Chapter 4
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Chapter Four
Tony made his way aft and sat next to Gibbs at the helm.
"We'll start to lose the light soon, Boss," he said. "We got much further to go?"
"We're about 90 minutes out," Gibbs replied. "We've got running lights and the navigational equipment – we'll be there by dinnertime."
They sat in companionable silence for the next 15 minutes until Tony noticed another boat in the distance.
"Boss?" he said squinting. "You got some binoculars?"
Gibbs pointed to a compartment. "Something wrong?" he asked watching as Tony's expression tensed in anticipation of trouble.
"Not sure," Tony said opening the compartment. "Might be nothing but I think someone is signalling for help."
Tony lifted the binoculars to his eyes and tweaked the dials until they focused correctly.
"Ah…Boss…we've got trouble," he said passing the binoculars to Gibbs. "Our ten o'clock - boat looks like it's sinking and there's definitely someone waving for help."
"Mind your head, DiNozzo," Gibbs warned as he turned the yacht quickly into the wind and watched as the boom swung dangerously just above their heads. He guided them in the direction of the stricken craft.
As they approached they saw two men, bailing water from their ominously listing boat. One man had removed his shirt and was frantically waving it in an attempt to attract attention.
"Looks like you guys could use some help," Tony called. "Everyone okay?"
"Are we glad to see you!" a large bald man replied. "Don't think this boat's gonna last much longer. Thought we were going to have to swim for the shore and Bill here, doesn't do so well in the water."
"I'm going to throw you a line so we can come alongside," Tony told him as Gibbs manoeuvred the yacht alongside the stricken boat.
"You men better climb aboard," Gibbs instructed. "You can radio the Coast Guard to arrange a salvage and we'll take you in to Wineglass Bay."
The men grabbed what they could of their personal belongings, including a backpack, and their jackets. Tony helped the cold and wet men onboard and pushed off the hapless boat as Gibbs resumed their previous course.
"I'm Tony, that's Gibbs," he said nodding in the direction of his Boss. "What happened?"
"I'm Ed," the bald man replied. "We've been planning this fishing trip for months. We borrowed the boat from Bill's brother-in-law and hit a rock or a reef or something. Put a six-inch gash in the hull. We looked around but there were no safety vests, no flares, and no radio. If you guys hadn't happened by, we'd be swimming home for sure."
Gibbs' gut was telling him that something wasn't right. He had seen no fishing equipment in the sinking vessel and these men certainly didn't dress like fishermen. He chanced a quick look at Tony, who silently communicated his own suspicions. No fisherman would set out in a 400 dollar pair of handmade Forzieri Italian shoes.
Realising his weapon was in his bag below deck Tony made an excuse to go below.
"I'll get you some towels," he said. "Be right back."
Before he could get to the hatch, Ed grabbed Tony from behind, twisting his arm behind his back and placing the barrel of his revolver to his head. Gibbs started forward.
"Don't move or I'll blow his brains out!" Ed yelled.
Gibbs froze on the spot, raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture.
"Take it easy," he said. "Who the hell are you?"
"Doesn't matter who we are. But we're here to arrange a tragic boating accident where, sadly, there will be no survivors," Ed hissed menacingly into Tony's ear.
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Abby and Ducky had briefed Ziva and McGee on their suspicions that FBI Agent Monroe may not have committed suicide but may have been murdered.
"Should we contact the Boss and Tony?" McGee said.
"We are not certain of anything yet, Timothy," Ducky said. "We may be alarming them unnecessarily."
"McGee is right," Ziva added. "We should tell them of our suspicions so that they can be ready for any trouble. We can contact them again once we know for sure."
"Yes, yes, I see your point, my dear," Ducky conceded. "What about the Director? Perhaps she can assist."
"The Director has been called to the Pentagon for a top secret arms meeting," Ziva said. "She will not be available until tomorrow."
"How do you always know that stuff?" McGee said incredulously.
Ziva rolled her eyes in exasperation. She offered him her outstretched hand.
"Ziva David. Spy. Have we met??" she asked sarcastically.
"You've been hanging around Tony too much." McGee muttered.
The loud clomping of Abby's platform boots preluded her worried exclaim as she hurried back to the small huddle.
"Oh my God, oh my God! I can't reach Tony or Gibbs on their cell phones," she said, trying to control the panic rising in her. "Maybe something's already happened to them. We could be too late. They could already be hurt or…worse."
"Abby, you must calm down," Ziva said, barely concealing her own concern. "Perhaps they are out of range. They were sailing out to sea, yes?"
"And remember, Abs, we don't have positive proof that Agent Monroe was murdered," McGee said placing a comforting arm around her shoulders and looking thoughtful. "We know that Tony and Gibbs were headed to Wineglass Bay, but we don't know what course they took."
"Ducky?" Ziva asked. "They would have had to log a course with the Harbour Master in case of emergency, yes?"
"Yes, that's quite right, my dear. Jethro is always very meticulous with such details. I believe his yacht was moored at Gateway Harbour Marina. Perhaps you should contact the Harbour Master there!" Ducky advised. "In fact, this rather reminds me of a time when I was in Papua New Guinea. I was travelling down the Becking River in a log canoe when a group of head hunters from the Korowai tribe took quite a fancy to the look of my cranium…"
"Ducky!" McGee interrupted.
