PC Palmer came back to report that Sergeant Phelps was currently at the Docks so wasn't immediately available to come and report.

"We'll go to him then," said Tony. "Come on, Gibbs, I thought you were in a hurry to get started!"

Tim choked at these words and wondered what the diplomatic fallout would be if Gibbs struck a Metropolitan police inspector. Not for the first time, however, Gibbs surprised Tim and simply smiled a thin smile and said,

"Ready when you are, DiNozzo."

"Good," said Tony, "Wrap up warm."

Gibbs smiled a little less thinly and said, "Thanks, Mom." He watched as Tony grabbed a huge duffle coat and a trilby hat and wrapped a scarf around his neck.

Tony seemed to sense his question, "I practise what I preach," he said. "And it's cold on the water."

Gibbs followed DiNozzo out, having donned his own overcoat and fedora hat.

"Huh," said Tony, "Thought fedoras were only worn by gangsters in your country, Gibbs."

Gibbs shrugged, "Don't know about that. It's comfortable. That's all that matters. And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Duffle coat – not exactly a fashion statement, is it?"

Tony looked troubled for a moment and Gibbs breathed a hidden sigh of relief: he hadn't thought that the scruffy duffle coat quite went with the normally stylish clothes worn by PD but he had been taking a risk by saying so.

"You're right," acknowledged Tony, "It was my uncle's. He was an officer in the Royal Navy. I reckon if it's good enough for the British Navy in the North Sea it will do me on the Thames."

The small talk ended when Tony showed Gibbs the police launch.

"Hey, Percy!" he called out, "Any chance of a ride?"

"Jump on," said the police officer at the helm. "Where you going?"

"St Katharine's. This is Gibbs. Gibbs, Percy Winston. Best pilot on the Thames." Percy looked pleased at the comment. "That's what he says anyway," said Tony with a smile to take the sting out of his words.

"For that, you don't get to ride in the cabin," said Winston mildly.

"There you go, Gibbs," said Tony, "You can go in and watch Percy at work."

He smiled and Gibbs suspected that had been the idea all along. After a few minutes, however, Gibbs emerged from the cabin and joined Tony in the bow of the boat.

"Great, isn't it?" said Tony as he pointed to the grey sky and the grey water.

"If you say so," said Gibbs as his eyes watered from the wind.

"I do say so," said Tony, "Look, you can see St Paul's cathedral on the left."

"It's called port on board ship," said Gibbs.

"You can see St Paul's to port," said Tony obligingly. Gibbs looked to port obediently. "And we're coming up to Southwark Bridge. And then we'll come to London Bridge."

"So?"

"What do you mean, so?" asked Tony.

"Why do I need to know what bridge I'm going under?" asked Gibbs.

"Oh," said Tony, "Visitors usually like to know."

"I'm not here for pleasure," said Gibbs austerely.

"I bet Tim would be interested," muttered Tony.

Not quietly enough as Gibbs then laughed, "McGee would have lost his breakfast, including black pudding, over your shoes by now," he said.

"Really?" asked Tony. "That's weird."

"Why is it weird?" asked Gibbs.

"Well, he works for your Office of Naval Intelligence, doesn't he?"

"Yes."

"Then why would he join something to do with the Navy if he gets sick on water?"

"Ah," said Gibbs, "Probably didn't expect to have to go to sea. Most of the civilian employees work out of our offices."

"I see," said Tony, "Let me guess, you breezed into his life and put a stop to that idea. Well, I can understand."

"What can you understand?"

"Why you'd want him. He's eager, intelligent and … full of information. It must be like having a walking encyclopaedia."

"He's keen," admitted Gibbs, "But green …"

"Especially when on a boat," interrupted Tony.

"He could do with some seasoning," continued Gibbs.

"I know you're not interested," said Tony, "But we're coming to Tower Bridge now."

Gibbs nodded as he saw the bridge looming up ahead of him and he felt an unaccustomed thrill as he recognised an iconic landmark he had previously seen in books. He jumped when a loud bang reverberated through the air. "What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"Oh," said an unperturbed Tony, "It was cannon fire."

"Cannon fire? Why? You being invaded?"

