled, genuinely angry that a prank had gone horribly wrong, and then some silly little girl, not wanting her mother to know had lied about it. Because of it, Gibbs was fighting for his life.

“Director Balboa,” he said, deliberately using the wrong name, “charge Sarah Lowell immediately.”

As Hanna bellowed like a wounded buffalo, he hung up. “Looks like Sarah will get to spend some quality time with you for however long you’ve got. Oh no, I forgot. You’ll be incarcerated in the prison infirmary while she’ll be in Gen Pop.”

“NOOOOOOOOO Sarah didn’t know anything about this.”

“Cuff her, Agent Yates and read Ms Lowell her rights. The director said the rest of the agents have arrived and we’ll arrest all of the microbiologists, and we figure out back at headquarters who was involved. I’ll just head down there.”

Tony looked at Lowell. “After this dramatic act of yours, I’m gonna make sure that none of them ever work in a lab again, let alone on anything dangerous. As for the microbiologist who helped you, they’re going end up in Guantanamo with all the other terrorists,” he said brutally.

“Dr Pandy didn’t know. He had nothing to do with this; I stole the Y-pestis,” she screamed at him as he stalked out of the office, demanding Lowell’s receptionist take him to Dr Pandy immediately.

He was still furious when two minutes later he was conversing with Dr Pandy who gave him the bleak news that there was no damned antidote. They were developing a vaccine against it but, once infected, there was no cure.

“So Gibbs has no chance?”

“No, he has the same chance as those infected before antibiotics were developed,” Pandy explained nervously. “Better, he’ll be much fitter and healthier.”

“What were the chances before antibiotics?” Tony asked, remembering how grim Ducky had been about Gibbs’ chances of survival.

“Fifteen percent. But the plague has a suicide gene as a security precaution. It stops it from replicating after 32 hours as a security precaution,” Pandy told him nervously.

“So you’re saying it’s dead? It can’t infect anyone else?”

“If it’s been 32 hours.”

“So if it’s dead, Gibbs will survive?”

“Not necessarily,” the microbiologist prevaricated. “It all depends on how much damage it managed to do and how fit the specimen…umm Agent Gibbs is.”

“Dr Pandy, I need you to get out here and speak to the doctors at Bethesda and explain what you just told me. And you are still facing an investigation until we clear you of the involvement of the bio-attack on a federal law enforcement agency. At the very least, Lowell Pharmaceuticals is facing a major investigation into how the Y-pestis was taken out of a secure containment lab,” Tony said, angrily.

He didn’t think Pandy was in on it, but even if Lowell was the CEO, she should never have been able to access such dangerous biological specimens. It was outrageous.

Finding somewhere with a modicum of privacy he called in a SitRep to Cassie and then the Director. Morrow was as grave as he was.

“So, she lied about the antidote?” he said.

“Dr Pandy says she has a malignant brain tumour that’s messing with her mind. That she misunderstood about the vaccine and the 32-hour security measure.”

“And what does Agent DiNozzo think?”

“I think she knew exactly what she was doing. She just didn’t care. I just spoke to Cassie, and Lowell’s been sprouting off a heap of crap about Wes Moorland, saying she hopes he got infected.”

“Moorland? What did he ever do?” Morrow exploded angrily.

“He was on Pacci’s team when they investigated. Cassie says Chris had him go report the negative DNA tests personally to Ms Lowell and the daughter. So maybe in Hanna Lowell’s case, it was an example of shooting the messenger,” Tony said, angrily.

The director sighed. “I see. Well, that’s good work, Agent DiNozzo. I’m going to send Balboa’s team to transport Ms Lowell back here. Once they have custody, you can head out to Bethesda. Ducky’s there already and I’m teeing up a locum forensic scientist for Ms Sciuto so she can head down there, too. The building is still being decontaminated,” he said heavily.

~oOo~

Three days later:

Ducky called from Bethesda with another update. Finally, he had encouraging news. They were taking Gibbs off the vent!

By the time Bethesda had been informed by Dr Pandy that there was no antidote, Gibbs was already showing pronounced signs of pneumonia due to the Y-pestis attacking his pulmonary system. His lips and fingernails showed clear signs of cyanosis and Ducky was becoming increasingly pessimistic.

Brad had already swapped out his patient’s nasal prongs for a rebreather mask to deliver oxygen, trying to keep his O2 levels up, which were crashing. He’d already discussed switching over to a C-PAP (continuous positive airway pressure machine) machine in the desperate battle to keep his patient alive but Ducky, who was Gibbs’ medical proxy, seemed not to favour the increasing level of medical intervention. He seemed to feel that it was merely delaying the inevitable, but Brad had countered that in the 21st century, recovery was still a chance with aggressive intervention, even without antimicrobial intervention. Plus, they just had to keep him going until they had the antidote.

Dr Pitt was on the point of discussing the possibility of placing his patient on a ventilator to buy them more time when he received word from Dr Pandy that there was no antidote to the genetically altered microbes – there never had been. There was an experimental vaccine being developed. That meant it was useless to Gibbs as he’d already been infected; there would be no last-minute reprieve of a miracle antidote cure-all. However, there was a suicide gene that had been inserted into the microbes to stop them from replicating, meaning that the Y Pestis microbes were soon be dead – after inflicting one helluva lot of damage on his pulmonary system. Feeling dejected by the grim news, Brad broke the news to Ducky who looked equally grave.

At that point, Abby had shown up in all her Gothic glory and her rainbows and unicorns outlook on life, insisting that now wasn’t the time to give up on him.

“Fifteen percent chance of survival might not be all that great, but it isn’t zero either, Duckman. We need to do everything we can to help, not say it’s too hard. This is Gibbs we’re talking about. He can do anything!” she challenged him before clomping into the glass negative pressure room with its scrubbers and blue light, balancing on her ridiculous platform boots and leaving a gobsmacked-looking Dr Pitt in her wake. Abby Sciuto PhD, one of the country’s foremost authorities on ballistics and forensics refused to accept any outcome that didn’t end with Gibbs making a full recovery. She sat herself down beside Gibbs’ sick bed and admonished him at regular intervals to get well.

And there she remained, holding his hand, alternating between making positive affirmations, telling him he would not die and the occasional marathon sob fests where she pleaded with him piteously, to stay and fight.

You’re Gibbs, you never give up!” she would tell him, over and over again. Along with variations on a theme that also included “Keep on breathing, Gibb. Fight, damn it. You will not die, I wouldn’t let you,” became annoyingly constant refrains to all the medical staff in the Isolation ward and later the ICU.

Finally, Gibbs seemed to have bottomed out in terms of his deterioration – whether it was due to Abby or the suicide gene killing the Y-pestis – however, his condition was still perilous. He had pneumonia and wasn’t getting enough oxygen, as evidenced by the cyanosis around his lips, nose, fingers and toes. So Brad Pitt decided to bite the bullet and make a case for putting Gibbs on a ventilator to help him breathe and take some of the strain off him as his body tried to heal itself.

He’d expected Ducky to veto the suggestion immediately and he looked as if that was exactly what he intended as he opened his mouth. But then he heard Abby begging Gibbs not to die, that he could beat this and had a change of heart.

“Very well, Bradley. Abigail would never forgive me if you don’t at least give it a try. But it is a life-saving measure. I’m not agreeing to a life-preserving one if there is no hope,” he sighed. “Jethro would not want that.”

Brad took the limited consent for what it was – a chance for Gibbs to rest and recover and set about sedating then intubating him. He also used the opportunity to insert a nasogastric feeding tube to get some nutrition into him while he slept. Both doctors knew that being on a ventilator while having pneumonia was not ideal, but then, not getting sufficient oxygen was equally problematic. All they could do was give it a shot – the rest was up to Gibbs.

Now, three days later, three days with Gibbs being in ICU, having been transferred there after blood tests confirmed he was no longer infected with Y-pestis, and the dead microbes were being excreted via his kidney, the vent had been removed to assess his breathing. Drs Pitt and his pulmonary specialist Dr Miranda Allbright had jointly decided to remove him from the vent and allow him to regain consciousness. Ducky called NCIS to inform them that although Jethro’s oxygen saturation levels weren’t anything to write home about, there was a discernible improvement, and the doctors wanted him to wake up and walk around to help clear the remaining pockets of pneumonia from his lungs. Mainly the right lower lobe.

Abby was still at Bethesda and had rallied Sister Rosita and her convent of nuns to intercede with the Almighty on Gibbs’ behalf. Each night, several sisters would arrive at Bethesda to pray over him and give support and succour to Abby. No one knew if it helped, but it definitely didn’t hurt to have the Brides of Christ on his side and it was certainly appreciated by Abby, so everyone thanked the nuns for taking the time to visit.

It looked like Gibbs was going to survive. Now according to Ducky, it was a question of waiting to see just what permanent damage the plague had done to his body.

Chapter 26

Four weeks after the bio-security breach of the DC office had occurred, Tom Morrow arrived at NCIS obscenely early, readying himself to do battle, knowing that today would be a tricky day for them. Today, Senior Supervisory Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was returning to work after almost dying from the Y-pestis and contracting pneumonic plague. He spent two days in isolation until he was no longer infectious, then a further three days in ICU on a ventilator before his pulmonary system was deemed stable enough to remove the vent. He spent another three days in the ICU being carefully monitored. Plus another week in the hospital as he struggled to throw off the last vestiges of the double pneumonia he’d developed after being infected.

Before he was discharged from Bethesda by Dr Pitt and Dr Miranda Allbright, they had pricked, prodded, and poked him to within an inch of his life. They’d X-rayed him, and done MRIs and respiratory testing, including biopsies that Tom didn’t even want to know about. He’d had regular respiratory therapy numerous times a day, which made him even more ill-tempered than he normally was. In Director Morrow’s opinion, the staff at Bethesda had incredible forbearance since Gibbs was not the easiest person to deal with, even at the best of times and these were not the best of times.

But the bottom line was that even though Jethro had survived the odds and recovered from the plague, he had been left with significant scarring in both lungs. Which was why his doctors remained guarded about his ability to bounce back from his near-death experience. Pitt hadn’t pulled his punches with his patient, an absolute necessity as Jethro was such a pig-headed bastard. Brad warned him that with his godawful lifestyle and equally appalling dietary choices, it was a miracle he’d pulled through. He also emphasised that the former Marine was no longer a young man, earning him the infamous Gibbs glower, but it was true, nonetheless. As Pitt told him, the fact that he was still extremely fit, exercising religiously was probably the only thing that saved his life – okay that and he had an ornery disposition.

Morrow had found much to admire in Doctor Brad Pitt – not the actor – the doc. It took a helluva lot of guts, saying all that to Leroy Jethro Gibbs’ face like that, even if it was the truth, but then, Drs Pitt and Allbright, not to forget the sainted nurses who helped care for him, all deserved a truckload of accolades for putting up with him for two weeks he spent in their hospital. He could only imagine that it must have seemed like an eternity because he suspected Gibbs was a nightmare of a patient. Having never been sick before…and no, in Tom’s book getting injured in Desert Storm did count as being sick per se, would hardly have prepared him for the role of a frail recovering patient.

According to Ducky’s daily progress reports, Jethro was typically: impatient, weak, surly, prickly, non-compliant with the nursing staff and refused to follow medical advice. Once he was able to crawl out of bed, he was constantly going UA, on sorties to the Doctors’ lounge to appropriate their coffee on the basis that it was twice as strong as the swill they served in the hospital cafeteria. If Tom had been treating him, he’d probably have handcuffed Jethro to his hospital bed and/or sedated his ass, since no one knew better than him (or DiNozzo) just how challenging it was to put up with Gibbs’ personality on a good day. A good day was when he was juiced up to the gills on coffee and had just caught his prey and these days in Bethesda tended to be grim ones, so his demeanour also tended to be especially taxing. Tom wouldn’t be a bit surprised to hear that the entire staff celebrated the day he was discharged and sent to rehab.

And therein lay another difficult situation that needed surmounting. Gibbs was quite resistant to the idea of going to a rehab facility. He insisted that he could go straight back to work from his hospital bed. Not that his two doctors were willing to have a bar of it, adamant that they wouldn’t clear him for duty until he was medically fit for work which meant he needed rehab, or he could be looking at least another couple of months of recuperation. Surprisingly, it was Brad (the very sneaky medico) who goaded Gibbs into attending rehab, telling him that he didn’t think that a Marine who’d gone through boot camp would be scared to do a little rehab, but he supposed that Jethro was no spring chicken. Ignoring Jethro’s furious expression, he suggested that he should probably rethink his goal of returning to the field. A nice desk job would be a whole lot safer for him now, he had to take extreme care of his lungs.

According to the Commander, at which point in their conversation, Gibbs had crudely told Pitt to go do something anatomically impossible before he stormed out of Bethesda in a huff – albeit it a very wheezy breathless one. He had Ducky drive him straight to the rehab facility, raring to go. After all, he had a point to prove to some dumb-ass medic.

While Pitt had tricked him into rehab, the plain truth of the matter was without it, there would be no way he was going to be cleared for field duties, so it saved everyone from the cringeworthy scene that would otherwise have occurred. Tom knew that a determined Jethro (in other words, a normal gunny) would just rock up the office and try to bully Ducky into clearing him for field duty, just like he had when Haswari shot him after breaching their security by coming into the morgue in a body bag. And just like the countless other times before that, Ducky had caved into Gibbs’ personality and meekly signed him off as fit for duty.

