Average: Chapter 2
Harry ended up staying in a hotel just around the corner from where he'd dropped Ziva off. Interesting woman she was, if Harry had to guess he'd say she was in her early twenties, though she had old eyes. It was if she'd seen things, and probably done things, that had aged her prematurely, not all that surprising in a Mossad agent really.
He'd left the hotel the morning after, and after driving to Ben Gurion airport, Harry had stripped his car, scrubbed it down, and left it in the long stay car park. It would be covertly picked up once he'd left the country. The flight was uneventful and was actually quite boring. Four hours and forty-five minutes later, Harry had his boots back on British soil and had headed towards his agency funded apartment to freshen up. One of the few perks of the job was the free housing, not that it saw much use with Harry flying off to do something or other every few weeks. After a quick shower, Harry had slipped into a charcoal suit and walked the short distance to Vauxhall Cross.
The debrief had gone much the way that Harry had suspected it would. His training officer, and now direct superior, had torn into him about being a hopeless waste of resources and then, in the same breath, derided Mossad for lacking the most basic principles of courtesy in the intelligence world, all before congratulating Harry on doing a good job with what he had. Very odd man was Harry's old training officer.
One good thing to come out of it all though, was a nice new toy. Despite the insistence that MI6 agents would not be getting 'super-secret-mega-awesome spy gadgets' Harry did occasionally get a new toy to play with, this one happened to be a new Crypto phone. It functioned almost exactly like the commercial unit, except that the techies in the lower reaches of Vauxhall Cross had beefed up the encryption by a quite a fair amount. Also, unlike the civilian model, this phone came pre-loaded with the direct line to Harry's MI6 handler.
After all was said and done, Harry had been given two days leave to as he wished before reporting back to the office. He'd gone sky diving for hell of it.
Now, Harry was sat inside his cubicle on the fourth floor of Vauxhall Cross. Life at MI6 was exciting and often dangerous, but like everything else in life, it had its ups and downs. When not on assignment, Harry worked normal office hours, with a lunch break at twelve that he often spent at the Black Dog pub nearby.
Late two thousand and five turned out to be pretty slow in the intelligence world. Mid-year was a rush and bustle of activity that had Harry flying all over the world almost every week, tracking down suspected terrorists and gathering information on anything and everything he could get his hands on, But by November things had slowed down again, relatively speaking of course, The cloak and dagger world of MI6 never stopped after all. Something was always happening; some plot unfurling, some devious plan about to be enacted, the world was a busy place, especially if you knew where to look.
Now though, now the rush was over. MI6 had enough agents that they could 'take turns' as it were, rather than the near constant shifts of previous months, Harry was now on a rotation of sorts.
This left Harry with very little to do most days and usually led him to mindlessly page through information packets on the MI6 mainframe, or simply sit in his cubicle and throw balled up pieces of paper at the bin. Today he was doing the latter. There were two or three bits of scrunched up paper littering the floor where he'd missed but the bin itself was almost overflowing, he'd have to empty it soon and try again.
Just as Harry was lining up another his desk phone rang, glad for the temporary respite from the boredom, Harry eagerly picked up the phone.
"Potter." Came the voice of James Brass. "There's a woman on line two asking for you. What have you been told about giving this number to random birds you meet at the pub?" James sounded quite angry.
Harry rolled his eyes. It happened once and now, every time someone of the female persuasion called asking for him, James assumed that Harry was committing a security breach in an effort to get laid. Harry sighed. "What's her name?"
"David." Harry was surprised, he honestly thought the Mossad agent had simply burnt his number and he'd never hear from her again.
"She's not some random bird James, she's Mossad. Put her through." James merely grunted but complied.
The line was quiet for a moment before Officer David's lightly accented voice filtered through. "Potter?"
"Speaking. I didn't think I'd hear from you ever again to be honest. So, what can I do for you?" Harry asked as he leant back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk.
"You said it's good to know people in this business, so I'm asking for a favour." Harry perked up at this, it could be interesting.
"Okay, shoot."
"What? Why?" She sounded horribly confused. Harry chuckled.
"It means go ahead and ask."
