This is my tenth NCIS Mystery. The list, including non-mysteries, grew so extensive I moved it to my Profile. The numerous Affairs in my series are, of course, an Homage to Ducky.
The usual Disclaimers apply. I'm not trying to take anything except Abby, Michelle and Ziva. I do own Siobhan (Sha-vawn) O'Mallory and the Agents created to round out a 24/7 organization. The characters appearing in these stories are fictional with no similarity to anyone, living or dead. Though Virginia Hospital Center is a real facility, the description and staff depicted are fictional. This story picks up at the end of 'Inner Darkness'.
Please Review.
Rating: T or NCis-17. Death, Violence, Intrigue, Mystery.
John 8:7
By JMK758
Prologue
The jangling of the telephone inches from her right ear jars Jennifer Shepherd awake. She opens her eyes into the blackness of her bedroom and turns to the clock on the night table beside her, forcing her focus on the red numbers: 3:26.
'Al Bell, I hate you,' she thinks bitterly as she reaches into the darkness, her hand closing on the phone, ending its noise. As Director of NCIS she's used to late night interruptions and had installed a phone with an extra loud ringer so she wouldn't miss urgent calls. That doesn't mean she has to like them. "Shepherd."
"Director, Fred Higgins," the Supervisor of one of the four Gamma Shift teams tells her, "I'm sorry to wake you but you wanted this information as soon as it came in."
"Yes."
"Natasha Klein's records show large deposits transferred from a Swiss Bank, the same account that funded Dr. Samuel Richards' mind control experiments. We're now certain that those two operations, along with Dr. John Carson's attempt to steal the Photon Density Converter's plans, are all funded by the same people."
"Call the Team Leaders, conference in MTAC 0700."
Chapter One
Assignments
Shepherd stands in the dimly lit Multi-Threat Assessment Center, the dark screen behind her, three rows of four chairs before her. Her manner, restrained and closed, doesn't invite anyone to approach her. Before her sit the leaders of the twelve Major Case Response teams. When they'd entered, each had received whispered direction from Cynthia Sumner at the door, one word instructions on where each was to sit. Shepherd wanted Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Robert DiMarco, Martine Joswig and Fred Higgins to sit in the first four seats, the other Team Leaders arrayed behind them.
For some it's early morning, for others quitting time, while still others consider it the middle of the night. When all are assembled and Cynthia Sumner joins her front and center, Shepherd addresses her Lieutenants.
"I have been ordered to reveal this information to no one, or the Government will regret my death." She lets the shocking implications of that statement sink in before surprising them further. "I am now about to disobey those orders. You, in turn, are to share this only with your Teams." Though aware that many of these details are at least partially known, she has to assume they are not and must cover everything from the beginning.
"All of you have been at least partially briefed on the details of Dr. John Carson's attempt to sell a secret device as a weapon of unprecedented power to a foreign country. The details of this, and the murders of several key Scientists by the Assassin Ronald Adolphus, a.k.a. 'the Iceman', were a closely guarded secret."
x
She reveals everything about the PDC Mark 9, withholding only its actual operation, concluding with "our Government, through the hand of the US Army, has made it quite clear that the secrecy of this device is of paramount importance, even over the lives of Federal Agents, whose deaths the Government would 'regret'. Though its existence is considered a necessary defensive weapon, it can be used offensively, and such use would violate so many International Arms Regulations I won't even bother to list them. You are again cautioned to keep those secrets carefully guarded, your Teams should be alerted only on a 'Need to Know' basis.
"The source of funding for the attempted theft of this secret, and for the killings of the Scientists involved in its creation and construction, is a Swiss Bank Account, numbered and secret, of course." She tries not to lay the irony on too thickly. Neutrality has its benefits, she can see precious little of them.
"Particularly disturbing is that, in spite of concessions granted as a result of the on-going war on terrorism, we are still unable to identify the owners of these funds. The Swiss have - on occasion - been accommodating to our Government in revealing funds identified as 'terror related' but this time they are not. It would be bad enough if this were the only case - but it is not.
