A/N: Thanks for all the kind reviews. It's good to see people still think I can write. After months of writer's block, I was beginning to wonder!

Chapter 6

When I walked in to the office the next morning McGee was already waiting for me. He was sitting and chatting with Abby, who was telling him about her theory on the existence of ghosts. By the skeptical look on his face, I don't think he agreed with her.

"Hey, McGee," I slapped him on the back, "you're here early."

"No," Abby corrected, "you're late."

"Late?" I exclaimed. "It's only, wow, is it 10:00 already?"

Abby nodded. "Did you meet some bimbo on the way home from Gibbs'?"

I wrinkled my nose in disdain. "No," I replied, "I must have lost track of time this morning. Ready to get to work, McGee?"

McGee picked up a portfolio from Abby's desk and stood. "Gibbs asked me to research Senator Todd's projects for you, so I looked through the Congressional Records and other sources to see if there was anything that might be remotely related to Haswari or the Davids."

"Anything?" I asked, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

"Oh yeah." I turned to see a sly grin on McGee's face.

"Yeah?" He nodded. "Spill the beans, kid." McGee followed me into my office, reading from his notes.

"Senator Todd has a large Jewish constituency," McGee explained. "He's been working very closely with Mr. David's organization on retrieving, cataloging and returning stolen property. His office is serving as the go-between for David's organization and the countries where the property is being held."

"Like a mediator?" I asked.

"More like a broker," McGee corrected. "He uses the diplomatic clout of his office to broker a deal with the current caretakers of the property. His office also serves as negotiator between the two parties, relaying offers and counteroffers."

"So, David's group has to buy the stuff," I realized, "the people holding the property don't just give it to them."

"Right," McGee confirmed. "David's organization gets donations and they use that money to help people come to this country and to buy back property."

"They must get some pretty big donations."

McGee nodded. "They do, but they don't pay the full amount for the property. They pay a portion of what the stuff is worth."

"That's why they need someone to negotiate," I added, "to haggle the price. What happens when they reach an agreement?"

"The money goes to Senator Todd's office and they take delivery of the property, inspect it to make sure it's all there, and hand over the money."

"So at the end of the deal, there could be millions of dollars or millions worth of property in Todd's possession," I conclude.

"That would be correct," McGee confirmed.

"Is there a deal being made now?"

"That's kept confidential," McGee replied. "No one knows when they're negotiating, or with whom."

"The Senator knows," I corrected, "and the Davids."

"And possibly the Senator's daughter," added McGee.

"Abby, do you have an address for Caitlyn Todd?" I called out to the outer office.

Abby poked her head in. "What's the magic word?"

"Please?"

She handed me a piece of paper. "Was that so hard?" she asked, flouncing back to her desk. I saw McGee looking between me and the door and shrugged sheepishly.

oOoOoOo

Caitlyn Todd lived in a fancy rowhouse in the middle of the swankiest neighborhood in the city. McGee and I found ourselves straightening our ties while we waited for an answer to the bell. The lady of the house herself answered the door.

"Miss Todd," I greeted her, "it's good to see you again. I wonder if I might take a minute of your time to ask you some more questions about Ari Haswari."

Caitlyn Todd looked me up and down, glanced over at McGee, and sighed. "I suppose," she said, reluctantly. She opened the door further to let us in. "The parlor is to the left."

The parlor was tastefully furnished in antiques and was spotless. We sat down on a chaise lounge that probably cost more than my car. Miss Todd sat down in a chair across from us.

"I'd offer you something to drink," she said, "but my maid has the day off and you said you'd only be a minute anyway."

I flashed her my most charming smile. "That's okay, Miss Todd," I said, "we'll only be a short while."

"I haven't heard from Ari," she said, "if that's what you're here to ask."

"That's good to know," I acknowledged, "but no, I'm here to ask you about your father's work with the David Consortium."

Miss Todd looked surprised. "The David Consortium? They're a very reputable group, they do some wonderful work with refugees and survivors of those awful concentration camps."

I nodded. "Yes, they do," I agreed. "And your father helps them do that good work, correct?"

She sat up straighter and smiled proudly. "Yes," she confirmed, "my father helps them smooth the waters for refugees wanting to come to this country."

"And he helps them retrieve stolen property, right?" I prompted.

Miss Todd's expression grew cooler. "How do you know about that?" she asked.

"It's a matter of public record, Miss Todd," McGee replied. "You just have to know where to look."

"There's nothing illegal in what they're doing," she responded angrily.

"We're not suggesting there is," I replied. "Regaining property that has been forcibly taken from its rightful owners in order to return it to them or their heirs is a worthy cause."

"Then why are you asking?"

"We'd like to know if there is a shipment of property on its way from Europe, or already here."

"That's confidential information," Miss Todd replied dismissively. "No one can know about the goods or the money, it's too dangerous."

"It is," I agreed amiably. "That information in the hands of the wrong person could prove disastrous. There are so many ways that it could be leaked accidentally, though. An accidental slip of the tongue, maybe while someone is still glowing from a pleasurable experience."

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say, Mr. DiNozzo?"

"I'm just suggesting that you might have let something slip without meaning to, in the aftermath of some intimate activities," I replied candidly.

"You think I told Ari about a shipment after we made love?" she said, her face turning red.

"I'm just suggesting that it's a possibility," I replied, "I'm not saying you purposely…"

"Get out," Miss Todd stood up angrily.

