Though summer was long gone and autumn had painted the world in its brown and red colours, the particular morning was bright and even quite warm. 26-year-old Samuel Perkins didn't even need to wear a jacket as he went down the stairs of his home and then straight to the kitchen, his step brisk and light. He was in particularly high spirits, after all, and he didn't even bother to hide it as he greeted his mother with a big grin on his face.
"Good morning!" A light peck on her cheek later, he had grabbed a seat and settled down.
"And good morning to you too," Sheila Perkins said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Who are you, and what did you do with my Sam?"
Sam grinned. "What can I say? It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining, the birds are singing…"
"Mhmm," she said, amused. "And her name is…?"
Sam had the courtesy to blush. "Next thing I know, I'll have a light shining straight into my eyes," he muttered.
She smiled sweetly. "No worries, I only reserve that for the very bad people," she said, straightening her uniform. "In this case, I'll just bribe you with your favourite." And, true to her word, she produced a mouth-watering, scrumptious-looking French toast.
Sam regarded it for a few seconds, acting as if he was considering the situation; but then took the plate with a grin. "Her name's Audrey."
"Nice name," the navy lawyer commented with a smile. In the next moment, her watch beeped, making her check the time with a sigh. "Well, as much as I'd like to stay and learn all the dirty details, duty calls." She looked up at him. "You need a ride anywhere?"
"No, Jimmy will come and pick me up."
"Okay, but he'd better not be late like last time," the woman said, heading towards her room.
"He won't!" Sam called after her. In the next moment, as if right on cue, he felt his mobile vibrating in his pocket, so he dug it out to screen the number. Smiling, he ate his toast in a few big mouthfuls and then walked out in order to greet his friend.
Perkins opened the door to her room, her eyes already scanning for her briefcase. She was working on an important case and she preferred not to be late…
Ah, there it was, on the chair next to the window. She strode across the room and reached for it, only to stop in his tracks at the next moment. For it was then that she caught sight of what was happening outside the window. A blue-green car – Jimmy's car, if her memory served her right - was parked just a couple of feet away. Sam was outside as well, but he wasn't greeted by the familiar face of his friend. Instead, another man lunged out of the vehicle and grabbed Sam violently, forcing him inside the car.
"SAM!" the woman exclaimed, and she rushed downstairs, hoping to reach him in time. By the time she was outside, though, the car had already driven off, its chassis shining in the distance.
"Oh my god…" was all she could say before she mustered her wits and dug out her phone. "H-Hello? I'm at 200 Delaware Avenue NW; I want to report a kidnapping! It's my son!"
"You're kidding," Tony said, regarding both Ziva and Tim from his comfortable spot of his desk.
"That's your department, Tony," the woman replied, not bothering to look up from her computer screen.
Tony frowned once more. "So it's official?"
It was Tim that looked up this time, a frown of curiosity on his features. "Didn't you get the memo?"
"There was a memo, too?"
"Yes," Ziva and Tim replied at once.
"I didn't get one."
"Maybe if you looked under all that pile of papers you've buried yourself in?" Ziva suggested.
"I'm telling you, I didn't get any. If I had, I would have opened my drawer and put it in there, like…" he paused, the very memo in question gracing the top of the extra pile of papers inside. "…this one."
Ziva and Tim simply shook their heads, familiar with Tony's antics by now, and they continued typing.
"Okay… so what's their name?" Tony asked, closing the drawer without bothering to take out the memo and read it.
Timothy looked at his own memo. "Nathan Hudson. According to the director, he's to accompany us in several investigations as part of his training programme."
Tony cocked his head. "Now that's something that hasn't happened before."
"Vance made sure it happened. Direct order."
Tony's eyebrows shot up. "And how did Gibbs take it?"
"Black, no sugar; I thought you'd know it by now, DiNozzo," Gibbs' voice sounded in that very moment as the man walked in, tossing a file on Tony's desk. "A Samuel Perkins was kidnapped from his home earlier this morning. His mother, naval lawyer Sheila Perkins, witnessed the whole thing. We're leaving in ten minutes."
"Uh… Boss, shouldn't we wait for the trainee…?" Tim ventured.
Gibbs' 'did I say we're going to talk about it?' look was enough as an answer, and Tim swallowed hard.
"…10 minutes it is."
It didn't take them long to reach Latour Avenue and the Perkins' house. The woman herself was already waiting for them, accompanied by another man in his late 70s – her uncle, as she said. So, as Tim started taking pictures of the crime scene and Tony tagged everything that might catch Abby's interest, Gibbs and Ziva headed outside to take Sheila Perkins' statement.
"Ms Perkins, you said you were upstairs when it happened?" Gibbs asked, keeping his eyes locked on the lawyer.
"Yes," Sheila replied. She was keeping her tone steady, but it was obvious she barely held it together – she was wringing her hands in a nervous manner. "I went to my room to get my briefcase and I saw everything from the window."
"Did you manage to take a good look at the kidnapper?"
"No... It all happened too fast," she murmured, but then her eyes widened slightly. "What I can tell you is that there were two of them. The one who grabbed Sam came out from the back seat. There must have been a driver too."
Gibbs nodded silently. "You said that the car belonged to a James Lawson."
"I did," she replied. "…But… it couldn't have been Jimmy driving; he and Sam were best friends since childhood!"
"Officers, please. My niece has been through enough for the day," Thomas Perkins said in that moment, placing his hands on his niece's shoulders to soothe her. "The more we talk, the less chances we have getting Sam back."
"We're doing everything we can," Ziva said in a placating manner.
Gibbs, however, preferred to talk business. "Have the kidnappers tried to contact you yet?"