"You have been further briefed, in considerably more detail, about the mind-control experiments of the late psychiatrist Dr. Samuel Richards. When prematurely activated, these experiments resulted in the deaths of numerous Navy and Army personnel and their dependants. This operation was also funded through a Swiss Bank Account, that account is consecutively numbered next to the one which funded Carson's activity.
"Yesterday we discovered that Special Agent Timothy McGee had been captured by a terrorist cell, one of whom impersonated Agent McGee. For two days this faux-McGee, identified as Dennis Whitney of Nevada, had access to all of our records." She watches the shockwave progress through the room on the faces of the Team Leaders. "The purpose of this capture and impersonation was to obtain the 'Delphi code'."
She gives the men and women a few moments to absorb the dread import of this news. That code protects the personal and background records of every NCIS Agent in the world. It's intended to be a source of information in finding an Agent who is lost and unable to reestablish communication with his or her headquarters.
The enemy would use it to track down and kill every Agent in the world.
x
"The code was not obtained. The records they cover are believed to still be secure and the code and encryptions have been changed. We have no idea exactly what wasobtained during the two day span that this intruder had access to our systems. The known operatives in this cell - Natasha Klein, Robert Kimmel of New York and Steven Sullivan of Florida, were killed during the rescue of Special Agents McGee and Lee, who had been captured in an earlier attempt to recover Agent McGee. Agent McGee is presently hospitalized and will be disabled for an unknown period. In the meantime, everything his doppelganger had access to is being minutely examined by our computer experts.
"All four operatives of this cell have been established to have connections with several radical and subversive organizations both here and abroad. Klein's include being a very active supporter of the American Nazi Party. I would not have procured so high profile a person for a covert operation, nevertheless someone did."
x
"Special Agents Gibbs, DiMarco, Joswig and Higgins," she addresses the four in the first seats, "you will coordinate these investigations, all other teams will be allocated by and report to you. Every other case beyond these is reduced one level in priority. However, all cases will continue uninterrupted." She receives acknowledgements from all her Team Leaders.
"Gibbs, your team and those you assign will focus on Richards, Natasha Klein and Dennis Whitney. Also continue to research Richards' hypnodisks and find out if there are any others out there. Trace the backgrounds of those operatives, where they got their funding, who their contacts were and extrapolate their plans. Find their future targets. DiMarco, your teams will focus on Robert Kimmel and Stephen Sullivan, again extrapolation is the key.
"Joswig, you will trace and locate Jack Carson and Ron Adolphus. What they are doing and especially is Adolphus, while working for the Army, connected in any more hits funded by or through the Swiss? Investigate who his current targets are. Expect to dodge the Army at every turn. Higgins, your team will focus on the Swiss. I don't care what it takes: break them.
"All other teams, in addition to your normal duties, you will coordinate with Gibbs, DiMarco, Higgins and Joswig on all aspects of this case.
"It's obvious why they wanted to break the Delphi code. By taking out the defenders of the Marines and Navy it leaves them and their dependants vulnerable to personal attack at home as well as abroad. Our military men and women are well equipped for combat but they depend on our support for their security as well as to protect their dependants. The Army CID, the Air Force and so forth are conducting corresponding investigations in these matters.
"As of now, the identification and apprehension of the backers of these accounts is the top NCIS priority. All Agents not involved with critical matters are to devote their full efforts to breaking this secrecy. If you feel you have to use methods I will not be happy about, inform me - and then execute.
"I'm putting you on the hot seat, and it's going to get pretty damn hot. Ladies and gentlemen, let's break these people."
xxx
When Gibbs enters the Squad Room, about to start issuing orders, he is surprised to see Michelle Lee sitting at her desk. When she notices him he cocks his finger to her, turns and walks away. Michelle gets up and follows him, not wanting to think of the confrontation to come.
She doesn't meet his eyes when she arrives at the elevator. When the doors open she steps in, doesn't turn back until the doors close and Gibbs slaps the Emergency Stop button. The lights dimming and the supplementary lights under the hand rails come on to compensate.
"What are you doing here?"
His tone is softer than usual and she detests it. She looks up, hating as always that she has to look so high. "My job, sir."
"You're on disability."
