"Tony, you take left, Ziva; you on the right."
"Got it, Boss," came the mutual reply.
They were standing in a long corridor, doors lining the lavishly decorated walls. The Sandford Hotel was in no way a cheap hotel, but it wasn't quite the Hilton. Huge, gold contraptions hung from the wall ready to hold any number of candles, but instead a feeble glow emanated from their 100-watt cores. Ever the one for a façade, nothing here was quite as it seemed. Gerry Sandford had been the master of disguise; he could take anything trashy and create a smokescreen of elegance around it. His daughter was much the same.
Isabella Sandford was her father's daughter. Wherever she went, there was an illusion of mirrors; every word she spoke could be twisting into something else. She could slip through the most difficult situations with a snap of her fingers, and they'd been trailing her for months. About a month ago, the team had finally got what they wanted: evidence that Isabella Sandford was part of a huge organisation channelling weapons out of the US to the countries willing to pay highest. And she was doing it right underneath their noses, getting their own Navy to unwittingly take a part. There was no doubt that Isabella was a clever woman; they'd been trying to get evidence on her for the last 5 years, and even before then. They had had an inkling; but now she was only metres away behind a single closed door. There were no mirrors, no illusions this time. It was just one single takedown.
Gibbs nodded once to each of his companions and silently, with his gun drawn, gave one simple kick to the door resulting in a large crash, as it swung open on its hinges.
"NCIS, FREEZE!"
The words resounded around the empty room. Confusion set into the icy pools of Gibbs' eyes as he looked around. "Ziva, bathroom," he said as he walked towards a closet the other side of the room, "Tony…Tony?"
Gibbs glanced quickly over his shoulder as he talked, but as he did so the absence of one of his team hit him hard. "Tony!" Gibbs called out retreating towards the open door they had come smashing in through only seconds ago. Ziva followed suit, the worry set her own eyes. They had barely moved a footstep when they heard an almost silent 'ding' from the corridor they had waited in.
"The elevator," the remaining team members mouthed in unison. Rushing out into the corridor they were confronted with a rather annoyed looking Tony being held at knifepoint by an immaculately dressed Isabella.
"Sorry, Boss, I…"
"I would prefer if you were silent, Agent DiNozzo," Isabella spoke softly from behind Tony, her hand skilfully tilting the knife at his throat. "There may be a chance of you surviving if you are."
Tony kept silent.
"You won't get away, Isabella," Gibbs said gruffly, his gun trained at her head.
"Oh, but I will. One move 'Special' Agent Gibbs, and Tony here, will simply fall to the ground in a pool of his own blood; not to be over-dramatic."
Isabella's other hand swept across Tony's abdomen and pulled him closer into her. She felt Tony's muscles tense under her very capable fingers and she smiled. She stepped back into the open elevator, still holding Tony close to her. Gibbs and Ziva watched, unable to do anything for fear of harming Tony in the process.
The doors began to close and Isabella moved her head to the side of Tony's, never once taking her eyes off Gibbs and Ziva. She inhaled deeply as she took in the smell of Tony's aftershave. Moving her mouth closer to his ear she whispered quietly, "I owe you, Agent DiNozzo."
As the doors closed she watched the muscles twitching in Gibbs' face. She lowered her lips to Tony's skin and gave him a quick but full kiss. Feeling him relax a little in her grip she pushed him out the closing doors, his foot just making it before the doors shut completely.
"Damn it," Gibbs said, lowering his weapon. He had not once blinked, keeping his eyes trained on hers, and his stomach twisted as he thought about what he had seen. Her eyes told it all: the excitement, the thrill, the confidence. He kicked himself for underestimating her; they had been not been any closer today than they were yesterday; she knew she would get away. He began the futile attempt at recovering the capture and looked over at his team. Ziva was giving Tony a hand from off the ground where he had fallen.
"Ziva, you're with me. Tony, you ok?"
"Yeah, I think so," he said his hand to his neck caressing the smallest of cuts where the knife had cut into his flesh as he had been pushed out the elevator.
"You stay here, let us know what floor she stops at."
"Got it, Boss."
Gibbs headed to the stairwell, followed by Ziva, who was eyeing Tony curiously.
Tony backed against the wall and pulled his radio from his pocket; his other hand still at the side of his neck. He lifted the radio to his mouth and spoke clearly into it, "It's slowing down; looks like third floor, Boss."
The sound of a door crashing open over the radio a couple of seconds later let him know that Gibbs and Ziva had exited the stairwell which could only mean they were on the third floor. Tony sank to the floor as he listened over the radio. What the hell had just happened?
Gibbs and Ziva ran out onto the third floor, guns aimed at the elevator door. Tony was right; the elevator slowed and stopped, the doors opening with another 'ding'.
"NCI…." Ziva's jaw dropped but Gibbs just sighed as he saw what he knew he would, but hoped he wouldn't.
Gibbs' stepped into the empty elevator, gun still drawn, and looked around the lift pointlessly. There was no use. Isabella Sandford had escaped.