"No, they must be practising a royal gun salute. Parliament's going to be opening in a few days, they usually have a 41-gun salute. Look, you can see the smoke – it's from the Tower of London."

Gibbs nodded and maintained his iron grip on the railing. Tony looked at him thoughtfully but didn't comment. A few minutes later they arrived at their destination where a stout police sergeant was waiting at the police mooring.

"Larry," greeted Tony as they came alongside. "The very man."

Sergeant Phelps caught the rope thrown to him by Winston and wound it around the bollard. "PC Palmer telephoned through to say that you were coming, Sir. So I thought it would save time if I anticipated your arrival."

"Thanks for the ride, Percy," said Tony.

Percy nodded, "You could get a job as a tour guide," he said.

"I owe it all to you, Percy," said Tony slapping him on the shoulder, "Come on, Gibbs, we haven't got all day!"

Gibbs contented himself with rolling his eyes at Tony's witticisms and leapt nimbly off the launch.

"Larry," said Tony, "This is Gibbs."

"Gibbs?" said the sergeant, "… er …"

"Just Gibbs," said Gibbs.

"I see," said Phelps majestically, "This way, Sir … and Inspector."

"Larry's very formal," whispered Tony in Gibbs' ear. "But great at his job."

Gibbs wasn't convinced by this but his opinion of Phelps went up when he was ushered into the police station and offered a mug of coffee. He wasn't to know that McGee had suggested to Jimmy that, when he phoned down to the Docks, he should hint that a cup of coffee would be welcome.

Tony spooned three heaped spoons of sugar into his coffee and then said, "We're interested in the murder the other day, Phelps."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Yes, there's a chance that it's linked to a case that … Gibbs is working on in America."

"America, Sir?"

"America," said Gibbs firmly.

"I see," said Phelps as he directed a look at Gibbs which suggested that he hadn't quite realised that Americans were real people who looked like him.

"Have you seen this person?" asked Tony and handed him a photograph of Alexander Lambert.

Phelps gazed at the picture with the stolid concentration that Gibbs had learned to expect from the British constabulary. "I'm not sure, Sir," he said at last, "He's not someone as would stand out from the crowd, if I may say so."

"He might have been working as a carpenter," suggested Gibbs.

"There's a lot of them around the docks," said Phelps.

"Can you ask around?" asked Tony.

"Of course, Sir."

"Carefully," said Tony, "I don't want to be investigating your death."

"I appreciate that, Sir," said Phelps with a slight softening in his demeanour.

"Do you have any suspects?" asked Gibbs.

Phelps scratched the side of his face thoughtfully, "No, Sir. And that's odd in itself."

"How so?" asked Gibbs.

"Well …" began Larry.

"The sergeant is too modest to say so," said Tony, "But he's been working this beat for ten years. And he knows pretty much everything that goes on here. If there was bad blood between people here, the chances are that he'd know about it. But there wasn't anything to set your alarm bells ringing?"

"No, Sir. And if I may ask, is this … Alexander Lambert … is he an American like yourself, Sir?"

"Yes," said Gibbs.

"Although of course, not like you, Sir. Seeing as he is an hardened criminal, quite unlike yourself," amended Phelps.

"Thank you," said Gibbs as the sergeant seemed to expect some response to this character assessment.

"I would have expected to know if an H'american was in the Docks, "continued Phelps, "And I don't."

"He's good at disguising his appearance," said Tony, "Does that extend to his voice as well, Gibbs?"

"Yes," said Gibbs, "He could probably pass as another nationality."

"I see," said Phelps in what seemed to be his favoured response.

"So, do some digging," said Tony.

"Of course, Sir."

"It's important," said Gibbs.

Phelps was affronted, "Of course, Sir. You wouldn't be with PD if it wasn't important. Very highly thought of is our Inspector PD."

Tony and Gibbs recognised that they had in some way been dismissed so swallowed the last of their coffee and made their farewells.

"How do we get back?" asked Gibbs when he saw that the launch had gone.

"We'll walk," said Tony, "We'll go through the Docks. Give you a feel for the set up and then walk back along the river. I can show you Big Ben."

"Who?" asked Gibbs blankly.

"Never mind," said Tony who was really wishing that he could have brought Tim along, "And don't worry, there's lots of places that sell coffee along the way."