"Tim is on disability. I'm on the binnacle list until the NCIS Psychiatrist clears me for duty and that could take weeks. That leaves you two Agents down."
He doesn't want to say it, and she knows the situation far better than he does. "There's a reason why you're relieved."
"I don't want to talk about what happened to me," she declares sharply, but then pulls it down. A newly vetted Agent does not snap at the Deputy Special Agent-in-Charge. Ziva might do it, she can't. "I am asking you not to tell anyone on your team what happened to me."
"That's a stupid move, Lee."
"Sir, you need me on the team if the Director's summons for all Supervisors this morning means what I think it does."
Gibbs considers the young woman. A few months ago she could not speak to him and meet his eyes, now she's standing up to him and, by extension, all of NCIS hierarchy.
They had rescued her less than a day ago and found her naked, bound and tortured. She'd told them she had not been raped, but nothing more.
He didn't believe her then. He doesn't believe her now.
She has the right not to talk about it, they have the right to make sure she's fit for duty. However, Shepherd's orders mean he can't afford to be two Agents down.
He reaches for the controls, the lights come back up and the doors open. "What are you waiting for? Get back to work."
He'll clear this with Shepherd. It's one of the many things he will have to address when he speaks to her again.
x
"Ziva, dig up everything you have on Sam Richards," Gibbs orders as he enters the bullpen. "I want to how he got his clients, why military dependants with free medical care went to a private shrink. Where and how did he have his upswing?" The psychiatrist's business had been in a tailspin for nearly a year, then suddenly he'd been free of debt and on his way to wealth. They'd never had any doubt how he'd gotten out of debt, but the details are essential. "Did he work alone or are there are other bastards with disks floating around?" That had been an outstanding detail of the case, now it's top priority.
"DiNozzo, find out everything you can about Natasha Klein, her history, overseas contacts, everything."
"On her, boss."
Gibbs doesn't even waste a glare on him, doesn't care what thoughts had gone through the man's head. Klein is quite deservedly dead. "Lee, everything you can get on Dennis Whitney, I want it on my desk in one hour."
"I'm glad he's dead, sir, I can give you that right now." Yesterday Whitney, while impersonating McGee, had sadistically tortured and raped her in an effort to break the silence of the real McGee. She's still sore from many injuries she'd held secret from all except for Jimmy Palmer. She had refused to allow Ducky to examine her, insisting McGee's more serious injuries should be treated first. However, Palmer had taken her to her own doctor and she has not shared the results of that exam or treatment.
Michelle can't hold secret her humiliation, however. She had confronted Special Agent Gibbs and had - incredibly for her - stood up to him. She can't, however, escape her own memories. She'd been found naked, bound and helpless. Tim had seen her like that for what seemed like hours. He'd watched her get gang raped while he'd hung from chains from the ceiling. She doesn't want to think of that, doesn't want anyone to know she'd been raped a horrific seven times, then tortured by having a live cattle prod thrust up into her. Tim knows, he'd been forced to watch every horrific second of the brutality and humiliation. She's sworn him to silence. Gibbs suspects, hopefully he won't force her to answer.
No one else must ever know.
How can she face her co-workers, her friends - her family - if her rape were known?
She can never tell them.
No one must ever tell them!
x
Gibbs turns to the desk between Lee's and DiNozzo's. "Mc-" he cuts himself off. Though he would love to have the services of the computer expert, Tim McGee is confined to a bed in Bethesda Naval Hospital, recovering from the wounds he'd received during two days of brutal torture. His captors had wanted the Delphi Code, a secret Tim had been determined to carry with him to his grave.
The Delphi Code would have unlocked all information about every NCIS Agent in the world. McGee had held out until the capture of Michelle Lee had allowed him to pretend to break rather than allow her torture to continue, and to turn over not the Delphi but the Doomsday Code. It was a 'Scarlet Alert' code which had set off every alarm, klaxon and siren in the entire Navy Yard. It had also allowed NCIS to break the scheme and rescue the captured Agents.
It would be good to have McGee's aid in learning if any secrets had been compromised in the two days Dennis Whitney had access to their systems. That question is being intently researched by Cyber Crime, but Gibbs prefers a known talent. It galls him that no member of his team, other than Abby who's currently swamped, can do the job better than NCIS' other computer experts.