This time, from what Tom had personally witnessed, Gibbs was weak as a kitten, and everyone (apart from Gibbs) felt it was a tossup if he was going to be able to requalify. Now after a thirteen-day stay in rehab, he’d been released as an outpatient with follow-ups three times a week. In Gibbs’ eyes, he apparently decided that made him fit to return to work. His doctors, Pitt and Allbright had finally agreed to him coming in for a maximum of three hours per day, and NO fieldwork. He could do clerical work – as if, Tom had scoffed upon hearing the suggestion. It was the worst secret at the agency that DiNozzo did most of it for him anyway. According to Dr Pitt, as well as paperwork, he was permitted to work on cold cases – at his desk.

So once he got through security, the director was expecting that Gibbs would start working on persuading (browbeating, manipulating, or out-and-out bullying) Ducky to clear him to return to duty. It had been clear to Tom for a while now that Gibbs wrestled with his own demons by way of hunting down his prey, which in his case meant whatever case he happened to be assigned to by dispatch. Each case became a surrogate family or individual for his own loss of his family. As one psychologist who tried to counsel the senior supervisory agent had explained, the complicating factor was not just that he was slaying his own demons repeatedly, it was that he was using it as a coping mechanism to avoid processing his own losses and emotions. Instead, he ignored his grief, and it sat there in the depths of his psyche, waiting for a chance to hijack him.

Complicating an already thorny situation, another agency psychologist, Dr Joanna Betts had pointed out that for someone who had an addictive personality like Gibbs and drank copious amounts of both coffee and bourbon, hunting down the worst criminals and terrorists wasn’t only a coping mechanism that allowed him to live an outwardly normal life. The hunt: the thrill of the chase, the capture of the prey and if alive, the unrelenting drive to obtain a confession or to trick the suspect into incriminating themselves during questioning – all produced a massive high that Gibbs had soon become physiologically and psychologically addicted to.

Thinking about Jethro’s outlandish behaviour on cases: yelling at his team to find him leads, his fury at them when there weren’t leads, his impatience when forced to wait for forensic evidence, refusing to accept physical limitations by ignoring Abby’s explanation that a test result took four hours and telling her that she only had half that time, bore out Dr Betts’ assertion. His stealing of the body of Commander Ray Trapp right out from under the FBI’s nose, using Agent DiNozzo in an identical body bag had been outrageous. Yes, Tom admitted he quite enjoyed telling his counterpart that they had the body after the Fibbies did an end run around them with the Secret Service to get jurisdiction; it was also unprofessional.

Had he known that Gibbs endangered his agent by blowing his cover because Jethro wanted to rub the FBI agents’ noses in the fact, he outsmarted them though, Morrow might well have been tempted to turn the Commander over to their sister agency as payback for endangering his agent. Gibbs was damned lucky in playing his childish game of one-upmanship that DiNozzo hadn’t been killed when the FBI threw him out of the morgue van onto the beltway still zipped up inside the body bag.

Jethro’s impatience and refusal to wait for evidence before rushing off half-cocked had resulted in some monumental screwups. Ensign Evan Hayes who’d paid for his haste to catch what turned out to be a non-existent murderer, sprang to mind. The young sailor, already being hounded by his father’s former fellow officer and years of bullying by his old man, as well as Gibbs’ desire to catch his prey, had been too much for Hayes. It led to the young sailor committing death by cop, even though he was blameless in Commander Dorn’s death. A truly tragic outcome that never needed to have occurred if Gibbs had only exercised better judgement.

Then there was that goat rope of a night training jump with a group of Marine paratroopers, when he decided to coerce a confession out of a killer, when the killer’s identity would have been revealed by DNA testing the next morning. Once the killer was revealed and because it was obtained through coercion with a platoon of Marines as witnesses, it wasn’t admissible at his court martial anyway. However, the outcome Jethro had failed to anticipate was that his fellow platoon members were understandably angry. When the argy-bargy got out of hand with an untrained DiNozzo (who should never have been on the training flight as he had no jump training) getting pushed out of the plane way off target from the jump site. It was nothing short of a miracle, especially as it was a night jump, that all he injured was his ankle, he could all too easily have been killed.

Honestly, there were far too many instances where Gibbs’ inability to control his impatience to get his fix (taking down a suspect), had endangered himself, his team, or other people. And after a month of not being able to solve cases, one thing that Morrow could almost guarantee – Gibbs was going to be massively jonesing for a fix… but surely in some portion of his frontal cortex, Jethro had to see that he couldn’t work a case.

Ha! Who was he kidding? Gibbs was so used to imposing his will on everyone that he probably intended on steamrolling over everyone. After all, that’s what he normally did! He probably thought he could order his lungs to bend to his will and they would roll over and say, uncle!

This brought Morrow to the other issue that he was certain that the leader of the MCRT was going to go postal over – Agent Anthony DiNozzo, was currently TAD as Ric Balboa’s senior field agent while Matt Anderson was off on parental leave. Matt and his Filipino-born wife Dalisay had been waiting for the red tape to be cleared so that they could go and pick up their baby daughter, in Manilla. Three weeks ago the final obstacle had been cleared and everyone was ecstatic for Matt and his wife. Luzviminda was a much wanted addition to their family and everyone at NCIS had wished them well. Unfortunately, Rod Strong, the TAD who Delores had previously lined up to fill in for Anderson, had been T-boned in an MVA and landed in hospital with a broken leg.

While by all accounts, Rod was lucky to be alive, it also left NCIS in a bit of a quandary. Rod had agreed to be assigned TAD as a senior field agent to help out a fellow agent and Delores had requested his help because he’d been an experienced team leader at Norfolk before turning over the team a few months ago in anticipation of his imminent retirement. Since Ric’s son was having a plethora of medical tests and appointments, having been diagnosed with a congenital heart defect that required delicate surgery, he often needed to take time off to accompany his wife and son to appointments. Plus, Ric would need several weeks off during the actual surgery to support his son and the family. The problem was that none of the available SFAs qualified to fill Matt’s spot had the necessary skills and experience to step in and lead in Agent Balboa’s absence.

This was when Delores suggested Agent DiNozzo who was not only a SFA without a team, with Gibbs in hospital, but he’d led the MCRT on numerous occasions, most notably when JAG lawyer, Harmon Rabb had been set up for the killing of Lt Loren Singer. Gibbs had been called away by the CIA to interrogate terrorist Amad Bin Atwa, and left DiNozzo in charge of the investigation, supervising the other team members of the MCRT – Vivian Blackadder and Don Dobbs. Despite it being a high-profile case, she pointed out that Agent DiNozzo had equipped himself admirably. Under his leadership, the MCRT had found the real killer – Commander Theodore Lindsay, a former Acting Judge Advocate General, who had a serious grudge against Rabb. Lindsay had set him up for the murder of Singer, who he was having an extramarital affair with when she’d threatened to expose their dalliance. It was an impressive performance and the JAGs had certainly been mighty impressed that he’d saved one of their own.

So Tom was certainly willing to consider the proposal. Delores conceded that she would never have suggested him filling in as an acting senior supervisory agent position had the team consisted of Agents Todd and McGee. However, Agent Balboa’s two junior agents knew how to respect the chain of command and obey orders and she felt confident that DiNozzo wouldn’t have any problem with them. Morrow agreed after careful consideration that it seemed like a perfect solution to a difficult problem and Agent Balboa supported the plan without reservation.

The truth was that no one wanted to stop Agent Anderson from taking his paid parental leave. Everyone who was working at the DC office at the time of Dalisay Anderson’s ectopic pregnancy and her life-saving hysterectomy, leaving her unable to become pregnant, had seen how devastating it had been for the couple. So when Matt announced that they were adopting a little girl from the Philippines, the whole office shared in their joy. Having DiNozzo step in even short term until they had a chance to find a replacement for Agent Strong was a smart move but truthfully, the director knew Gibbs was going to be furious.

Still, what did Jethro expect? He’d already been off work for a month after contracting pneumonic plague and there was no way he was going to be ready to go out into the field anytime soon – if ever.

And while Gibbs had worked as a single agent after Stan Burley left the MCRT, Tom was not going to ask DiNozzo to do something so asinine. Besides, Tony had already tried to resign from the MCRT and Delores Bromstead, who’d recently become a vocal advocate of the agent, had managed to talk him out of it. She’d pointed out that he had other options rather than resigning from NCIS if he wished to get away from Gibbs’ sphere of influence, and she said Tony seemed very surprised to learn that other teams might want him on their six.

Of course, his abortive resignation attempt had taken place right before Hanna Lowell’s bio-attack. And in that first week following the attack, as they were busy tying up the loose ends of the investigation including how the SWAK ended up on Agent DiNozzo’s desk, Morrow, having been informed of DiNozzo’s intention to leave, had been searching out various opportunities and presenting them to him. Then Matt Anderson’s replacement had fallen through at the last minute. Really, it was a no-brainer to ask him to fill in.

Not that Morrow had any intention of telling Jethro that Tony wanted off the MCRT because, for all practical purposes, it was on stand-down at the moment anyway given Gibbs’ health. Tom figured, why antagonise an angry bull elephant for no good reason and so he had no plans to inform Gibbs that his leadership style cost him his best agent.

Now several hours after Gibbs returned to the office, Tom was left feeling like he’d run the Boston Marathon after dealing with a massive tantrum from his agent, who quite frankly looked as if a strong gust of wind would knock him over. Following the gargantuan battle of wills, which Tom won, mainly because he held all the cards, SSA Gibbs was sitting at his desk in the MCRT bullpen, going through his emails. The director couldn’t help being amused. He was fairly sure that Jethro hadn’t bothered reading his emails for a very long time, if ever. Still, he understood it was a face-saving gesture for the former gunny who’d thought that as soon as he set foot in the office, he could bulldoze his way into going back in the field through the sheer force of his personality, ignoring the fact his doctors refused to clear him.

Jethro erroneously presumed that he’d just badger Ducky until he caved, but Tom had warned Ducky not to clear Jethro for field work unless he wanted to be suspended. But more importantly, Tom held all the cards. He’d informed the motor department that Gibbs was not to be given access to any agency vehicles since he wasn’t cleared for the field and didn’t need them. Plus, since his phone, his firearms, badge, and creds had all been incinerated during the bio-attack, he needed them all to be replaced and except for an agency phone, Morrow refused to replace them, since Jethro wasn’t cleared for fieldwork. Therefore he didn’t require them for desk work.

As for him trying to pull a swiftie by having dispatch call him, the director had taken care of that too, ordering them not to call him in when major cases came in. Right now those calls needed to be redirected to Agent Balboa or Agent DiNozzo who was filling in for SFA Anderson. As for the switchboard, he ordered that only personal calls were to be directed to Gibbs’ office phone – all NCIS-related calls were to be redirected to DiNozzo or Balboa. Last but not least, he’d had tech services change Gibbs’ cell phone number and pre-program in any numbers he commonly used like Ducky, Abby, Tobias Fornell, his takeout Chinese, and pizza places. Meanwhile, Morrow had a cell phone programmed with his old number and had his executive assistant monitor and take messages for him, so it was unlikely that he was going to go anywhere aside from the prohibited coffee runs while doing desk duty.

Gibbs was fit to be tied that the desk duty edict stood – hence his huge hissy fit but the good doctors Allbright and Pitt were scary and they’d already read the riot act to the HR staff. Human Resources had, in turn, threatened anyone at NCIS with dire consequences should they enable Gibbs in his bid to go back out in the field before he received medical clearance from Allbright or Pitt. Which at this rate, Brad Pitt was estimating at least another month, but possibly never. With this grim prognosis in mind, Morrow had already begun searching for jobs they could offer Jethro that weren’t field jobs and weren’t purely clerical positions either. One option was to offer him a mission controller job in MTAC – a job he would require little if any retraining to be able to perform or an analyst job with the terrorism or counter-terrorism bureaus. However, right now, Tom would willingly give him time to see if there was any way he could requalify, given how he’d been injured.

Gibbs had nearly died and was left with a permanent disability because of a biological attack on their agency by a delusional woman who would never stand trial. In fact, Hanna Lowell had already lapsed into a coma and was near death in a prison hospital. All because her foolish daughter was too immature to tell her mother the truth about why she ended up naked and tied to a bed in a hotel for two days. Also, because Ben Winter, NCIS’ mail ‘boy’ had been an old friend or more accurately a fellow animal rights protester whom Hanna manipulated into delivering her letter. She told Winters she was ill and wanted to persuade Wes Moorland to reveal who had raped her daughter because she wanted to die, knowing her daughter had received closure. Lowell told him she would be eternally in his debt if he would place the letter with a SWAK on Moreland’s desk or Agent Pacci.

Ben admired Hanna, after all, as Ducky had pointed out, at one time she was more famous than Hanoi Jane, plus reading between the lines, it looked as if Ben had looked up to her and had a crush on her for the longest time. He was also not exactly the brightest bulb in the chandelier, and rather naïve, so he’d felt honoured to carry out this seemingly harmless request. There was just one problem with him assisting her though, Ben had no idea who Wes Moreland was, but he did know that Pacci died last year, and that Agent Tony was a good friend of Pacci. So, he figured if Chris Pacci had been in charge of the Lowell case, Agent DiNozzo would probably know everything about it and pass the letter on to help because he was always very friendly to Ben.

Of course, Gibbs came along, saw the SWAK on the back of the letter and assumed that Tony was getting love letters at work instead of doing his job. So much for Gibbs rule never assume double check. Seeing the SWAK had pissed off the easy-to-anger lead agent and Jethro decided it was his right to invade DiNozzo’s privacy by opening what he believed to be an intimate letter.