Sheila shook her head.
"We'll need to set up our equipment," Gibbs said, standing up.
"Okay," she said softly. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Just leave it to us," Ziva said. As for Gibbs himself, he walked up to the window and located Tim, still taking pictures.
"McGee! Bring in the equipment!"
"On it, Boss!" Tim replied, already turning on his heel. What he didn't expect to see in the next moment, however, was a dark-haired man in civilian – no older than Tim's age - wandering in the crime scene. The man's gaze kept drifting in every direction to take in everything with a calm, albeit curious look in his eyes.
Tim sighed wryly. As if they needed this…
"Sir, this is a crime scene. I'm going to have to ask you to step back."
"Actually, that's what I'm here for," the man said, smiling politely. "I was told I would find the NCIS team under the command of Jethro Gibbs here? I'm here for my training course."
Tim blinked. "Umm… Nathan Hudson?"
"That would be me," Hudson said, holding a hand in Tim's direction. "I take it you're in the team I'm assigned to?"
"Actually, yes," Tim replied, completing the handshake. "I'm Timothy McGee, this is Tony DiNozzo…"
Tony didn't bother looking up. He simply waved a hand, preferring to focus on picking up the cigarette butt that he had just spotted.
"Ziva David and the boss are still inside with the mother…" Tim stopped, realizing something important. "Do you know why we're here?"
"Yes, Director Vance informed me when I arrived at the office."
Tim blushed in mild embarrassment. "Yeah, sorry about that. It's just that in such cases you have to act quickly and we couldn't-"
"McGee! Equipment!" Gibbs barked in that very moment.
Tim winced. "On it, Boss!" he cried before looking at Hudson in apologetic manner. "Sorry, I have work to do."
"No problem," Hudson said. "I could even help you if you like."
Tim blinked at the offer… but he certainly wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Sure. Come along."
Hudson smiled politely once more, and he followed Tim to the small van.
Once they had carried everything to the living room, they set down to work. It was true that Tim was worried for a moment that he'd have to guide Hudson through everything, but, fortunately, the trainee seemed to know his way around the equipment. In less than ten minutes, everything was installed properly.
"Shall we test it?" Hudson asked as he finally stood up.
"Yup," Tim said, sitting down. Even as he typed though, he couldn't help but notice Hudson massaging his neck with a slight wince. It didn't take a great mind to guess that the muscles had been strained as the man had bent over cable after cable for such a long stretch of time. "It should be okay in a few minutes or so."
"I hope so or I'll be in trouble," Hudson said in a mildly wry tone.
"Is it working, McGee?" Gibbs asked, his impatience more than just a little audible.
Tim remembered himself and he looked at the readings on the screen. "Yes, Boss."
"So you roam the lands of techdom like McGee here, probie?" Tony asked then, watching the trainee with a raised eyebrow.
"I'm familiar with basic stuff; I'm by no means an expert, sir," Hudson replied, shrugging slightly.
Tony pondered on the answer, the look on his face indicating that he had accepted it as good enough. Tim, however, had worked with Tony long enough to realize that there was also a mischievous glint in the senior agent's eyes. Unless he was sorely mistaken – which he wasn't, not by a long shot - Hudson was about to be welcomed to the team the same way Tim himself had been: being hazed.
"Well, the job I have for you will be bit more challenging, but I think you have what it takes," Tony said, acting innocent.
"Sure, what do you need, sir?" Hudson asked.
"Got paper and pen?"
"Yes, sir," Hudson replied, taking out a small notebook and a pen out of his pocket.
"Right. Black, one sugar and make sure it's not any of that instant stuff," Tony said, smirking. "Got it?"
Hudson's eagerness ebbed, replaced with a wry look that clearly said 'I should have seen that coming a mile away'. Nevertheless, he nodded and wrote everything down. "Got it, sir."
"McGee, what about you?" Tony asked, unfazed.
"Um… I'm fine," Tim replied, wincing inwardly that he had to be dragged into this.
"Ziva?"
The woman shook her head. "No, thank you."
"Be right back then, sir," Hudson said with a calm smile, and he walked outside. Only then did Ziva approach Tony and stood next to him, her arms crossed.
"That's not the way you drink coffee."
Tony smirked. "He doesn't know that."
Gibbs slapped the back of Tony's head and then turned to Ziva. "Go get him back."
Ziva knew better than to argue with Gibbs and, besides, she believed Hudson had deserved a fair warning about his co-workers before Tony took out his guns, so to speak. When she went outside to call him back, however, she was surprised to see that the man not only had already crossed the road, but he was even talking to the waitress, a friendly smile on his lips.
Just what we needed; a second Tony, she thought with a long-suffering sigh, and she quickly crossed the road in order to retrieve him. He must have spotted her through the corner of his eye, though, for he instantly looked in her direction, seeming surprised.
"Did you change your mind?" he asked.
"No, Gibbs made sure Tony changed his," she replied. "Come on."
"Actually," Hudson said, putting his notebook back in his pocket, "Do you mind if I show you something, Agent David?"
Ziva raised an eyebrow at that; nevertheless she decided to indulge him. "What is it?"
"Ms Evans," the man said, introducing the smiling waitress, "told me that there was a man sitting at this particular table here," at that, he pointed at a table close to the large window. "He seemed to be very interested in what was going on outside."
Ziva frowned gently as a suspicion started forming in her mind and she went inside the café, Ms Evans and Hudson following close behind. Her eyes never left the window as she sat down and, sure enough, she could see the Perkins' house as plain as day.
"Any idea how long he had been waiting here?" she asked.
"A couple of hours, maybe; I didn't really check the time," the waitress replied. "But I'm pretty sure he left after he talked to someone on his phone."