He notices his team has paused at his aborted command, each anticipating the redirected assignment. He wishes he had someone to give it to. "What are you all sitting around for?"
They rush to resume work.
xxx
In Autopsy, Ducky Mallard and Jimmy Palmer work upon the corpse of a middle aged black woman who had been found during a drug case spearheaded by SSA Karen Kopec and her team. While Director Shepherd's orders are clear, existing investigations cannot be stopped.
Ducky, expounding at length on the possible ways the woman could have died and about to launch into a retrospective explanation of a previous, similar case, all for his apprentice's edification, realizes it has been quite some time since the young man has said anything at all. Looking up, he is surprised at the intense rage burning upon his friend's face. He turns off the voice activated tape recorder set above their heads..
"What is it, my boy?"
Jimmy, broken out of his fierce reverie by his mentor's quiet question, is about to deny that anything is wrong but sees no point in the lie. "'Chelle!" His voice is harder than he intends but he can't help it, he can't quench the burning anger. "Agent Gibbs had her call for help on his cell phone for over two hours! He could have saved her!"
Yesterday, when the Agents had been rescued, Michelle had been found naked, bound and cruelly tortured. She had refused medical aid from NCIS, even avoiding Ducky's assistance. Jimmy had taken her to her own doctor, who had told him nothing other than having 'found no lingering physical injuries from her ordeal'.
He didn't believe a word of it.
She'd insisted to one and all that she was fine. It was only when he'd brought her back to the safety of her own apartment and she was safe behind double locked doors and in the security of his arms that she had released all that she had been holding so tightly to for all the hours since her rescue.
He'd been frightened by her alternating hysteria and wild fury, her weeping and shrill screams. He'd tried to comfort her but she was out of control, had wanted to stay out of control, hadn't given in to any self-control until she'd utterly exhausted herself. Her hysteria had been cathartic. That and the medications the doctor had prescribed had allowed her to be asleep when Shepherd, Ducky and the rest had arrived an hour later.
He'd met them in her living room, allowing only Ducky to see her, and he hadn't disturbed her rest.
x
When Gibbs had admitted not knowing about Michelle's call for help until it had been far too late, Tony DiNozzo had barely restrained Jimmy's furious rush, holding the raging man back. Gibbs had called him off.
Jimmy hadn't followed his furious urge, even though Gibbs clearly did not intend to stop him from throwing the first punch. Jimmy had held himself in even tighter restraint than DiNozzo had done, afraid that if he started he wouldn't be able to stop.
He'd held onto his anger instead. He realizes now that he had never stopped.
x
Ducky looks up at his apprentice, knowing little that can be said can placate the man. To mention Gibbs' ongoing failures to learn how to use his own phone's voice mail would be a terrible mistake. "There is no justification for what Miss Lee has gone through," he admits. "You and she are quite justified in your anger. May I caution you, however, that at this moment Miss Lee needs your understanding, patience and love so that she may feel free to indulge and release her own anger?"
"But what can I do?"
What indeed? The wrong suggestion would be worse than nothing. "NCIS makes extensive use of counselors, as you know. You have grown acquainted with several of them during your recent crises regarding Mr. Franklin."
"I mentioned it. She doesn't want to say anything to anyone who has to file reports. She won't open up if she thinks someone is going to read what she says."
Ducky won't insult his friend's intelligence with blanket assurances. "Then may I suggest Mother O'Mallory? Her discretion in keeping secrets has a somewhat different basis than occupational or crisis therapists. Chaplains do not normally keep written records and I understand parochial priests are even more averse to doing so, especially the content of an informal, private conversation."
"But what can I do?" he can't contain his frustration, needing an answer from his mentor, some guidance that will help get them through this.
"Be a calm and loving presence. Make her know she is secure with you, that she may say anything to you, regardless of what it is. Victims are known to suffer guilt as well as pain and fear. I understand she fought well, but four-to-one odds are not to be trifled with. She must accept that she did all she could, and that she has no guilt. She will go through an extensive period of recovery, even as you did during your crisis. As she was there to support you, it is now your turn."