Despite Jethro’s dumbass move and ignoring one of his own rules about assumptions, he’d never expected that the letter hadn’t already been checked out and rendered safe to open or that someone would find a way around the irradiation procedures. Thus, the attack on the agency ended up with one of their own contracting a life-threatening illness which left him with scarred lungs. So NCIS owed it to Gibbs to let him try to regain his field status, even though Gibbs would be looking at mandatory retirement from the field in a few more years, anyway.

~o0o~

Gibbs watched as Balboa’s team which was the temporary MCRT. They received a call from dispatch from an anonymous caller about two dead sailors found off Route 17 near Fredericksburg, and he was clearly not happy. He tried to talk his way into going along, saying he could help collect evidence, but Balboa had just laughed at him and pointed at Gibbs’ desk.

“First off, you aren’t cleared for field duties. You also aren’t in any shape to be gathering evidence and the Director would have my balls. Sit your ass back down in your chair and focus on getting up to date on your emails. A lot of people were calling and emailing, wanting to know if you were okay, so let ’em know, Jethro,” he said firmly as he shepherded his team into the elevator.

Gibbs scowled at DiNozzo who was going off with Ric and his team and he felt a sense of desperation wash over him at his predicament. He felt like crap, it hurt to draw breath but worse, his normal means of dealing with the loss of what he’d held most dear to him, by hunting down people like Hernandez who took them from him, hadn’t been available to him. Not for weeks now. It still wasn’t available to him because a bunch of idiot doctors and his director were interfering in his life and stopping him from going out and hunting down dirtbags like the ones who killed two sailors at Fredericksburg.

No one had his ability to hunt down killers because it wasn’t just a job to Gibbs, it was his life.

It was why he was able to get up and put one foot in front of the other every day. It was how he was able to function without his beloved girls by making sure that dirtbags got locked up so they couldn’t do it again to some other innocent family. People like Kyle Boon who terrified a generation of young girls for far too long, brutally murdering at least twenty-two young women whom he tortured before killing them and burying them in graves where they remained, lost to their loved ones. He was the one who’d managed to bring Boon in, and while it cost him a marriage it was totally worth it to put a monster like him on death row. But there were too many others like him, and Gibbs’ never-ending pain over his failure to protect Kelly and Shannon was reaching unbearable levels.

He needed to assuage his guilt – after one month of being kept from hunting down killers, his pain, guilt, and anxiety were reaching unbearable levels and making him crazy. He wanted to kick, to scream, to punch, hell to shoot some dirtbag who took someone precious from their family, just like Hernandez had taken his girls from him. Like whoever had killed those two sailors this morning, he needed to be out there, hunting them down. Right now he felt so angry at Morrow, he could barely prevent himself from hauling off and hitting the asshat when he told him that he was only going to be permitted to be at his desk doing paperwork or studying cold cases for exactly three hours a day, per his doctors’ orders.

He’d needed to get back out in the field before he did something other people would really disapprove of, like throttling the director.

Chapter 27

By the time Balboa’s team arrived at the scene, Tony had a chance to get his head on straight. Seeing Gibbs back at work in the bullpen this morning had knocked him off balance because Tony knew his ex-boss expected Tony to be at his desk in the MCRT bullpen and ready to go out into the field with him. Which was ludicrous – no one, not even Superman came back one month after contracting pneumonic plague and was ready to head straight back out into the field again. Still, Gibbs never acknowledged any limitations, even before the plague… not his or anyone else’s, particularly his team.

But damn it, he almost died, then spent two weeks in hospital and two more weeks at a rehabilitation hospital. NCIS was never going to roll over and let him go straight back into the field before completing his rehab and making him requalify to prove his fitness. Not this time…not when there were people wanting answers about how it happened. Certainly not when there were hard-ass doctors like Brad Pitt and Miranda Allbright who had threatened that there’d be severe consequences if he returned to the field before he was cleared.

And who’d have believed that the jackass who broke Tony’s leg in a football game between OSU’s Buckeyes and Michigan’s Wolverines would end up becoming a doctor and enlisting in the Navy? Turned out that Gibbs’ infectious diseases doctor who’d saved Gibbs’ life was the same guy who’d broken his leg in his final game and shattered his plans to play professionally. So that cliché – it’s a Small World wasn’t just a cliché after all (although it was a truly annoying song),  and it also turned out the guy also possessed a set of pretty big balls since Dr Pitt had proceeded to read the riot act to Ducky, Morrow, and HR about the criminal folly of allowing Gibbs to go back into the field before he declared him fit for purpose.

As a Phys. Ed major at Ohio State University, Tony understood the situation regarding Gibbs’ health status all too well. In his major, a lot of his classes on anatomy and physiology were identical to pre-med classes, so he had a pretty good idea of the issues that Gibbs would have to overcome to requalify. He might act like a dumb jock, but the truth was that he was anything but stupid. It was just that a lifetime of abuse and betrayal by those Tony should be able to trust had taught him that it was smarter to always let people underestimate him.

He also doubted rather strongly if anyone aside from himself, and perhaps one of Gibbs’ former senior field agents, Stan Burley truly understood just how driven Gibbs was to hunt down dirtbags and to keep himself sane. Hell, they’d already exceeded the limits that Tony had observed when the Boss had been shot in the thigh several years ago and was forced to take a week off. A WEEK! That had been not because he was forced by Morrow or the medicos to stay out of the field but because the pain made it impossible for the boss to work for the first week after he’d been injured. After one week he pushed everyone at the office to their limits, making a good half of the staff cry…a lot of them macho male agents.

Yet for that one injury, there’d been at least more than a dozen over the last nearly four years he’d been on Gibbs’s team where his boss had been wounded – like during the hostage situation in Autopsy last year with Haswari when Ari shot him in the shoulder. Gibbs didn’t even take a day off, as soon as he was released by the hospital, he’d hot-footed it back to NCIS to start the months-long manhunt for the guy who dared to infiltrate Gibbs’ territory and put a bullet in him. Ultimately, he wasn’t able to put Ari away for the two HRTs he killed, seriously wounding Gerald Jackson’s shoulder socket with a maliciously placed bullet plus Gibb’s less serious flesh wound, because he was an undercover mole. Gibbs did however extract his pound of flesh by shooting Ari in the shoulder months later, but it didn’t really satisfy him. Tony shuddered to think what he’d been like to work for while he was hunting down Kyle Boone.

In the case of the bio-attack that almost killed him and left him with a set of permanently impaired lungs, it was already wrapped up while he was still trying to recover. Hanna Lowell was literally hours away from death. The brain tumour was definitely going to take her before she stepped into a courtroom. Not her own, she’d been examined and declared mentally incompetent to stand trial, but the trial of Sarah Lowell who had lied about being raped. The Anacostia PD was charging her for making false statements to them because they instigated an intensive and costly investigation. As was NCIS, although their charges would be federally based ones.

Considering the serious repercussions of her making false statements about a crime, Joe Landis the Head of Legal at NCIS wanted to sue her for the cost of the initial investigation and the waste of resources. This included a dozen DNA tests on sailors that she already knew would be negative because Landis wanted to make an example out of her, hoping to make others realise that there were very serious consequences for people blaming their own behaviour on a non-existent crime to avoid having awkward conversations with their friends and family. Consequences that ended up with a federal agent nearly dying and being left with scarred lungs for the rest of his life. It seemed like a criminal conviction that would follow her around for the rest of her life was the very smallest price she should expect.

However, not being able to go out and catch the person who nearly killed him was going to make it difficult for Gibbs to put this one behind him. Tony expected that sooner or later he was going to lose it – it was almost inevitable. He didn’t want to be the one who had to clean up the blowback though. After four years, he felt like he’d paid his dues for Gibbs giving him a job. Maybe if the last two had been like the first couple, he wouldn’t have felt the overwhelming urge to leave but they weren’t and there were no do overs.

Still, right now Tony needed to get his head back in the game and focus on the two dead sailors in the convertible in Fredericksburg. As soon as they arrived, he and Balboa checked out the two victims who’d both been shot at close range numerous times. Then there was the fact that one of the men, the driver, Lieutenant Dean Westfall out of Pensacola, but for the last 2 months TAD at the Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, was missing his left hand which made Balboa and DiNozzo raise their eyebrows.

“Thoughts, Tony,” Balboa asked his temporary SFA.

“Normally, I’d say that maybe the killer took it as a trophy, Ric. Although considering that the Lieutenant was working at the Aberdeen Proving Ground, I don’t think we can rule out the possibility that it was taken to get around biometric security measures.”

Balboa shuddered. “Ya know, maybe the eggheads that came up with the whole biometric identification idea need to find some way to tell if the scan comes from a real living breathing person,” he said looking down at the two dead navy pilots.

“True. Ya know, I can’t help thinking about our iris scanners,” he shuddered thinking about the two cases this year involving detached eyeballs. Although in neither in neither case to fool a biometric ID scanner.

Ric winced. “Surely no one would turn up at NCIS with disembodied eyes.”

“Hope you’re right but don’t go calling me Shirley, Tony said half-heartedly. “If they were killed to get Westfall’s prints, that means Lieutenant Curtis Jansen was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, the unlucky bastard.”

As the two younger team members approached bringing the forensic evidence collection equipment, Balboa headed back up to find out what the ETA was on Ducky’s arrival.

Charlie Zeng and Em Lyndhurst cautiously made their way down the incline, noting that the rented convertible that both of them were drooling over was sitting in the middle of a clearing some distance off the road.

“Wonder how it got down here,” the former Marine muttered to herself.

Charlie answered, “No sign of damage to the car to indicate it careened off the road,” he agreed as they deposited the accoutrements of their trade on the left-hand side of the rental car.

The young agent pulled out his cell phone, hoping to pull up a map to figure out if there was a road or a track somewhere around, aside from the one up top where they parked, he felt something brushing over his ankle. Giving a loud yelp of surprise, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a snake using his leg as a tree trunk and promptly dropped his cell phone in alarm, which rolled underneath the convertible.”

Em laughed at her fellow agent. “It’s okay, Charlie. It’s a corn snake, they’re harmless, dude.”

Charlie was far from comforted. I don’t care, Emmy, I hate snakes. Someone get it off me,” he shouted, clearly panicking.

Realising that Zeng was probably phobic about snakes, Tony who’d been quietly observing the two junior agents, assisted Em in catching the distinctively coloured white and yellow snake, removing it from the junior agent’s leg who was starting to hyperventilate in the few seconds it took to capture it.

Embarrassed by his fear, he disappeared underneath the convertible, searching for his phone while Tony started taking out his gear to begin dusting the vehicle for fingerprints and he sent Lyndhurst to check out what was in the trunk. He was thinking that this whole crime scene was hinky. How did the anonymous caller know that Westfall and Jenssen were for Navy pilots? Both men were in civvies and the car was a rental.

His reverie was rudely interrupted by Charlie’s hoarse cry, “Bomb, don’t touch the car!” coming from under the convertible

Tony looked over at Lyndhurst who gave him an unhappy grin. “Too late.”

He noted immediately that she had already inserted the key into the trunk’s lock.

“Did you turn the key, Em?” he asked her urgently.

“Uh-huh,” she said, her voice steady. Marines don’t show fear.

“Don’t move, he said, as she snorted. She had no intention of moving anytime soon. Not until the bomb squad arrived.

Tony dropped down and Charlie nervously pointed out the car bomb that was flashing on and off, indicating it was activated and wires were running up to the trunk of the car. Standing up and dragging the normally irrepressible junior agent out from under the car too, his features suddenly pale, the senior field agent sidled over to Lyndhurst and put his hand over hers on the key.

“Okay, I’m going to take over holding the key. I think you activated it when you turned the key. Let go slowly and then you and Zeng are going to haul ass and head for the road, Em.”

“Not leaving you behind,” the former Marine told him firmly.

“I’ll be right behind you, but I can run faster than either of you,” he said firmly.

He knew that Em’s Marine training made her reluctant to save herself and leave him behind, but he also knew that Charlie was not a runner – he was lethal in several martial arts but hated running. Lyndhurst was no slouch as a former Marine, but she was also only five foot five inches to his six foot two. In a desperate life-threatening sprint, his much longer legs gave him a clear advantage over her.

Charlie was shaking his head, “Why not just wait for the bomb squad, Tony?” he asked distressed.

“Because I’m pretty sure that with the bomb activated, there is a timer counting down and we can’t waste the time to find out. Go, go, go. I’ll be right behind you,” he reassured them.

Emmy looked at him. “See that you are, Tony.”

Grabbing Charlie who still looked horrified to be leaving Tony behind, she channelled her inner Marine and started chivvying him back up the incline as fast as they could run. She knew the sooner they got with the program the sooner DiNozzo could start sprinting. Just as they crested the top of the incline to see Balboa talking on his phone and Ducky and Jimmy Palmer exiting the back of the ME’s van, the bomb detonated. It blew them all off their feet, just as Tony appeared only to be sent flying by a burning tyre that hit him dead centre in his back, sending him faceplanting down onto the road. Jimmy and Balboa were the first to react, leaping up to push the burning tyre away from Tony with their feet, before ripping off their NCIS jackets to smother his burning uniform as quickly as possible.