"Why can't you just say that then?" She sounded irritated, though in general rather than at him. "I need you to get information on someone, two someones actually."
Harry's eyebrows rose. "And you can't do this yourself?"
"No. I'm currently working as the Mossad - NCIS liaison officer in Washington DC." She was definitely irritated.
Harry's brows rose even further, that's just... Odd.
"So, can you do it?" She asked. Harry thought for a moment.
"I should be able to, I'll call you back in" He looked at the clock, 15:45; it'd be about quarter to eleven in DC right now. "Half an hour, I'll have to talk to some people."
"Okay, I'll be waiting; the people are Jean-Paul Rainier and Sophie Rainier." The line went dead.
'Well, that was surprising.' Harry thought to himself, as he hung up the phone. He stood up an quickly left his cubicle, heading for the floor above and, more specifically James' work station.
Unlike intelligence officers, handlers work in a large open room, not unlike a call centre, and are assigned two or three agents to supervise, though only one active agent at a time. From his earlier call, Harry could safely assume that James wasn't currently overseeing anyone.
Harry walked down the hall and stepped into the lift as it arrived, pressing the button for the fifth floor, he leaned against the back of the lift and waited. Harry stepped out onto the fifth floor as the doors opened, two corridors later and he was walking up to James workstation.
James was a tall man, with narrow shoulders and thick glasses perched on his thin nose. You wouldn't be able to tell that he had a mean left hook just by looking at him. James was sat at his workstation, rapidly typing away on some report or other as Harry walked up.
"James, I need a quick word." Harry started, as he leant against his handlers work station.
James quirked an eyebrow. "This about the bird on the phone?" He asked as he pushed away from the desk and stood up.
Harry nodded.
"Right then, come one, I need a drink." James started to walk away from his station and into the hallway. He stopped by a vending machine just outside.
"So, what do you need to talk about?" He asked Harry as he fed some change into the coin slot.
"I need information on some people." Harry said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
James fished a cherry coke out if the machine and turned to face Harry, cracking the top of the can as he did. "Is this an official request from Mossad?"
"No, more like a sideways request from the yanks if anything." Harry replied.
"Eh? How'd you figure that?" Asked James, as he leant against the vending machine.
"The Mossad agent that contacted me is currently working in some ridiculous capacity for the NCIS out of the DC office."
James gave Harry a funny look. "Look mate, I know it sounds like a wind up but i reckon she really has gotten herself landed in some screwy position as the Mossad-NCIS liaison agent."
James started to walk back to his workstation, Harry followed. "You know that position doesn't exist, right Harry?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "I know that it didn't exist. Now though? I reckon they just made it up." James nodded.
"So what? You want to release data to an American agency that didn't really ask for it but may or may not have asked through a Mossad agent?" James shook his head.
"That's not how it works mate, you know that. I can't just give you Intel as if I was sharing my ciggys. Besides, you know how other agencies act. They want something then they come and ask for it, we don't just hand it out."
Harry blew his cheeks out. "I know, but could you at least send it up the line?"
James shook his head. "Fine, but don't be surprised when they tell to bugger yourself."
James sat down and started clicking away. "Right, who am I looking for?"
Harry grinned. "Jean-Paul and Sophie Rainier." A few more clicks later and James spoke.
"Right, I've found the files you're after and I've sent an access request along with your reason up the chain. Just gotta wait now mate." Harry patted James shoulder.
"Thanks man."
The answer to the request came swiftly, James desk phone began to ring and he quickly picked up the hand set.
Harry sat and watched. "Hello, yes sir, no I understand sir, of course not, no, yes sir, are you sure that's wise sir? Well of course I think he can, no, yes, of course I will He's my bloody agent! Yes sir, okay, all right, yes of course, okay, good bye."
Harry looked at his handler, eyebrows raised. "That sounded like it was fun."
"Shut up Potter, I don't enjoy having my arse chewed out." James ran his fingers through his hair. "Good news is, you can have your information. You've been cleared for both dossiers." James gave him a long look. "However, in exchange for that, you're having your desk rotation cut off."
