NCIS...
Gibbs had been at his desk for hours. Abby had discovered fingerprints on what was left of the radio device found at the scene, and now they had a name; Jonathan Reader. The man had been in prison for a variety of things. But something that stood out was his experience in electronics and rigging explosives.
Blood samples Fornell had collected after getting a shot off at one of the men, confirmed a second culprit; Louis Carlos. The man had been put away by a team at NCIS several years ago. His only connection to Reader, being that they'd served time together.
Clearly, the attack had been against NCIS. Fortunately, Fornell's SWAT team had entered the sublevel of the building and only suffered minor wounds. Tobias had spent the better part of the past three days trying to track these men down; all the while, concerned about Gibbs and his team that he'd sent to their deaths...well, Ziva's death..
Gibbs looked over at Ziva's desk, an empty ache filling his chest. A familiar aching... He recalled this feeling, looking at this same desk years ago after Kate had died. After Ziva joined the team, he'd been so reluctant to give her that desk; they all had. He could see her sitting there now...
"She's gone, Gibbs. I do not think Kate would mind..."
Gibbs drew in a shaky breath at the memory and he felt his eyes sting. He looked back down at the files on his own desk, trying to shove the fact that the desk would have to be filled, yet again, in the future. Ziva couldn't be replaced; not really...It wouldn't be the same. This reminded him, of course, of another irreplaceable asset. He looked over at Tony's desk. The feeling was different; an anxious, gut-wrenching feeling of hopelessness and uncertainty. There was no way to know whether the agent was still alive, or suffering somewhere at the hands of these disturbed men. Tony was a good agent; he could take care of himself, fight or talk his way out of nearly anything. But there was no doubt he was injured before being taken and that would make it nearly impossible.
Then there was McGee... Gibbs looked at the third empty desk in the bullpen. Tim was lying in a hospital bed, clinging to life. He didn't even know about the team's loss yet... He didn't know Tony was missing. Gibbs needed the agent for this; needed his computer-savvy mind and his analytical way of thinking. Gibbs needed his team...
"Got you some coffee, Gibbs," he looked up to see Fornell as he entered the bullpen. "How can you work in the dark like this?" he asked as he handed him the cup.
"Got light at my desk, Tobias," he pointed out.
"You should be home, ya know..."
"You know I can't be," Gibbs glared. Fornell turned up a corner of his mouth, knowingly, and pulled the chair out from McGee's desk to sit in front of Gibbs'.
"Figure out anything since I've been out?" he inquired. Gibbs drew a breath and let it out as he shook his head, then took a sip of his coffee. Fornell's cell rang, and he fetched it from his coat pocket to answer. "Fornell." His eyes narrowed as he listened to the voice on the other line, then met Gibbs' eyes. "Where?" Gibbs' interest peaked at the tone in the agent's voice. "Tell them to secure the scene; I'll be there in an hour," he ended the call. "Another bomb went off," he told Gibbs. "Warrenton."
"Think there's a connection?"
"Thought you didn't believe in coincidences," he smirked. Both men stood; Gibbs grabbed his gun and badge, then his coat, and followed Fornell to the elevator...
11 00 11 00 11
3 hours later...
"It was definitely them, Gibbs," Abby said as she typed into her computer. "A street cam picked them up on their way up the street. The vehicle matches the description of the van Fornell said they were driving when he shot at them. And the radio device they found has the same modifications as the one we found at the school."
"But they didn't make any calls," Gibbs said. "There were two bodies, but no phone calls."
"Maybe something went wrong and the explosives were unstable," she suggested.
"You're sure these are the same guys?" he asked without looking away from the screen.
Abby turned to look at him, detecting the fear in his eyes. "Gibbs...Tony is not one of those bodies," she said quietly.
He turned to face her, "They're burned up beyond recognition, Abby. You have no way of knowing."
"He's not dead," she told him sternly. "I just know it... Just like I knew when his car exploded and none of you believed me that it wasn't his body. It's not him...it's just...not him, Gibbs," she swallowed. He squinted for a moment, trying to believe as she did. Then Abby turned back to her computer. "I might be able to get a close up of the license plate number. These bastards left after the explosion thinking we wouldn't have a clue where they were off to next. But this time...this time we'll be on their heels."