~oOo~

Back at NCIS several hours later, Ducky declared him to have superficial cuts, moderate bruising, and abrasions. He’d been incredibly lucky that he was wearing an old favourite leather jacket under his official NCIS jacket that helped to protect him from burns, except for a minor burn on his neck from ash. That and he owed Ric and the autopsy gremlin for getting the burning tyre off him toot-sweet, then putting out his smouldering uniform jacket so swiftly. Meanwhile, the junior agents on Balboa’s team were both ridiculously grateful to their temporary senior field agent, knowing that neither of them would have made it back to the road before the blast wave from the bomb hit them, and definitely resulted in far more serious injuries.

Tony was surprised by Emmy and Charlie’s gratitude, he didn’t expect it, but it was kind of nice to be acknowledged for a change. Gibbs would say that he was doing his job, and Tony agreed – it was his job to protect the team, but it was nice that they both insisted that they’d be buying him dinner once they closed the case to say thanks. It wasn’t necessary and he told them that, but they insisted. Of course, he didn’t know that Ric had already talked to the director about him receiving a commendation for saving his teammates or that Tom had nominated him for the Navy’s Meritorious Civilian Service Award.

If he had known, he would have been extremely embarrassed by all the fuss, but he was honestly way more concerned about the bomb. So as soon as possible, he made his way down to Abby’s lab. He was totally unprepared when she came running over to throw her arms around him and give him a massive hug. Not just because getting caught in a blast wave left him feeling a bit sore and sorry for himself but because their friendship had been strained of late.

Ever since Kate and McGee were suspended and transferred, Abby and his friendship had become tense, although they were both professionals and continued working together to catch killers. The bond that they developed in the first two years of his working on the MCRT was absent and he missed it, but pragmatically, he sucked it up. Tony continued to do his job, even though he lamented the coolness that had developed between them. He missed their friendship but then it had started to cool even before the Jeremy Davison case, going back to when Cate joined the team.

It wasn’t until Gibbs nearly died after being infected by the Y-Pestis that Abby let go of her passive-aggressive attitude and they talked honestly. Tony stopped off at Bethesda one evening after work to check in on Gibbs, who was battling to recover from double pneumonia, finding her curled up in a foetal ball, sobbing on a sofa in the waiting room. Fearing that Gibbs was dying or had already died, he strode in and took her in his arms, holding her as she sobbed, letting her vent. Even if his shirt was sopping wet and snot-laden when Abby was done, not to mention there being several black streaks from her mascara on his white shirt, he figured it would all come out in the wash. Sitrep – in the end, even after several washings, Tony admitted defeat regarding his inability to get the black gunky makeup stains out and tossed the shirt away in disgust.

An eternal optimist, he hoped that his shirt’s sacrifice would be a small price to pay if it helped restore their friendship. While he was friendly with a lot of people at NCIS and the various law enforcement agencies he worked with, there were very few people he actually considered friends, people who he could let down his guard with. Abby Sciuto had been one of the few and it hurt to think she thought so little of him…of their friendship.

When she was finally all cried out and was reduced to sniffling pitifully, her eyes and nose Rudolf-red from her extensive crying jag, he asked her gently why she was upset.

This time, tears were replaced by anger as she pounded her fists on his chest.

“Ducky! He doesn’t want Gibbs to live!” she declared dramatically.

He distanced himself from her, ostensibly to fetch the Caf-Pow he’d brought with him, already anticipating she’d be there holding a vigil and caffeine-deprived, but mostly because Abby didn’t hold back when she punched you if you dared disagree with her. Seeing the vile brew, she threw herself at it and started slurping it like a toddler latching onto a pacifier.

“Abby, he, and Gibbs are old friends. They’ve even been on missions together in Europe. What makes you think that Ducky doesn’t want Gibbs to live?” he asked her dubiously.

“He told me that he was only authorising for Gibbs to be kept on the vent for a maximum of 48 more hours. He thinks if it doesn’t work in that time frame it’s hopeless and the ventilator should be removed, even if it kills him,” she ranted.

Tony opened his mouth to reply but Abby was on a roll. To be honest, Ducky had seemed surprisingly pessimistic about Gibbs’ chances of survival, and he’d been mildly surprised himself at his defeatist attitude when the doctor diagnosed pneumonia.

“He said that as Gibbs’ medical proxy, it’s his responsibility to take the hard decisions and that Jethro wouldn’t want extraordinary measures taken to keep him alive if there was no chance of him recovering,” she said, stamping her foot sullenly. “But there’s always a chance,” she averred mulishly.

“Abbs, Ducky might seem negative, but perhaps he and Gibbs had a long conversation about what sort of measures Gibbs would want if his prognosis were poor. It’s not a decision I’d care to make for someone else,” he admitted. “Let’s try to stay positive and hope that Gibbs can turn the corner in the next couple of days,” he said, trying to sound optimistic.

Forsaking her CAF-POW on the coffee table, she slithered along the sofa to hug him enthusiastically, making him feel like the icy professionalism between them had melted a little bit, he returned the hug as she started rabbiting on about getting all Sister Rosita’s nuns to come to the hospital for a prayer vigil.

“Plus, I know a few white witches who work with me at Habitat for Humanity. I’m sure they’d come along too and cast some positive affirmation spells,” she enthused, hugging him harder as she made plans to assemble her troops.

Half an hour later she informed him that it was all set, she even had two Buddhist monks lined up to take part in her prayer vigil and healing ceremony. He felt rather bemused by the idea of such an eclectic mix of religions intermingling but decided not to mention it; Abby was much happier and that was the main thing. Now he just had to hope that Gibbs would play his part and start responding – from what he gathered from Ducky and Brad Pitt, Gibbs drinking, working long hours that translated to insufficient sleep and a shitty diet had put additional stress on his body. According to Dr Pitt, it left him fighting with one hand tied behind his back.

Ducky reckoned that the only good thing going for him was that unlike his mentor, former NIS Special Agent Mike Franks, Jethro didn’t smoke those terrible coffin sticks – that and the Boss had a disagreeable disposition. Tony wondered if someone were to tell Gibbs that he should let go and stop fighting, if that might not be a better strategy than Abby, entreating him not to die. From what he’d seen, Gibbs when ordered to do something, e.g. to stay away from Ari Haswari, the Mossad double agent, or stop investigating a case because the FBI was already thigh-deep in an investigation, usually did the exact opposite of what he was ordered to do. Still, he kept his opinions to himself, hoping that Abby’s plans worked out. At least she now seemed less inclined to kill Ducky than before he’d turned up, so that had to be a good thing.

He deliberately tried not to think about what might happen if Gibbs was still no better after the next 48 hours. There was no point borrowing trouble, as their medical examiner was wont to say.

When Abby who was curled up with her head on his shoulder, thanked him for being what she called her emotional rock, Tony steeled himself for a long overdue conversation.

“Abbs, why have you been giving me the cold shoulder since the Jeremy Davison case?”

She punched him, thankfully, not her usual punch-buggy strength but a warning that this was going to be a rocky conversation.

“Because you broke up our family,” she said, the duh unspoken but obvious, nonetheless.

“I didn’t do anything, Abbs. It wasn’t me that reported them for being insubordinate.”

“But you pushed them into it. You got into Timmy’s face,” she retorted having seen the footage caught on someone’s cell phone. “He was just pointing out that you needed to keep an open mind. What’s wrong with that?”

“How many rape and sexual assault cases do you think I’ve worked, Abby?” he asked her rather frostily.

“I haven’t really thought about it, Tony. A few…maybe a dozen.”

“Try adding a zero to that number and it’s a rough estimate of the official number of cases I investigated. As for the unofficial number – factor in that I worked Vice for a year in Philly – I saw too many cases while I was undercover. Mostly victims refused to report the crimes because they were scared to. They knew that no one would believe them because they were sex workers, runaways, or drug addicts. I also saw lots of homeless people (including a lotta veterans with mental issues), that were too embarrassed to admit they were raped.”

“Ohmygod, Tony, that’s terrible!”

“In my six years being a cop I also saw a helluva lot of assaults and muggings where victims, usually males, refused to report the ‘assaults’ because of the stigma around male rape. Straight victims afraid they’d be labelled as gay, gay guys afraid they’ll be blamed for being promiscuous,” he told her angrily.

“Stupid stereotyping, like women, are whores or asking for it by dressing inappropriately,” she said, her voice rising as one of the nurses passing by shushed her.

“While rarely someone like Sarah Lowell falsely reports rape, in this case, so her mother didn’t learn her precious daughter was having kinky but consensual sex with her boyfriend, there are many other young females from ethnic backgrounds who refuse to report rape because their culture blames the woman for tempting the man. A lot of the victims fear being on the end of an honour killing by their own families, for instance by being doused in gasoline and set alight.

Abby just stared at him like someone had killed her puppy.

He shook his head. “So aside from the official cases, I’ve seen A LOT of unofficial cases of rape and sexual assault, Abby.

“Wow Tony, I had no idea about that. It must make it hard to sleep at night.”

“Oh, I forgot all about the domestic violence crimes where wives would never report their husbands for hitting them, let alone making them have non-consensual sex, which happened a lot more often than you might imagine,” he said, frustrated. “That’s not even counting paedophiles molesting underage kids, but you know what rapists, sexual predators and paedophiles all have in common?”

She shook her head mutely

“They lie. They blame the victim, say it was consensual, accuse the victim of making it up, tell you it was a sex game, and argue that the victim got off on it, so how could it be rape. That is such bullshit, but a lot of idiot law enforcement types still believe if someone has an orgasm it can’t possibly be rape,” he whisper-yelled, not wanting to get thrown out, as Abby looked alarmed at his anger – used to seeing him as a jokester and Gibbs’ whipping boy.

“They’ll never break down and confess that they raped someone or express remorse because they don’t think what they did was wrong. They believe they are perfectly entitled to take someone’s autonomy from them because the victim turned them down when they hit on them, they dared to ignore them or any other lame-ass excuses that make no sense to normally wired people. And they are good at conning other people into believing them because they genuinely think they are entitled to rape other people.”

Abby was crying now. She was generally a kind-hearted soul – identifying with victims… so long as it didn’t get in the way of her hero-worshipping of Gibbs or her best friend – Cate or ex-lover Timmy McGee. And right there was a good reason why romantic relationships between workers were always fraught with difficulties – because long after their relationship ended, loyalties remained, and trumped the former excellent relationship he’d had with the forensic scientist before she started sharing her coffin with McGee.

It also put Tony right at the bottom of the pile when it came to Abby picking sides. To prove his point, she told him sadly, “But if you’d just kept your mouth shut in the bullpen and let Gibbs handle it, none of this would have happened. Why could you do that much, Tony? Now they’re gone”

Trying to ignore her lack of professional support for him, he wondered how she’d feel if two unqualified forensic techs turned up in her lab and called themselves forensic experts. What if, from the moment they came in they’d belittled her experience and ignored the fact she was a skilled forensic professional because they had a fancy degree in another field or worked in some fancy-assed job that had sweet FA to do with forensic science. He didn’t think she’d be advocating just keeping her lip zipped so they didn’t get into trouble because Tony thought of them as family.

Tony turned his betrayed green eyes on her and asked, “How do you figure that?”

“Well, he would have come in and head-slapped Timmy and then everything would have worked out. His gut would have known that Mrs Rawlins was innocent, even with the faked emails. He’d never have treated her as a suspect because ya know how he is about military wives and kids.”

Tony wished he had Abby’s unerring faith in Gibbs and his gut, but he didn’t. He could think of dozens of examples of how his so-called infallible gut had failed to alert them to dangers during cases, the Jeffrey White case and the missing Marines and Vanessa the barmaid, intent on avenging her dead girlfriends sprang instantly to mind.

“HR would never have been able to cut a swathe through our family if you’d held your tongue,” she whined, sounding like a spoilt brat. “McGee hates it over in LA, even if AD Vance is really impressed that he went to MIT.”

“Abby, neither Cate nor McGee had ever worked a sexual assault or rape case…”

“That’s not true. What about the Watson case where that dirtbag Captain Watson tried to embezzle two million dollars out of the JSOC (Joint Special Operations Command which funded Special Military units) by kidnapping his wife and his adorable blind daughter. That scum he hired raped Mrs Watson,” she argued stubbornly.

“That’s not true,” he said, mimicking her. “They never investigated that case because Gibbs made me hand over the rape portion of the investigation to Mo’s team after we caught Kyle Grayson and Captain Watson,” he corrected her sharply.

“Oh…well… they’re the experts,” she nodded self-righteously, never one to criticise her Shiny Tin God, aka Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

He nodded, although Tony was pretty sure that wasn’t why Gibbs foisted the rape portion of the investigation off onto the Family and Sexual Violence Unit. Director Morrow had ripped Gibbs a new one for letting the eight-year-old Sandy Watson listen to the audio of Grayson raping her mother because they were trying to locate Julie Watson and her daughter’s hearing acuity was off the charts. Child Services were up in arms that they hadn’t been called in before Gibbs questioned her, they would never have consented to the little girl hearing the audio of her mom’s sexual assault. She might not have fully understood the ramifications of what she heard now, although when she was older she would put two and two together and figure it out. Even so, it was still traumatic for the little girl to listen to her mother screaming, pleading as that prick Greyson raped her.

Sandy Watson was already going to be seriously messed up because her father used her as a pawn to steal money and for all he professed to fight for kids, Gibbs had been surprisingly unrepentant about the trauma he’d caused Sandy. But that didn’t mean that he hadn’t been scathing about the trauma Capt. Watson had inflicted on his family. A clear case of rules for thee but not for me, obviously.