"Did you hear what he said?" Ziva asked.
"No, sorry," Ms Evans replied with a sheepish smile.
Ziva smiled reassuringly. "It doesn't matter," she said. "You can give a description to Agent Hudson so we can keep a lookout for him."
"Sure," she said with a nod. "Let me talk to my boss and tell him to cover for me."
"Of course," Ziva said. The waitress had hardly taken a couple of steps though when an idea formed in her mind.
"Actually… could you make me some coffee while at it?" she asked, rubbing her hands in glee inwardly.
Tim watched Sheila Perkins pace up and down the room, worry written all over her features. He wished he was able to say something in order to comfort her, but, for one thing, he doubted there was much he could say and, two, that wasn't why he was here. All he had to do was wait for that phone-call and get ready to trace it.
"Shouldn't they have called by now?" she finally asked Gibbs.
"There's no time limit to these things," Gibbs said calmly. "They'll call when they are ready."
"Samuel could be dead by then!" she exclaimed.
"If that happens, then we'll make sure they're brought in," Gibbs answered.
The woman opened her mouth to voice her further objections, but the sound of the door opening made her turn around. Tim couldn't help but wince as he saw her hope changing to disappointment as Ziva and Hudson walk in, however.
"Glad you could join us once again," Gibbs said, addressing Hudson, and then he faced Tony. "DiNozzo, take Ziva and head to Lawson's house; see what you can find there."
"On it, Boss," Tony replied, and then frowned as Ziva held up a cup of coffee for him. "What did you put in it?"
"Nothing," she replied innocently. "It's exactly as it should be."
Tony pursed his lips warily; nevertheless he decided to take a sip.
"…for a Turkish coffee," she added.
Tony instantly grimaced as the bitter dregs hit the back of his throat full force, but she simply grinned.
"Enjoy," she declared, patting his back, and she walked out.
Tim was glad for the large computer screen, especially since he could hide behind it and grin.
"Does this thing happen a lot?"
Tim sobered and cleared his throat in a heartbeat before facing Hudson; the trainee had settled next to him, a frown of curiosity in his eyes.
"I'm sorry… What?" he asked.
"This thing between Agent DiNozzo and Agent David… does it happen a lot?" Hudson elaborated patiently.
Tim pondered on his answer, but finally deemed honesty was the best policy. "All the time."
Hudson seemed surprised at that. "And they haven't killed each other yet?"
"Nope."
"…Heh."
"Hudson, got something for me?" Gibbs said in that moment, his eyes boring down on the trainee.
Hudson instantly stood up. "Actually, yes, sir, I…"
Tim winced in sympathy, knowing what was coming next.
"This is the first and the last time I'll say this, Hudson. You don't call me 'Sir'. You call me 'Boss'," Gibbs said in his no-nonsense tone.
Hudson mouthed a subtle 'oh'. "Yes, s…Boss. As I was saying, a waitress from the café told me about a suspicious-looking man; he gave her the impression he was spying on the Perkins' house shortly before the kidnapping."
Gibbs looked at him intently.
"And… she gave me a basic description. Male, Caucasian, mid-thirties, black glasses, casual clothing consisting of a red jacket and black trousers."
"That's not much to go on."
"She didn't get that good a look at him. Still, I took the liberty of asking her to come by the office. She can give a criminal sketch artist a more detailed description there."
"Are they waiting for her?" Gibbs asked.
"Yes, I've already sent a message ahead."
Gibbs took in the piece of information and then turned to Tim. "McGee, have you collected everything from the crime scene?"
"Yes, Boss," Tim replied.
Gibbs nodded again. "Hudson, you take McGee's place in surveillance. McGee, go to Abby and see what she'll find."
"On it, Boss," Tim said, standing up.
"Yes, Sir."
Gibbs glared at Hudson. The trainee, on the other hand, looked like he was about to kick himself.
"Boss," he corrected, sitting down.
Gibbs nodded, considering the matter closed, and then headed out of the living room.
"I can't believe you tried to feed me that stuff," Tony mourned. He wasn't facing Ziva, but he was certain that the woman was sporting one of the finest examples of a Cheshire-cat grin to grace the face of the earth.
Her grin simply grew broader as she sat in a relaxed manner in the passenger's seat, facing him. "And here I was, thinking I was opening your mind to new experiences."
Tony didn't bother for any other retort. He just stretched his hands in her direction. "Just give me the water." Anything to get rid of that awful after-taste…
She obliged him, thankfully, and he took a good swing from the bottled water. Just then, his eyes caught sight of a small house, its grey and worn form hardly impressionable. "Is that Lawson's place?"
"Must be," Ziva replied.
Tony nodded and parked the car. When he saw Ziva pulling out her gun though, he instantly lifted a finger, as if he were a teacher scolding a small naughty child.
"Ah ah ah… First we ask questions; then we shoot."
"Not that it ever works that way with us," the woman pointed out dryly. Still, she complied and put the gun back inside her jacket.
"Good girl," Tony grinned, and the two of them walked up to the doorstep. He knocked on the door once, only to see that there was no need for such formalities; the door was already open.
"Tony," Ziva said, nodding to the lock.
Tony looked down and he saw the same thing: the lock had been tampered with and quite roughly at that. He exchanged a look with Ziva, the same thought crossing their minds, and they took out their guns. Tony used his foot to open the door further and took a good look inside.
Nothing. The place seemed, in fact, quiet.
"Go," he said.
Ziva nodded and stepped inside, ready to shoot if she had to. She walked slowly with Tony close to her heels, both of them as alert as they could be. Even if it weren't for the bloody boot-prints on the wooden floor, they were both sure they were about to get themselves a nasty surprise.