Gibbs turned his attention back to the screen. "This guy, Reader, was sent to prison by Warrenton Police," he said. "The plan was to do the same as they did to NCIS; lure them in and set off the bomb."
"But they messed up," she said.
"So where would they head off to now? Or would they stay and try it again?"
"They blew their cover, no pun intended," she said with a smirk. "They're not gonna try it in Warrenton again; not anytime soon, anyway."
"If they're headed someplace else, it'll be the same M.O. We need to figure out who else is with them. That's the only way we'll figure out where they're goin'. Call me when you get those numbers, Abs," he kissed her cheek then turned to leave the lab and pressed the button for the elevator. He was surprised to see Fornell when the doors opened.
"I thought I'd find you down here," he said. "My agents found a couple things in the parking lot in front of the warehouse in Warrenton," he told him as he held up two evidence bags. Gibbs took them from him as they headed back into Abby's lab. "The small box there is a remote detonator," he explained. "The other bag contains cut rope. It's got blood on it; looks like it was used to bind someone's hands." Gibbs met Fornell's eyes; a flicker of realization hitting him.
"Abigail," Ducky entered the lab, pausing momentarily at the unexpected presence of the two agents. "I uh...managed to get a sample of DNA from both victims," he told her as he resumed his pace toward her and handed the two vials over.
"I'll run these right away," she said. "Then I'll get to those," she told Gibbs.
11 00 11 00 11
Tony...
Tony pulled over into a rest stop, being sure to drive around to a secluded part of the lot before locking up and laying down across the front seat to sleep. He was cold, among other things. But more than anything, he was exhausted. The only reason he'd allowed himself to pull over at all was due to the fact that he could barely keep his eyes open.
His pain was secondary to his need to take out the men responsible for the death of his team. Nothing else mattered. No matter what it took from him, he'd finish this. He'd avenge his friends...
11 00 11 00 11
NCIS...
Gibbs was startled out of a sleep he hadn't been aware he'd fallen into, by the ringing of his cell phone on his desk. "Yeah. Gibbs," he said as he answered.
"The DNA from the bodies belongs to Reader and Carlos," Abby said on the other line. Gibbs sighed a breath of relief. "The blood on the rope belongs to Tony...and so does the print on the detonator."
"What?"
"Tony must've gotten away somehow. That or the dead guys on Ducky's cold tables got double-crossed and the others decided to take Tony to their next stop. Did you hear back from the prison yet?"
"Still waiting on the call, Abs. Damn...it's 0600 already," he said as he glanced at the clock. "When the hell did I go to sleep?"
"Not sure, Bossman. But you needed it."
"You need it, too, Abby. Get some rest. You've been workin' hard."
"To find Tony. That's more important. And I'm not the one who suffered a head injury."
"Get some sleep. It's not a request. I'll come wake you when I need you again," he ended the call. Patience running out, he picked up his coat, gun and badge, and headed out to drive to the prison. If they weren't going to call him, he'd be damned sure to get answers in person...
11 00 11 00 11
Tony...
It was still dark when he woke up with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Tony looked around before exiting the van, being sure no one was around so that he could get to the bathroom without being seen. There was a trench coat in the back of the van, which he chose to drape on before making the journey.
Once in the bathroom, he got a look at himself in the mirror. He was slightly startled at just how horrid he looked, suddenly very glad he'd hidden himself with the coat. Anyone who might have caught a glimpse of him, would've insisted on getting him to a hospital. That would hinder his plans greatly...
"Holy shit, man!" he was pulled from his thoughts by the voice of a man who entered the restroom. He was young; maybe in his early twenties, and if Tony had to guess, he had been driving around on a motorcycle. "You alright, dude?"
"Yeah," Tony gave him the best DiNozzo grin he could conjure. "I was...in an accident, but I'll live."
"An accident with a bear?" the guy asked in disbelief.