But Tony was convinced the real reason for turning the rape crime over to Mo’s unit was that Gibbs got off on hunting down dirtbags. For him, he was like a bloodhound – once he had a target to fixate on, he would run it down until he caught his prey and then he would interrogate them to get a confession. Or if they lawyered up, he’d try to force them into incriminating themselves and make sure the paperwork got written up before gearing up for the next chase…err case. But with Greyson caught, Gibbs’ attention had immediately turned to locating who had set the whole thing up, as it soon became obvious he was just the kidnapper, not the actual brains behind the embezzlement.

When Tony brought up the matter of getting a statement from Julie Watson regarding her rape and organising for a rape kit to be done, Gibbs told him to turn it over to Mo. The rape component of the case would have to be tried in civilian court and Gibbs had even less patience with dealing with ADAs than he did with JAG.

“So, returning to my previous statement, Abbs, neither Cate nor McGee had ever worked a sexual assault or rape case, yet they were arrogant enough to question my experience and judgement. I couldn’t let it go, not even to keep your precious fucking family together,” he said brutally.

Seeing Abby recoil at his harshness before getting set to interrupt him, he held up his forefinger to silence her. He wasn’t done yet.

“I swore an oath to protect and serve. When I saw both probies fall into the biggest trap in the sexual predators’ playbook – DARVO – I couldn’t in good conscience let it go. I needed to respond to Cate’s one eighty-degree turn. All the way to Quantico Base Hospital, Todd wanted to neuter Davison without the benefit of anaesthesia, but he pulls out the DARVO defence and suddenly Laura Rowlins is the predator, victimising poor Jeremy Davison.”

“What the hell is DARVO, DiNozzo,” Abby said, pissed at him, as evidenced by her using his last name.

It’s an anagram for a reaction perps but especially sexual predators often display when they get caught and held accountable. It stands for DENY the behaviour, ATTACK the individual doing the confronting (in this case the victim Laura Rawlins) and REVERSE the role of VICTIM and OFFENDER – the perp assuming the role of victim and turns the real victim into the role of the offender.”

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. That’s exactly what Jeremy Davison did, and Cate and Timmy, both totally bought it,” she said, finally getting it.

“Yes, they did, Abbs. I hate rapists Abbs. They ruin lives. At least victims of homicide are dead and can’t continue to suffer. Sexual predators don’t just rape their victims but if they dare to report the crime and the cops actually believe them and manage to track down the perpetrators, metaphorically with DARVO they rape them all over again. They deny anything happened, attack the victim and in court their legal team reverse the roles of victim and offender, them assuming the role of a falsely accused victim.”

“It’s all about what he said/she said,” Abby nodded angrily. “The system rapes them again and again.”

Tony made a disgusted face. “And while you’re at it, don’t forget he said/he said, and she said/he said bullshit. Rape isn’t only a male crime against women you know,” he said bleakly, “and don’t even get me started on the rape statistics for transgender individuals, he told her heatedly. “The number of rapes that occurred while I worked Vice when trans sex workers were raped were horrendous but hardly any got reported.”

After that heart-to-heart, Abby was a lot less passive-aggressive towards him. She was still nursing some ill will over the break-up of the team but clearing the air had definitely helped.

It was why even though he was wincing at her overly enthusiastic greeting, he was happy that their friendship was not completely destroyed. It was a work in progress, and he wasn’t sure what the future held but for now, he settled for the fact she was obviously happy he was alive…if a bit battered.

“Hey, Abbs. Happy to see you, too. Let’s talk explosives.”

Chapter 28

“But first, let’s talk about how happy I am that you’re alive To-neeey. You’re a dyed-in-the-wool genuine hero!” Abby bounced up and down on her platform boots excitedly.

As was usually the case, whenever someone praised him, he didn’t know how to handle effusive compliments, because he never got any when he was a kid. Plus, he worked with a functional mute who believed extraordinary should be normal. So, Tony did what he normally did in that situation, he deflected, embarrassed.

“Just have a lot longer legs than Lyndhurst and Zeng do, Abbs. Now…’bout that bomb, oh Goddess of All Things Forensic. Let’s talk explosives.”

“Okay, Tony, but just because you have long legs, doesn’t make you less of a hero,” she told him proudly.

While he was relieved that their relationship seemed like it had taken further steps to be healed, he was eager to get off the topic of heroism. Giving her a lopsided grin, a genuine one, not his usual fake smiles, he deftly changed the subject.

“What’s your impression, Abby? I only got a really quick look at it, but my feeling was that it was a pro job.”

Letting him go albeit reluctantly, Abby nodded seriously. “Correct. I’ve run ten samples based on what was collected from the scene. The main electrical charge is C4, and it was primed with a det cord and blasting caps. Basically all high-grade military components.”

“At least that will make it easier to trace it back to the manufacturer,” he commented in relief.

“Normally, yes but that’s not going to fly in this case.”

“C’mon Abbs, all military explosives made in the last twenty years have had taggants mixed in for identification purposes, he argued.

“Yeah, I know that, but these explosives don’t.”

“So, did the bombmaker make the explosives from scratch?” Tony mused.

Abby shook her head vehemently. “Uh uh…the explosive is off the shelf,” she stated categorically.

As both were trying to wrap their heads around the seeming impossibility of that, Balboa stuck his head into the lab. “Tony, we’ve got problems, it is looking increasingly like someone is targeting the team.”

As DiNozzo trotted after his temporary team leader, he asked, “What’s happening?”

“Morrow wants to see us for a SitRep. I have Charlie tracking down the 911 call to the dispatcher. Em is investigating the pilots.”

“If this was an attempt to kill us, then Charlie won’t find anything from the 911 call. Whoever did this is a professional killer,” Tony stated.

“Yeah, but we still gotta do the due diligence,” Balboa said with a shrug because they both knew that.

“Not that I’m disagreeing about the team being targeting Ric, but I still reckon that the pilots weren’t just collateral damage.”

“I know. I agree but what was the killer after taking Westfall’s hands, Tony? That’s what we need to figure out.”

“Something else we need to ask ourselves, if we were really the target, were they after your team, Ric, or Gibbs’ team? That might help narrow down who’s doing the targeting.”

“True,” Balboa said as he entered his bullpen and looked around at the two junior agents.

Zeng’s disheartened look told them all that they needed to know. “Sorry, Boss. The call was anonymous and probably untraceable, but the 911 dispatcher is going to forward us a copy.”

“I expected as much, but we still need to see if Dr Sciuto can get anything off the recording,” he said, not sounding all that hopeful.

“Em, what do you have on the victims?”

Heading over to their plasma, Lyndhurst told Ric both men were stationed at Pensacola, but Westfall had been TAD for the last couple of months to Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, and that Lt. Jenssen was on leave, visiting his friend.

Seeing Charlie’s puzzled expression, Tony explained to the junior agent that a proving ground is where new military equipment or technology is tested.” Looking at Ric he said, “Did the killer/s take Westfall’s hands so they could access the Aberdeen base using his fingerprints?”

Ric nodded. “We should set up surveillance at Aberdeen tonight since I doubt if it’s their intention, they’ll try to move in before dark. But just in case, Charlie, alert security about a possible breach and to be vigilant.

Lyndhurst shook her head, “I checked Ric, and none of Aberdeen’s security systems rely on fingerprint or palm scanners.”

We need to go and talk to the mob at Aberdeen, nonetheless, to dot our I’s,” Ric said decidedly. “Do we know why Lt Westfall was working there?” Em shook her head in frustration. “All I could find out was that he was working with a firm called Danborn Avionics but what he was doing for them is highly classified, Boss.”

The team lead looked over at DiNozzo, knowing his security clearance was higher than even Ric’s since he’d been working on the MCRT for four years. He often needed to access top-secret data for cases they investigated or when he was working undercover.

“I’ll find out,” Tony promised as Em gave an exasperated huff.

“What about the car?” Balboa asked, knowing he was going to have to brief the director soon.

Charlie looked relieved to have something tangible to report. The kid really did wear his heart on his sleeve. “Lt Westfall and Lt Janssen rented it at Dulles Airport this morning,” he informed them.

“How did the anonymous caller know they were sailors? There were no military decals on the car, and they weren’t wearing uniforms,” Lyndhurst asked curiously.

Ric shrugged. “The killer obviously knew. By identifying them as sailors, he made sure NCIS would be contacted.

“How could the killer be sure we’d be called in?” Charlie asked looking puzzled.

Tony chuckled, despite the seriousness of the situation. “You’re kidding, right? Gibbs’ second B is for bastard reputation with local LEOs pretty much guarantees that they’ll fall over themselves to inform him as soon as the caller ID’ed the victims as being in the navy.”

His three temporary teammates sniggered, knowing what he said was true. All jokes at Gibbs’ expense aside, they were also pretty chastened by the idea that someone intended to kill them today. The only reason the bomber failed to achieve his objective was thanks to a harmless corn snake molesting a very snake-phobic agent and a highly observant senior field agent.

Leaving the bullpen, Ric and Tony were both pondering why someone wanted the team dead. Whoever it was had come too damned close to achieving their goal!

Entering MTAC where Director Morrow was keeping an eye on a military mission on the big screen, Balboa delivered a succinct SitRep about what happened at the crime scene that morning.

Morrow looked troubled. “Sounds like someone went to a lot of trouble to lure your team out there on that road today. Any idea why?”

Ric shook his head. “Nada…but we’re looking into it, Director.”

Tony spoke up. “What really bothers me is the explosive that was used to make the car bomb, Sir. It was military, high-grade, extremely difficult to trace and pretty tough to get, except in certain circles.”

“What are you suggesting, Agent DiNozzo?”

“Nothing right now, but I do wonder who the bomber was targeting – Gibbs’ team who most people would expect to take the call if they didn’t know that Gibbs was on sick leave or Ric’s team was standing in. We all know Agent Gibbs has pissed off a lot of people over the years, so my money is on the killer expecting Gibbs’s former team to rock up to the crime scene today.

Morrow thought about that assertion. “Please keep those suspicions to yourselves for now.”

Ric asked why and Tom told them it was likely that there were other factors in play, but he wasn’t currently free to discuss them.

Changing the topic, he said. “On a related matter, based upon what you’ve told me, I’ve decided to call in the FBI since it is obvious that someone is targeting NCIS Agents and trying to kill them.”

Tony was surprised that Ric didn’t immediately jump up and down and start yelling stuff about ‘not over his dead body’.

Catching sight of Tony’s bemused look, he said, “I think that’s probably a reasonable call, Sir.” He grinned at Tony, “I could have lost all three of my agents today if not for DiNozzo here, so, I’m going to welcome the additional help while we figure out why someone killed Lieutenants Westfall and Janssen.”

Tom looked relieved, and Tony was still feeling off balance. Inwardly groaning, Tony just hoped that didn’t mean Lina Reyes who had worked with the MCRT on the Micki Shields’ bombing case last November. She did not know the meaning of cooperation and was just as much of a hard ass as Gibbs.

“Without revealing information that I’m not at liberty to at the moment, I will say that I’m going to talk to the FBI director about bringing in a Terrorism Team. I’ll let you know when they’ll be here. In the meantime, keep your heads on a swivel,” he warned them.

“Just one more thing, Director. We think it would be prudent to set up surveillance at the Aberdeen Proving Ground where Lt Westfall was TAD. We were thinking about at least staking out the place tonight,” Ric told him, wondering what Morrow couldn’t tell them.

“Do we know what Westfall was doing there?”

“Lyndhurst asked but was told it was classified, Sir. DiNozzo is going to look into it because his security clearance is much higher than hers.”

“I’ll get onto SECNAV,” Tom offered. “That should speed things up considerably. Until we ascertain if your team or Gibbs team was the target, I think we should err on the side of caution and let the FBI and Lyle Foster’s team carry out the surveillance at Aberdeen,” he said.

Balboa nodded. “Fair enough. My wife was pretty upset after the Y-Pestis incident and nearly getting blown up today is not going to ease her mind,” he said, referring to his spouse of fifteen years.

Knowing his son was sick and awaiting surgery, Morrow and Tony nodded sympathetically.

“I can imagine, Lynnette was very shaken by that biohazard episode, and I was perfectly cocooned up in my office. Send your people home early, let them de-stress. It isn’t every day you survive a car bombing and get an early start tomorrow,” he said in dismissal, and Tony gave a tiny snigger on the way up the ramp to the exit.

Balboa shot him a look of askance. “What?”

“Nothing. It just sounded like the director was talking to himself – get an early start, Tom Morrow,” he chuckled a little hysterically.

Ric just shook his head in mock despair at Tony’s antics, but he knew he was just letting off some steam. DiNozzo’s body was subconsciously bracing itself for a head slap and when it didn’t arrive he gave himself a mental one. Ric wasn’t Gibbs and he didn’t go around head-slapping his agents.

Morrow watched the pair head for the exit then ordered a tech to get him the Director of the FBI which the tech proceeded to do to do.

Back in the bullpen, the team had decided to eat together before heading home. It was almost 1800, which was still quite early by NCIS standards when working on an ongoing case. Having missed out on lunch today with all the kerfuffle with the dead sailors and the car bomb, they decided to eat an early dinner together and have a bit of an impromptu debrief. Em as an ex-Marine lieutenant was handling the car bombing with equanimity but while Charlie was trying hard to project a nonchalant air, it was obvious to the more seasoned agents that he was pretty rattled by the events of the day.

Tony was fairly sure Zeng was engaging in a useless but completely reasonable game of What If. This involved going over the events leading up to the bomb exploding and thinking about how easily some minor change, like what if the snake was near the car and decided not to wrap itself around his leg, might have meant that the bomb exploded as soon as Em opened the trunk. That would have resulted in all three of them being killed and Tony completely understood why he would be finding it hard to let go of those thoughts about how close they all were to death today.

