The door to the house burst open as it came undone from its hinges, and through it emerged Tony and Ziva with their SIG's drawn from their holsters. They split up moving through the house, clearing each room as they looked for Abdali Zarqawi, a member of Hezbollah who was running a terrorist cell in the D.C. area.
Tony motioned Ziva to search upstairs while he checked the downstairs rooms. Room by room they cleared the house, yelling "clear" each time they finished searching a room.
Eventually, they rallied back at the front door of the house. Their was no trace of Zarqawi anywhere.
"He's not here," Ziva said as she holstered her gun. "We missed him."
Tony shook his head and began walking around the room as he thought to himself.
"His car is still in the garage," he said. "Our boy in interrogation said that he was supposed to be here, waiting for a drop off. He has to be here."
They continued to walk around the hallways of the house, unable to find any rooms that they hadn't checked. Upstairs they stopped once again when they had not found him.
Tony sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket, and pressed the speed dial for Gibbs' phone. "Well he's not here. We better let boss know that our lead just went cold."
Ziva didn't hear Tony. Instead, her eye was caught by a string that was swaying back in forth as it hung from the ceiling in one of the bedrooms. Her eyes followed the string up to where she noticed a doorway.
"Tony," she whispered as she tapped him on the shoulder. She pointed towards the ceiling and Tony upholstered his SIG once more.
They entered the room slowly, careful not to make any sounds. Ziva pulled down on the string to see a dark attic above them.
"Zarqawi? Federal Agents were ordering you to come out now," yelled Tony, but he heard nothing in reply. The two agents made eye contact with each other, knowing that they would both have to go up there to clear the room.
Tony climbed up the ladder with caution and peaked his eyes into the attic, checking all of his sectors around him before he continued to climb into the attic. It was fairly large, and stacked full of crates to which he presumed Zarqawi was stashing his weapons and bomb making materials. Tony scanned the room once more, then motioned for Ziva to come up as well.
They moved through the attic, prying open boxes and crates as they went. Neither of them found Zarqawi, just a plethora of automatic weapons and explosives. They neared the other end of the attic and only a half-dozen crates remained.
They approached a crate that was standing vertically, and stood on both sides of it. They looked at each other, and nodded. If he was hiding anywhere, this had to be it.
Both of their hearts palpitated in a frenzy. They had done this many times, but each time was just as risky. If he was in the crate, their wouldn't be anytime to react. In just a split second, they would have to see if he was armed or not, and then decide to shoot. One misjudgment and they both could be dead.
Tony held up his hand signaling he would count to three. One, two, three. Like a flash of lighting the two agents ripped open the side of the box, but to them they moved in slow motion. They whipped their guns into firing position into the crate ready to either apprehend or kill the terrorist. But, to their surprise, he wasn't there. They lowered their weapons in frustration, while they both stood looking into the empty crate.
Tony raised his head to look at the rest of the attic when his heart stopped. Over Ziva's shoulder he saw a middle eastern male emerge from behind the last crate in the attic with a pistol drawn to fire on them.
"Look out," Tony yelled as he shoved Ziva - who stood unknowingly between Zarqawi and Tony - to the ground.
Tony's finger pulled back on the trigger to take the killshot. But it was too late. The bullet from Zarqawi's gun ripped through Tony's stomach, throwing his shot off line, and his body to the floor.
Ziva was quick to collect herself, and from her back she fired three rounds through the terrorist as he took aim on her, and his body fell limp to the floor.
She propped herself up on to her knees over Tony, who was on the ground gasping for air. Blood soaked his white dress shirt as panic rushed through every vain in Ziva's body.
"Tony," she gasped in fear.
She pulled the cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Gibbs his speed dial.
The phone rang for what seemed like an eternity. She knew time wasn't on Tony's side as blood gushed from his wound. Finally, Gibbs answered.
"Gibbs! Tony's been shot, he needs help now," she yelled through the phone. On the other end Gibbs told her to hang on and hung up the phone. It was a race against time to get help to her teammate.
"Z-Ziva," said Tony as he struggled to get the words out.
"Quiet Tony, help is coming," she said in reply. She took off her jacket and wrapped it tightly around his body to help stop the bleeding.
She touched his forehead gently in an effort to calm him. To her, it was more of a way to calm herself. With her other hand she held pressure over the would as tears welled up in her eyes. She'd seen death many times in her life, even people she loved. But now Tony was on the verge of passing and she couldn't bear it.
"It'll be okay, Tony," she said with a whimper. "Stay with me! You're going to make it!"