Tony let out a small laugh, "That's...hilarious, man. Seriously though...I'll be fine."
"I've got a cell. I can call and get you some help-"
"No..." Tony panicked. "Look, I...I'm an NCIS agent. I've got everything under control."
"NCIS?"
"Naval Criminal-"
"Well, yeah, I know what NCIS stands for. My girlfriend's a Marine," he grinned proudly.
"Oh yeah?"
"I like a tough girl...what can I say," he went to one of the urinals. "So...were you working when you had the accident?" he asked as Tony began splashing water over his face.
"Yeah," he replied vaguely. "Building blew up."
"Holy shit, man...and you're just drivin' around now? You hit your head or something?" he asked as he flushed and made his way to another sink.
"Maybe," he snorted as he took off the coat and slung it over the paper towel dispenser. He glanced at the man briefly before beginning to wash his arms. He looked stunned as he looked Tony up and down. "I'm better off than my team, trust me," he told him grimly. "They were all killed..."
"That's harsh, man," he said in a low voice.
"To put it mildly, yeah. That's kinda why I'm not going to a hospital just yet. I'm tracking the men down who did this. Fuck...I shouldn't be tellin' you all this," he cursed himself.
"Dude, it's cool. Semper Fi, right? I get it..." the man's words caused an ache in Tony's chest, and his eyes closed for a moment over the sink. "We're about the same size..." Tony looked at him questioningly. "I've got some clothes in my bag outside. You walk around in those, someone's gonna think you're a zombie or something."
Tony looked at himself in the mirror again, a small grin playing on his face. "I do kinda look Resident Evil right now, don't I?"
"I'll be back in a second," the man left the rest room and Tony stripped off his shirt, tossing it into the trash bin beside the sink and grabbing a handful of paper towels. As he ran them under the cool water, he looked at himself in the mirror again. A myriad of scrapes, cuts and bruises painted his entire torso; blood dyeing any unscathed skin. Tony attempted to clean what he could of it, not really caring about treating any of the wounds, more like simply not wanting to get any blood on the clean clothes he was about to be given.
"Damn...wish I had a first aid kit or something you could use," the man said as he returned with clothes in hand.
"Think I'll be fine; just flesh wounds. I appreciate this," Tony said as he turned to him, tossing the paper towels into the trash. "My name's Tony, by the way," he held out his hand.
"Drew," the man took his hand and shook it. "Good to meet you, Tony. I hope everything works out for you." He handed him the clothes and Tony slipped on the black tee-shirt over his head.
"Yeah, me too. Thanks for these."
"Looks better on you, honestly. But don't tell my girlfriend I said that; it was a present from her."
"Heh," he gave an amused laugh. "You pretend you never saw me, and I'll pretend I never heard that..."
11 00 11 00 11
Correctional Treatment Facility...
"I spoke with the Warden, who told me you'd know if these men had any known associates while they were being kept here," Gibbs told the guard on duty, handing him pictures of the men in question.
"Carlos and Reader," he replied. "Yeah, I remember these guys. They in some kinda trouble again?"
"Well not anymore. They're dead," he told him. The man furrowed his brow. "Blew themselves up."
"What?"
"Wasn't exactly their plan, I'm sure. They blew up an abandoned school in D.C a few days ago after intentionally luring NCIS to the building. Killed one of my agents and took another hostage. I've got another in the hospital still, in a coma. They planned to do the same in Warrenton, but failed. They've still got my agent which means there are more of these guys and I need to know who the hell they are so I know where to look next. So if you can recall anything...anything, please..."
*~.~*
"You'll be getting a fax from the prison with two names, Abs," Gibbs told her over the phone. "I wanna know where each of those men were picked up."
"I'm getting it now, Gibbs," she told him as she stood by the fax machine.
"Did you sleep?"
"I just woke up when the phone rang," she replied. "So don't yell at me. I haven't had my Caf-Pow yet."
"Wasn't gonna yell at you. I'll bring you one when I get back there."