Even someone as experienced as Tony occasionally got caught up in playing the What If Game, so he’d suggested they eat a late lunch together and offer some emotional support as a team. Balboa was all in when he suggested dinner, declaring it a good idea and the former cop was happy to see that Ric didn’t tell Charlie to just suck it up and move on. Perhaps what surprised him more was that Em, despite being a bad assed Marine was remarkably gentle and supportive with her teammate. It was a very different team dynamic to Gibbs’ team, but then, Ric also didn’t make his agents compete against each other, either. It was nice!

As they sat around eating and sharing war stories of close calls they’d encountered to help Zeng get out of his own headspace, the director exited from MTAC and looked around the bullpens below. Spying them sitting together eating and joking about Tony’s chopsticks skills or lack thereof, he came down the stairs at a decent clip.

“Thought I gave you orders to go home early,” he said mildly.

Correctly assessing that Morrow wasn’t pissed at them, Tony owned up, “My fault, Sir. Was feeling a bit shaky after our close call today. Wanted a bit of company before heading home to my apartment to brood.”

Ric and Morrow manfully suppressed their looks of scepticism; Em was less successful at hiding her look of benevolence. Charlie just looked relieved, although about what was not entirely clear to observers; maybe he didn’t realise the other team members had sussed him out.

“Well, regardless, I’m glad you haven’t yet departed. There have been some rather startling developments.”

“The FBI?” Ric asked quickly.

“Yes, and no. They agreed to send six agents to assist Lyle Foster’s team, plus SECNAV has offered ten MPs as well so that Danborn Avionics will be under constant surveillance. I’m confident that with the additional manpower, we have that covered.”

Balboa looked at Tony who whistled. “Feebs giving us six agents, you must have been very persuasive, Director.”

“Not so much as you’d think, Agent DiNozzo. The FBI have credible intel that there is an Al-Qaeda cell operating in DC and is planning an attack right here in Washington. They have concerns that they intend to steal technology from Danborn Avionics, in light of the bomber taking Lt Westfall’s hands but not Lt Janssen’s.”

Ric looked bothered. “Okay that is startling, but what else, Director?”

Tom looked amused. “Oh, that wasn’t the startling news. You’ll remember that last month, during the bio-hazard attack, everything was incinerated per SOP for biological breaches.”

The team nodded since it had been a stressful situation.

“Well when Senior Supervisory Agent Gibbs returned to light duties today, he was reissued with a replacement phone. Since he isn’t cleared to go into the field, he was not reissued with a firearm.” Seeing Tony was about to interject he said, “And yes I’m aware that he still has access to his own personal firearms but I’m not going to make it easy for him.”

Tony looked at Ric, who had known Gibbs a lot longer than Tony and Ric shrugged. They all knew that it was going to be difficult to stop Gibbs because he was used to ignoring orders, and not taking them. Still, having seen how physically affected he was by the Y-Pestis, Morrow couldn’t afford to turn a blind eye to the former Marine.

“With respect, Director, good luck with that!” Ric said.

Snorting in amusement, Morrow nodded in acknowledgement. “True. However, the important point is that the cell phone he was reissued had a new phone number. I had Cyber reactivate a cell phone with Gibbs’ old number in case informants or others needed to contact him. I asked my executive assistant, Ms Sommers to monitor it and take messages. A short while ago, a caller left a message, wanting to meet, promising some valuable intel.”

“Who was it?” Ric quizzed his boss.

Morrow looked troubled. “The caller was male, didn’t leave a name, just said he was looking forward to sharing a pot of Darjeeling with Marta.”

Seeing Tony scowl, Tom asked, “You know who this is, Tony?”

He gave a curt nod. “Ari Haswari,” he growled. “Darjeeling was one of the items we seized from Yasir Qassam’s residence after NCIS killed him when we tried to arrest him. Haswari demanded it be returned to him, along with Qassam’s body, and his biological samples.”

“And Marta?” Ric asked.

“She was a Swedish terrorist who was working with the terrorist cell with Ari when Hamas tried to bring POTUS’s helicopter down with him and the Israeli Prime Minister on it. He shot her,” he reminded Morrow.

Morrow nodded looking at Tony, he realised he’d diplomatically left out the fact that Ari kidnapped Agent Todd by taunting her while she was out on the street. He’d ridden up on a motorcycle, flipping up his helmet visor so she saw him and rode off after performing several wheelies to goad her. Stupidly, Todd commandeered a Mini Morris that just happened to be at the traffic lights… and which just HAPPENED to contain Ari’s team sent to abduct her. Then instead of commandeering the car as per protocol and forcing the occupants out of the vehicle, Todd ordered them to follow Ari’s motorcycle getting into the vehicle with the occupant

While they were part of Ari’s cell, the probie had no reason to doubt that the vehicle’s occupants weren’t innocent members of the public. Ordering them to trail Ari could easily have resulted in them getting wounded or killed and it was one reason why it was definitely not SOP. In this case, failing to follow SOP made it ridiculously easy for them to abduct her and if Tom had gotten his way back then, she’d have let go back then, since she was still in her probationary period. Damn SECNAV for overruling him!

“So what’s the plan?” Ric asked.

“You’re not thinking of letting Gibbs meet him are you, Sir?”

“Why not, DiNozzo?” Tom asked, curious to see what he was thinking.

“Both men hate each other. Gibbs is still feral that Haswari invaded his territory and abducted ‘his agent’. And as much as I think someone profiled the MCRT, including Ducky, I’m pretty sure that Ari’s got some sort of sick obsession with Gibbs. The only thing that makes any sense, seeing that they barely know each other is that Gibbs represents a surrogate for the so-called mole. Someone he hates with a passion and given the difference in their ages, I’m betting it isn’t a sibling…it a parental figure, probably his father.”

“Nice profiling, Tony,” Ric slapped him on the back. “Why didn’t you ever tell Todd you did profiler training with the FBI when you were a detective?”

“I told her, Ric but she didn’t put much credence in it,” Tony said. “Cate honestly thought that Secret Service profiler training was the crème de la crème,” he said dismissively.

Morrow snorted at the thought of the very limited parameters of profiling conducted by the Secret Service as being better than the FBI but decided to follow up on what he said previously. “What makes you think that someone profiled the team and medical examiner?”

Tom was concerned. If Tony was correct, that meant someone at NCIS was helping him and that didn’t sit right, even if he was a true mole and was on their side. That was a massive can of worms that he was going to have to address after they dealt with this shit show.

“Okay, Ducky. Haswari used Gerald to control Ducky. Ducky might be in his early seventies, but it takes a lot to rattle him. He’s definitely a cool customer and just from some small things he’s let slip over the years, I’d say he has been involved in more than a few intelligence ops. But while he doesn’t spook easily, he would never endanger another individual, and Haswari went straight for his weak spot.”

Morrow nodded, impressed with DiNozzo’s profiling and that he’d picked up on Ducky’s rather colourful past.

“And Gibbs?”

“His territorial nature. A sign of an apex predator. Did you know that Gibbs told the HRT leader that it was his people that the terrorist was holding hostage therefore he was in charge, and Horowitz, a bad assed FBI agent, barely even meeped and said fine? Even shooting him in the shoulder showed Haswari set out to humiliate him – a flesh wound – which was intended to send a message that the alpha male who Gibbs considers himself, wasn’t considered a serious threat by Ari, just a diversion to let him get away with Qassam’s body. He didn’t hesitate to kill the two Fibbies from the HRT, so why spare Gibbs?” Tony asked rhetorically.

“He even showed up for a meeting with Gibbs after the abduction of Agent Todd and the Air Force One Helo incident. Even their tete-a-tete reeked of dick-measuring contests. If you told me that they had a spitting contest to see who could spit the farthest I wouldn’t be a bit surprised

“And you and Agent Todd?”

“Well setting me up with Marta – a seemingly harmless meeting when I was out running,” Tony said looking highly embarrassed. “I’m normally more suspicious of someone but out running with all those feel-good hormones circulating – I was dumb enough to fall for the cliched just happening to run into each other,” he said with brutal honesty. Needless to say, I won’t be doing that again.”

“What about Cate?” Ric prompted.

“Well someone obviously told him that although she can walk the talk theoretically profiling of an unsub as the FBI say, the moment she meets an individual, her abilities to physically profile a real person disappear. Todd’s incapable of stomping on her emotion and that impedes her ability to be neutral and dispassionate, which makes for a lousy profiler.”

“Right, she’s overly empathetic and can’t tell when someone is being deceptive,” Tom said, impatiently.

“Um no, her empathy isn’t always the problem. She met me and took an instant dislike to me, deciding I was both a jerk and an idiot,” Tony said. “Yet that murderous CIA agent Canton was telling the truth while faking being a Marine Colonel, a Mossad trained assassin, like Hawari had kind eyes so she didn’t shoot him, Suzanne O’Neil who killed a security guard at BFF and Jeremy Davison who was a serial murderer/rapist were all given the benefit of the doubt.”

“Okay, that’s weird,” Balboa pronounced. “Especially since she spent fifteen months working with you which should have been plenty of time for her to realise that she was way off beam with her first impressions.

“Anyway, while potentially, an ex-Secret Service agent would have posed a high risk in the hostage situation down in Autopsy given her protective training, he even offered her a chance to take him out with a scalpel, deliberately leaving it lying around and turning his back on her. Yes, it was a test, but if it had been Gibbs or even me, I doubt he would have run the risk. Someone fed him intel that she was too soft and would hesitate because she is ruled by her emotions,” Tony said.

You’re right, we should have been trying to find out who was feeding him intel,” Ric agreed, looking worried.

Morrow nodded. “And why did you call him a so-called Mossad mole? You don’t believe he’s a double agent?”

“I think that Mossad thinks he’s working for them he is, but I don’t believe it. When he shot Gerald in Autopsy, he was close enough to him that he could have shot him in his bicep. He shot Gibbs from further away and it was just a flesh wound. Gibbs didn’t even take sick leave, but that shot was more about humiliating the Boss, which makes me think Gibbs had become a surrogate for someone else who Haswari wants to demean but can’t.”

“So likely a close family member?”

“A male… an older brother, father, uncle most likely,” he said casually as Morrow decided to do some digging.

“Anyway, speaking as someone who successfully infiltrated the Mafia on more than one occasion, there was absolutely no need to put a bullet in Gerald Jackson’s shoulder socket when a simple flesh wound would have sufficed – it was callous and highly dangerous. Jackson could have lost his arm because Ducky had to clamp it to stop him from bleeding out as in dying. As we now know, Ari was a medical doctor and would have known that Ducky wouldn’t have the means to repair it in the morgue. The cruelty was deliberate because Haswari enjoys causing pain and playing with people – he gets satisfaction from it.”

As Tony told them, eighteen months later Gerald still hadn’t returned to work. “The brutality was intentional, and it was utterly unnecessary because a relatively minor injury like the one he gave Gibbs, would have more than sufficed in him establishing credibility. Of the three hostages, Gerald was the one who was the least threat – he had no hand-to-hand training, unlike Agent Todd, and no secret agent MI6 background like Ducky has. Yet he shot his ball joint deliberately.”

“Right, well that makes sense. So, you think he went native?” Balboa asked shrewdly.

Tony shook his head, “I think he could be a double agent, or he is playing both sides off against each other for his own amusement. I think if Gibbs had become an unwitting surrogate figure for his hate and resentment, then that person probably is with Mossad but most importantly, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”

“Right, well if you’re right about him, it’s just as well that I had Gibbs’ number changed. He’s not going to be meeting up with Haswari and I’m going to give him a protection detail,” Morrow said decisively.

“And the get-together over coffee with Ari?” Balboa asked.

“I suppose we just ignore Haswari’s invitation,” Tom said reluctantly. It’s not like we can send a fake Gibbs in his place – Haswari would know instantly.”

Both men looked over at Tony who’d gone awfully still all of a sudden and was no longer engaged in the conversation. Both men recognised he was making connections and let him be, waiting as patiently as they could.

Finally, after almost five minutes, he looked at Morrow and Balboa. “Is it just me or does anyone else think it’s highly coincidental that Ari shows up again tracking down a terrorist cell just when Lieutenant Westfall and Jenssen are killed. Particularly when the killer took Westfall’s hand and he’s on secondment to Danborn Avionics?”

“You think they’re connected?” Morrow asked.

“You don’t, Sir?” Tony looked surprised.

“I think we need to consider the possibility that they are connected. But why would Haswari reach out to Gibbs if they are connected?” he asked rhetorically, looking at both agents. “Granted, Jethro and Haswari have bad blood between them but if he is really a terrorist like you believe, then why tip Gibbs off that he’s back? It seems incredibly foolhardy.”

“Gibbs speculated to Cate that Ari needed to face death to feel anything,” Tony shrugged. “But let’s return to the car bombing. If all of us or even just one of the team had been killed in the explosion, that would have massively derailed the investigation. It’s highly unlikely that we’d have gotten around to checking out Aberdeen Proving Ground or organising surveillance on Danborn Avionics,” he said.

“The bomb was a red herring?” Balboa speculated. “So maybe not a personal attack.”

“Or both,” Morrow said. “So what? Ari wanting to meet up with Gibbs is more deflection?”

“If they are planning on stealing a drone from Dearborn, what better way to lure Gibbs out and attack him as if it is Ari getting revenge on Gibbs for shooting him during their last encounter,” Tony asked. “He probably wouldn’t mind taking Gibbs out too – two birds with one stone.”