The surprise was indeed waiting for them in the living-room, where a young man in his twenties was sprawled on the floor, his mouth parted slightly and his eyes in a lifeless gaze. The carpet was soaked in the man's blood and brain matter; the obvious result of a bullet going right through his skull.
Tony pursed his lips. It looked like they could scratch off James Lawson off their list of suspects…
The first thing that Tony did after informing Gibbs about the new development was to call Ducky and let him know that his expertise would be needed in the scene of the crime. And so, about an hour later, the silent, macabre room was bustling with life once more, filled with agents that gathered as much evidence as possible. Dr. Mallard and Palmer hardly noticed them, however, as their focus of interest still lying on the floor.
"You never thought this would have happened when you woke up this morning, did you?" Ducky mused, still examining the dead body. "Mr. Palmer, please take photos of the bruising in our friend's hands here."
"Of course, Dr. Mallard," Palmer replied, taking out his camera.
"So, what have we got, Doc?" Tony asked, walking up to the two doctors.
"I think the cause of death is pretty obvious," Ducky said, pointing at the destroyed skull. "He put up a good fight, but the poor fellow didn't stand a chance. Being shot at point-blank range tends to put all good fights to an end with quite the finality, I'm afraid."
"Any idea how long he's been dead?"
"Four, perhaps five hours. I will know more after I examine him further."
Tony caught Ziva coming into the room from the corner of his eye, and with a brief 'Thanks, doc,' in the good doctor's direction, he went up to her. "Any luck?"
"The only thing missing is his cell phone," she said. "We can safely assume that they took it to call Samuel Perkins."
Tony nodded. "They rang; he checked the number; he didn't suspect foul play, and then he was out, ready for the take. These guys knew what they were doing."
"And still managed to do some greasy mistakes," Ziva said, looking around. "They smashed the lock," she pointed to the door, "they didn't pick up the bullet," she held it up, proving her point, "and someone actually stepped on the blood, making even more mess," with that, she pointed at the bootprints. "Whoever's behind it, they're not professional, though they try to look like it."
"Yeah, I guess you'd know a thing or two about that, wouldn't you?" Tony said wryly, and he picked up his phone. "And, by the way…" he added as he dialed the number. "…It's gross mistakes."
Ziva simply rolled her eyes and placed the bullet in a plastic bag. Abby would be interested in it…
Gibbs paced the living room, trying not to think of Sheila Perkins' eyes locked on him as he still talked on the phone. Under the circumstances, he couldn't really blame the woman for trying to grasp any piece of information she could concerning her son.
"Got it, DiNozzo. Send your findings to Abby and I'll find you at the office. And tell Ziva to come back to the Perkins' place. Hudson will need backup," he finally instructed, and then hung up.
"What's going on?" Mrs. Perkins said, looking up at the man in concern. "What did they find?"
Gibbs pursed his lips. "You were right about James Lawson. Unfortunately, he's dead. They killed him to get access on his cell phone."
"Oh, my God…" Sheila breathed out. "Does that mean Sam could be dead too?"
"We'll know when the kidnappers call."
"Don't you mean 'if'?" she said shakily.
Gibbs opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't get the chance to answer. The shrill ringing of the phone cut through the house like a knife, making the woman jump. Thankfully, Thomas Perkins appeared in that moment, placing a hand on her shoulder and steadying her.
"Hudson?" Gibbs said. He hoped that the 'probie' knew more than just installing the equipment.
"On it," Hudson replied and started typing. He worked with experienced ease, without letting the ringing distract him.
"Shouldn't I answer?" the woman demanded.
Gibbs didn't reply at once, watching Hudson intently. It was only when the trainee gave him the 'thumbs up' that he faced Sheila Perkins once more, his eyes shining with determination.
"Talk calmly, keep him busy, and ask for proof that your son is alive."
Sheila nodded, swallowing hard, and then she let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Once she steadied herself, she walked up to the phone and answered it.
"Hello?"
"Mrs. Perkins?"
"Speaking."
Gibbs signaled at Hudson to hand him the headphones, intending to listen in on the conversation. Hudson nodded and complied, even as his eyes remained practically glued on the screen, watching the recording and the tracking progressing slowly, but steadily.
"We have your son. We know you have the police holding your hand. Trust me, they won't help you. The only thing that can save your son is if you do what we say. Is that clear?"
"Yes…"
Gibbs' eyes narrowed as the seconds ticked by and yet there was no definite location on the screen yet.
"Please… Can I speak to him?"
"You're in no position to make demands, Mrs. Perkins."
"I need to know he's alive!"
She was losing it. Nevertheless, Gibbs waited patiently, hoping that they would get their answer.
There were voices in the background, and then a young man's voice, clearly in pain, sounded from the other end of the line.
"Hello?"
"Sam?!"
"Mom!"
"Sam, where are you?!"
She never got her answer. The sound of people struggling echoed in the next moment; and then there was the kidnapper's voice once more.
"You've got your proof. 300,000 dollars in 24 hours, and then 300,000 more in the next 48. We'll keep in touch."
"But how will I…?" Mrs. Perkins started.
The beeping sound of the line being disconnected was her only answer and all she could do was fall back on the couch, her face etched with lines of anguish.
"Hudson?"
Hudson, however, shook his head. "Somewhere on the Southeast side. Nothing more."
Damn it… "Make a copy of the recording."
"Yes, sir… Boss."
Gibbs huffed mentally; nevertheless he decided not to say anything this time. He preferred to wait for the recording so that he'd pay a visit to Abby himself.
