Thank you to those who've read and those who've reviewed the previous chapters; it's great to receive your feedback. I know it's been a long time since I last posted this story, but I have a belated New Years resolution, which is to finish one story before starting ten others.
Chapter 4
Day 4
The old movie theatre in downtown Washington was empty, bar one person lounging on the torn velvet seats on the back row, throwing popcorn into his mouth. Tony pointed his flashlight down the row and made his way over, taking a seat next to him.
"Knowing how much I love movies, is there a reason you've brought me to an empty, derelict movie theatre?" Tony asked the olive skinned man next to him, shining the light in his face.
"Patience is not your virtue my friend." He said, knocking away the blinding light. "If you hold on ten minutes, I'll get the janitor to put Alien on the old projector, just for you."
"There's no janitor; the place has been deserted for two years. I had to climb through a broken window to get in." Tony started to look around the darkened space. "You know this place is probably infested with rats. If I get the plague again, I'll be making sure I breath all over you."
"Man, how many times are you going to bring up the plague?" He laughed. "Really Tony, I think you've milked it for all it's worth."
Tony smiled at his old friend. He'd met Steve at college, too many years ago to remember. He'd moved to Washington when he'd taken up a role for the CIA as a Strategic Analyst. Tony had never understood what it meant and he was never convinced that Steve knew either.
Steve had married his wife Ali ten years ago. Their daughter, Chloe, came along four years later. Chloe professed to love Tony and had every intention of marrying him when she was old enough.
Steve leaned down and retrieved a thick concertina envelope, handing it to Tony.
"I really do appreciate this." Tony said.
"Well if I mysteriously disappear any time soon, you'll know why."
Tony looked at his friend, suddenly serious. "Don't even joke Steve."
"Well if you wont tell me why you want the file, my imagination is bound to run a little wild."
Tony unconsciously fingered the edge of the envelope.
"So, when's Chloe going to see you next?" Steve asked, studying his friends tight features and sudden, uncharacteristic reticence with words. "She's not seen you for a while; none of us have."
"I know, I'm sorry. It's the boss, he keeps me up all hours of the day and night."
Steve laughed. "Really?"
"That came out wrong. I'll come and visit soon, I promise." Tony stood up and sidled out.
"Tony."
Tony turned back.
"I don't know what you're up to and I don't want to know. Just promise me one thing..."
"I'll take care of myself."
"You'd better, 'cause Chloe's planning on marrying you, and despite my best efforts to tell her she can do so much better, she's adamant she loves only you. You break my daughter's heart by getting yourself killed, and I'll kill you all over again."
OOO
"Time's up."
Vance stood in the doorway of the conference room, a look of triumph on his previously aggrieved features. He looked like a man who had won the battle, and had every intention of winning the war.
Gibbs had taken to the solitude of the conference room an hour ago to cast his critical eye over the half dozen employee files Vance had provided him with.
Vance moved opposite the lead agent, his hands on his hips, making the most of his bulk.
Gibbs looked up over his glasses and studied the man. He could see how others might be intimidated by his imposing stature and hardened features.
"You were avoiding me all of yesterday and you've been avoiding me all this morning. I want your decision. Now."
Vance's uncompromising manner gave Gibbs no hope of getting a brief reprieve, allowing McGee more time to find out who the SUV was registered to. McGee was still dutifully hacking into every known government agency, but had yet to find any record of the vehicle, deepening their suspicions further.
Gibbs knew he still had a few days before Vance's deadline on whether he'd accept DiNozzo back at all, but the decision on his new Senior Field Agent couldn't wait any longer; it was already twelve hours overdue.
"I want it noted for the record that when DiNozzo is exonerated, he'll be immediately reinstated as my SFA."
"Give it up Gibbs. You'd have been knocking down my door if you'd have found even a shred of evidence to exonerate DiNozzo. He's dead and buried. He's like Sonny Lister after his second fight with Cassius Clay; down and out in the first round."
