The White House
After Gibbs joined the Naval Investigative Service and he had some down time, he went on the tour of the White House given to the general public. He returned soon afterwards, working on a case. He hadn't returned since NIS became NCIS, until now.
He didn't know the hallway he and Fornell were sitting in, but it was well-lit, with paintings and sculptures along both sides of the aisle.
Better than an interrogation room. Or a cell, thought Gibbs. He supposed that might be ahead of him, but that came with the territory. Perhaps the President would lop his head off, but so be it. This wasn't the first time he did something that could end his career for those he loved. This wouldn't be the last, either.
"Wish I had that cup of coffee right now," Gibbs said.
"Thirsty?" Fornell replied.
"A little."
"Guess they thought that rotgut you drink would be a little too dangerous," Fornell said, and both men chuckled. "Secret Service has its protocols."
Gibbs cleared his throat. "Why are you here, Tobias?"
"You mean 'why did they ask me to come along'."
"Yeah."
"Don't know why," Fornell replied. Gibbs pondered that, then nodded.
"Did I ever tell you why I stay out of politics?" he asked Fornell.
"I think so. Was it when we were drinking near the boat you built for Diane?"
"There were TWO boats, they had her name on it, I didn't build either of them for her. And are you talking about the one before the divorce or after?"
Fornell laughed, drawing the attention of the young Secret Service agent who sat in the limo with them on the way to the White House. "I forgot, Jethro. Must've been the whiskey."
Gibbs smiled. "Answer is, get things done."
Both men settled in for a comfortable silence.
Minutes later, Ron Butterfield - the Secret Service agent heading the Presidential Detail, and one of the men who interrogated Gibbs eariler that morning - walked through a nearby set of double doors. Walking right beside him was McGarry.
"Agent Gibbs, please follow Agent Butterfield," McGarry said. "Agent Fornell, please follow me."
Fornell went with McGarry somewhere, while Gibbs followed Butterfield, Baer and another agent through a series of hallways.
The West Wing
Toby Ziegler was shut in his office, reading two sets of speeches written for the President.
The first, by Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman, was from the viewpoint of the President's daughter and Agent Todd having been rescued and returned alive and safe to the U.S.
The second, by recently-hired Deputy Communications Director Will Bailey, was from the viewpoint that one, or both, had died.
Both men, and Lyman's senior assistant Donna Moss, were standing outside Ziegler's office door. Nearby, Press Secretary C.J. Cregg was preparing for her next briefing with the media.
"I can't get a read on him," Bailey said.
"He's reading the speeches the President may have to give," Lyman said. "There's no emotion, no weeping over prose, no outward expressions of joy or sadness or anger. He's simply reading a speech, one of our speeches, and I'm certain I speak for all of us when I say I hope mine is the one the President gives."
Bailey looked around for the coffee pot, and found it was half full, but cold. As he went to warm the pot up, Donna broke the silence.
"Didn't Gibbs go before a JAG lawyer once?" she asked aloud.
"The incident in question never got that far," Lyman replied. "The incident you're thinking of is the one where he arrested the JAG officer."
"He ARRESTED the guy? Over what?" Moss asked.
"Suspicion of murder, later found innocent after Gibbs found the real killer," Bailey interjected. "I heard the story, inside and out, when I worked as a JAG lawyer."
"You worked with NCIS?" Moss said.
"Air Force Office of Special Investigations," Bailey said. "They rarely worked with NCIS, but we heard the story. The Navy JAG officer understands it was business but they're not drinking buddies."
"Did the OSI agents know Gibbs?" Lyman said.
"They knew of him, and they either disliked him or respected him greatly," Bailey continued. "The former, because of his alleged unorthodox methods, the latter because he got the job done...I wonder how he's worked here, in Washington, for so long."
"Because he gets the job done, I suppose," Moss said.
"Yeah, but Washington is the most political city on Earth, and this guy is anything but a politician," Lyman said. "Gibbs rarely works with anyone outside of his team, even within his own agency - present case excluded - and almost never with outsiders other than the guy from the FBI who's their liaison to NCIS."
"The one who also married his ex-wife," Moss added.
"His ex-wife?" Bailey said.
"Second ex-wife," Moss said. "His first wife was murdered. He divorced the next three, is currently single. The FBI liaison also married the second wife, and later divorced her."
Bailey whistled, briefly drawing Ziegler's attention; a moment later, Ziegler resumed reading the speeches. Cregg, hearing the whistle, decided to stop what she was doing, and stretch her legs.
"Any further word on the President's daughter or the NCIS agent?" she asked, walking out of her office. "And is there any coffee left in the pot?"
"Half a pot, and it's warming up now," Bailey said.
"No word on either of them since the joint raid on the safe house came up empty. Leo said they're back to square one," Lyman said. "Interpol's still following up that lead in Serbia."
"Mishnev had dealings there," Cregg said. "So we're going with what the President discussed, then...Danny's been nosing around."
"Nosing around." Lyman said. "About what?"
Her answer would have to wait.
Butterfield came around the corner, Gibbs behind him, Baer and the third agent following. They briskly walked through, heading towards the Oval Office.