“Plus he’d think that the team would be in disarray. If they do try to steal weapons from Danborn, they’re going to be in for a nasty surprise,” Ric snorted.

“SECNAV informed me that Danborn Avionics is working on an experimental remotely piloted aircraft prototype,” Morrow said grimly.

“Hmm, I still think we should show up for that coffee, Director. If we blow him off, he might pull the plug on raiding Danborn and the cell could turn to other methods of launching an attack. We want them to try to steal the drone,” Tony said grimly.

“I wish that was possible but I’m not letting an agent still not cleared for field duties meet up with a potential sociopath like Haswari,” Morrow said regretfully. “I’m sorry but that’s not happening.”

“I agree, but I could try to meet with him – tell him that Gibbs was injured in an incident a few weeks ago and sent me instead. He thinks I’m no threat, so maybe he’ll approach me if his raison d’etre in having coffee is to shift our focus away from Danborn.”

Tom looked like he was considering all the angles. “He might try to kill you instead.”

“Probably, which is why we need to stake the place out before the rendezvous and be prepared to take him out,” Tony said. “It’s likely he’ll use another explosive if it was Ari who rigged that car not just as a diversion. But he’s likely to use a bomb so he can make a clean getaway… he has to know Gibbs would try to shoot him.”

Balboa looked disturbed. “If you’re right, it sounds pretty risky, Tony. Besides, how can we staked out the meeting when we don’t know where it is?”

“Coffee, Ric? We know someone profiled Gibbs for Haswari. Where does Gibbs go for coffee? If he’s at the office, it’s that little coffee place two blocks down with the tables and chairs outside. He’s down there like clockwork at least four or five times a day, depending on when he leaves to go home. If he’s on his way to work or he wants to meet a contact then it is the dinner down under the underpass.”

“Ari would not want to have a rendezvous in that dinner – it’s too cramped,” Balboa said thoughtfully. “And only one way in and out.”

Since it was an old railroad carriage both men agreed it would be deemed too risky.

“So we stake out the coffee shop near the navy yard and we wire up Tony and put a GPS tracker on him so if Ari snatches him, we can track him,” Morrow said. “And no arguments about the tracker or I’ll make Dr Sciuto insert it sub-dermally, he said firmly, fixing Tony with a don’t-argue-with-me look.

Balboa decided to take a play out of DiNozzo’s playbook. “Be grateful it ain’t a rectal tracker, kid.”

Rolling his eyes at the pair, Tony huffed. “Okay, fine… but they better be damned discreet enough to fool a Mossad-trained operative, otherwise they’re going to get me killed if he smells a trap,” he warned acerbically.

Chapter 29

Tony had a prickly uncomfortable feeling like someone was watching him. Okay, technically there were a lot of people watching him. They had watchers posted all along the streets from the Navy Yard to the local coffee shop that Gibbs patronised. They were posing as joggers, lovers strolling arm in arm and stopping occasionally to make out, a young couple pushing a stroller, a dog walker, and a yoga enthusiast but it wasn’t any of these watchers that were making Tony’s skin crawl. After doing so much undercover work, he’d developed a sixth sense, able to feel when sociopaths and narcissists were close by.

He was pretty sure that Ari Haswari was probably both; he enjoyed inflicting pain and suffering for its own sake as Gerald Jackson could attest, but at least he was still alive. Two agents with HRT died by his hand and they’d never signed up to put their lives on the line so an undercover operative could kill them to use their deaths to infiltrate a terror cell when wounding would have served just as well. One of the two agents killed had been waiting for the birth of his first child.

Tony had sometimes had to resort to violence to sell his cover, particularly when he was working for the mafia. He hated it, even when he had to rough up thugs who didn’t hesitate to hurt others. He would try to inflict the least amount of physical damage on individuals as possible, he would never have shot someone in the ball socket to sell his undercover identity when a minor flesh would do the job. Nor did he ever kill someone just to validate his cover – he was enough of a smooth talker to be able to persuade his colleagues that there were better less risky ways to shut people up. Any killings attributed to his covers were faked ones – although that required planning ahead of time or once his handler had arranged for one of his victims to ‘die’ in hospital and convinced them to turn state evidence and enter WitSec.

Having witnessed other undercover operatives go native, most of them had done so after crossing the line of killing or being violent to maintain their cover. They started becoming addicted to murder and violence, gradually losing sight of the fact it was partly why they went undercover in the first place. Tony wasn’t sure if Haswari had started off as a decent person who was tainted by the physical acts of violence he carried out or if he already liked it before he started infiltrating the terrorist cells. If he had to bet though, Tony would say he was already corrupted and revelled in cruelty and pain. Poor Gerald was a good guy who was absolutely no threat to Ari, but that was probably the whole point – he got off on hurting people who posed no threat to him and that made him one very sick fucker.

That malevolence that was palpable to Tony, like a few consiglieri he’d encountered in mafia families, was disturbing – in a never-turn-your-back-on-them kind of way. He was getting equally bad vibes now, particularly when a motorcyclist pulled into the kerb beside him and seemed to be looking for something in the bike’s built-in pannier behind the seat. Tony had the distinct impression it was a ruse to check him out. Of course, being skilled in undercover work since he was a gifted chameleon, he briefly checked out the machine and the rider like any normal person would before dismissing the motorcyclist and looking appreciatively at the very pretty girl in the black yoga pants and pink-cropped tank top who was walking ahead of him, talking on her cell phone to her boyfriend, her fluoro lime green yoga mat rolled under her left arm.

Knowing he’d been profiled by the mole inside NCIS as a skirt-chasing jock, Deb Jarvis who was on the fraud team that handled cases such as embezzling of quartermaster supplies and shipments, and smuggling had volunteered to walk a couple of feet in front of him, so he could ogle her butt. He snorted inwardly, wondering if Cate was still around would she have volunteered herself like Agent Jarvis would? He concluded that it was highly doubtful. Just to sell his cover, Tony took out his cell phone and took several pictures of Deb’s assets, as he noted that the motorcyclist zoomed past him headed in the direction of Gibbs’ preferred coffee house. With his phone still out, Tony gave the nonverbal signal to Morrow watching in MTAC, pushing his aviators up the bridge of his nose, and then scratching his left cheek to call his cell phone.

Although he was wired, he didn’t want to create suspicion by talking to himself if he was under surveillance – which was just one of the reasons why Tony was so good undercover. He never took anything for granted – because you learnt very quickly that the slightest slip-up could give you away. So okay…he’d learnt this painful lesson when he was a kid, but it was a lesson he never forgot and consequently paid attention to even the smallest details. As soon as the Director rang his phone, which Tony had changed his phone’s ring tone to I’m Too Sexy by Right Said Fred, specifically for this gig, he answered the phone.

Cutting the connection, he pretended to have a conversation although really, he was giving a sitrep. “Motorcyclist just pulled over, ostensibly to look for something, but I think it was to check me out. Ari was on a motorcycle when they abducted Agent Todd and it is much easier to manoeuvre and escape, if necessary,” he pointed out.

In his very discreet earwig, he heard Morrow confirm they’d check out the rider and his motorbike. Unfortunately, he was wearing a visored helmet which didn’t exactly facilitate facial recognition software for identity verification – which was another good reason for using a motorcycle. Giving a fake but very realistic laugh, he said goodbye and pretended to terminate the call.

For the rest of the walk to the short walk to the coffee shop, Tony concentrated on Agent Jarvis’s six, being very obvious in his admiration. To be honest, given his profile, it would have been downright suspicious if he didn’t admire her derriere, it was pretty spectacular, and he wasn’t the only one appreciating it either. Besides, seeing Deb favoured far less form-fitting clothes for the office, he might not get another chance to do so.

Once he reached the coffee shop, Morrow informed him that the motorcyclist had parked around the corner. Continuing to play along with the ruse, Tony headed inside, joining the queue. Charlie Zeng, Ric’s junior agent had already been sitting at one of the outside tables. He was dressed as a student, wearing glasses, and using a laptop, chinos, and tee-shirt with a Smashing Pumpkins logo on the front and the ubiquitous iPod, seeing to nodding in time to whatever song he was listening to. Although Tony already knew that he wasn’t actually listening to music – it was a ruse to let him listen in to the chatter of his fellow agents who were in contact with Director Morrow.

Down the other end of the tables, Agent Janie Daniels was enjoying an iced coffee and a muffin, reading some lurid-looking bodice ripper romance. Oh, he was so going to give Danny shit about her reading habits later on. She was certainly doing an excellent job of blending in, dressed in a summery floaty floral sundress that was knee length and probably where she was concealing her firearm since her arms were bare. Ever since her undercover gig at The Scarlet Letter several months ago when Gibbs wanted to send Abby in to hack their servers and Tony pointed out that a forensic tech wasn’t permitted to do field work, Danny had gotten a taste for undercover work and Cassie and Tony had been tutoring her on the finer points. He would have to give her an A+ for today’s efforts

He knew that several agents were strategically placed near vehicles, most agents had opted to use their own vehicles since the agency vehicles stuck out like sore thumbs. Ric and Em were discreetly floating around somewhere, posing as a couple and ready to jump into Tony’s Mustang convertible he replaced his beloved ZR1 Corvette with after its tragic demise on live television, to pursue him if he was snatched. Both agents could drive a stick shift and he’d lectured them ad infinitum over not stripping his car’s gears or riding the clutch. The director also had several snipers covering the coffee shop and his six, just to be on the safe side.

Meanwhile, he entered the shop and joined the queue waiting for his order to be taken, standing in line behind Deb Jarvis. Maintaining his skirt-chasing personal, he proceeded to chat her up, flirting as she flirted back. Deb was surprised when he talked to her about yoga with enough factual detail to convince her he actually knew what he was talking about, and it added to the authenticity of them being strangers should anyone in the coffee shop be watching them. While Agent Jarvis was a redhead, which meant he tended to avoid her because of Gibbs, she was also recently married to a Marine she’d met while investigating a smuggling case. As she was already taken, it was fun to engage in some harmless if hardcore flirting, even if this was a deadly serious situation. Besides, flirting with people, regardless of gender was almost as natural to Tony as breathing – it was something he hardly needed to concentrate on, leaving him free to surreptitiously keep his eyes on his surroundings.

After ordering and paying for his coffee he stood to the side, waiting with Deb and the other customers for their orders to be filled, he noticed Special Agent Tommy Larson stroll up with his live-in girlfriend’s standard poodle and park himself down at a table near the entrance to the shop and pick up a menu. Tommy was wearing designer jeans and a white tee-shirt that did little to disguise his hours spent in a gym. Of course, everyone was checking him out, or if they weren’t then they were watching Remy Martin, his charismatic black standard poodle certainly attracted attention, looking every inch the Grand Champion he was. So it should come as no surprise that Ari should rock up and sit a few tables away, using the appearance of the man with his dog to slip in unobtrusively.

As the waitress took Larson’s order, and yes Tommy ordered a latte – extra milk for himself (how very French of him) following Tony’s earlier recommendation and the SFA of the arson team also ordered a grande puppaccino for Remy. The waitress was practically cooing at Remy before reluctantly departing to take Haswari’s order which was an espresso. Morrow informed Tony that the Mossad officer was carrying a messenger bag – one that looked like leather and was expensive. That jived with Cate’s observation that he liked living well, noting he had perfectly manicured nails and his teeth were perfect too. While he knew Cate wasn’t a true profiler, despite her belief in herself, Tony did trust her observations – just not necessarily the inferences she drew from them.

Probably because Ari’s order had been a simple one, his order arrived swiftly, according to Morrow who reported that he’d pulled out a newspaper from his messenger bag, using it as a ploy to extract something small, approximately the same dimensions as a note taker that he stealthily concealed underneath the table. Unfortunately, the tablecloths were making it impossible to determine what it was. Its size pointed to a bug or more concerningly, a small explosive device. Then giving credence to the fact that this meeting was being observed by at least one of Ari’s cohorts, he unfolded the paper (The Washington Post) appearing to immerse himself in the news. When shortly after, Tony exited, coffee cup in hand and started checking out the waitress rather obviously who in turn, blushed to the roots of her strawberry blonde hair and sidled up to him to offer him her cell phone, he hoped they weren’t overplaying their hand.

Agent Andy James was a probie, who looked like she was barely eighteen, but she’d had worked for years as a waitress while she was at college. She was not someone Tony was comfortable flirting with because judging by her blushing, she was attracted to him and after Wendy, he was too gun-shy to go out with anyone seriously. Still, he admired the adroit way she slipped the napkin into his pocket. He smiled at her and said, “I’ll call.”

She leaned forward, “I don’t think it’s a bug,” and she brushed an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder before moving away to take a newcomer’s order. As Andy sashayed away, her butt wiggling in her tight black jeans, Ari dropped his WaPo on the table glaring at Tony.

“Agent Meatball. Is Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs too afraid to meet me?” he greeted Tony mockingly, as his hand disappeared into his jacket pocket.

The undercover specialist strolled over, grinning. “Ah if it isn’t our favourite Mossad mole. No one believed me when I told them you wanted to organise a rendezvous with our fearless leader. All I got for my trouble was a head slap…well, I would have if Gibbs was around.”

“And where is Gibbs and Dear Caitlin and the computer guy?”

“Ah well, the computer one…Probationary Agent Timothy McGee was sent to San Diego, better career prospects and mentoring,” he said honestly. “Agent Todd requested reassignment to Norfolk FO after an incident on the team. Something about sexual harassment,” he shrugged casually knowing that Ari would assume he was the cause.