Abby hardly paid attention to her surroundings as she typed away, her eyes never looking away from the computer screen. As far as she was concerned, she was in her perfect little world, her kingdom, where she had everything under her command and everything worked like clockwork. And, boy, did she love it when everything worked like clockwork.
She held up the cigarette butt with the tweezers, wrinkling her nose in disgust, and then she placed it in the Petri-dish. How could one insist on such a nasty habit was beyond her, but at least it would serve its purpose now. Well, once she took the necessary precautions, that is. With that, she picked up a mask and placed it over her mouth and nose.
"Should I be worried?" McGee asked, walking in and seeing her as if ready to handle chemicals from some kind of biological warfare.
"You should if you knew that 600,000 people die of passive smoking per year," she said.
McGee blinked, looking at the cigarette butt. "It's not even lighted."
"Do you feel lucky?"
McGee pondered on that for a few moments and then took a step back. She gave him a look that clearly said, 'My point exactly', and then she continued on with her work. "Thankfully, smoking is going to end up being bad for him too, especially since I've managed to recover enough DNA sample to cross-reference it with FBI criminal records."
"Any luck with the car tyres?" McGee asked.
"Other than one of the tyres has run smooth and it's for the junkyard? No," she replied, still typing away. "Although…" With that, she held up another Petri-dish. "I found some elements of red soil in the sample you've brought me. It's not much, but I just might be able to get some clues about it if I have some kind of geological map."
"I can download one for you now."
"Thanks, McGee, you're a saint," she said, grinning.
Tim smiled at that, and he started typing on the computer nearby. What he didn't expect was to see Abby sitting up, her nostrils twitching.
"Is that Caf-pow that I'm smelling?"
Tim looked up, unsure what to make of that statement. That is, until the door opened and Gibbs walked in, a large paper cup of Caf-pow in his hand.
"Gibbs!" she cried happily. "Tell me that's for me!"
"If you have something just as good in exchange," Gibbs replied.
"Okay, allow me to bedazzle you then, because I'm currently running my tests on the cigarette butt and…" Just then, the screen flashed to life, showing a photo and the criminal file in question. "…We have a winner!" she hurried to the computer screen. "Craig Sawyer, aged 38, spent a year in prison for petty theft, walked out three months ago. He had also been suspected for a number of bank-robberies, but there was never enough evidence to nail him to them."
"Sounds like our guy," Tim said as he looked up at the screen in thought.
"McGee, find out his current location. Abby," with that, he held up the disc, "Analyse anything you can hear on the background."
"Got it!" she grinned, taking it from Gibbs' hands. Still, she couldn't help but keep her eyes on the Caf-pow, resembling a small cute puppy waiting for its treat.
Gibbs regarded her for a few moments, pretending to think about it… and then he handed the Caf-pow.
"Thanks, Gibbs!" she grinned.
Gibbs smiled, but as his eyes caught sight of the cigarette, another thought occurred to him. Frowning, he approached the Petri-dish, looking at it closely.
"Gibbs?" Abby said, cocking her head.
"Boss?"
Gibbs didn't answer. He simply dug out his phone and dialed Ziva's number.
Tony and Ziva had just helped Ducky load the body in the van when her phone rang, seemingly out of the blue. The woman dug out her the cell phone to screen the number and then answered it as when she realized it was Gibbs.
"Boss?" she said .
"Ziva, when you talked to Hudson, did he tell you if the waitress had seen the suspect before?"
She frowned gently. "No, he didn't."
"Is he with you?"
"We're still at Lawson's place."
"Have you got his number?"
"No..." The man had been in their team for 5 hours and they had barely time to exchange pleasantries or other talk, let alone phone-numbers.
"… Fine. Take DiNozzo and go back to the Perkins' place as fast as you can. You will be needed there."
"Gibbs, what's going on?"
"I'll tell you when my theory checks out." And with that, Gibbs hung up.
"Boss?" Tim said, more than just a little confused.
Gibbs faced him, his face business-like. "Do you have the Perkins' phone number?"
Tim blinked. "I can look it up…"
Gibbs' gave him one of his 'then why are we still talking?' looks, so Tim simply nodded his compliance before walking up to the computer and typing.
Nathan checked out his surroundings, unsure what to do. He had been alone in the room for quite some time, drumming his fingers on the surface of the desk in an unconscious wish to break the silence that had reigned throughout. If he had something to do, than perhaps this waiting wouldn't have been so tedious, but, on the other hand, he didn't have that much choice in the matter. They all had their responsibilities and, for now, this was his.
Then again, his responsibilities didn't involve his butt going to sleep from sitting in an uncomfortable chair for hours on end. Deciding that stretching his legs for ten minutes wouldn't hurt anybody, he stood up and started pacing the room. His gaze drifted to the photos over the mantelpiece and shelves, taking in more details now that he had his chance to examine things further. There weren't that many of them, and in most of them it was just the mother and the son. Even so, he could tell they were very happy; their smiles were so broad…
A sob reached his ears and he looked up. Unless he was sorely mistaken, the sound had come from the other room.
A second sob ebbed all doubts in his mind, and headed towards the other room – the kitchen, if his memory served him right. He opened the door slowly, silently, and he wasn't surprised to see Sheila Perkins by the counter. She had her back to him and her head was bowed; but it still didn't take a great mind to see that she was crying.
Hmm… Before he even realized what he was doing, he knocked on the door gently to signify his presence; the last thing he wanted was to startle her.
She turned on her heel, eyes wide. "Oh… Agent… Hudson, isn't it? Is there any news?"
"Not yet," Nathan said with a shake of his head.
She lowered her gaze, disappointment written all over her features. "Is there something you needed then?"