Jimmy doesn't answer; his thoughts introspective and Ducky doesn't interrupt.
He turns the recorder back on and, except for required observations for the record, the rest of the autopsy is conducted in silence.
Last evening Shepherd had been about to order Michelle to be taken to the hospital despite her protests. Jimmy had gone in to her bedroom but had been unwilling, unable to bring himself to wake her. Five minutes later he had returned to the living room, having made up his mind to do anything to get the woman to change her mind.
He had been astonished to learn she already had.
xxx
Two hours later Ziva David returns to her desk after handing Gibbs the results of her research in time to snatch up her ringing phone. She's surprised to be greeted by a familiar voice. /Hi, Zee./
"Tim, you are supposed to be asleep or something." She tries to keep her voice from traveling to her teammates nearby.
/How much sleep can a man get? I don't belong in a hospital./
It's a complaint he's made several times already and must know it again falls upon deaf ears. She hears a click on the line; someone has picked up another phone.
"McGee, get to bed, that's an order."
/I'm in be-/ the line has already clicked off. /I wish he wouldn't do that,/ he tells Ziva.
"What can you expect? We are very busy."
/What's up?/
Ziva looks at Gibbs, her eyes telling him all he needs to know. He nods, acceding to the inevitable. In brief sentences she tells him everything that has happened since he'd succumbed to Ducky's medications and woke up in the hospital.
x
/I should be there,/ he protests when Ziva finishes.
"You should be resting, recovering so you can come back to work."
/If I lay on my back when the painkillers wear down it hurts from the burns and bruises. If I lay face down my stomach and chest hurt from the burns and bruises. I don't get another dose of medicine for 43 more minutes./ She's hardly surprised that he has it down to the minute. /If I'm going to sit up so I don't hurt I should at least make myself useful doing something./
"I am starting to realize why Gibbs slaps people."
/Come on, Zee, have a heart. I'm going stir crazy in here./
"You have been there less than a day."
/See how nuts it's making me? I can't even tell time anymore./
She scans her desk for something to throw. "All right, Tim, I will make you a deal. If you are still suicidal enough to want to leave the hospital by the time I am off duty, I will come down and check you out, if your doctor says it is all right. But then I take you home and you stay home, keeping in mind you will have no one to nurse you back to health while I am on duty."
/I don't need a nurse,/ he insists, /and I can help./
"No you can not." She doesn't have the heart to tell him that his computer, upon which he lavishes the devotion of a young mother with a newborn, had been shot three times by Whitney and is currently in IT, its innards being salvaged as far as possible into a new body. It's being inspected to learn everything Whitney did during the two days he'd impersonated the wounded man.
/Then I can work from home. I can slave my computer there through my workstation at home, access all of NCIS' files and search for clues in my boxers./
"I know what is in your boxers and it is not clues."
/I mean-/
"All right!" she takes a deep breath, holds it, can't feel calmer. "All right, I will talk to Gibbs, get his permission. He will probably whack my head because you are out of reach-"
/I'll kiss it and make it better./
"You will do a lot more than that - because I am coming with you and if you try to leave the apartment I shall handcuff you to the bed."
/I thought Abby was the only one who did that./
x
He realizes his mistake an instant before the phone is slammed down on his ear.
He at least has sense enough not to call back.
x
"He can do what?"
"From his home computer he has the ability to access his computer here, rather some
other since his is shot to hell, and get into all the files. For him it will be as though he were sitting at his desk."
Gibbs isn't thrilled to hear he can do this after the invasion of their files that they had already suffered. However, considering the seriousness of the situation the Agency as a whole is under, he's nevertheless grateful for any assistance the computer expert can render. "Okay, go get him this evening, start him researching what files Whitney opened, what he learned about NCIS that's not in the files protected by Delphi. But you watch him. If he shows any sign that he can't make it, you get him back to the hospital and you do handcuff him to the bed."
Ziva nods, regretting how clearly her voice must have carried.
"Lee, what do you have on Whitney?" She'd turned in a report by the one hour deadline, he'd sent her back for more even before looking at the pages.
