Chapter 1 - Late Again

Tony DiNozzo entered the almost empty, tiny one bedroom apartment and sniffed the air expertly.

"You had pizza for lunch: the lot – including the anchovies."

Ziva lowered her binoculars and regarded him nonchalantly from her vantage point at the window. "There are no leftovers, Tony."

"Oh Man!"

Outside, nightfall was just throwing a rosy glow on the horizon but it could not cast a favorable light over the spartanly furnished room. Three collapsible desks had been manhandled together and loaded up with two monitors, headphones and uncountably many cables. The two chairs were vintage 1960 with torn green vinyl seats and backrest questionably supported by four rusty legs. The bare wooden floor was littered with discarded coffee cups.

"Where's McGee?" asked Gibbs removing his headphones and placing them carefully on the desk next to two empty pizza boxes.

Tony bit his tongue as the words "Late again" tried to blurt out. "Coming," he said finally.

"Bringing pizza, is he?"

"He will be." Tony whipped out his cell.

"Hello," answered a groggy voice.

Tony's eyes swiveled to Gibbs but not a muscle twitched on his face. "McGee: I know you're almost here at the stake out but could you stop off and pick up a pizza."

There was a few seconds of confused silence on the other end of the line followed by a panicked tone. "What time is it?" Then incoherent mumbled began:"I must have dozed off. Stake out again tonight? Can't we just admit the intel was wrong and get some sleep… I've got one sock on – no half a sock. How could I fall asleep in the middle of putting on a sock?"

"Great," Tony interrupted. "See you soon." He clicked off the cell and looked steadily at Gibbs. "He's almost here, you guys can go."

Ziva fought to force the ancient window closed but only managed a painful scraping against the frame and a small addition of white paint flakes to the existing pile on the sill. Gibbs strode over to her and gave the frame three well placed hits before sliding the window closed.

"They're temperamental at this age," he noted.

Ziva nodded and began the task of collecting coffee cups from the floor.

"How was it?" Tony asked dumping his bag on the floor next to desk.

Ziva screwed up her face, trying to find the right words. "Do you remember how incredibly boring it was last night?"

"Yep"

"…and how completely boring his apartment was when we searched it?"

"Oh yeah," Tony shook his head.

What a non-productive day that had been. While Gibbs conducted probably the world's blandest interrogation, the three younger agents took their search warrant and conducted the world's most mind-numbing house search. Two bedrooms, one kitchen, one bathroom, one laundry, one lounge/dining room and a whole lot of beige with the possible exception of the front door which was an incongruous bright red. Years from now, someone was going to see the photos they took that day and wonder why they were sepia toned. The place made Gibbs' house look like the centerfold spread in a housing magazine. They had searched through every cupboard, every closet, every dull, beige nook and cranny and found absolutely nothing. Yet they all knew that the occupant was still dealing and the stuff was coming out of the house.

Tony sighed at the memory. "That was the most incredibly bor…"

"Today's surveillance was much, much worse." Ziza assured him. "The man has a schedule – I have itemized it for you here." She pointed to a piece of paper on the table then resumed collecting cups. "Yesterday was the exactly the same and tomorrow will be more of the same." Securing the final cup at the top of the enormous tower in her hand, she stood. "Enjoy."

With that, she grabbed her backpack and left smiling the relieved smile of the free.

Gibbs sidled up to Tony, two pizza boxes in his arms. "Next time you might want to call him before you leave your place," he said quietly in Tony's ear as he walked out the door.

"Ahh, right boss."