"Some tea would be nice, but… only if you join me and you let me make it?" he said, tugging his lips to a soft smile.
She regarded him for several minutes, before she finally rewarded him with a soft smile of her own. She realized that he had suggested tea for her benefit.
"It's in the cupboard on the left."
He nodded his understanding and he set himself to work. A few minutes later, he had also settled at the table, handing her one of the mugs with the tea.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"You're welcome," he replied. He looked around, noticing that there was something missing from the picture. "I'm surprised that your uncle isn't here with you."
"He went upstairs to lie down for a while. All this waiting and stress has tired him out."
Nathan supposed that that made sense. He watched the woman as she sipped some of the tea. "I hope I prepared it to your liking."
"It's perfect, thank you," she replied with a small smile before sighing ruefully. "I hadn't realized I needed it till now."
"Understandable, under the circumstances."
She nodded, letting the warmth seep through her fingers as she held the mug tightly. "It's… strange. As a lawyer, I saw some pretty awful things. So many, in fact, that I thought there was nothing left that could faze me. But now…"
"He's your son, ma'am."
She smiled weakly, seeing his point. "Have you... handled many cases like this before?"
If only… "Would you believe me if I said this is my first day on the job?"
She looked at him in surprise. "Really? How old are you?"
"35, ma'am."
She regarded him curiously. "You must have done something else before that."
"Well… yes," Nathan replied. "I finished college at 23, bachelor's degree and everything, but after that I-"
The shrill sound of the phone rang through the air, making the woman jump. Nathan winced as he realized that he was on his own on this one, but, fortunately, he knew what to do. He stood up, his tea forgotten.
"I'll go to the equipment. Don't answer before I give you the okay," he said, speaking as calmly as possible.
"Okay…" she said, following him to the living room. Without wasting anymore time, Nathan was back on the chair in moments and, once he had made sure everything was in order, he gave her the thumbs up.
She didn't have to be told twice. She picked up the phone in one smooth motion. "Hello?" she said.
"Mrs. Perkins, this is Agent Gibbs. I need to speak to Agent Hudson."
Nathan blinked in surprise and exchanged a glance with Mrs. Perkins.
"Preferably now."
Oh right. Nathan stood up at once, practically dropping the headphones in the process, and he took the phone from Mrs. Perkins. "S…Boss?" he said.
"Hudson, you will answer with just a yes or no. Got it?"
... Okay, by that tone alone, things were more than just serious. "Yes."
"Had Ms Evans seen the suspect before today?"
Hudson frowned. "No."
There was a pause for a few moments. "Is Thomas Perkins in the house?"
Nathan's agent-senses tingled. "Yes."
Another pause. "Wait for Ziva and DiNozzo. They're already on their way there. Is that clear?"
"Yes."
The other line went dead, indicating that Gibbs had already hung up. And, right on cue, Thomas Perkins came down the stairs, a deep frown creasing his elderly features. And was it Nathan's impression, or did he even look… surprised?
"What's going on?" he said. "Was that the kidnappers?"
Okay, time to smooth things over… Smile, act almost embarrassed... "Sorry about that. It's my first day on the job and my boss didn't even have time to take down my cell-phone number. It was the only way to contact me."
The man looked at Nathan, probably wondering if he was serious or not. "And what did he want?"
"To inform me that he's sending someone to back me up."
"You mean to hold your hand," the man said in a gruff tone.
"Uncle!"
"No, he's right," Nathan said as charmingly as possible. Keep smiling… David and DiNozzo are on their way… "It goes with being on probation. I mean, we're not even allowed to carry a gun at this stage. They probably think we'll shoot our eyes out." He chuckled at his own joke, wincing at how fake it sounded in his ears. "Again, I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I'll give my boss the number once this is over."
"You'd better," Mr. Perkins said, still staring at Nathan as if he were an idiot, and then addressed his niece. "I'm going outside for a cigarette."
Damn it. "Actually, sir, it would probably be best if you stayed in here," Nathan said.
"You give me and my niece here a scare because you're too scatterbrained to do your job right and now you tell me what to do? I don't think so. Get out of my way."
Nathan growled in his mind, deciding enough was enough. He stepped forward, blocking the elderly man's way. "No, sir. I don't think so."
"Agent Hudson?" the woman asked, confused.
Nathan didn't budge, his eyes still locked on the man in case he tried anything stupid. "Mrs. Perkins, we have reasons to believe your uncle knows more about the kidnapping than he lets on."
"What?" she exclaimed, and she stared at her uncle incredulously.
The man shook his head. "Are you really going to listen to this nonsense, Sheila?" he said. "Now, excuse me, I'm going out."
The doorbell rang in that very moment.
"Mrs. Perkins, please see who is at the door," Nathan said. It was time to get down to business.
The woman nodded hesitantly and then hurried to the door. To Nathan's secret relief, it was indeed the cavalry.
"Going somewhere, Mr. Perkins?" Tony said.
"Well, I…" Mr. Perkins started, his indignation gone in a flash.
"Save it," Ziva said, looking hard at him. "You'll say everything in time."
Though Thomas Perkins was alone in the interrogation room, he was by no means unattended. Ziva watched him like a hawk from the one-way mirror, unimpressed by the guilty and shameful look in the elderly man's eyes. He certainly hadn't felt guilty when he had orchestrated his nephew's kidnapping…
She looked around as the door opened, almost expecting Tony to be there. To her mild surprise, though, it was actually Hudson.
"May I come in?" he said.
"Of course," she replied politely, beckoning him inside.
Hudson nodded and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
"Came to see the interrogation?"
