Chapter 2

She looked at him warily.

"My name is Tim McGee. This shouldn't take very long. I just need to ask him a question. Maybe two."

"Tim McGee?"

"Yes. He knows me. Too well," Tim said, ruefully.

She smiled a little at that. "Now, I can see that you do know him. Come in."

Tim stepped into the house, looking around with interest at the decor. It seemed too normal for someone like Carew to live in a place like this.

"I'm Tamara Carew."

"His wife?"

"Sort of. This way."

She led him into a small study.

"Just have a seat in here and I'll go get him."

"Thank you," Tim said.

He sat down and looked around. Books on the shelves, a desk, a couple of comfortable chairs. All in all, he would never guess that this was the study of the former director of the CIA. He thought about what Tamara had said about his question of whether or not she was his wife. In a way, it was almost comforting to know that the complexities of knowing Carew were universal. It was sad, too, but a little comforting.

The door opened and Tamara came back in.

"He'll just be a couple of minutes. So you know him."

"Pretty well. As well as I guess I could."

Tamara nodded knowingly.

"I'm assuming you know him through the CIA?"

Tim nodded. That was the easier way to answer without getting into the details.

"Then, did you meet our children, as well?"

Funny, but Tim had never thought of Carew's children as having a mother. That was ridiculous, but it was true. He could easily associate Bri with Carew, but this slightly-weary woman seemed too normal to have raised someone like Bri.

"Yes. Sort of."

Then, her eyes widened.

"You were with Levi when he saved Bri. Weren't you."

"Yes."

"Thank you," she said. "Really. After Quinn was killed, she was all I had left."

"How is she?"

"She left the CIA a little over a year ago. She's been working in a small clinic in upstate New York, as far away from the chaos as she can be. I'm glad. I never wanted my children in the CIA, not when I'd seen what it did to my husband. After Levi retired, there was no reason for her to stay. She didn't want to after what happened, and she was always a daddy's girl."

"Really."

Hearing Bri described so normally was weird.

"How did you know them?"

Tim took a breath. He couldn't tell this woman how he had come into her children's sphere. He couldn't tell her that they were responsible for torturing him to make sure he wouldn't share CIA secrets. There wasn't enough money in the world to make that a temptation. She didn't need to know those details.

"Mostly unwillingly," he said. "But it was years ago and I don't really want to get into it."

Tamara looked like she wanted to ask him more but then thought the better of it.

"How is...Carew doing?" he asked, hesitating over whether to use Carew's first name or not.

"Depends on the day," Tamara said, clearly hedging a bit, herself. "But he's more like I knew him than he was. That gives me hope."

"I'm glad," Tim said.

"Really?"

"Yes. I can't say that we're friends or anything, but I do...respect him, even if I can't agree with everything he does."

The door opened and Carew himself came in.

"I'm sorry for the delay, Agent McGee."

"That's all right," Tim said.

"Agent?" Tamara asked, looking wary again. Tim couldn't blame her.

"NCIS agent," Carew said. "Not CIA."

"And I'm not here on business...or at least, not business having to do with my occupation," Tim said.

"Don't worry, Tamara," Carew said, sounding much as Tim remembered him. "Of all the people who might show up at my door, the only one less worrisome than Agent McGee is Dr. Hicks. However, I do think we'll need to talk privately."

Tim nodded.

Tamara stood up and whispered something to Carew. He nodded and briefly cupped her cheek with his hand. Tim was surprised at the intimate gesture. He felt like he should look away, but it was over before he could move. Then, Tamara left and Carew sat down.

"I have to admit that I was surprised to have you of all people show up here, Agent McGee."

"It wasn't in my plans, until today."

The old smile that revealed nothing. "To be expected. I assume you're here for a reason, then."

"Yes. I need your help."

"Count me as doubly surprised. Why? Surely, your NCIS friends are up to any challenge."

"Probably, they are, but I don't think they can be fast enough in this case. The FBI is going to accuse me of treason and have me arrested. I think we both know what will happen if they do."

Carew sat back and took a breath. Then, he nodded.

"Well, Jorgenson certainly has become more creative since my retirement. I wonder how long it took him to come up with this little idea...or who gave the idea to him since I have a low opinion of his raw intelligence. If you're thinking that I can stop this, you're sadly mistaken, Agent McGee. I haven't tried to stay in the game since I left it. A few people have tried to pull me back, but I've been firm in my rejection."

Tim leaned forward.

"I don't think you can do that. I'm not asking for that."

"What are you asking for, then?"

"I'm calling in the favor you said you owe me. I'm asking you to help me run, to get to a place where the FBI can't find me. Hopefully, nothing that has to be permanent. Just long enough for my friends to clear my name...or for Jorgenson to finally get the message that I'm not for sale."

"Again, you've managed to surprise me, Agent McGee. I think you're probably right that you need to get out of Jorgenson's hands before he realizes that you're running. Also, while I have every faith that your team can get you out of this, I agree that they probably couldn't do it before you were arrested and that means it would be too late. I am, of course, assuming that you haven't committed treason."

