Chapter Six: Come All Together
The bullpen was silent, eerie, by the time Roy had dumped De Lucai into interrogation to stew in his own failings. A lot of the time the bullpen was quiet, but most especially when Gibbs was prowling the carpeted floor like a caged tiger, growling like one if someone so much as met his eyes. Dalrym had arrived mere minutes after Roy, having taken a longer route towards Gibbs' house, ready to snap up what photographs he could of skid marks, but now he was staring grimly at his screen, scrolling through the multiple pages of information connecting to Tony, or his "family", to the CIA. Monroen's badge had checked out, but Massimo and De Lucai had come back without any recognition, but fingerprints might tell the rest.
As the doors to the elevator opened, revealing Roy looking grim, but alert, Gibbs wordlessly left, taking the stairs instead of the lift, passing Roy as he exited. Casting a look across at his partner, the second in command took his seat, switching on his desk lamp.
"Almost feel sorry for the dirt-bag, don't you? Gibbs in that mood."
Roy looked up, face blank. "No." Dalrym frowned, raising an eyebrow. "Why not? I mean, yeah a kidnapped kid is serious, but I've never seen Gibbs this furious."
"I'd be the same if someone took my son: on the war path."
"Yeah, but Gibbs doesn't have a son." Dalrym scoffed quietly, you never knew if Gibbs would reappear. Roy picked up his pen, turning towards his own gathered intel.
"You keep thinking that."
Gibbs had made a tech bring him the findings on De Lucai's fingerprints, which had come back with a positive match in AFIS. He'd told Roy curtly to take the prints as quickly as possible and get them down, and also because if he did them himself he was likely to kill him. He quickly checked the viewing area behind the one way mirror was empty. Empty, just the camera. However, when he strode into the square room, he slammed the door behind him with a loud snap. De Lucai jumped, his heartbeat quickening.
Turning the chair around and taking a seat in front of De Lucai, Gibbs opened the file the technician had brought him outside the room. Opening the thin folder, Gibbs proceeded to scan over the papers with a practise eye, in a practised silence, his expression unreadable.
"I won't tell you nothing." De Lucai broke the silence after a few minutes, a faint accent running through his speech. Gibbs slammed his hand down onto the open folder, causing De Lucai to jump, his chair thumping on the carpet.
"Ricardo De Lucai, arrested eight years ago, you're a petty criminal. Run with the big boys, never one yourself. Where is he?" He knew that both his agents were frantically finding every piece of information the world held on R. De Lucai to find some case and connection to the DiNozzos.
"I-I…I am not saying anything without a lawyer. You can't ask me anything." De Lucai's eyes were flicking everywhere except at his interrogator. The look Gibbs gave him was a typical 'Ya think?' Shrugging out of his jacket, he hung it over the camera lens, plunging it into darkness.
Tony blinked, wrapping his arms around his knees. The room was dark, cold, with a severe lack of windows, or any light for that matter. Repressing a shiver, he leant his chin on his which he'd pulled up to his chest. His ribs still throbbed, his wrists and forearms blossoming new bruises even over the old ones he already had. The only light was streaming from under the thick wooden door in front of him. The only piece of furniture was a wooden chair draped over with a heavy woven blanket, nothing else. Nothing more.
"Boss, you need to see this." Roy's voice came over the speaking from the viewing area behind the glass. There was still nothing but the inside of Gibbs coat showing on the camera screen, but that wasn't the screen of interest. Roy chose to ignore what he could see through the glass.
A few seconds passed before Gibbs entered the viewing room, his blue eyes burning. The usually utterly centred young agent Roy was took a moment to take over as he took in Gibbs' countenance. Dalrym pointed towards the television screen they'd just tuned into, and all three pairs of eyes were drawn towards it. News cast.
Reporters were gathered in front of a tall, modern, glass-fronted building with a single man standing behind a pedestal of microphones. The words scrolling along the bottom of the newscast held all three occupants of the room transfixed.
CEO of DiNozzo Inc Deangelo DiNozzo received the ransom demand including the amount demanded and a picture of his son, Anthony DiNozzo, just after six am this morning. Mr. DiNozzo called a press conference to plead with the kidnappers to return his son safely.
Gibbs jaw tightened as the last few seconds of Mr. DiNozzo's "heart-felt" speech cut through the tiny speakers. "I implore you for any information on my son. Please."
The man on screen had a worn face, his eyes trying to convey just how miserable he was. Gibbs however, wasn't convinced.
"Cadman with me, Dalrym when you get that to talk, call me." He gestured with a disgusted thumb towards the interrogation room where De Lucai was hunched in his chair, shooting furtive looks towards the door, just in case it opened to reveal an even more irate Gibbs.
"Boss, wait! I found something else." Dalrym called, pulling out two sheets of paper and handing them to Roy as he jogged to catch up with the Gibbs-on-a-warpath walk.
Roy hadn't wanted to ask to where they were going as Gibbs' insane driving skills were put to the test. Weaving in and out of 8am traffic was almost a death task and Roy was hanging onto the door hold for dear life, praying to whoever was listening that they'd get to their destination in one piece.
The black sedan screeched to a halt, half on the road, and half on the pavement, Gibbs striding from the car with Roy close behind. The second in command wasn't surprised when the fancy bronze plaque on the wall next to the revolving door announced the building to be DiNozzo Incorporated. A rather bewildered secretary directed the short tempered agent towards the elevator and the top floor where Mr. DiNozzo's office happened to be. Roy gave a nod of thanks before hurrying after his boss, the elevator already open. Just as the doors closed, Gibbs could see the secretary watching them as she picked up her phone, undoubtedly to call upstairs.