'Brilliant' Harry thought. 'I was going mad stuck here anyway'
"You've got a new assignment, you're going to take this data to whoever asked for it and then you're going to hang about." Harry raised his eyebrows.
James looked at him hard. "I assume that the Miss David that contacted you earlier is the same Miss David that you met in the Middle East?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah, same girl. Why?"
"Because mate, that girl is your new assignment. She happens to be the daughter of the deputy director of Mossad, one Eli David."
'Part of the job, I suppose' Harry mused.
"So, I'm going to stick around and do some digging?" He asked. James nodded his head.
"Pretty much, it's an extended assignment, they don't want you stepping on too many toes, so no surveillance and no bugging the place but they do want you to find out what's going on. Mainly they want to know more about David Snr, but anything to do with Miss David's assignment is fair game as well."
Harry nodded; it was all part of the job. Extended assignment was basically the professional way to say 'it'll take as long as it takes. As to the interest in Eli David, well, that was hardly surprising, intelligence agencies keep tabs on each other all the, some are just better at it than others.
"When do I leave?" Harry asked.
"You're on the non-stop overnight flight from Heathrow to Dulles international tonight. It leaves at 19:00"
Harry nodded as he checked his watch, 16:05. "All right then, I'll sort out my cubicle and swing by my flat to pick up some stuff. I'll keep you updated."
James nodded as he turned back to his screen. "Take care mate." Harry headed back to his cubicle, once he was sat down; he picked up his office phone handset and dialled the phone Iva had called from earlier.
"Agent David, NCIS." Harry chuckled.
"You sound like a secretary Officer David." Harry said.
"Potter!" She sounded surprised. "Did you find anything?" She asked.
Harry smirked; the fact that she couldn't see this was completely lost on him. "Of course I did, you'll have it by about nine thirty local time."
"Why so long?" She sounded confused.
"Because I'm dropping it off myself, I've got some stuff to do state side so the data you requested is being sent with me."
"Okay." The word was drawn out and she sounded suspicious.
"Relax." Harry chuckled. "It's nothing bad. You'll probably see me around NCIS quite a bit though. I'll be assessing various agencies security protocols." He lied through his teeth, saying the first plausible thing that came to mind.
"Hmm." She hummed in acknowledgement. "I see."
"Anyway." Harry began, changing the subject. "Would you mind picking me up from the airport?"
"Of course, will you have the data available when you land?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, David. And, I'll give it to you straight off the plane in exchange for a lift, and perhaps your settee."
"You want my couch?" Poor girl seemed horribly confused. Harry smiled to himself.
"No, I would like to sleep on your settee after my long plane journey so that I can sort out accommodation in the morning."
"Oh, of course. Yes, that would be fine."
"Great, have you got a number I can contact you at when I land?"
Ziva rattled off her Mobile number and then hung up with the promise of a lift. Harry shut down his work PC and emptied his bin before taking his suit jacket from the peg by the 'door' of his cubicle.
With a last look around, Harry was happy that everything was in order. He left his cubicle and set out on his way home. Twenty minutes later and he was entering his flat. He headed to his bedroom and brought down a suitcase from the top of his wardrobe. Harry quickly filled it with enough clothes to last a week, he could get more whilst he was there and he still wasn't sure how long he'd be state side anyway. Harry grabbed his Webley and tossed it into the suitcase along with his clothes.
After he was done packing, Harry had a quick shower and a small dinner before getting dressed again and heading for the airport.
At half past six Harry was walking up to the check-in counter, tickets in one hand (picked up from a drop-box) and his suitcase in the other.
The woman behind the counter gave him a courtesy smile, inherent in her industry.
"Hold luggage sir?" She asked in that god-awful 'secretary' voice.
"Just this please." Harry said with a fake smile of his own as he hefted his bag onto the dropped counter and pulled his SIS identification. He put both his ticket and the ID on the raised counter.
She nervously eyed the ID for a moment before nodding. She attached the tags to his suitcase and stamped a large DNT on the side ensuring it wouldn't be tampered with by customs. Harry offered her a winning smile and went to wait for boarding.