"I'm still glad he's dead, sir," the man had been instrumental in her capture and had led in her torture. Though Ziva's bullet that had ended his life in this room she still holds a grudge. She'd wanted to kill him. His blood and brains have been scrubbed from McGee's desk; she'd wanted to do worse.
Worst, she's told her team mate nothing of what she'd suffered, and further swore Tim to secrecy. As a result of her manipulations she feels she has no one to reach out to.
Seeing the look on Gibbs' face, she knows she has used up all the latitude she has. "I've traced most of his history, sir, but I can find no reliable data to confirm just when he might have been recruited into the terrorist cell."
"I think I can help with that," DiNozzo reports. "Natasha Klein's flight records show she made three trips to Las Vegas in the early spring of last year, stayed at the same hotel each time." He forwards the data to Lee's terminal.
"That's about a mile and a half from Whitney's place of business," she reports with a grateful nod to DiNozzo. Without coordinated effort such as this, tracing so many disparate people as the teams must backtrack would be unimaginably difficult. Robert DiMarco and his team in their office upstairs on the fourth floor are tracking Robert Kimmel and Stephen Sullivan, the other two members of the cell. She forwards the combined information, flagging it to Kevin Lamb's terminal.
xx
Gibbs continues his own research when an announcing 'ping' and the appearance of a dialogue box in the lower right of his monitor screen alert him that he has new e-mail. Opening it, he finds it to have originated twelve feet to his left. He glances at Michelle Lee who works intently at her station and wonders why she does not simply report her findings aloud.
The message contains no words from her, simply a blue underlined link. Clicking on it opens a web page displaying instructions for activating and using the voice-mail feature on his cell phone.
Gibbs glares across the bullpen at this busy Agent, whose back remains turned to him. The e-mail contained no message. If it had, or if she had spoken aloud, they would be on their way right now to an elevator conference. However, there was nothing he could by any stretch
call her upon. The link was impersonal information only, and that itself is enough of a message.
Swallowing his annoyance, he tries to see her side of the issue, not hard to do as he begins to read.
xx
"Ziva, what about Sam Richards?" he asks ten minutes later. She had been assigned to continue the research into the late psychiatrist's activities, how he got the hypnotic CDs he had been distributing to unsuspecting patients and how he was funded. The money had come from a numbered account in Switzerland, the owner's identity still obscure.
"Whoever his contact was, I am starting to believe he kept it in his head-"
"Rather tough for a head shrinker," DiNozzo opines, earning him sour looks from everyone else.
"Because I can find nothing in his personal records or in that secret pocket on his hard drive that Tim found. We do know that the programming he was feeding his unsuspecting patients contained instructions to transfer all their assets, of whatever kind, to the same Swiss Account that was funding him. This was done each time immediately before they carried out their programmed murders and suicides, but the people running the thing are smart. I tried making a deposit to that same account and it was rejected."
"When was the account closed?"
"According to my sources, it has not been - not that they are being forthcoming with any other information. It is simply not accepting unauthorized deposits."
"I think that's the first time I've ever heard of 'unauthorized deposits'." DiNozzo observes.
"It requires a prefix code, but the codes used by Joralemon, MacDiamond and Nelson are no longer accepted; they have been deactivated. Apparently it allows a single dump from each, then self-deletes."
"Then what we need is an unused code." He picks up the telephone, a moment later changes his mind. He's had enough of sitting at his desk, researching half a dozen different leads. He needs some exercise.
xx
When he enters the Forensics Lab he has to admit that he wouldn't have been entirely surprised to find it upside down. Finding Abby upside down, however, is a different matter.
She's perched in the rear corner of her lab, upon her daybed, back pressed to the wall and her head flat upon the upholstery, her twin pigtails laid out to either side of her head. She's wearing a black tee shirt with very small white lettering he cannot distinguish upside down and, fortunately, black pants.
"Abby, what are you doing?"
She glances down to his face and then forward, addressing his knees. "I'm standing on my head." Her smile is in sharp contrast with his deepening scowl.
"I can see you're standing on your head. Why are you standing on your head?"
"My feet are tired."
"Abby…" He has already had too much of this.