"Wasn't that the Phantom Punch Leon? The one that no one actually saw?"
Vance's jaw clenched. "Give me your choice. Now."
OOO
Tony returned to his empty apartment and immediately shut the blinds before sitting on the long couch. He pulled the rolled-up and now dog-eared envelope from his backpack. He removed the file, marked Top Secret - Project Nemesis - Apprehension, repatriation and treatment of suspected domestic terrorists within US borders or allied countries. 'Catchy title' Tony thought as he turned the page. He read through the ten-page document, studying it with an intensity he usually reserved for the latest copy of GSM. He finally rolled up the document and placed it in the top drawer of the side table, frowning as he tried to weave it into what he already knew.
The document outlined the procedures for dealing with suspected domestic terrorists. The only thing in it that would raise a few eyebrows would be that they could be retained without trial for up to five years and that officers could use pressure up to but not including serious physical harm in order to interrogate the suspects effectively. With what people already knew about the goings on in Gitmo, this kind of document would be lucky to get a column on the fifth page of the local paper.
The document did what it said in the title. What it didn't do, is sound remotely like the explanation SecNav had given him.
'I need food', Tony thought to himself as he got up and headed towards the kitchen area. He looked in the fridge to find it devoid of anything even remotely nutritional. He grabbed his fleece from the back of the chair and headed out.
With the sky turning charcoal grey and ready to unleash an avalanche of rain, he decided to forgo the scenic route and take the short cut up the alley, leading straight to the grocery store.
He made his way down the alleyway, with its metal garbage bins, scavenging cats and stench of marijuana. The biting wind nipped at his ears and tossed up the leaves and litter, swirling them around like a knee-high tornado.
He pulled his hood up as the storm erupted; torrents of rain battering his face. He put his head down and quickened his pace to a run.
He felt pain explode in his back like dynamite.
He stumbled forward, instinctively grasping at his lower back.
Another fearsome blow forced him to his knees.
Heaved up by the back of his jacket, he was pushed against the nearest brick wall. A masked man, dressed head to foot in black, turned him and held him in place, tossing the baseball bat he'd just used to the floor.
Tony swiftly jabbed at the assailants face several times, sending him stumbling back in a daze. Tony's right arm went in for another shot. The assailant spotted it, managing to duck before it connected.
Tony took the opportunity to step forward ready to take another shot, just as his assailant made a low powerful swing, landing it in the middle of Tony's stomach and sending him crashing back against the wall.
He straighten himself, managing to get another, less powerful swing in, before spotting two other masked men approaching from either side, SIGs pointed at his head. He looked both ways and saw his exit points blocked by black vans, the back windows darkened.
A six inch flick knife came out of the masked assailant's pocket and now rested precariously against Tony's throat.
"My wallet's in my back pocket."
"Not what we want." The assailant with the knife replied, the rain dripping off his face. "We want you to back off, unless you want your throat slit, so that your head hangs like a rag doll."
"I don't know what you're talking about." The only thought flickering through his mind at that moment was what if Steve was having the same conversation, or worse still, what if he was with Ali and Chloe.
"We get even a sniff of you delving into anything deeper than a fish pond, we won't just be threatening to cut your throat," the man leaned in close, breathing heavily into Tony's ear, "we'll do it."
The knife was quickly removed and the bat retrieved, before the three men ran back towards the vehicle to the right. Tony saw both vans speed off, leaving him propping up the wall and wondering what the hell just happened.
He eased himself into a standing position, unable to suppress a groan, as the damage to his lower back and stomach made itself known. He retrieved his cell phone from his jacket pocket and pressed the speed-dial number.
"Hey Tony."
Tony let out a long breath at hearing Steve so chirpy.
"You need to be careful Steve."
"Careful?"
"I've just had a run in with three angry men warning me to keep my nose out of things which don't concern me. Are you sure no one could have found out you got me that project file?"
