Ch.3 6 Feet Under
Abby was surrounded by darkness. Her rational thinking had finally asserted itself, and she'd stopped pounding on the lid. Remembering rule nine, she pulled a knife out of her front pocket and cut her bonds. She began to feel around in her coffin to see if her kidnappers had been careless and left anything, anything at all that she could use to break out. She felt at least two metal cylinders. Compressed air, perhaps. She also felt a small piece of plastic that she knew had to be a flashlight. This was one good thing, at least her kidnappers didn't leave her in the dark. She turned the flashlight on and was now actually able to see.
She was right, Michael and Chip had put two tanks of pressurized air in with her. 'That's comforting,' she thought. They apparently wanted her to last a while. She then brought her attention to the two way radio. She pressed the talk button. "Is anybody there?" she asked, trying to mask the fear in her voice. Michael Mauer smiled from the tent he'd pitched. Chip had suggested that they rent a hotel room, but that idea was abandoned when he was reminded that checking into any kind of public lodging would leave a paper trail. No, Mauer had learned from past mistakes. It was a paper trail that got him caught last time. He put on a brave face, but he was scared shitless of Gibbs. He wanted to make it as difficult as possible for NCIS to track both him and Abby down, which is why she was in an unmarked burial plot.
"I figured I'd be hearing from you soon, Abby." She wanted to scream when she recognized his voice. "Michael!" she yelled angrily. "You are gonna be so dead when Gibbs finds out!" Abby threatened. Michael smiled. "See that's a problem. You're in an unmarked grave, Abby. My partner and I are in the middle of nowhere." Abby supressed her rage as he continued to describe her situation to her. "By the time any one notices you're missing, they won't be able to find you." He was truly riding high. He didn't know that Abby had a few aces up her sleeve.
"You underestimate my friend's ability at solving cases, Michael," she told him smugly. "We bring in criminals ten times smarter than you on a daily basis. So if you think Gibbs won't find you and rescue me, you're about to have a rude awakening." Her faith in Gibbs was unwavering, Michael gave her that. But he'd set this up perfectly. "You know, Abbs, it's ironic that-" "You don't get to call me that, Michael!" Abby cut him off. Michael admired her spirit. "Actually, since I'm above ground and you're under it, I can pretty much call you anything I want." He paused to let that sink in. "As I was saying, it's ironic that our relationship started in a cemetary, and if you don't play your cards right, It'll end in a cemetary, too."
Abby didn't let his taunting effect her focus. She knew if she did, it was the first step to him winning. "Any how, I have a deal you might be interested in, seeing as you don't really have much choice at the moment," Michael continued. Abby was confused. He didn't really think that by doing this she'd come crawling back to him. "What kind of deal?" she asked, feigning interest. Michael was pleased. This was working better than he thought it would. "It's simple, really," he began. "If you agree to go out with me, and not tell Gibbs I've contacted you, Chip and I will dig you up. Refuse, and we'll leave you to rot." He smiled. "The choice is yours," he said threateningly.
Abby thought it over. She figured she could last three days at least with the compressed air. "Go to Hell, Michael!" she screamed. Michael shook his head. "You first," he replied. "I'll talk to you in a few hours, and give you some time to make up your mind." With that, he clicked his radio off, and Abby was alone in her thoughts. Her situation was bleak. One of the aces she had was that she pocketed the glass when the bartender wasn't looking. She'd intended to test it herself and find out what the hell she was drugged with, but that wasn't an option.
She was certain that as soon as she came up missing, Gibbs would check her apartment first. She had hid the glass in her purse, and she knew that they'd find it. A multitude of questions flooded her brain at once. How the hell did he escape from prison? Why was he teaming up with Chip? Why couldn't he leave her the hell alone? She wanted to shout these questions to the dark, but all she got in answer was silence.
That's when she remembered. Her cell phone! She reached into her back pocket, and pulled it out. 'Ok," she thought. They hadn't patted her down or searched her before putting her in the coffin. She pressed the on button, and prayed for a signal. She got one, barely, but it was there. She wasted no time in hitting speed dial one, Gibbs' number. Ring! Ring! She breathed a sigh of relief. It was working. "Pick up, Gibbs! Please pick up," she pleaded.
"Somebody better be dying," Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs barked in annoyance. It was the middle of the night. "Gibbs, it's me," Abby responded. His tone immediately soffened. "Abbs, what's the matter?" The signal was fading. All Gibbs was able do discern was "Need. Help. Buried. Alive." The line went dead. Gibbs was awake now. And he was pissed. He hung up and dialed Dinozzo's number. "Yeah, boss," Agent Anthony Dinozzo answered groggily. "Get your ass out of bed and assemble the team," Gibbs ordered. "We've got problems." He hung up, and Dinozzo hastily began to follow his instructions. He'd never seen Gibbs this pissed, and he wanted to stay on his good side. "Ziva," he said into his phone.