*~.~*
"Michael Brocato and Charles Evans," Abby told Gibbs as he entered the lab; coffee in one hand and Caf-Pow in the other. He set her drink down in front of her. "Thank you," she picked it up and took a long sip. "Evans was picked up by Miami Police; Brocato in Memphis."
"Any idea where they might strike first?"
"Well...if they're driving, chances are they're gonna hit Memphis first. It'd be kinda redundant to go all the way down to Florida, then backtrack."
"Any luck with the plate number?"
"I sent it to Fornell hours ago."
"Why didn't you put the BOLO out yourself?"
"I'm one person, Gibbs!" she protested. "I've got a lot to do..."
Gibbs narrowed his eyes and gave her a look of apology, "I know, Abs. I'm sorry. Just got a lot on my own plate right now..." he looked down in effort not to allow the reasons for that to surface onto his face.
"We're gonna find him," she assured him, putting a hand on his arm.
He met her eyes and was about to respond when his cell rang. "Yeah. Gibbs." After a moment of listening to the voice on the other end, he spoke, "They're going to Memphis. Call and warn the local PD," he said then ended the call, turning to Abby. "The van was spotted on I-40 west. I'm flyin' out with Fornell to Memphis. See if you can locate any buildings they might be drawn to use there. I'll call when we land..."
11 00 11 00 11
Tony...
The sun was setting as Tony pulled into Memphis. Luckily, there was a business card on the dashboard with a Memphis address scribbled on the back, indicating where Mike would be. He parked about a block away and scoured the back of the van in search of supplies. He was a bit surprised to find his gun. No doubt they'd disarmed him when they pulled him into the van initially.
It was cold, so he slipped on the trench coat before holstering his Sig in the back of his pants. He shut the back doors and headed up the block toward the building in question. As he walked, he thought about his friends; the people he'd loved that had been torn away from him so quickly... He knew what Mike looked like; knew exactly who he'd be taking out once he found him. He allowed the anger to boil in his veins and fuel what he was about to do.
Rounding the corner, he spotted the building. It was yet another abandoned building, surrounded by a half-acre of badly kept lawn. He cautiously made his way to the building. The door wasn't locked, and he quietly made his way inside. A noise from across the room caused him to spin around. There was a man bound to a chair, bloody and bruised and staring in Tony's direction with fear in his eyes.
Tony quickly scanned the room before making his way over to the man, "Hey...I'm gonna get you outta here." He pulled out his belt knife and cut the ropes from his hands and feet and the man pulled the duct tape from his mouth.
"This big dude jumped me outta no where," he told him.
"Can you walk? Are you injured?" Tony asked in a hushed voice.
"I think I'm okay," he replied as he stood. Tony took off the coat and draped it over the man.
"You should get outta here. Is the guy still here?"
"Oh shit..." the man looked somewhere past Tony.
Tony spun around in time to block the swing of a pipe coming at him, but Mike managed to sock him in the face with his fist, knocking him onto the floor. "What the hell are you doing here?" Mike yelled. "Where's Louis and John?"
"They're dead," Tony replied as he scooted away and stood.
"What the fuck are you talkin' about?"
"Bomb went off ahead of schedule," Tony elaborated and gave a small grin.
"You sonofabitch..." Mike came at him with the pipe and Tony tried to block it, but he was fast. He caught Tony in the chest, sending him to the ground again, gasping against the pain and shielding the wound from further blows. Mike threw down the pipe and straddled him, taking swings at Tony's face over and over; breaking skin with the cheap rings that lined his fingers.
Tony managed to roughly roll them both over, taking the advantage over his opponent and threw a few of his own punches at the man's face. Then he pulled his gun and decked him hard before standing and kicking him in the side of his ribcage. "Ziva David, Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Timothy McGee," Tony rasped out through heavy breaths.
"What?" Mike squeaked out.
"Those are the people you helped to kill... My friends. And that's why I'm here," he aimed the gun at his chest and fired, causing Mike to scream out.
"Fuck! Please! Please, stop!"
"Not gonna happen," Tony told him through gritted teeth and shot him a second time, then a third, before the man breathed his last breath...
11 00 11 00 11
tbc...
A/N: Reviews would be awesome !