"Certain, I did it under a dead agents id. Are you sure it's to do with that? Maybe it's a case you're working on."
"I'm suspended remember?"
"Oh yeah, sorry. But look, I'm fine."
"Just watch your six."
"You too buddy."
Losing his appetite, Tony cautiously made his way back down the alley, oblivious to how sodden he now was. He wondered, not for the first time, what he'd got himself into and how the hell he was going to get himself out of it.
OOO
Fornell made his way out of the elevator on the third floor of the Navy Yard. It was a route he was familiar with, finding his cases overlapping with NCIS's on several occasions, with DiNozzo's involvement not always of the professional kind.
He knew his friends feelings towards DiNozzo and he knew that Gibbs rarely, if ever, read people wrong. So when DiNozzo had been accused of murder several years ago, his first thought was 'set up'. But here he was again, and although not a murder charge, dereliction of duty came high on the list of federal agent no no's.
He knew he should go to the director first, but his priority was Gibbs, so he hung a left, glad to see Gibbs was the only agent in the bullpen.
"Got a minute?"
Gibbs looked up from reading a cold case file.
"Usual conference room." Gibbs said before standing up, walking passed Fornell and making his way to the elevator. The door was still open. They both stepped inside, before Gibbs hit the ground floor button, followed immediately by the emergency stop.
"So you found the guy who accosted Mrs Vance then." Gibbs stated, reading Fornell like a book.
"Anonymous tip-off led us to a drug den in downtown Washington. Found a guy by the name of Colin Caller. Had an assortment of tattoo's including the one Mrs Vance saw, 'USPS07'. God only knows what it means."
"Has he confessed?"
"He died on the way to Bethesda of a suspected drug overdose. Bit of a relief actually. There wasn't much we could have charged him with. All he did was go speak with Jackie Vance. No crime in that." Fornell handed the report to Gibbs. "He'd been in prison a couple of times; petty theft, drug possession. We spoke to his case worker. She'd tried to get him on a new drug rehabilitation programme at Monroe University Hospital, but he'd refused point blank. I guess some people just don't want to be helped."
"So why'd he want to see Vance?"
"He was a wacko, Jethro. Wacko's do wacky things, including trying to kill people for no apparent reason; just look at Lee Harvey Oswald and Mark Chapman."
Gibbs flicked through the report, not comfortable with how easily and neatly the case had been tied up. "Any evidence in his apartment?"
"There was no apartment; he was either in a drug den or on the streets. The case worker had a hard time keeping track of him."
"So there's nothing to link him with Mrs Vance's assailant other than a tattoo, which anyone could have."
"Well the tattoo is unusual, certainly nothing you'd get at your local tattoo parlour, but we've got no leads on it." Fornell looked at his friend with concern. "Look Jethro, my director's assigned me another case. As far as she's concerned, this one is done and dusted. If you're not happy with the outcome, you're going to have look into it yourself. Just make sure you don't ruffle too many feathers along the way. This case seems to have attracted a lot more attention, and a lot more fall out, than could be reasonably justified. There's gotta be a reason for that." Fornell reached over and pressed the button for the ground floor. The elevator lights came on and the car started its descent.
"I want Ducky to do the autopsy on Caller's body."
"No can do. Already done. The director insisted the FBI take full credit for this one. We even got one of the country's pre-eminent drug specialists to assist. Professor Norman's at the top of her game. Best I can do is send him the report."
"This stinks Tobias."
"More than a skunk in Death Valley Jethro, but what can I do?" He shrugged. "Unless you have another suspect for me."
"DiNozzo's being set up. Without this Caller guy to tell us what the hell is going on, we've got nothing."
The elevator shuddered to a halt and the doors creaked open. Fornell walked out, before turning back towards Gibbs.
"Nothing's never stopped you before Jethro. And I doubt it will now."