She brings her right leg forward, upsetting her balance and follows through to land on her feet, turns to face him, that smile still on her face. He has a moment to lean in, straining to read the very tiny white lettering spread across her impressive chest. 'If you can read this, my friend Gibbs will smack you.'
Trying very hard to hold the scowl he shakes his head, regretting not having used the phone. Instead, he plunges ahead, outlining the problem of the disks and deposit prefix codes for her.
"I'll get right on it," she promises.
"And stay off your head."
xx
It barely takes a half hour for Abby to produce the results Gibbs had sought and to present them to him and the others in person in the Squad Room, her manner thoroughly self-satisfied. Gibbs is pleased she now wears her closed white lab coat.
"I found three separate prefix codes from three disks, there are more but since the commands aren't exactly the same, I'd have to listen to each of them individually. I figured three would be a reasonable start.
"DiNozzo, David, Lee, make some deposits." The codes are distributed, each logs on as a different victim per Abby's notes. Results are rapid.
"Not accepted," Lee reports.
"Nada," DiNozzo confirms a second later.
"Squat and diddily," Ziva adds a moment later. No one bothers to correct her as she continues, "I still get the 'unauthorized transaction', but this time it seems the prefix code is not turned on."
"Smart people," Gibbs grants, having expected no less. "They're probably set only after the kill code is sent out, or a few minutes before. Until someone sets off a Sleeper, the prefix code is useless."
Ziva's reply is in Hebrew, not directed to anyone and no one asks for a translation.
xx
Compiling information is one of the most time-consuming functions of Investigative work, and while the results can lead to conclusions that are sometimes dramatic and explosive, the actual process is both energizing and tedious. It is a contradictory and never welcome combination.
By 1600 the team has accomplished an impressive amount of work, but by no means has the job been completed, merely started for Beta Shift. Gibbs sends his people home, with instructions to pick up the enhanced trail again in the morning. He knows Ziva will free McGee from his seemingly intolerable bondage, tomorrow he'll have the computer expert's assistance, albeit remotely.
xxx
Holding a Federal Agent against his will is considered by the staff of Bethesda Hospital
to be more trouble than it's worth, especially when his injuries are not life threatening and he's determined to leave.
Determined as he is, however, his body is not up to his will. The bruises on his face only hint at his true wounds. The burns that cover most of his upper body, bandaged as they are, slow his movements and he requires Ziva's help to dress. When they reach his apartment, through rush hour traffic, it's already late and compelling him to bed requires a reversal of the project that had allowed him to leave.
Ziva cautiously helps him remove his shirt, careful of the covered burns and lines of blackened flesh that crisscross his chest, stomach, arms and back. The electric cattle prod had charred his flesh in horrible patterns of pain. Fortunately, the torture had been confined above his waist. He saysthe burns do not hurt, but not convincingly and never while meeting her eyes. In due time, however, his clothing is gone and he's finally in bed.
"I'm not an invalid," he protests as she lays him upon his back.
"I know you are not," she assures him, "but you are staying in bed."
He's annoyed, one restraint has been substituted for another. "Zee, you simply can't keep me in bed."
She smiles, beginning to open the buttons of her blouse. "Of course I can."
x
She's not aroused and senses he is not either. It will take a long time for her to separate the abuses of the man who she had thought was Tim from the feelings she has for the real one. Their special retreat on the top floor of Headquarters has been soured beyond recovery by what that monster had done. In her head Ziva can tell the two apart - one is dead at her hand - but in her heart, renewed intimacy with Tim is going to take time.
She doubts that, tonight, Tim is going to be able to manage real intimacy either. Everything he has gone through in the past three days, coupled with painkillers and antibiotics… she knows the spirit can be willing but the flesh is definitely weak.
No, she knows that despite any desire he might have or be able to work up to, kissing and cuddling are the best either of them feels up to. It will, however, keep him in bed where he belongs. And though it has been a long time since she has felt she had to, certainly not with Tim, if he is up to it then she is not beyond a little fakery.
The medications that ease his pain also work against him but their touch is more loving than lustful. She touches him only lightly. There are too few places she can touch him that are not bruised or burnt, covered with a patchwork of bandages and taped white gauze. She's grateful that, sadistic and brutal as his interrogators had been, they had confined their torture to above his waist.