Even Ziegler noticed, focusing on the NCIS agent who was a ringer for the deceased Secret Service agent Simon Donovan.
Cregg watched them pass out of sight and gathered her thoughts, not noticing Ziegler walk to her side.
"C.J.? Are you alright?" he asked, as her cellphone buzzed with a text, from McGarry. AM INDISPOSED RIGHT NOW. WILL FIND YOU WHEN I'M DONE.
"I'm fine," Cregg said as she walked to the coffee pot, and poured herself a cup, then turned to walk back to her office. "Tell Leo I need to talk to him if you see him before I do," she said, shutting the door behind her, then drawing the blinds.
"Speeches were fine. Both of them," Ziegler said to Lyman and Bailey before opening Cregg's door.
Navy Yard
NCIS, Medical Examiner's Office
For Tony DiNozzo, the cold slab he fell asleep on was just as good as the chair at his desk, or the warm bed in his apartment.
Give him a good night's rest, and he'd change his mind about it being as good as the bed. Right now, ten minutes after falling asleep, he was sound asleep, filling the morgue with his very loud snores.
"He must be jumping saws," said Ziva, watching from the doorway.
"I beg your pardon?" Ducky asked.
"Jumping saws," she answered. "Is that not what they say here, in America, when someone is snoring?"
Ducky chuckled. "My dear, you mean 'sawing logs'. Or do you mean counting sheep?"
"Whatever the saying is, Tony is getting his rest," Ziva said.
Ducky didn't need a bachelor's in profiling to see her concern for the agent was...more than would be expected for a person in her position. A foreign officer who only met him days ago, whose time had been spent working with NCIS.
An officer whose eyes, unlike her brother's, showed her heart and concern as genuine.
Somewhere in the Eastern Hemisphere
Kate tried to draw on every bit of second- and third-hand knowledge about survival she had learned over the years. From her father and brothers; her Secret Service training; and her time at NCIS.
And from Gibbs.
Every little thing, ANY thing, could be the difference between life and death not only for her but for her cellmate.
Kate had gotten to know Zoey Bartlett more in the past week than she did when working on the President's detail in a year. In Kate's judgment, Zoey was holding up better than expected, but scared out of her mind, jittery even when it was just the two of them.
The wind blew against the window pane, and Zoey stirred, then went back to sleep on the floor. Kate looked around at their cell - actually, a room in a cabin, somewhere in a forest - and moved over towards Zoey.
Kate lay down next to the young woman who should be celebrating her graduation from college, and instead was jittery and shivering on that cold floor, underneath a flimsy blanket and with only a ratty pair of jeans as a pillow. The former Secret Service agent kept her eyes and ears open and her gut on high alert.
Anything could happen, at any time, and she wanted to be ready.
She heard the footsteps before the door was kicked open, and she knew who would be striding in.
"Caitlin," said Ari Haswari, as Zoey began to wake up. She saw Ari and screamed.
Ari reached down, put his finger on Zoey's open mouth, and shushed her. "Now now, little one. You have nothing to fear," he said. "Neither you nor Caitlin."
"I don't fear you," Kate spat. "I hate your guts, you bastard."
Ari's face darkened, and he briefly reached for something in his jacket pocket.
His reach was stopped by Sergei Mishnev, who looked at Ari, then at Kate, then turned his gaze to Zoey.
"Do you want some privacy?" Ari said, turning his gaze back to Kate, who spit on his leg.
"We need to talk. Privately," Mishnev answered, as he nodded to someone outside. Moments later, two more blankets, two pillows, a box and a jug of water were tossed in the room. Ari glared at Kate - who shielded Zoey - then walked out, before Mishnev slammed the door behind him.
Zoey began to cry. Kate quickly grabbed the blankets, water and box, then reached out to hug the younger woman.
"Shhh. Shhhhhh. We're going to be okay," Kate said, as she began to examine the box, and its Cyrillic lettering.
Before she could open the box's contents, the door flew open, and two thugs grabbed them both.
"What the hell-" Kate shouted, before she was silenced by a slap from Ari.
"You both have a message to deliver to the Americans," Mishnev said, as the thugs led them outside the cabin, to a nearby truck. "To your father."
The Oval Office
President Bartlet stood up from his desk, exercising a mild cramp he sure was from sitting down for so damned long.
"Something else to tell Abbey tonight - if she'll talk to me," he said to himself.
He then heard a knock on the door, then checked his desk drawer before answering.
"Come in," he said, and Gibbs followed Buttefield into the Oval Office.
"Leo's in the other room?" Bartlet asked.
"With Agent Fornell," Butterfield said.
"Very good." He nodded to the Secret Service agent, then turned and stretched his hand out to his guest. "Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Please, have a seat."
The Russian Embassy
"You are certain?" the Russian Ambassador to the United States said to the Spetsnaz officer on the screen.
"In the Kola Peninsula," the officer said. "At least twenty men, and the Americans."
"I will speak with the President," the Ambassador said, and a minute later when the conversation ended Counselor Pavlenko watched him go to his office. Eight minutes later, the Ambassador left his office, and nodded to Pavlenko.
"With me," he said, and the small Russian delegation hurried towards the vehicles that would take them to the White House.