OOO
The walk back to his apartment had been long, wet and painful, darkening his mood to pitch black levels. It wasn't improved by seeing a familiar face standing outside his door, pressing constantly on the bell.
The last thing he needed was McGee telling Gibbs that he was walking like an eighty year old with sciatica. He took a breath, stood as straight as he could manage and did everything he could to walk without groaning.
"I know you're in Tony. I saw your car outside. Answer the door. I'm not going anywhere until you let me in."
"What is it McNoisy? You trying to wake the dead, or just my neighbours?"
McGee turned, his smile vanishing when he saw Tony's pallid, soaked face and awkward stance.
"What happened to you?"
"Walked into a door. What are you doing here?" Tony retrieved his key from his left pocket and unlocked the door.
"I need to talk to you." He followed Tony into the apartment, still assessing his colleague. "I need to tell you something, before anyone else. It's my duty, it's my…"
"You're taking my job." Tony interrupted, as he walked to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer. Tony wondered if there was a shade darker than black that would better describe his now worsened mood.
"Not exactly."
"It's not like Gibbs would want to keep it open for me even if he could. I'm lucky he's letting me back on the team at all."
Things were moving at a speed he couldn't control. He wanted the world to stop, to give him chance to pull the pieces together, but the world apparently was insisting on still turning.
"You've worked hard McGee, you deserve it. Just don't be calling me Probie." Tony did all he could to hide his hurt and anger. He was also trying desperately not to wince each time he moved. He needed to speed this up and get McGee out, so he could take a long, hot soak and check out what damage had been done.
"I didn't take it."
"What? Why not?" Tony turned abruptly and couldn't stop the audible moan, as his body made it clear it needed attention.
"All right Tony, what the hell happened to you?"
"I'm fine. I must have slept funny and trapped a nerve." Tony's steel eyes made it evident this discussion was over. "So tell me again why you decided to pass up the best career progression opportunity you've ever had."
"When I first started at NCIS you made my life hell." McGee frowned, "Come to think about it you still do."
Tony rolled his eyes, not even close to being in the mood for this.
"But you taught me a lot. I owe you Tony."
"You don't owe me anything McGee. You get your skinny butt back there and tell them you made a mistake."
"Too late. They've given it to some guy called Nova from the FBI."
"And you?" Tony leant against the table for support.
"Well if you come back..."
"If? Do you know something I don't?"
"Sorry, slip of the tongue. I meant when you come back, I'll be assigned a Team Leader role back in Cyber Crimes. No need for four field agents, and my skills are better utilised in cyber crimes, according to Vance." They both knew it was Vance's way of punishing McGee for turning down the SFA role.
"You hated it there."
"I didn't hate it, it just wasn't, well you know, it just …"
"Wasn't the same without me?"
"Well more Gibbs and Ziva than you, but you were along the right lines." McGee attempted a half smiled. "Look Tony, I don't know why you didn't act on the Intel that witness gave you and I kinda figure you'll tell us when you're ready, but in the meantime, well like I said, I owe it to you."
Tony nodded his head. "You want something to drink?" He offered him a beer, thinking it was the least he could do under the circumstances.
McGee shook his head. "I have to get back to work. I just wanted you to know."
"Appreciate it Probie." Tony opened his own bottle took a long swig, before wiping the moisture from his lips. "And you wont tell Gibbs about my trapped nerve?"
"You really think, I think, it's a trapped nerve Tony? I've been in this job long enough to know when you're talking crap, and you're talking crap. Tell me who did this to you."
Tony remained silent.
"Who are you protecting? Who is worth jeopardising your entire career for?"
"No one Probie. No one's worth it. I made a mistake, that's all." He took another swig of the beer.
"And the injuries? Tony I can see you have scuffed knuckles and you're walking like you've gone six rounds with Mike Tyson." He walked up to Tony and grabbed the beer from his hand, tossing it in the trash can. "Enough Tony. Either tell me what the hell is going on, or I call Gibbs, right now."
End of Chapter 4