Chp. 7

After returning to their HQ to wait for Ziva's call, Jake couldn't help but notice that the place was decidedly not kid friendly. But up until that point it hadn't needed to be. He also reasoned that big men with guns, who were unfamiliar to them and in a strange place, wouldn't be good for the fragile psyches of two little girls.

So, with great trepidation, he called three people he knew could help him complete a mission for which he was, in his own opinion, woefully under qualified. As he waited in a commuter parking lot three blocks from Section's Eights offices, he once again questioned the wisdom of what he was doing, but gave it up as there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

He looked up when he saw his mother's Volvo pull into the lot. He suspected his grandmother was behind the car's purchase, as it didn't look like something either of his parent's would drive. Or his father, anyway.

Abby and Tony were the first ones out of the car and running to him. "So, Shannon said you needed help. You need someone whacked, evidence faked,…"

Not a bad idea, Jake thought, as Abby went on to list several more highly illegal ideas before he held up a restraining hand. "I'll keep your ideas in mind, but for the moment, all I need is help buying some toys for these two beauties." He said, holding out a cropped version of the photo from Petty Officer Orlov's wallet. "Ziva asked for our assistance on a protection detail. HQ ain't exactly kid friendly at the moment."

Jake could see ideas forming in Abby head, as his mother and grandmother got out of the car and walked over. Ideas weren't good. "Don't start, Abby."

She looked offended. "Start what?"

"You know what." Jake said, looking at his mother. The unspoken message was for her to keep the forensic scientist in line.

"Hey, Tony," Jake said, when Abby looked like she was preparing to steamroll him. "Wanna ride with me?"

The seven year olds eyes lit up at the thought of getting to ride in his brother's car. The night Jake bought it, he'd come over and drove Tony around the block. The boy hadn't talked about anything else since. "Can I, mom?"

Shannon couldn't resist the puppy dog look in her youngest child's eyes. "Sure, honey. But Jake," she said, shooting a warning look at her eldest son. "Nothing reckless."

Jake wasn't looking at her and rolled his eyes, before turning back to his mother. "Sure, mom." Then the little group parted ways and went to the toy store.

000

Gibbs sat across the conference room's table from Irina and waited. He could tell she was nervous and, believe it or not, that wasn't what he was aiming for. He'd been doing this for a long time and he'd learned the art of interrogation from one its best practitioners. Five minutes after meeting Irina, Gibbs knew that she hadn't killed her brother.

"You think I killed Gregor, yes?" Irina said, her ascent pronounced.

Gibbs shrugged. "I don't think anything. You tell me."

Irina sighed. "Then why am I here? Why are my sister's here?" she said the last part in a way that made him think that was the real issue.

"Where did your brother go last night?"

"I do not know. I have my first Chemistry exam in two days. Other than taking care of the girls and going to class, studying for it has taken all my time for the last week." She said, and looked away. "But if Gregor was involved in something that could threaten us, he would have told me."

Gibbs didn't show it, but his interest had just peaked at her choice of phrase. Something that could threaten us could mean anything at this juncture. He'd have to play it cool. But if there was one thing NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was good at, it was playing it cool.

"What will happen to us now?" Irina asked, sounding more confident than she probably felt, Gibbs guessed.

"You'll be placed into protective custody with NCIS until this is over." They both stood, and she looked at him.

Just before he reached the door, she spoke. "Agent Gibbs?"

He turned back, his hand on the door knob. "How do I tell them that Gregor is dead?"

He sighed. Next of Kin notification was one of the parts of his job that Gibbs hated, and children were the worst. Kids didn't have any concept of death or what it meant to die. Sure, military brats learned to understand it and had a vague notion of what it meant, depending on age. But these girls were three and five for Christ sake. It was unfair. Finally he said, "Just be there for them."

After a minute, she nodded. "I can do that."

With that, he opened the door and held it, allowing her to leave first.

000

Nikolai had given up the tail once they arrived at the Navy Yard. It wouldn't do anyone, least of all him, any good to get caught staking out a foreign military instillation in said instillation's home country. So, he had called Arkady and explained the situation. Fortunately, the former Spetnaz commander had seen reason and ordered his subordinate to return to base and give him what intelligence he had gathered.

"The agents who took her are NCIS? You are sure?" Arkady asked.

It annoyed Nikolai to no end that the man questioned him at every turn it seemed, but unlike many, he kept his mouth shut about it.

"Yes, but why is that important. They are not the FBI or the CIA." Puchenko said with a dismissive shrug.

Arkady shook his head. "No, my friend, they are not. They are far more ruthless than FBI or even the CIA Contact Roy Carver at the Department of Homeland Security. We may require his services before this is over."

Nikolai nodded and left the office.

000

Three hours later, the largest of the three bedrooms had been transformed from a utilitarian sleeping birth to a bedroom fit for a princess. Or, more accurately, a teenager and two little girls. "You do good work, ladies."

"Let us know if you need anything else." Shannon said.

"Will do." Jake was about to thank them, but his phone vibrated. He grabbed it, checked the number and decided he'd have a little fun with the caller.

"Yes?" He said, answering in Arabic.

"Are you ready?" Ziva asked, ignoring his intentional use of Arabic.

"Yes, where do you want to meet?"

"At the navy yard."

"See you in twenty." Jake said, switching to English.

"Who was that?" Tony asked.

"Anthony." Shannon said in warning tone.