XXXXXX

"You know," said Gibbs as he and Tony sat on the Embankment sipping yet more coffee, "I do woodwork."

"I play the piano," said Tony puzzled but trying to be helpful.

"What?"

"I play the piano," repeated Tony.

"Why would I need to know that?"

"Oh, I thought we were sharing hobbies," said Tony.

"I do woodwork," said Gibbs coldly, "So I could get a job at the Docks. Get information that way."

"Ah," said Tony, "That makes more sense."

"So you agree?"

"Oh, no. Definitely not," said Tony.

"Why not?"

"With due respect," said Tony, "I don't think you'd pass as … not being American."

"You do," said Gibbs.

"Pardon?"

"You're American. But you sound British," said Gibbs.

"Ah," said Tony, "The ever helpful and informative Mr McGee has been busy."

"You deny it?"

"No, of course not. Can't deny the truth. But it's different, Gibbs."

"How so?"

"Yes, I'm American – or to be completely accurate, I'm both American and British. I was born in America but I've lived in this country since I was 8."

"When your Mom died?"

"Very busy," said Tony. "Yes, my uncle came to visit. See how we were doing."

"And how were you doing?"

"I was happy enough," said Tony, "But Uncle George wasn't very happy. You see my father was … is … not exactly cut out for fatherhood. He got distracted, wasn't good at the detail. So, my uncle came to visit and found me on my own in a cold house with no food around. Give Father his due, he'd tried to make arrangements before going off on a business trip but they just weren't very good arrangements."

"What happened?"

"When Father finally came home, Uncle George persuaded him that I'd be better off living with my Mom's family."

"And?"

"And I came to Britain and lived with my Mom's family," said Tony. "And I've been here ever since."

"You call your Mom, Mom," noticed Gibbs.

"Er … yes?"

"I thought English people said Mum or Mummy." Said Gibbs.

"True. But we were living in America, so we fitted in."

"This Uncle George, he the one who was a sailor?"

"Yes, he brought me back and took me to live with him … and Aunt Charlotte. They became my parents really."

"That why you wear his duffle?"

Gibbs thought for a moment that Tony wasn't going to answer and, truthfully, he didn't know why he'd asked the question but Tony did reply, "Yes. He was killed at the Battle of Jutland. The duffle came back to Aunt Lottie when his effects were sent home. She gave it to me and I've had it ever since."

Gibbs nodded and the two sat in a companionable silence as they each remembered those they had lost in the war.

XXXXXX

The next day was Sunday and, as there were no obvious leads to follow and with footage from arrivals in Liverpool liners awaited, it was agreed that the two teams would take a break for Sunday. McGee produced his guide book and suggested a tour of the landmarks of London. Gibbs initially turned down the offer with horror but changed his mind when McGee suggested a river boat cruise along the Thames ending up at the Naval College at Greenwich.

"I'll meet you in the evening," said Tony, "You haven't been to a pub yet, have you?"

"No," said Gibbs.

"A pub?" asked McGee doubtfully. "Do they sell drink there?"

"Yes," said Gibbs patiently.

"No, I mean, do they sell alcohol?"

"Yes," said Tony, "That's why people go there."

"Oh," said Tim.

"That a problem?" asked Tony.

"Well," said Tim, "It's just that …"

"What?" asked a puzzled Tony.

"Well, you see …"

Gibbs took pity on McGee, "Have you ever had alcohol, McGee?"

"Well, no … you see … it was banned by the time I was old enough … or would have been old enough."

"Oh," said Tony as the penny finally dropped, "I forgot. Prohibition. Wow, so you've never had a drink. What's that like?"

"I don't know," said McGee with dignity, "It's all I've known."

"You could try," suggested Gibbs, "It's legal here."

It was clear, however, that McGee was conflicted by the idea of doing something which was illegal at home but legal in Britain and, in the end, it was simpler to arrange to meet at a chop house in Fleet Street.

XXXXXX

Tony wondered how McGee and Gibbs had coped with their tour of London. When he and Ducky met up with them McGee was full of enthusiasm, and information, about what he had seen while Gibbs was happy to chew on his lamb chops. mashed potatoes and mint sauce. When McGee had finally run out of questions, Gibbs did enter the conversation,

"What's with all the kids on the streets?"