Some eight hours later and Harry was slowly stepping out into one of the concourses of Dulles international, running a hand through his mussed up hair. He pulled his crypto phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and sent Ziva a quick text.
I've just landed.
Where are you?
- Potter
The answer came fast.
Trying to find something
Edible in the 'chipotle grill'
outside.
- David
Harry hefted his suitcase and headed towards the the place Ziva mentioned. It didn't take too long to find it, or the irritated looking Israeli stood outside glaring at the menu.
Harry placed his suitcase at his feet and chuckled at her. "You look as if the place has mortally offended you."
Ziva spun around and gave him a short nod when she saw him. "Potter."
"So, I take it you didn't find anything?" He asked.
She shook her head, long hair swishing around. "I had to leave." She grimaced. "The smell was getting to me."
Harry nodded; he wasn't too fond of fast food places either. "Do they do take away tea in there?" He asked.
Ziva shrugged. "It was on the board but i don't know what it's like." Harry nodded and squared his shoulders, only one way to find out.
A few minutes later Harry came out, giving a rather grim look at his take-away cup.
"It's grey... I'm not sure how I feel about this." He was eyeing the cup suspiciously. Ziva was looking at him with an amused smile.
Harry took a small, experimental, sip. After a moment his face froze and he slowly spat the drink back into the cup before reaching out and dropping it into a bin. Outwardly his face hadn't changed, it seemed to be stuck in an expression of complete indifference, though Ziva could see he was a shade or so paler.
"That wasn't tea..." He said slowly. "That was piss."
Ziva let out small laugh and started to lead him towards the car park. "I'm sure it wasn't actual piss."
Harry gave her a hard look. "Whatever it was should be a crime." He said as he followed her, suitcase in hand. After a short time they came upon Ziva's car, a cherry red Mini. Harry raised an eyebrow.
"You drive a Mini?" He asked with a small laugh.
"Yes." She said, somewhat defensively. "It's small, fast, reliable, handles well, and corners well at speed."
Harry raised his hands. "I'm just saying that it isn't what I thought you'd be driving."
Ziva unlocked the doors and Harry put his suitcase in the boot before moving towards the passenger seat. "What did you think I'd be driving?" She asked with a slight edge.
"A tank." Was Harry's dry response.
Ziva just huffed and slid into the driver's seat. "My apartment is about forty-five minutes away. Do you have the data?" She asked as she drove out of her parking spot. Harry nodded and patted his inner jacket pocket.
"Yeah, right here. You got a secure machine at your flat?" Harry asked
Ziva nodded absently as she turned onto the main road. "Yes."
"Good. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to see about catching a nap." Ziva didn't reply and Harry closed his eyes, leaning back in the seat.
Harry was woken later by a gentle shake to his shoulder.
"Potter, wake up. We're here." Harry looked blearily towards the voice and nodded slowly, running a hand over his tired face. He heard the driver's side door open and
Harry quickly followed out the passenger door, grabbing his suitcase from the boot as he went. Ziva locked the car and led the way towards her flat, unlocking the door and slipping in. Harry followed her in, closing the door behind him with his foot.
"I'll get the computer, you wait here." Ziva said as she walked down a short corridor and went into, what Harry assumed to be, her bedroom.
Harry looked around the room he'd been left in. It was obviously the living room, though he could see the kitchen through a half wall to side. The room was tastefully decorated in warm colours; with a throw over the centre of the settee and a small rug in front of it beneath a small coffee table, there was a floor lamp to the side of the settee, and there was a half read book left on the coffee table 'Guns, Germs and Steel' interesting.
Though it was tastefully decorated, and obviously designed to be comfortable, Harry could see the effect of having a spy living here. The front door had a small motion detector at the base and both the lock and the hinges had been replaced with heavier models, the large bay window was covered by thick heavy curtains, and each door frame had a small red light above them. At a guess, Harry would say that they were some form of radio scrambler, designed to prevent eavesdropping, though he couldn't be sure without a closer look.
As Harry was taking the apartment in, Ziva headed back into the room - a heavy duty military laptop in her hands.