“Gibbs and I have been working just the two of us for a few months now, but hey it is what it is. Unfortunately, Gibbs pissed off the wrong people a few weeks ago. He was infected by an antibiotic-resistant strain of Y-Pestis and survived…just. But he’s still infectious and the CDC have him under wraps, poking and drawing blood numerous times a day. The Boss looks like a pincushion and he’s grumpy as all get out and fed up with quarantine,” he said shaking his head.

“That man absolutely hates hospitals…he signed himself out, AMA a couple of hours after you shot him in down in Autopsy, but the CDC is even more stubborn. He’s in lockdown ‘til they deem him non-infectious,” he shrugged. “Me, I’m filling in on various teams and enjoying the respite of not getting my head slapped every five minutes,” he said candidly.

Haswari looked at him sceptically. “If this is true, why have I not heard about it?”

“You kidding? The lunatic that went after Gibbs managed to bypass biohazard protocols. The last thing any of the alphabets want is to advertise there is a weakness in their biosecurity measures. Not until they have all the holes in the dike plugged up,” he said again being honest.

“Our Director issued a statement that NCIS and the CDC were conducting a joint drill to check on reaction times of personnel, and they lapped it up,” he said cynically, because it was true.

The bio-hazard breach was classified, and Morrow and the CDC had indeed announced in a press statement that it was a drill. Tony had long ago learnt that when undercover, it was best to tell the truth when it didn’t matter. It added authenticity to his performance.

Seeing that Haswari was nodding, it was likely he had heard about the drill.

Tony pulled out the cell phone, playing a couple of messages that were left on Gibbs’ old cell phone number including Haswari’s cryptic message. “I’ve got Gibbs’ phone, in case a CI is trying to reach him and can’t,” he said nonchalantly. “Must say, I didn’t expect that you’d be the CI since you and he aren’t exactly good buddies. Plus the Feebs told us you were in the Middle East, mole-ing.”

“Mole-ing?”Ari asked scornfully.

“Yeah, you know, being a mole. Okay enough chit-chat,” he said taking a sip of his café au lait. “The TAD team and I were nearly blown up by a car bomb today, and you are going to come back with me to NCIS so I can ask you some questions about that,” Tony told him seriously. “Methinks it too big a coincidence that you show up the day I’m nearly blown up. Gibbs has a rule about coincidences, ya know.”

“Ah yes… something about there being no such thing, I believe. But Agent Meatball, I’m wounded. If I had wanted to kill you I assure you that you would be dead already.”.

Tony shook his head sadly. If I had a dollar for every time a scumbag tried that hoary old excuse on me, I’d have been able to retire and move to Monte Carlo by now. So I’m afraid you’re still coming back with me for questioning,” he told Ari.

Ari looked languidly amused, “I’m afraid that isn’t possible. I have made other arrangements for the evening.”

Tony chuckled. “I think you misunderstood me. That wasn’t a request, and I don’t care if you have other plans, Haswari.”

Ari smiled at him wryly, “If you really think I’d come here to meet you without an exit plan, you’re even dumber than I was led to believe Agent Meatball. I’ve planted an explosive device under one of these tables,” he said before waving at a mother and a daughter who were sitting at the table opposite himself and Tony.

He pulled out a detonator from his pocket and pressed the button. We have three minutes before that innocent mother and daughter and everyone else sitting drinking coffee inside and out are blown up,” Ari told him.

”So… no more wasting time. Agent Meatball. If you’re a good little NCIS agent and do as I say, I might tell you where the bomb is,” he said patronisingly, convinced he had the upper hand, and that Tony was a chump.

“And there goes another dollar into my imaginary bank account,” Tony muttered sarcastically.

He knew that most of the tables were occupied by NCIS agents aside from the mother and daughter and a pair of young admin staff who worked at the naval yard but not NCIS. Andy was already helping to evacuate everyone inside the shop out the back way, so civilian casualties would be minimal but even one was too many. They needed to change their plan somewhat.

“Why did you come back to DC, Haswari?”

Ari smiled at him arrogantly “ There is an Al-Qaeda cell and it’s planning an attack right here in Washington. I’m here to stop it, of course.”

Tony asked the infuriatingly smug spy what the target was or even where the terrorist cell was located. Unsurprisingly, given his theory that Ari was a double agent, he shook his head. “Sadly, I do not know those things.”

” Wow! You’re doing a hell of a job for a Mossad mole aren’t ya,” Tony taunted him sarcastically.

Ari smirked. “Yes, well I can gain access to that information, but it will come at a price, one that you may not be willing to pay, Agent Meatball.”

Try me you asshole,”

“Al-Qaeda sent me here as a test and if I pass, I will be given access to the cell. The test was that the cell wants me to kill Gibbs,” he said.

Tony shrugged, “I can understand the feeling, sometimes I want to kill him too, he’s such a grumpy bastard.” He started to chuckle as he sipped his café au lait.

Seeing he was pissing off Haswari he said, “Ha ha, sucks to be you doesn’t – as I said, he’s in quarantine right now and the CDC ain’t letting anyone visit till he’s no longer infectious. They’re still trying to figure out how the devil the terrorists altered the original pathogens.”

Ari speculated that the terrorist cell would probably accept DiNozzo in place of Gibbs. He told Tony he would give him and his new team 24 hours to find and eliminate the cell but if he failed, then it was most likely that Tony and his team would be killed.

Tony gave his most aggravating smile. “Appreciate the head’s up, man and I’ll share something with you for nothing. You come after my team again like today, then it won’t matter what government agency is protecting you because I’ll kill you myself.”

Even though he could tell that Ari was rattled and definitely pissed because Gibbs was definitely a surrogate for someone he hated, and he was unable to kill him, Haswari had a reasonable poker face and managed to seem patronisingly amused at the thought of Tony posing a threat to him. He didn’t see him as a threat.

Sneering at him with what he probably believed to be a smirk, Ari told him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As he stood up and readied himself to leave, not bothering to leave a tip for the waitress, which was sloppy, Tony asked him. “What about the bomb, you said you tell me the location.”

“I lied. There isn’t any bomb,” he declared as he strode over to his motorcycle, donning his helmet and riding off into the twilight.

Tony jumped up from the chair, adrenaline pumping and ensuring that the residual soreness he felt from the earlier blast wave from the car bomb was forgotten, knowing that if the was an armed bomb under his table (and his money was on the fact that there was) they didn’t have a lot of time left.

The other agents started to evacuate the four members of the public who’d been sitting at the outside tables, while agents started feverishly checking all tables even though Tony had already located a device underneath the table where he and Ari had been sitting. They couldn’t afford to be complacent and assume that Ari had only placed one bomb however since you couldn’t believe a word out of his mouth, the guy was a pathological liar.

Fortunately, they only found the one bomb and Tony noted with a large side serving of dread that it was beeping alarmingly, the timer showed there were less than thirty seconds to go before it detonated. He knew immediately that there wasn’t time to defuse it – the bomb squad would take too long. Carefully removing it from where it was stuck to the underside of the table, the SFA figured the best option was to ditch it around back in the alleyway, lobbing it inside the heavy old-fashioned dumpster. Luckily, the dumpster was mostly empty, the lid was open, and Tony possessed an excellent jump shot perfected by spending hours on the court at RIMA OSU and pickup games at the YMCA. Since the hoop in this case was a dumpster, he threw it from a long way back and turned to get as far away as he could before it went boom.

Although the bomb wasn’t as big as the car bomb earlier today, it would have probably killed the mother and her daughter and the young couple engaging in gratuitous displays of personal affection licking the whipped cream from their iced chocolates out of each other’s mouths, if Charlie, Danny, Deb Jarvis, and Tommy Larson hadn’t been there to evacuating them with brutal efficiency. Still, Haswari didn’t know that they wouldn’t take him at his word – he was supposed to be a Mossad mole, not a terrorist bomber.

Haswari was a pathological liar, but he was also a sociopath who didn’t care about collateral damage. Feeling the rage building in him as Tony picked himself up off the ground, noting he had a couple of minor lacerations from shrapnel, but nothing that required a trip to the ER, he mused over the practicality of wearing one of those body suits that the explosives guys wore while disarming bombs. No seriously, being so close to being blown up twice in one day sucked. If he was a family man, he’d be increasing his life insurance after today. Tony was willing to bet when Abby analysed what was left of the bomb she’d find the same high-grade military explosives, also sans taggants, identical to the ones that blew up Lieutenants Westfall and Janssen’s rental car this morning.

As he made his way back to the front of Gibbs’ favourite coffee shop, he noted that except for a few shattered windows and the tables and chairs were strewn about, everything else was undamaged, as were other shops on either side of the coffee shop. Tony started to feel the rage building in him. He was now as sure as he possibly could be that Ari Haswari was pulling the wool over Mossad’s eyes – he might have been their agent once…maybe but not anymore. Like so many others before him, he went native on them or else, he was never theirs to begin with.

He was relieved when the director ordered him back to the office for a debrief and SitRep. Later when they were seated in conference room three, one of the moderately sized ones with Director Morrow going over the operation, Tony suggested that they borrow a navy helicopter take the forensic evidence from the bomb and head to the NCIS office at Norfolk and have Abby run comparisons on the car bomb.

“What’s wrong with the lab here, Agent DiNozzo?” Tom wanted to know.

I think that Ari is trying to take out the MCRT to mess with Gibbs’ head. It’s no secret he’s a territorial bastard and that he a soft touch where Abby’s concerned. In case he didn’t believe me about Gibbs or even if he did, he knew if anything happened to her, the Boss would come for him, even if he had to break out of quarantine to do it.

Those massive windows into her lab are too damned vulnerable for someone with a sniper’s rifle – plus he no doubt knows that Gibbs was a Marine sniper – so it would be in keeping with Haswari to kill Abby with Gibbs’ weapon of choice.”

“But Gibbs isn’t here…you told him that we have another team filling in as the MCRT,” Charlie objected.

Yes, but I don’t think that Haswari knew that when he went to the coffee shop today, And although I think that his plan was created based upon the profiling that someone provided him with, which means he probably knows why Gibbs is so protective towards young women and kids” he said significantly, looking at the director who nodded resolutely.

“You know?” Tom asked.

“Yep. All’s fair Director. He had Pacci do a deep dive on me, and I wanted to know who it was that was watching my six. Wasn’t that hard… it made the newspapers.”

“I still think he’ll attack Abby’s lab tonight to try to keep us jammed up and not focused on the bigger picture. If we’re right about them needing a drone from Danborn Avionics then it would be crucial for them to keep us focused on keeping our own people safe,” Tony maintained, looking at Zeng who nodded, a light seeming to come on inside his head.

“Wow, that’s sneaky!” the young agent blurted out.

“That’s cold-blooded,” Tony countered as Charlie looked abashed.

“Okay, if he wanted to distract Gibbs, threatening Abby makes a lot of sense,” Morrow conceded. I’ll contact Director Hutchens and see if Dr Sciuto can borrow a lab down in the Hoover building. It will be quicker, but just in case Haswari decides to adapt his play now he knows that Gibbs is out of reach, I’m going to put the office on emergency standby. He could just as easily try to attack anyone to create a diversion.”

For roughly ten minutes, Morrow discussed extra security measures for the staff – field agents would be alerted to increase situational awareness, travel in pairs to watch each other’s sixes, and wear bulletproof vests when they left the building. Administrative staff would have to also observe increased security measures which he was currently hashing out with the other senior supervisory agents present when Agent Lyndhurst entered the conference room. Ric beckoned to Morrow and Tony to follow them out while Em took a seat at the table near Charlie, who was still looking buzzed by the undercover op.

Talking softly in the hallway, the director said, “Problem Agent Balboa?”

“Yeah, maybe Sir. Lyndhurst ran into Tobias Fornell when she entered the building. He says he’s got urgent information for you, Director.”

“Probably sent here to tell me to back off Haswari,” Morrow mused, as he tried to figure out if he could just ignore the FBI agent.”

“I think you should hear him out,” he said respectfully.

“He told her?” Morrow looked at Balboa in surprise.

“Yep.”

Sighing, he asked, “Where is he?”

“Down the hall in Conference room 1,” he said, referring to the smallest of the five communal meeting areas, usually used to talk to witnesses or the family of victims.

“Fine, then I guess we’ll go and hear what he has to say,” he said glumly.

After the bare minimum of pleasantry were exchanged between Fornell and Director Morrow, Fornell wanted to know where Gibbs was because he wasn’t answering his cell phone.

“He’s under the protection of a bunch of Marines at an undisclosed base,” Morrow told him. “Why do you want to know.”

Looking dour, he said, “Ari Haswari is back in the country.”

Not expecting the FBI to come straight out and say this, Tony scowled at Fornell. ”I probably should be shocked that you lot let that sociopath back in the States without bothering to informing NCIS, Gibbs and the team, but I must confess that it’s what I’d expect for a bunch of douchebags.”

“Indeed.” Tom agreed grimly. “I guess the real question is why are you bothering to share this information with us now?

Fornell made a moue of disgust. “Ari’s stateside because he’s supposed to be helping us to uncover a terrorist cell in D.C.”

“What do you mean, supposed to, Fornell?”, Tony zeroed right in on the pertinent part of the message.

Fornell hesitated a beat before he explained that they had reason to believe that Haswari had come back for more personal reasons. “And the main one is that he’s planning on killing Gibbs,” he said sombrely. “Are you sure Gibbs is well protected. From what I saw when I stopped by last weekend, he’s not up to taking on Haswari,” he said worriedly.

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