They cuddle upon the bed, their caresses loving but not frantic. He slips down her body, kissing her breast and his cell phone starts to vibrate upon the wooden dresser, the shaking making the entire dresser rumble.
x
Surprise makes him pick his head up from her nipple. "Can't be for me," he mutters, "I'm on disability." He returns to her and the unit stops vibrating. "See?" he asks, the word vibrating against her.
"You do not feel very disabled," Ziva sighs as his tongue attacks her again. She arches her back to urge him to more intense effort and the phone starts to vibrate again.
He ignores it, continuing to apply his tongue to Ziva's sensitive nipple, guided by her movements, her own touches and her sighs of increasing pleasure and eventually the phone stops shaking. He continues, his tongue continuing to stroke her as though a bow along a violin string, drawing notes of pleasure from her. His hand slips down her body, past her stomach and the phone begins to vibrate again.
"Oh, for the love of God," Ziva groans, turning away angrily, the mood broken, "answer the damned phone!"
x
Truly aggravated, Tim forces himself off the bed, frustration and anger an excellent analgesic. He snatches the vibrating device off the dresser, yanks it open - "Listen you - World War Three had better be on or you –!"
/Timmy?/ the tremulous voice halts his furious outburst, /Timmy, is that you?/
"Shav?" he can hardly believe it, not that she is calling him but at the utter devastation in
her voice. "What's wrong?"
/Timmy, don't hang up! Please don't hang up!/
"I won't hang up." He's astonished to hear the woman sounding close to tears. He looks to Ziva, who stares at him, romance driven from her head by the concern on his face. "What's wrong?"
/I - I need to see you - now! I need to - to talk to you! It's important! Please!/ She saw him yesterday, knows how wounded he is. If her closeness to tears was astounding, the naked begging goes beyond that. He can barely picture her in such distress. /Bring Abby. Tell her - tell her I'm calling in that favor. I'll call in all of yours if I have to but please come!/
"Of course I'll come," he assures her, reaching for his underwear drawer as Ziva's concerned stare turns to outrage. Shav saw him wounded, half-delirious. If she can still call like this... "Where are you?" He can't manage the tricky feat of dressing while balancing the small phone on his shoulder, doesn't even try.
/Come through the Avenue entrance, I'll meet you between the Hall and the Church./
"Shav, I'm here with Ziva, shall I -?"
/NO!/ her frantic exclamation is truly astounding. /Just you two! Please! I - I can't tell you anymore - not over the phone!/
"All right," he quickly considers the time if he calls Abby and has her ready for pickup on the fly, "I'll be about twenty five minutes."
/Thank you!/
He closes the phone, snatches the underwear, polo shirt and jeans from drawers, the remaining endorphins in his system allowing him not to feel the pain, hopefully for another few minutes.
Ziva is out of the bed in an instant, "What is going on?"
"Some kind of trouble, I don't know what." She reaches for her own clothing. "No, not you. Abby and I."
She turns back to him, outraged. "What?"
"I don't know what's happening, but she just wants to see Abby and I, no one else."
"Again?" Ziva's outrage grows. This is more than her aggravation at the interruption - far more. "Once before you left our bed in the middle of the night because she called, now-"
"Zee, please-"
"You are not even on call, you are on disability! She knows that! One of the reasons I am here tonight is to keep you from going off on your own. Gibbs gave you an assignment for tonight. If you think I am going to let you go off with your two old girlfriends you forget it! I finally get rid of Abby after her coming between us all summer and now-!"
"Zee!" he cannot believe she has just said that. "It's not like that. She's in some kind of-"
"No! Go!" She waves him away, unable to bear any more. She'd found him with O'Mallory at a Summer Festival, looking nothing like any priest she'd ever imagined. Then he - or the Elf Lord Cearbhall - had proclaimed undying love for her - and Cearbhall could not have thought it if McGee had not written it. But this is too much, she can endure it no longer. To hell with Gibbs' orders! "Go to her - go to Abby - just Go!" She reaches for her discarded shirt. "But do not expect to find me here when you come back!"