Tony looked at the floor. "Not my business. Sorry."

Jake shrugged. It wasn't like he would've told his brother the truth, because like the kid said, it wasn't his business.

"No problem." Jake said, going to living/dining room that the team used primarily as a mission planning space.

"Ziva called, roll out in 5." Without a word, Travis, Marcus and Max collected their weapons.

They were joined in the elevator by Shannon, Joanne, Tony and Abby for the short ride to the parking area. When the wood and metal cage stopped, Shannon reached for Jake's hand and squeezed it gently. "Be safe."

He smirked. "I'm always safe."

"You know what I mean, Jacob." She said, rolling her eyes.

Before Jake could answer, Abby looked at Max. "That goes for you, too."

"Guess we don't get no love, homie." Marcus said.

"I might be talking to Jake, but you know darn well you had all better get through this alive." Shannon said, looking at Marcus.

The four men waited a beat, then as one chorused. "Yes, mother."

Shannon tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help it. "You're incorrigible."

"But you love us, right?" Marcus asked.

As she started to get in her car, Shannon couldn't resist giving them a parting shot. "Depends on what day of the week it is."

"Abbs." Jake said, knowing it would get her attention. She turned.

"Go with Max and Travis. We're meeting Ziva and the protectees at the Navy Yard."

The group parted and climbed into various vehicles. The members of Section Eight formed up with two Chevy Suburbans for the quick trip to the Navy yard. It would've been a lot easier with another vehicle to act as the gun car, but they lacked the manpower for that at present. Jake had tried to counter act that by having the team take classes from various tactical/defensive driving schools around the country and having the guys practice when they weren't prepping for or conducting a mission. Due to their prior service Max, Dave and Jake were proficient in this skill, but Travis, John and Marcus had required some addition training. At present, they were all equally proficient in this and many other, operational skill sets.

A couple blocks and random turns after leaving their HQ, Jake noticed a black 2008 Ford Mustang following them. Because Abby was riding with them, Jake decided to delay telling Max and Travis about his discovery, lest Abby go running to papa bear Gibbs and madam director. He'd learned that being called Madam pissed the NCIS Director off, so Jake did it on purpose every chance he got.

When they arrived at NCIS, Max told Abby to be a good girl and run along. She gave him a dirty look and the finger, but did as he asked. Once inside her lab, she worried that Jake's dislike of her had rubbed off on her brother.

"Ok, boss, what's got you spooked?" The former Navy Seal asked once his sister was gone.

"We had a tail. Didn't wanna say anything where Abby could hear 'cause I figured she would run to Gibbs and Madam Director."

The other men's eyes brightened at the prospect of combat. Smalls' said what they were all thinking. "We gonna have fun, boss?"

Jake grinned and nodded. "Oh, yeah, Marcus. We gonna have lots of fun. There's just one rule."

"Take him alive." The others said in unison.

"Very good. Apparently, you can pay attention."

The others just gave him dirty looks when Ziva and Kate arrived with Irina and her sister's. "Irina, This Jake Harrison, U.S. Marshals Service." Ziva said, introducing Jake under the alias he'd told her to use.

"You aren't with NCIS?" Irina asked him, worry in her voice.

He decided he'd take a jab at the agency, even though he'd probably pay for it later. "We have more experience with this than NCIS." He said, managing to keep a straight face, even though Ziva was giving him a look that said he would definitely pay for it later.

Once they sorted out who would go where, they left the Navy Yard for the return trip to Section Eight's current billet. Sure enough, the black mustang dutifully followed them. Fifteen minutes and three random turns later, Jake glanced at Ziva who was in back with Irina and the little girls. "I don't wanna be an alarmist, but we've got a tail."

Irina had no idea what a tail meant, but she could tell by the Marshal's tone that it wasn't good. "How long?" Ziva asked, directing her question to Jake.

"Since before we arrived at the Navy Yard." He said, surprisingly calm.

"And you lead them right to us? Are you insane?" Ziva asked, loud enough to make Irina and the girls jump.

When Jake didn't answer, Travis said. "Nope, but he's a carrier."

"What does that mean?" Ziva asked tersely.

Travis shrugged. "Bad joke."

Jake ignored the banter and counted the seconds in his head. When he reached 0, he raised the radio to mouth and said, "Now."

Glancing in the rearview mirror, he watched as Max changed lanes behind him. Predictably, traffic forced the mustang parallel with SUV and Max didn't hesitate. Turning the wheel hard to the right, he slammed the SUV's front right fender into sports car, sending it into the guard rail and pinning the car to the guard rail. Flipping on the light bar on top on the truck, Jake quickly brought the truck to a stop and jumped out, going around the rear of the truck as Travis was already exiting the passenger side. They converged on the Mustang's driver's side, with Max and Marcus covering the passenger's side. Travis grabbed the driver's door, yanked it open and Jake move in to pull the driver from the vehicle.

Jake stood the man up and looked into his eyes. He wore a grey suit and had a buzz cut. Judging by his facial features, the man looked Russian or Slavic, so Jake went with Russian.

"Name and Rank, soldier."

"I want to the girl." The man said angrily.

Jake had figured that's what the man wanted, but it still pissed him off. Without warning, he head butted the man hard enough to break his nose. "Secure him." Jake said, handing their prisoner off to Marcus. As he watched the man walk back to the lead SUV, Nikolai Puchenko wondered if he had just made a very dangerous enemy.

000