"What kids might they be?" asked Ducky courteously.

"Sitting on the sidewalk with dummies. Begging for money."

"Oh," said Ducky, "Penny for the guy. Sitting on the pavement," he added softly.

"That's right," said Gibbs, "What's that about? Didn't think begging was allowed."

"They're collecting money for Guy Fawkes night," explained Tony. He saw that Gibbs looked blank, "Guy Fawkes was involved in a plot to blow up Parliament. But he was caught."

"The Gunpowder Plot," said Ducky, "And people were allowed to light bonfires to celebrate the failure of the plot. And gunpowder became involved in the celebrations and the effigy of Guy Fawkes is burned."

"I see," said Gibbs who clearly didn't, "And when was this?"

"1605," said McGee who had been bursting to provide information.

"1605?" said Gibbs. "And you'll still doing it?"

"Tradition is very important to us," said Ducky. "No doubt when the United States is as old as the United Kingdom you will also find that you adhere to old traditions."

"And you still light fires?" asked Gibbs.

"And set off fireworks," said McGee. "I think there's going to be a party in the square around the corner from our lodging house. Perhaps we can go?"

Gibbs returned to his chop and Tony was also quiet.

XXXXXX

The next evening found Gibbs in a pub near the lodging house looking at a pint of bitter.

"So it's not just coffee you drink," came a familiar voice.

Gibbs looked up to see Tony standing in front of him.

"DiNozzo. What you want?"

"Just checking out a theory," said Tony. "May I join you?"

"Free country," said Gibbs. "What theory?"

"I went to see your landlady, Mrs Lafferty. She said that Tim had gone to the fireworks display but she didn't think you'd gone. So I looked in the pubs. And here you are."

"You should be a detective," said Gibbs, "You have the skills."

"Thank you," said Tony apparently oblivious to the sarcasm.

"What do you want?" asked Gibbs again.

Tony didn't say anything but took a sip of his own half of shandy. He waited until he heard a firework go off and saw Gibbs jump.

"That," he said.

"What?" asked Gibbs.

"I saw you jump when that cannon fired the other day. And I remembered, you were at Belleau Wood."

"So?"

"So, you can't live in this country and not know that men who served on the front line … well, some of them are still affected by what happened to them."

"Shell shock," said Gibbs bleakly.

"Yes," said Tony gently. "Tonight's going to be tough for you, isn't it?"

"I'll manage," said Gibbs keeping a tight grip on his glass as another bang sounded.

"What would you do if you were at home?"

"Get drunk," said Gibbs.

"Even with Prohibition?"

For answer, Gibbs just smiled bitterly.

"Come with me," said Tony.

"What?"

"It's going to take you a long time to get drunk here. Come back to my flat …"

"Your what?"

"My apartment," amended Tony, "I've got alcohol that'll work quicker than this. And you won't have to face McGee drunk."

"What?"

"I left a message with Mrs Lafferty to say that you'd been called into the Yard on a lead and that you'd see him in the morning."

"You were confident, weren't you?" said Gibbs.

"Not really," said Tony, "Like you said before, I've got skills. And in this case, you were easy to read. You coming or not?" Gibbs hesitated. "You can get drunk in privacy," said Tony, "And I'm not going to judge you. Believe me, I'm not."

There was something in the way that Tony said the words that convinced Gibbs and the thought of privacy was very appealing to such a private person.

"OK," he said, "Where do you live?"

"I've got my car outside," said Tony, "It'll only take us ten minutes. But you'll need to hold on, it's going to be noisy out there."

"I'm a Marine," said Gibbs, "I can do it."

"I'm sure you can," said Tony, "Come on, let's go."

"You sure say that to me a lot," groused Gibbs even as he got up to follow.

"Comes of being in charge," said Tony smugly.

"What!" the burst of irritation carried Gibbs through the doors and into Tony's car, "Who said you're in charge?"

Tony laughed and cranked the starting handle before jumping into the car. "Who said I'm not?"


AN: In case shandy is unique to the UK, I should explain that it's beer mixed with lemonade or ginger beer.