She set it down on the coffee table, flipping the top and booting it up as she sat on the settee. Harry fished the small USB drive containing the Rainier files out of his pocket and wordlessly handed it to Ziva.
"So, if you don't mind me asking, why did you want these files?" Harry asked as he settled into the settee next to Mossad Officer.
Ziva shrugged. "The Rainiers were found dead this morning." Harry's eyebrows shot up and Ziva continued. "After digging around, the NCIS team discovered that they were contract assassins with reservations at the same hotel that's hosting the USMC birthday party on the tenth."
Harry nodded, it was now the eighth, for another hour or so at least.
"The NCIS team wants to place people in the hotel in place of the Rainiers to find out what's going on. I thought it best that we know as much about them as possible." Ziva plugged the USB drive into the laptop.
"I thought, because they were commonwealth citizens, that MI6 would have the most information on them, besides their country of birth." Ziva nodded at Harry. "And since I know someone in MI6 and I don't know anyone in Canadian intelligence, I came to you."
Harry hummed softly and leant his head back in the settee. "Makes sense, I'm glad you came to me." He shot her a grin. "Gave me something to do, I've been stuck behind a desk for the last week."
"So, who do you think they'll send in to take the Rainier's place?" Harry asked, trying to make conversation as Ziva looked through the files.
"I do not know." She answered quietly, focused on the laptop. "I assume they have people for this sort of thing."
Harry shook his head. "NCIS is a small agency; I doubt they have dedicated infiltration specialists."
"In that case, I would say me. It would not be the first time I've done this sort of thing. Though I do not know who would take Jean-Paul's place." She looked at Harry thoughtfully for a moment. "If I were in charge, I would send you in."
"Me?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Yes, it is part of your job after all. And MI6 is usually very good at its job, as you said, they practically wrote the book."
Harry chuckled. "Still, I doubt they'd let a foreign agent with no tie to an American agency participate so actively in an on-going operation. At least they wouldn't take kindly to it."
Ziva frowned. "This is true; they did not trust me to begin with."
Harry shrugged. "That's to be expected, our line of work doesn't exactly engender trust."
Ziva nodded. "Also true. It will be decided tomorrow." She looked at the USB drive. "I assume I can take this to NCIS with me?"
Harry smiled. "Yeah, but where that goes, I go. Can't have confidential files falling into the wrong hands and all that."
Ziva nodded. "I will bring in a blanket; the bathroom is down the Hall. I'm going to bed."
"Okay." Harry stood up and kicked off his shoes before going to his suitcase as Ziva headed off to her bedroom.
He pulled out a pair of loose fitting jogging bottoms and nodded his thanks to Ziva when she dropped of the blanket before heading back to her room.
Harry stripped off his suit, pulled on the joggers and flopped down on Ziva's settee; he pulled the blanket over himself and was soon asleep.
The next morning dawned bright and early. Harry was woken by the sound of Ziva coming out of the bathroom. He looked at his watch, 05:30, and sat up slowly. He saw Ziva padding into the kitchen area, hair wet and wearing a loose grey T-shirt and a pair of black panties. Harry stood up and rearranged the settee into order before folding the blanket neatly.
He walked into the kitchen area, slowly scratching his chest as he went. Ziva had the kettle on and was waiting for it to boil. She nodded her greeting and spoke. "I have coffee or tea, if you prefer." Harry smiled in gratitude as she handed him a china mug.
"Thanks." Harry said as he dropped a tea bag into the empty cup and waited for the water to boil. Ziva added milk and a spoon of granulated coffee to her own cup. The kettle pinged and Ziva filled her cup before handing the Kettle to Harry.
Harry filled his cup three-quarters of the way up and then left the tea to steep.
"What are you doing?" Ziva asked as she took a sip of her sweetened coffee.
"Hmm?"
She nodded at his cup. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm letting my tea steep until it's at the strength I like." Harry answered. Three minutes later Harry took the tea bag out and gave the tea a quick stir before adding a splash of milk and stirring again. He forewent sugar.
He let out a small noise of satisfaction as he took a sip. "Oh, that's good." Ziva looked on, amused.
Finishing his tea, Harry washed out his cup and then went to get; a towel, his toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash, shampoo, and conditioner from his suitcase.