Therefore, it wasn't a surprise when Daddy DiNozzo met them at the elevator.
"Agent Gibbs. If you haven't realised my son has been kidnapped, I don't have time." Was his curt greeting, striding back towards his old fashioned wooden planked office, so out of place in a modern building. The office looked perfect, picture-esque with its comfortable chairs and squared off stack of papers next to a high powered computer.
"Tony was taken from our custody, therefore you do have time."
"Anthony was taken from you? And you mean to let me leave it to you to get him back?" DiNozzo laughed, harshly, sitting down behind his desk.
"Yes." Gibbs short reply came. Roy pulled out the two sheets of paper Dalrym had handed to him, dropping them onto DiNozzo's pristine desk. "You deposited money into an account twice in the past week. $40,000 in total." Gibbs continued, his voice level as he stared down DiNozzo's eyes – so different to Tony's bright greens, his fathers were brown, dull, emotionless.
"I give money to many charities; I gave two donations this week."
"So, Ricardo De Lucai is a charity case?" Roy chipped in calmly from his stance beside the door, hands in his pockets. DiNozzo visibly paled. Gibbs leaned forward, his palms flat on DiNozzo's desk. "What did you pay the bastard for?" His voice was soft as a whisper, sharp as an icicle.
Tony didn't know the time; didn't know the hour. His watch had been taken off him and all he was left with was his shivering. The chill was cutting into his bones, even when he'd pulled the NIS shirt over his knees to keep in the warmth. It hadn't worked. The fear hadn't abated, but he wasn't going to let them see it, not going to let them have the satisfaction. That's what they did in movies, wasn't it. Played it brave even when they were scared. You didn't see Sean Connery crying when he was held hostage, Tony wouldn't either. He wouldn't. Right?
The revelation of what DiNozzo had just imparted to him hit Gibbs like a steel hammer.
"You sold your son out to kidnappers. For advertising." Roy voiced the statement out loud, his horror evidence of his paternal attitude. Gibbs eyes had darkened, the pale blue hardly noticeable against the pitch black backdrop.
"It wasn't supposed to go like this!" DiNozzo protested. Gibbs lost it. Hauling DiNozzo up, he slammed the man into an ornate bookshelf, some of the volume clattering to the floor.
"And how was it supposed to go?" He growled, face inches from DiNozzo's own.
"It was supposed to be simple. They took him and I gave the money. Got some time on screen, promotion for the company. But, it didn't work. They want more money before they release him, compensation they call it for having to get the boy from you. Stupid boy got himself put into custody with you!"
"Don't you dare blame Tony for this. Blame yourself. Now, you are going to act as if we don't know and you will answer the phone when they call, comply with the demands and let us handle the rest. You will do nothing without my say. Sit." He shoved the pitiful excuse for a parent into his previously vacated chair, looking over at Roy, who shared his look of disgust.
It only took an hour for the phone to ring.
DiNozzo reached to pick up the phone, but Gibbs grabbed his arm, reaching over to the speakerphone button. He got a nod from Roy who was ready with the tracking equipment and pressed the button.
"Mr. DiNozzo." Came the slick voice from the other end.
"Yes." DiNozzo's voice shook.
"Fifty thousand each by 1900."
"You can't be serious! I-." Gibbs shot him a glare that could make an angry lion run screaming.
"I want to speak to my son." There was a brief laugh on the other end.
"Like you care about him. However, I will speak to Special Agent Gibbs." DiNozzo looked up.
"I don't know of whom you speak."
"Really? How about now?" There was a brief scuffle sound on the end of the phone before a yelp ripped through Gibbs' chest.
"Tony!" Gibbs couldn't help himself leaning towards the phone. Roy was typing furiously, but his jaw was stiff and clenched.
"Ah, I see he is there. Good morning, Agent Gibbs."
"What have you done to him, bastard." Gibbs snarled. There was that soft laugh again.
"It is just a finger, a clean break, it'll heel I assure you." Roy's fingers stopped typing briefly, taking a second to comprehend the horror. Gibbs eyes had widened, one hand fisting by his side. DiNozzo seemed unmoved from his current state of apprehension. Gibbs doubted it was for his son.
"Fifty thousand, 1900. Or it won't be a finger. Check your letter box, Mr. DiNozzo" The line disconnected. Roy swore, smashing his hand against the table. No trace, only down to a 100 mile radius. 1000 buildings in that area alone. Gibbs stood, eyes fixed on DiNozzo.
"Get $150,000 here, now." DiNozzo looked at him horrified. It wasn't easily intimidated, but this silver haired agent's gaze was making constant shivers cascaded up and down his spine. "Roy, letterbox."
Roy nodded, flipping out his phone to call downstairs and get the…whatever it was brought up. He needed to stay in case another phone call came in.
The package was delivered by a nervous looking young man in a security uniform along with the surveillance footage for Dalrym. It was small, hardly bigger than a CD case, thin as one too. Gibbs opened the paper carefully, checking each time to make sure nothing dangerous was inside. Dangerous, not physically. But, no-one can think of how to deal with dangerous mentally.
Lying in the centre of the package was a Polaroid, a single huddled figure with their head turned away from the camera. But the profile was obvious and the NIS shirt sealed the deal. However, underneath the Polaroid was a lock of soft brown hair.
I know, terrible. And I've forgotten for the last chapters to slap in a disclaimer. So, here it is. I don't own any of the NCIS characters from the show; I only own the dirt bags and my agents. Especially Roy, I like Roy. I also make no money from this; your reviews are payment enough. I do love the reviews; your input is just as important as mind. So, thank-you for that, and I'll keep it going as quick as humanly possible.
Soul Music.