"Absolutely not!" Tim said, with more than a little irritation.

Carew smiled. "Just checking. So what are you hoping for from me? Ideas or actual assistance?"

"Both, but I don't need you to come with me. I'm not here to interrupt your life. I just need to know where to go and how to get there. I don't want to risk taking a regular flight. I think that I'll probably be flagged. So if you can get me out of the country, I'll make do with the rest."

"What about your team? Do they know?"

"Not yet. Hopefully, I'll be gone before they find out. I left Gibbs a note because I can't just disappear again. He may come here, wanting more information, and I don't care if you tell him, but they won't listen if I tell them that this is necessary; so I need to be gone before they know."

"Okay. Why don't you relax in here while I make a few calls. It shouldn't take more than five minutes."

Carew left the room, and Tim felt some of his tension ease. Again, he was surprised by that feeling. Since when had asking Carew for help been a source of calm?

Since realizing that my own government doesn't care about me.

In reality, if Tim were honest, the more he had to deal with this, the more temptation there was to turn his back on his country and just give up. It would be easier to throw in the towel and just say that they weren't worth it.

Only, he couldn't do that because he loved his country. He loved the people here. He had known too many good people to give up on them. It was so hard when it was his government giving him the most grief.

It just was so frustrating. He hated that the actions of his government were driving him away. Part of him felt that he was being a coward by running away instead of facing it head-on. The other part of him was furious that he was being forced into this. It made him angry that he was running, that he had to.

I want a normal life!

The door opened once more and Carew came back in.

"All right, Agent McGee. You've lucked out because while I don't have access to a private plane any longer, I know people who do...and a couple of them owe me favors. How do you feel about going to Marrakech?"

"What?" Tim asked. "You mean...Morocco?"

"Yes, that's exactly where I mean."

"I hadn't really thought about...going back to any Arabic country. That hasn't been all that great for me in the past."

"It's not only Arabic, actually. They do speak the language and there has been a significant Arabization, but ethnically, many of the people are Berber."

"Why there?" Tim asked, ignoring the history lesson.

"A few reasons, actually. One, it's relatively stable. You're not likely to be caught in a military coup or peasant uprising. Two, there are quite a few tourists and English, while not as prominent as French, is becoming more common. Tourism one of the major industries there, and so you'll be less likely to stick out. Three, Morocco is not a country that we would suspect of luring Americans to betray their country. They're too busy with Western Sahara. Four, and this is probably the most important, there's no extradition treaty with the United States. The government can't force you back, and they likely won't want to make an international incident out of this. You're not going to be important enough. Or at least, you shouldn't be."

This was becoming more real by the second and Tim took a deep breath as he considered Carew's explanation. It made logical sense, but at the same time, Tim knew that he was going to be taking a major step away from his life and, in a worst-case scenario, it might end up being permanent.

"If you have a better idea, that's fine, but this is my suggestion, since you asked for it."

"No, it's...it's fine... Do you think Jorgenson will back down?"

"Maybe. The fact that he's still trying to get you two years after the last time says a lot about his attitude. There's probably something specific he wants from you, but he can't get it unless he has complete control. I don't have any idea what it is, but it might behoove you to figure that out if you can. Knowledge is power."

"And the truth will set you free?" Tim asked, quoting the CIA motto.

Carew smiled again. "The CIA understands more than some that knowing what's going on beneath the surface is the sure way to freedom. Speaking of, while the FBI doesn't operate internationally, the CIA does, and you may run into CIA agents in Marrakech. They tend to try and be where there's potential action and while Morocco is relatively stable, there are unstable countries all around. And you never know when the treaty between Morocco and the Polisario Front in Western Sahara will break down. Instability in one country can have a domino effect."

"I'm not worried about the CIA," Tim said.

"And you've moved me beyond surprise and into shock, Agent McGee," Carew said with that same amused smile. However, Tim noticed that there was some hint of genuine amusement, not just his false amusement that covered up whatever he might really be feeling. "Either you have been exchanged with a clone or you've finally let Dr. Hicks convince you that we're not the devil incarnate."

Tim only barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes. "I don't know Director Morgan very well, but he's been doing what he said he would be and I've never worried about being taken over. I was paranoid about being watched, not about being controlled. I don't have that luxury with the FBI."

"Director Morgan is an excellent director and is trustworthy so far as I'm aware. Regardless, are you accepting my offer of transportation to Morocco?"

"Yes," Tim said. It didn't take much thought. He had too much to worry about to add picking out a place to the list.

"Good. You should pack."

"I'm already packed. My bag is in my car."

"In that case, I'll drive you to your plane and then return your car to your apartment, if that works for you."

"Yes. We're even, now," Tim said.

Carew just smiled and gestured for Tim to stand up.

"You're too quick to deprive yourself of favors."

"No, I'm not. I don't want or need them."

"Except now?" Carew asked, pointedly.