He slipped into the bathroom and jumped into the shower; Harry washed quickly and left the conditioner in his hair as he got out to brush his teeth. Once he was finished, he rinsed the conditioner out, wrapped a towel around his waist and left the bathroom, joggers in one hand, and toiletries in the other.
He could hear rummaging from Ziva's room and assumed she was getting dressed. Dropping his toiletries and his joggers back into his case, Harry took out a shirt, underwear, and trousers before heading back to the bathroom to get changed.
When he exited the bathroom, Harry set about attaching his shoulder holster, putting on his tie, and putting on his jacket.
Ziva came back into the room wearing a blue vest, an unbuttoned white blouse and some olive cargo trousers. Harry was adjusting his tie.
"I usually get breakfast on the way to the office." She said as she picked up her boots and set about putting them on.
"Okay." Harry said as he slipped on his brogues, kneeling down to lace them up.
Ziva led the way out of the apartment with Harry following, suitcase in hand.
The drive to the NCIS office was uneventful, besides the stop to pick up a breakfast wrap each. Ziva had hummus, lettuce, sliced olives, and shredded chicken. Harry had shredded beef and barbecue sauce.
Upon entering the NCIS offices, Ziva led Harry to a lift, after pinning a visitor badge to his lapel, and then into an open area, loosely separated by cubicle walls.
"This is the 'bullpen'." She said as she moved to, what must be, her desk. "Gibbs will be here soon, the team leader, and Tony and McGee."
Harry nodded as he sat on the end of Ziva's desk. "I should let the director know I'm here soon. Professional courtesy and all that, I'd want to know if a foreign agent was hanging about in my building." Ziva nodded as she booted up her work PC.
"I'll bring the files back when I finish up with the director." Harry said, patting his jacket pocket as he stood up and made his way towards the stair at the side of the room.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he turned down a corridor and found a desk with a young woman sat behind it to the side of a large door.
"Hello." He said with a winning smile. "I'm looking for the director, could you help me?"
The woman frowned at him. "Who are you? Do you have an appointment?" She asked him.
Harry pulled out his SIS identification and handed it to the woman. "It's more of a courtesy call than anything else really." He said, still smiling.
The woman looked over his credentials for a moment before chewing on her lip slightly. "I'm afraid the director isn't in yet" she said, handing him back hi ID.
"That's okay, I can wait." The woman frowned slightly.
"Have you got a security escort?" She asked.
"Yes, I'm sure agent David can keep me from any mischief." Harry said with a wink as he left the way he came.
Harry trotted down the stairs back to the bullpen and strode over to Ziva's desk; she looked up curiously as he approached. "The director isn't in yet, so I told her secretary that you'd keep me from mischief."
Ziva raised an eyebrow and Harry handed the USB drive over. "You may as well keep hold of this for now." He said as he perched himself on the edge of her desk.
Harry looked about the bull pen as Ziva settled in to do paperwork of some sort or another. If you looked past the orange paint job, it was actually a pleasant enough space. With the large windows and the amount of floor space available the room looked much larger than it was. The desks and furniture was the average government office fare but they fit along with everything else. Harry was distracted from his musings by the arrival of voices from the direction of the lift.
"And that, Mcgeek, is why you won't ever get laid." Came a masculine voice.
"You realize that have actually had sex, right Tony?" The second voice was a cross between annoyed and exasperated, as if this was a familiar topic.
"Have you though McGee, Have you? - wait, who are you?" The end was directed at Harry, who could now see that the first voice belonged to an athletic looking man of about six foot with well styled hair.
The second man was slightly shorter and narrower in the shoulder, with a soft chin and a round face. Both were holding take-away coffee.
Harry stood from the desk and stuck his hand out towards the first man. "Harry potter, I'm Ziva's friend."
The man took his hand cautiously, giving him an odd look. "Anthony Dinozzo, NCIS special agent."
The other man had moved towards his desk and placed his coffee down, he waved from where he was. "Timothy McGee, NCIS agent." Harry nodded at him.
"So Zi-va, social visits in the office? Tut tut." Dinozzo teased.