"I figured I might as well," Hudson said with a slight shrug. "Who will go in?"
"Tony."
Hudson mouthed an 'ah' in understanding. "Does he always do the interrogations?"
"No, Gibbs handles most of them," she answered. "It depends on how tough is the walnut to crack."
Hudson pursed his lips, clearly pondering on something.
"What?"
"Um…" He cleared his throat. "It's nut. Tough nut to crack. Sorry."
She frowned. If she didn't know any better, she'd think Hudson was afraid she was going to bite his head off. So why…?
It clicked at the next moment. Of course it had to be her Mossad background.
"I don't kill people just because they correct me," she pointed out, trying not to sound too indignant.
Hudson chuckled softly. "I should hope not," he said. "I just didn't want to sound like a wise-ass."
"Oh." In other times, she would have probably appreciated such manners; but, unfortunately, she was raised to be wary of it. One didn't know when a charming, polite smile hid something more behind it like an elaborate Noh mask. That… or she was too much used to Tony's brutal honesty.
Speaking of which, there was the man himself, walking into the interrogation room with the air of someone who ready to bring the truth out to the surface. Thomas Perkins looked up at him in a cautious manner, but Tony didn't seem to be bothered by the stare. He simply sat down in a relaxed manner and then held up a file for Mr. Perkins to see.
"Do you know what this is?" Tony said.
Mr. Perkins shook his head.
Tony, however, snorted. "I think you do. This is a record of your financial state and, honestly, even I can tell that this is bad." He tossed the file on the desk. "Very bad. Bad enough to make you think 'Today is a good day to kidnap my nephew and ask for 600,000 in cash.' Because, naturally, you aren't a selfish person; you have to give something to the people that did the dirty work for you. 300,000 for you and 100,000 for them each? Sounds like a very sweet deal to me."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Tony made a noise like a buzzer. "Sorry, wrong answer. You see, we know you orchestrated the whole thing. Your people only had to spy on your niece's house once and that was today. The other two didn't have to wait for Samuel outside all night or even an hour or two. They waited for him for exactly five minutes: long enough for them to have just one cigarette. They even had Jimmy Lawson's mobile phone and car, after you sent them to that direction. Did you tell them to kill Jimmy too?"
Mr. Perkins' eyes widened tenfold. "What? No, I didn't!"
"But you admit telling them everything else, do you?"
Mr. Perkins swallowed hard and then his shoulders slumped forward in resignation. "I… I had no idea what they were going to…" he whispered.
Tony shook his head. "Now where have I heard that before? Oh yeah. Aaron Elkhart in Dark Knight said it best. 'What, exactly, did you think they were going to do?'" he said. "It's a good movie, by the way. I recommend it for those long hours you're going to spend in incarceration."
Mr. Perkins lowered his gaze. "What do you want from me?"
"Just one thing: Where are they keeping your nephew?"
Mr. Perkins sighed. "I don't know."
Tony snorted. "I'm not about to play the guessing game. Tell me where they are."
"I'm telling you, I don't know! They never said where they would take him!" Mr. Perkins cried, and then let out a tired sigh. "I was desperate, I admit that. I couldn't face my niece and ask her for money. She had no idea how bad things were. And if she did, she'd just give me a look of sympathy and a couple of thousand 'for starters'."
"But you needed all the money now," Tony said in mock sympathy.
"…Yes. I'm not proud of it…"
"Nor should you be," Tony deadpanned.
"…But I didn't know what else to do. So, I found an old friend mine, he told me about Sawyer and... We made the deal. All they wanted was information about the boy and they'd take care of everything else."
"When were you to meet them next?"
"I wasn't," the uncle said. "They said they'd just leave a note with Sam's whereabouts written on it, and that would be that."
"Okay… do you know when they're going to call again, at least?"
"At night. They'll want to check if Sheila's gathered the money," Mr. Perkins murmured.
Tony pursed his lips, taking in the information, and then got back on his feet. He had barely made a couple of steps to the door when Mr. Perkins stopped him, however.
"Agent DiNozzo?"
Tony faced the other man with a frown.
"Can you tell my niece how sorry I am?"
"… No. You brought it on yourself, Mr. Perkins." And with that he walked out, not bothering to look back.
That, Hudson and Ziva supposed, was their cue to exit the other room and find Tony.
"If he doesn't know where they keep him, there's no telling they are," the woman commented with a frown.
"Actually, there is," Abby said in that moment, walking up to them with Tim in tow. She cocked her head at the sight of Hudson before smiling in a friendly manner. "Hi, you must be the new guy."
Hudson smiled sheepishly. "For the next few weeks, yeah."
"So have you met Ducky yet?"
"No, can't say I have…"
Abby opened her mouth to reply, but Tony turned out to be faster.
"Abby? There was something else you wanted to say?"
"Oh, right! Sorry! As I was saying, I managed to find that there were high traces of salt in the soil sample."
"So they were close to water at least recently," Ziva concluded.
"And…" Tim said, just as excited as Abby, "Craig Sawyer had found a job as a dock-worker after discharged from prison. I've got the address right here."
"Sounds like we know where to start," Gibbs said, passing by them in determination; he had obviously overheard them. "Let's go."
Hudson blinked, watching the man in confusion, and then back at the others. "How did he…?" He looked back in Gibbs' direction once more. "We didn't even hear him coming!"
"That's the mystery about Gibbs," Abby said, waving her hands in a spooky manner before practically skipping away.
"Come on, probie," Tony said, prodding Hudson forward. "There's plenty of time for wonder later."
"Yeah, I know him. Not the brightest tool in the shed, but certainly the strongest," the director said, looking at Craig Sawyer's photo. He handed it back to Gibbs, a frown creasing his features. "So what's this all about?"