"Of course, my boy," Ducky said. "Perhaps another time."
"Ducky, what do you need to prove whether this was murder or suicide?" McGee asked.
"Well, Timothy, I will need to do my own autopsy to determine whether the alcohol substance was injected," Ducky replied thoughtfully. "Then, of course, Abigail will require a sample of the blood."
"Ziva. Go to Gateway Harbour Marina and speak to the Harbour Master, personally. If we're right and someone is after Tony, then they may have already been there asking questions about their heading. He should also have a listing of Gibbs' radio call sign. Make sure the Harbour Master speaks only to us," McGee said.
Nodding her head in understanding, Ziva replied. "What about you? What will you be doing?"
"I have the fun part," McGee said laconically. "I have to convince Agent Fornell to give us the body and blood sample of his dead agent."
--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--
While keeping the gun firmly pressed against Tony's temple, the bald man spoke to his associate.
"Bill, check them for weapons."
Bill walked to where Gibbs was still standing at the helm. He patted him down and indicated with a quick shake of his head, that Gibbs was unarmed. He then walked to where Tony was standing, and repeated the gesture confirming that Tony was also unarmed.
"Since you plan on killing us anyway, you mind telling us why?" Tony asked calmly.
"Let's just say, that with the last of the troublemakers out of the way permanently, Mr Burgess will be a happy man," Bill replied.
Tony's eyes narrowed as he said. "Last of the troublemakers?"
"Yes," Ed answered. "You already know that FBI Agent Paul Monroe committed suicide 2 nights ago."
"Let me guess," Tony's eyes hardened with fury. "You gave him a hand with that."
"All part of the service," Ed replied, his rancid breath turning Tony's stomach.
"The FBI would have autopsied the body by now," Gibbs said. "They'll know if their agent was murdered and they'll be looking for whoever did it."
"I wouldn't be too sure about that if I were you," Bill responded. "The FBI Medical Examiner ruled the death a suicide. So, you see, no one suspects a thing and nobody is looking for us."
"If nobody suspects Agent Monroe was murdered," Gibbs said. "Burgess is already home free. The FBI can't touch him. So, why kill us?"
Bill nodded towards Tony. "Mr Burgess wants him dead for his part in the undercover operation. He doesn't take kindly to being made to look like a fool. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said to Gibbs. He reached into his backpack and withdrew two bottles of Jack Daniels.
"I believe this is your drink of choice," he said to Gibbs.
"We having a party, Boss?" Tony asked. "Cause I didn't pack my dancing shoes."
He grunted as his arm was twisted further up his back, placing painful pressure on his healing collarbone.
"Not we – you," Ed answered. "We're gonna make it look like you and your Boss there, had way too much to drink and didn't notice the gas leak from the galley that resulted in your unfortunate, accidental deaths."
"Thanks just the same, but I'm really more of a beer man and pretzels man," Tony replied sarcastically. "Bourbon tends to make me want to tango on table tops and gives me those dreadful blinding hangovers."
"Don't worry, you won't have to drink it," Bill said reaching back into the backpack and removing the black case with the syringe and ampule. "One shot of this will render you both catatonic and will leave enough alcohol in your system to make it look like you drank yourselves into a drunken stupor and passed out."
Tony shook his head and laughed. "It will never work," he said.
"Oh yeah?" Bill challenged. "Why not?"
"Because anyone who knows me, knows that DiNozzo's do not pass out!" Tony replied and grunted as his arm was cruelly twisted again.
He glanced at Gibbs and watched as his Boss flicked his blues eyes towards the boom. Returning a glance that communicated his understanding, Tony spread his weight evenly in his stance and took a firm grip of the hatch with his left hand.
Suddenly, Gibbs jerked the tiller to the starboard side, causing the small yacht to lurch into a sharp turn to port. The boom careened across the deck, crashing forcefully into the unsuspecting and off-balance Bill and sending the case with the syringe and ampule into the ocean.
The sudden movement of the boat also caught the other intruder off guard. The gun shifted from Tony's temple as the bald man attempted to regain his balance. Tony took the opportunity to go for the gun in the man's hand. In his peripheral vision he saw Gibbs launch himself from his position at the helm and grab Bill around the neck in a vice-like grip.
Both pairs struggled desperately for several minutes. Tony had just got his hands to the weapon when the bald man swept his feet out from under him. Both men were sent sprawling to the deck. Unable to brace his fall with his hands, Tony hit the deck hard, only to have Ed's 240-pound frame pummel into him. He yelled in agony as he heard his injured collarbone snap like a twig and felt the searing pain in his shoulder. The bald man extracted himself from Tony's lax grip and stood menacingly above him.
Gibbs and Bill were engaged in a battle of their own. Bill's icy fingers tried desperately to loosen the grip Gibbs' had on his neck. The sound of Tony's yell almost made Gibbs lose his resolve and he watched with impatience as Bill's eyes began to flutter closed from lack of oxygen.
'Hold on Tony,' Gibbs thought. 'Five seconds more and I'll be there to help you.'
Then Gibbs' world went black as the butt of a handgun slammed into the back of his head and sent him crashing to the deck in an unconscious heap.
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