A/N: I'm terribly sorry for the lack of updates, but I had some trouble piecing together this chapter. I hope you'll like it and I hope to keep having you intrigued. Please review! Thanks xxx

Tony ducked under the police tape marking off the area in the parking garage where they had found Gibbs' car abandoned in the middle of the lane. He pushed his hair back and adjusted his NCIS cap, a stern expression on his face. He approached McGee taking photos of Gibbs' car, the door had been left wide open when found. Tony was having a nagging feeling in his gut, something was very wrong with this picture. And it was not just that Gibbs' car had been left behind in the NCIS parking garage that bothered him at the moment, it was the lack of progress.

"Hey, people! A little less conversation, a little more action!" he barked at McGee, who had let down his camera to exchange a few words with Ziva. The Israeli looked his direction; a small crease wrinkled her forehead.

"Elvis?" she asked and raised her own camera to take a snap of the dirty shoeprints they'd found next to the car.

"No, I'm DiNozzo…." Tony replied sarcastically and then turned to McGee for an update while Ziva rolled her eyes. "Probie, what you got?"

"Uhm... we've taped off the lane and marked out tire tracks from Gibbs' car, and also from an unidentified vehicle," he pointed further up the lane where a set of tire tracks were marked by a number. "Whoever was driving must have raced toward the boss' car, they both hit the brakes, Gibbs is being forced out, and they must have taken him with them. When they drove off, they rounded his car and continued in that direction," McGee continued and pointed over his shoulder.

"Surveillance video?" Tony asked, arms crossed over his chest.

"I had Ziva pull the tapes," he replied and gestured to Ziva that she'd give them to Tony.

"Have one of the newbies run it up to Abby, tell her to check for any leads. Anything else, probie?" Tony ordered and after exchanging a look with McGee, Ziva walked off to send someone up with the surveillance tape.

"Well, we've got footprints," he pointed down, just outside the driver's door, at two dirty footprints leaving the car, supposedly in a hurry. "And the engine was off when the car was found, but the keys was still in," he added and Tony's eyes found the key still in the ignition.

"Keep working," he instructed and turned to leave.

"Tony," McGee's voice stopped him, he turned back to him when he continued to speak. "You don't think he's…" his voice broke, worry shone in his eyes. Tony once again felt the unpleasant turn of his gut.

"Don't be ridiculous, probie. It's the boss we're talking about, he'll be fine," he spoke with more confidence then he felt, but didn't want McGee's hope to fade. After all, hope was what made them go on, when the odds were against them.

"Tony!" Ziva's voice echoed through the parking garage. Both Tony and McGee looked up in the direction of her voice. Sending each other a glance, they hurried off toward her, McGee still holding on the camera. They ducked under the police tape marking off the scene and found Ziva on the ground next to another car.

"What you got?" Tony asked, pulling to a halt next to her in the crammed space between the cars. She pointed at the ground before her. He leaned down and placed his hands on his knees to get a better look at what she was showing. He straightened up just as McGee squeezed in next to him.

"Blood," he stated bitterly. "Whose car is this?"

Ziva glanced up at them from where she was crouching on the ground; her eyes were full of concern. "Director Shepard's,"

- - -

Madam Director was twisting in her cocoon, flashes of light burst through her head; she stopped moving and waited until the pain had subsided. Who had left her alone in this hellish nightmare? And why? While giving that some thought, but not coming up with a good enough answer, she began twisting her wrists again. The damned tape wouldn't budge. She moved her hips an inch, and instantly felt it where it was concealed at her waist. The knife!

Since she'd started working with Gibbs, he'd ranted on and off about his damned rules. Now most of the time she wasn't even aware of it, but she still clung onto some of these rules. And some had been broken. But that was a long time ago. One she always followed, on the other hand, was rule nine, never go anywhere without a knife. She did indeed enjoy the knowledge she was walking around with a knife concealed at her waist, it had impressed a certain Israeli too.

But could she reach it? It might just be her only change at breaking free. She slowly inched her hands toward her waistline. The tip of her nail scraped against the top of the knife handle, the tape and the fact that her shoulders felt like they had been smashed to pieces made her feel pretty much paralyzed.

But with the thought that a little pain just might be worth breaking free as motivation, she inched her hands around her hips. She bit down hard on her lip as it felt as though knife were thrust into her shoulder. She breathed out the breath she was not aware she had been holding as her fingertips caught hold of the top of the handle. She stopped there. Wriggled her fingers a little. The handle moved a millimeter. She clenched her teeth as her nails scraped, then lost the grip. She tried not to wince, but let her fingers once again inch closer toward the handle. She caught it again, wriggled it slightly. It stuck at her waistline, she gave it another wriggle, but did not dare to work it too hard in case she'd lose her grip again, and it would fall and land beside her where she couldn't reach it.

The sound of tires on gravel had her freezing in her movement. Closer and closer the sound came. An approaching car! Damn it! She felt ice-cold panic fill up her chest, but tried to ignore it as she inched the knife further up, until she had the handle securely in her hand.

Okay, come on, Jenny. You can do this. Just place the knife between your hands like this… she thought while twisting the knife with the blade down and started to hastily cut through the tape. The knife was just a bit lazy and an icy hand gripped at her heart as she heard the engine of the car being turned off. She had no idea how close it was, just that it was parked in a close proximity, and she had no doubt it belong to her kidnappers. She may only have minutes before they would come to collect her.

Driven by that thought, she gave the knife one final, hard thrust, and the tape ripped apart. With pounding wrists her hands flew to her face, finger tips gripping around the edges of the tape blinding her. She ripped it off, and parts of her eyebrows too, she suspected as she tried not to wince as the skin around her eyes burned. Next, the tape covering her mouth, again, her skin was burning. She stopped to listen. Nothing. It worried her. And she wasn't worrying for nothing. It was too late to react when the sound of feet on gravel sounded way too close. It was too late to run when somebody knelt beside her. It was too late to scream when somebody placed a hand on the canvas covering her, pressing down hard over her mouth. It was too late for anything when somebody began to drag her down the gravel road.

To be continued...