"Can you just call him?" Gibbs replied.
"Okay… sure. He's right there," the man said, pointing with his thumb behind him, where a team of workers were busy with one of the boats that needed maintenance. He looked over his shoulder. "Yo, Sawyer! Get over here!"
The burly man looked up, but he certainly didn't comply. He dropped his boards and sprinted away, as fast as his legs could carry him.
"DiNozzo, Ziva, take the left! McGee, with me," Gibbs cried, snapping into action. "Hudson… stay right here!"
Hudson's eyes widened. "But…!"
"I mean it. No heroics on your first day!" Gibbs said with finality, and they all hurried after the runaway. All Hudson could do was watch them go, only to sigh in defeat as they vanished out of view.
"So… First day on the job?" the director asked.
Hudson nodded with a, "Yup."
"Not exactly fun, is it?"
"Nope."
"So why do it?"
Hudson shrugged a bit. "I've had worse."
"I think the boss hurt the probe's feelings," Tony said as he still run next to Ziva, his gun in his hands.
"It's not like he could do much without a gun," she reasoned. At that moment, she caught sight of Sawyer's shadow; the man was still on the move. "Tony…!"
"I see him!" was all that the man said. Working expertly, they separated and used different routes in order to surprise Sawyer. Sure enough, just as the man tried to jump up a fire-escape, the two of them grabbed him and pinned him down on the ground. And though Sawyer was ready to put a good fight, Gibbs aiming his gun at him made him think otherwise.
"Just tell me what I need to know and I'll make sure your cell has sunshine this time, at least," he said.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm glad we could help," Hudson said, a gentle smile on his lips as he continued talking on the phone. "You too, ma'am. Bye-bye."
"I take it that was Sheila Perkins on the phone?" Tony said, regarding Hudson curiously.
"Yeah. She wanted to thank us once again for bringing Samuel back in one piece," the younger man said.
"Got to love happy endings," Tim commented from his own comfortable perch.
"Not that happy an ending for the uncle," Ziva pointed out. "Funny thing is, she would have given him the money if he had asked. He just wanted to believe that she wouldn't."
"Relations can be a pain like that," Tony said, looking meaningfully at Ziva before noticing Hudson standing up. "And where are you going?"
"Home," Hudson said with a shrug, picking up his backpack. "I completed my eight-hour course for today so I might as well punch out."
"So what did you think of your first day?" Ziva asked. "Was it everything you thought it would be?"
"Didn't get to kick my share of ass, but there's always next time," Hudson replied and he turned on his heel. "See you tomorrow."
The trio gave their own farewells, watching Hudson go and, once the elevator closed, Ziva turned to Tony; the man seemed very thoughtful for some reason.
"Something on your mind, Tony?"
Tony didn't reply at once. And when he did, his tone was almost ominous.
"He's hiding something."
Ziva raised an eyebrow. "If you're talking about the backpack over his shoulder, yes, he did swing it over his shoulder in a most evil way."
Tony, however, didn't bother with an answer. He simply started typing in his computer.
"What are you doing?"
"Finding some more about our 'friend'," Tony declared and then grinned. "Bingo."
"That was quick…" Tim commented.
"Probably because it wasn't meant to be hidden," Ziva pointed out, walking up to Tony's desk. "So what's the dark, mysterious secret you've uncovered?"
"Ah ah ah…" Tony said, closing the window. "You had your chance."
With that, the man walked away, seeming pleased with himself, and Ziva and Tim exchanged a glance.
"You don't… really think he found something… do you?" Tim asked.
"No," Ziva said at once.
"Yeah, me neither."
Silence reigned for a while and then...
"Race you to finding it?" Tim asked.
"Oh yeah."
The last thing that Hudson expected to see as the door of the elevator opened was a muffin being held in front of him. He blinked, and then looked over it to see… Abby, was it?... smiling at him.
"I figured you might want a housewarming welcome, so… here you go!"
Hudson looked back at the muffin, uncertain. He hadn't fooled himself that he would be welcomed with open arms in his new job – especially in a tightly-knit team as that – but he had certainly not expected this either. It was… well, sweet. He didn't remember the last time anyone had been so generous to him...
"Thanks," he said, taking the muffin.
"No problem. Welcome to NCIS!" she grinned, and then she went back into her lab, still as cheerful as he had met her.
Hudson regarded the muffin for many long moments, and then he finally had his first bite as he set off once more.
Mmm… blueberry…
Gibbs marched inside the Vance's office, not bothering with the fact that the man was on the phone. On the other hand, Vance himself didn't seem surprised to see Gibbs coming in, for he ended the conversation with a brief, "I'll talk to you later" and then hung up.
"Heard about the Perkins case. Congratulations on a job well done and without fuss for a change."
"Good word from you? I'm surprised," Gibbs said, sitting down.
"It goes with being pleased for a change. But I know you didn't come for that."
"Nathan Hudson. Who is he, and why did you put him in my team?"
Vance regarded Gibbs for many long moments, and then opened the drawer to take out a file.
"I figured he'd need a firm hand like yours."
Gibbs frowned and opened the file. There was the kid himself, in his service uniform… a familiar service uniform. And right underneath it… a full, unedited edition of a DD 214. A form that all marines acquired on the day of their discharge.
"Enjoy your reading," Vance said.
Gibbs wasn't sure about the 'enjoy' part if the first few sentences were any indication…
THE END
A/n: This is more of an experiment of sorts. I wanted to see if I'd be able to write 26 individual stories in the form of 'episodes within a season'. I hope the results prove interesting, in spite of the OC's appearance.