Tim shrugged. "I don't like that I'm in a position where favors are wanted or needed."

"But you are and luckily for you, there is someone who owes you a favor. I'll tell Tamara that we're leaving and then we can go."

"Okay."

Tim stood and followed Carew to the hallway. Tamara was standing near the kitchen, watching them.

"I should be back in an hour or so," Carew said.

"You said that last time," Tamara said.

Carew smiled. "I'm getting better at timing my errands. I'll be back," he said.

There was something deeper there than just a general statement. Tim couldn't see Carew's face, but he could see Tamara's and her expression softened just a bit. It was obvious that they weren't completely at ease with each other but that it was getting better.

Carew turned and gestured. They left the house and got into Tim's car. Tim let Carew drive, mainly because he didn't know where they were going. Interestingly, Carew assumed that he would be driving also. No discussion needed. It just happened.

At first, it was awkward and quiet. Well, it was awkward on Tim's side. He didn't know if Carew felt awkward or not. Then, his curiosity got the best of him.

"What was the last time?" he asked.

"Last time?" Carew repeated.

"Yes. Your..." He hesitated.

"You can call her my wife, although, technically, we are still divorced. Or you can just use her name."

Tim flushed. "Tamara said that you said you'd only be an hour last time."

"Ah. Every so often, something has come up which has led to people wanting or needing my assistance. Sometimes, it's difficult to get them to take no for an answer. Considering how many people disliked me in my position in the CIA, it's interesting how many now want to get access to me again. When it's people like Director Morgan, he will contact me in advance and make it a request, not an order. Generally, I'll allow it. Others, however, are not so considerate. The last time, a man showed up at our door and I had to do some...convincing that he was making a mistake. Hence, Tamara's wariness about your presence. I had to take him back to the FBI and dump him on their front steps, so to speak. No, I didn't kill him. He was doing his job, but he had very little sense of self-preservation. I explained that I had no interest in assisting them and it was my choice. The next one who tried to force the issue would end up dead. Traffic was bad and there were some threats thrown around, but I got out in the end."

"How often has that happened?"

"Often enough to be annoying. Not often enough to require a major statement on my part."

"Are you..." Again, Tim hesitated. This time it was because he wasn't sure about asking personal questions. Still...what did he really have to lose? "Are you both living there? I mean, that was the address I found."

"And how did you do that?"

"I think you can guess."

Carew smiled a little.

"Yes, we're both living there, although more as roommates at this point. No rushing and no certainties."

"Tamara told me that Bri left the CIA."

"I was surprised, although not shocked. Sometimes, those kinds of experiences are too much, and in this case, Bri decided that she'd had enough."

"Tamara said it was because you weren't there anymore."

"Given how much my daughter hates me, I'm sure that Tamara was exaggerating. I know both of my children joined because I worked there, but to say that she left because I was no longer there ignores all the years that came between the beginning and her final departure."

Tim smiled a little himself. While that was probably technically true, Carew himself was probably ignoring what his ex-wife could see. A lie? Probably not at its heart, but it wasn't a whole truth.

They were silent until they pulled up to a small county airport.

"Here we are, Agent McGee. I'll walk you inside and make sure they know who you are."

"Thank you," Tim said.

They got out of the car, and Tim got his bag.

"You're lucky that you have someone owing you a favor," Carew said, as they walked inside.

Tim stopped and looked at Carew for a long moment. Carew raised an eyebrow at the sudden gaze.

"Yes?"

"I'm starting to think that you would have done all this whether you owed me a favor or not."

Carew smiled.

"You may be right. Your plane is waiting."

They went into the building which contained the only terminal. Carew introduced Tim to the pilots who would be flying him to Marrakech. Then, just as Tim was about to walk away, Carew stopped him.

"One last thing, Agent McGee."

"What's that?"

"Given the situation, you would be wise not to use credit cards...or at least, not your own."

Carew handed Tim a small travel bag.

"Keep your passport and ID with you at all times. Don't even leave them in the hotel where you stay. Never depend on things going right."

"They never have before," Tim said.

"Exactly. And change over to dirhams when you get there. The Marrakech airport is quite modern and you'll be able to make that exchange. Good luck, Agent McGee."

"Thank you. We're even, now."

Carew didn't agree or disagree, he just turned and walked away.

Tim watched him go and then squared his shoulders and turned back to the pilots.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes. I'm ready."

"This way."

Tim followed them through the airport to a rather lavish private plane.

"Who does this belong to?" he asked.

The pilot smiled. "Best not to know those kinds of things, under the circumstances. Not the government. Just a wealthy man."

"Must be very wealthy," Tim said, taking in the plush decor.

"Filthy, stinking rich would be a good description. We'll check in with you once we're in the air. Enjoy your flight."

Tim laughed and sat down on one of the seats. He stowed his bag and secured his seatbelt.

Then, he looked out the window and watched to get his last view of the United States. Soon, Gibbs would find the note he'd left. Tim couldn't help wondering how long it would take him to track Carew down.