Ziva rolled her eyes. "It's not a social visit Tony." She stood up and grabbed the remote to the plasma. "He's British secret intelligence; he brought me some files on the Rainiers." She pressed a button and the files for both Rainiers popped up side by side, on the screen.
McGee looked at Harry funny. "You came all the way from England to give Ziva a USB drive?"
Harry shrugged. "Confidential data and all that, can't have people making copies and what not." He leant back against Ziva's desk. "Besides, I have some work state side, so I figured why not?"
Tony continued to look at him suspiciously. "What are you doing in the states?"
Harry gave him a big grin. "Something very, very classified." Ziva rolled her eyes and Tony looked disgruntled.
"So, what about you guys? What are you all up to?" Harry asked.
Tony took great care in taking off his jacket before leaning against his desk. "I'm afraid, that's very, very classified." He said slowly.
Harry chuckled. "Fair enough." Before Harry could say anything else, a man in his late forties walked into the team area. He was about five foot ten with greying hair and a serious demeanour. He had a large take-away coffee in his hand.
Ziva stood up. "Gibbs." She said, moving towards the man. "I've got more information on the Rainiers, from the source I mentioned." Ziva nodded to Harry.
Gibbs looked Harry over slowly and Harry felt the uncomfortable feeling that he was being examined and found wanting.
"He doesn't look like much." He said with a sip of his coffee. "I expected... something else from a spook."
Hiding his discomfort, Harry spoke. "That's the point, if people look at me and instantly think 'spy' then I've done something wrong."
Gibbs gave him another long look before nodding. "What've you got?"
Harry nodded to Ziva and she pointed to the screen. "The Rainiers were Canadian born assassins for hire, this we already knew, but the files have in-depth character studies of each, vital if we was t to impersonate them."
Harry could Ziva was enjoying this, the brief before the op. Not all that surprising from a control officer.
"The Rainiers were consummate professionals who were very good at their jobs; initial intelligence suggested that they could have been involved in twenty-five murders, though the files from MI6 suggest a number twice that size spread all across the globe." The rest of the team was watching Ziva with interest, as was Harry. He had to admit, she definitely had a certain... Je nais se quoi about her.
"They left no calling card and the method of execution varied often enough to be hard to trace, however, it appears that Jean-Paul specialized in the long range and impersonal whereas Sophie handled the more up close jobs." Ziva pressed a button and slides appeared on the plasma.
"As you can see, the Rainiers were available for all varieties of jobs; from the quiet in and out to publicly sending a message." Two slides where side by side on the screen, one with a man slumped down in a dark crawlspace. The other with a man halfway to the floor, stood on a stage at a political rally with blood spurting from the back of what used to be his head.
Ziva pressed the button again. "They were also available for... information extraction." The team viewed the image with distaste. It showed a man, tied to a chair, viciously beaten and covered with burn marks. "They were not good people; Jean-Paul was in and out of correctional facilities from the ages of thirteen to eighteen, with counts of breaking and entering, assault and battery. Sophie was much the same, she bit a classmate's ear off when she was fourteen and spent time in a juvenile detention centre at sixteen for beating an ex-boyfriend with a tyre iron for cheating on her."
Tony whispered to McGee. "Remind you of anyone?" He asked with a quiet chuckle, nodding slightly to Ziva.
Ziva heard him "I assure Tony, I wouldn't beat them with a tyre iron" She said in a deceptively sweet voice, pulling a knife from her waist. "I'd suffocate them with their own genitals." Tony paled and shifted uncomfortably, Harry winced along with him. That just wasn't cricket.
"As I was saying, I believe we now have enough information to effectively place a plant at the hotel tomorrow." She said to Gibbs, who was nodding along with her.
"You're right, we do. I want you and Dinozzo to impersonate the Rainiers."
Ziva took a deep breath. "I want Potter to come with me."
Harry leant back to watch the fireworks. 'This ought to be interesting'
A/N: so, thoughts? feelings? tell me what you thought, what did you like, what didn't you like? I'm interested to know. I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed already. :) thanks you very much, your ideas will help shape this work.