"Now Miss Todd…"

"I said get out," she growled. "Leave my house at once or I shall be forced to call the police."

"Actually, I'm a…" I elbowed McGee in the ribs.

"I'm sorry to have upset you, Miss Todd," I said, easing my way to the door. "It was truly not my intention."

McGee and I were abruptly shoved out the front door, which was promptly slammed in our faces.

"Well, that was fun," I observed.

"Not really," McGee replied.

"Did you see the look in her eyes?" I asked him.

"You mean the look that would have scorched the skin off our faces if she were shooting flames from her eyes?" McGee asked, "Yes, I saw that."

"No," I corrected, "the look before the 'I will gut you with my perfectly manicured nails' look. There was a moment of doubt, of fear. I think she told him something."

"That can't be good," McGee observed.

"No," I agreed. "Hey, kid, run down to the newsstand on the corner and grab me a paper, willya?" I handed him a nickel. "I'll meet you at the car."

Thoughts were whirling around in my head as I walked to my car. I dropped my keys and as I bent down to pick them up I was hit from behind. Stunned, I felt myself being dragged into the alleyway. Before I could regain my senses someone started kicking me, the heavy boots knocking the wind out of me and possibly breaking some ribs. I managed to get a glimpse of my assailant, but my vision was blurred, and all I could make out was a tall, thin man in dark clothing. One final kick sent me spiraling into the darkness.

The next thing I knew, McGee was shaking me and calling my name worriedly.

I groaned and opened my eyes. "Where am I?" I mumbled.

"In an alley behind Miss Todd's house," McGee replied. "Are you okay? Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

"Do I look okay, McGee?" I replied, holding out my hand. He stared at it dumbly. "Help me up," I exclaimed. I swayed once I was upright.

"Can you drive, kid?" I asked. I tossed him the keys at his nod. "Take me back to the office."

"Shouldn't you go to a hospital?" McGee asked, helping me into the car.

"No," I replied with exaggerated patience, "I should not go to the hospital. I should go to the office, where I will be taken care of."

"Is Abby a nurse?" he asked, pulling into the street carefully. I closed my eyes and ignored him. When we got to the office Abby jumped up from her desk and ran to help McGee get me to the sofa in my office.

"What happened?" she asked McGee accusingly. "You're supposed to shoot people before they beat him up."

"I wasn't there," McGee replied, backing away from her. "He sent me to the corner to get a newspaper." He held up the item as proof. "He wouldn't let me take him to the hospital," he added.

"Of course not," Abby scoffed. She went to the phone and dialed a number. "Hey Ducky, it's me, Abby. Fine, thanks, how are you? Oh yeah? That's good. Uh huh… hey, listen, can you grab your bag and come to the office? Tony's done it again. Yeah, he got himself beat up. Looks like he'll need some stitches, maybe have his ribs wrapped. Okay? Right, we'll see you then."

She hung up the phone. "Ducky's on his way," she announced.

"Ducky?" McGee looked confused.

"Doctor Donald Mallard," I offered, my eyes closed. "You should probably call him Doctor Mallard, he doesn't know you."

Twenty minutes later Ducky bustled into my office, followed by a tall, earnest looking young man.

Taking one look at me, Ducky clucked his tongue like a mother hen and started rummaging around in his bag.

"I swear, Anthony," he scolded, "one of these days you're going to get yourself into trouble you can't get out of. Look at you! You know you can't afford to re-injure your hip, young man."

I tried to smile at the man, but the bloody teeth probably didn't help my cause. Instead, I looked over at the young man with Ducky and raised an eyebrow.

Ducky turned to see what I was looking at. "I'm sorry," he said, "that was very rude of me. Let me introduce my grandson to you. Jimmy, this is Anthony DiNozzo, that's Miss Abby Sciuto, and I'm afraid I don't know who the other gentleman is."

"Timothy McGee," McGee supplied helpfully.

"Detective Timothy McGee," Abby corrected. "And thanks for not calling me Abigail."

"I know how you hate being called that, my dear." Ducky gave her a gentle smile.

"It's nice to meet all of you," Jimmy said.

"Jimmy has recently graduated from medical school and is going to eventually take over my practice," Ducky explained as he cleaned my wounds. "He's training with me, learning about my patients and their special quirks."

"Is refusing to go to the hospital a quirk, Ducky?" Abby asked.

"Indeed," Ducky confirmed, "but not the strangest. Yes, I remember one patient who had a strange proclivity for taking all his clothes off and dipping his…"

"Ducky," I interrupted, "nothing too serious, right?"

Ducky looked at me. "Well, it could be serious if the temperature were below freezing and his…"

"I mean me, Ducky." I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, of course," Ducky shook his head as he was pulled back into the here and now. "You don't appear to have any serious injuries, but you could have hidden internal bleeding. I want you to keep track of any new pains and do not ignore anything you may feel in your abdominal region."

"We'll keep an eye on him, Ducky," Abby promised. "Won't we, McGee?"

"Yes," McGee agreed, rubbing the spot Abby's elbow dug into. "We'll make sure he's okay."

I groaned as I sat up under the disapproving eye of Doctor Mallard.

"You should either go to hospital or go home and rest," Ducky said reprovingly. "But I know you won't."

"You're right, Ducky," I replied, "I'm not. I have to go see my client and find out what she knows about her brother. Come on, McGee." McGee followed me out, shooting confused looks at Abby and Ducky, who only shook their heads.