Chapter 7 – thanks again for your kind words! They're almost better than coffee first thing in the morning. Thanks also to Tintin11 and merrygal for correcting me. Adjustments in the previous chapter have been made.
While DiNozzo was at the Vance house, the rest of his team were hell-bent on making Donald Pearce sweat. He sat in the Interrogation room, cuffed to the table. Ziva sat opposite him, feet up on the table, idly sharpening her knife. Every now and then she would pick up a piece of paper and slice through it – just to test it. Each time the steel ran over the edge of the blade, Pearce would twitch just a little more. "Do not worry, Major Pearce," she purred. "I do not like killing with this knife. I prefer a sharpened bicycle spoke. You file it to a fine point – finer than a seamstress's needle. Then when the victim least expects it you slip into the back of his neck, between the second and third vertebrae. This severs the spinal cord, killing instantly. No blood, no mess and it is over in seconds." Pearce went even whiter.
Gibbs walked into the room, and jerked his head to Ziva, indicating that she should leave. She stood up, slid her knife back into its holster and smiled evilly at Pearce. Gibbs sat down in her seat and placed a file on the table in front of him.
"Shouldn't I have a lawyer or something?" Pearce suddenly asked, in a flash of bravado.
Gibbs didn't say anything, just kept leafing through the file in front of him. "Major Donald Frederick Pearce, 42. Been career Navy now for... 23 years," he read aloud. "Promoted to head of Supply last year at Norfolk. Divorced 6 years ago, remarried this year. Three children, eldest is 11 and the youngest is 7 months." Gibbs closed the file, folded his hands on the table in front of him and stared at Pearce. His gaze was unreadable, and Pearce started squirming. "Now why would a career man risk everything he has to pay for sex?"
"You gotta understand Agent Gibbs, it's not what you think," he pleaded.
Gibbs slammed his hand down on the desk. "Bullshit!" he roared. Pearce jumped. "You paid for sex. Not only that, you paid to have sex with a child. He was 4 when you fucked him, did you know that? Huh? Did you?" He lowered his voice to an almost sinister tone. "Did you infect him?"
"Huh... what? What are you talking about?"
Gibbs turned to the glass wall behind him. "Ducky, can you come in here please?" Ducky walked into the Interrogation Room a moment later, armed with a syringe and rubber gloves. "Dr Mallard here is going to take some blood for testing, to see if you gave him HIV. If that test comes back positive you're going away, not only for the rape of a child, but murder. How do you like that?"
Ducky rolled up Pearce's sleeve and began the procedure. By now, Pearce was thoroughly panicked. "I didn't give it to him, I swear. I didn't even know he was sick, Alison told me he was clean! I swear, I'm telling the truth Agent Gibbs, I would never ever do that to a kid."
Gibbs glared at him. He shrank back in his chair, visibly cowed. "When will we have the results Dr Mallard?"
"Within the hour, Agent Gibbs. Abigail will process this immediately." Ducky stood up and peeled his gloves off, staring at Pearce with pure hatred in his eyes.
"Good. We'll continue this later, Pearce. Meantime, you can try and think of how you're gonna explain this to your wife." Gibbs stood up and followed Ducky out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Ziva walked out of the observation room to follow Gibbs. The two walked back down to the bullpen silently, each lost in their own thoughts. Gibbs stopped in front of McGee's desk. "You got anything off Pearce's computer?" he asked.
"More kiddy porn than you could ever want to imagine. Emails tying him to Alison Wilkerson, financial records – the works. He wasn't too careful about it either, a lot of it was hidden in plain sight. Even without his confession, he's going away for a long long time." McGee looked slightly green.
"McGee – are you okay?" asked Ziva, concerned about her friend.
"Not really, this stuff makes me sick. I've vomited a few times," he confessed. "I will never understand why this happens, not in a million years."
Gibbs didn't say anything, just sat down at his own desk. "Any word on the guy in Afghanistan?"
"Vance got onto his CO, having him sent back here. He's currently on patrol in the middle of nowhere so it'll be a few days yet Boss."
Gibbs nodded. "Copy what you need to tie Pearce to Wilkerson, then send the rest to the FBI. Fornell can take it." He suddenly felt old, and very tired.
The elevator dinged and DiNozzo walked out the doors and into the bullpen. Gibbs noticed he looked much more relaxed than he did earlier in the day, but decided not to comment. "What's going on, Boss? Did Pearce crack?"
"Well, I think sitting in Interrogation with Ziva for almost an hour took a few years off his life. He's busted. McGee's gone through his computer; we've got everything we need. Just waiting on the results of the blood works before laying charges."
"Tony, how is Zeke?" asked Ziva.
DiNozzo smiled. "He's okay. Jackie and the kids are taking good care of him. I'll pick him up later this afternoon, take him home with me for the night."
"Are you sure that is wise?" she pressed. Gibbs shot her a look but she missed it.
"Yeah Zee-vah, I'm sure, otherwise I wouldn't be doing it. Where's he gonna stay, with McGoo over there? Please," shot back DiNozzo. Who does she think she is, he thought angrily, I can take care of him! I'm not a complete idiot.
Too late, Ziva realised she'd insulted her friend. "Do not misunderstand me, Tony, I just meant that maybe he should stay with Jackie. After all, she is better equipped for a children's sleepover, yes?"
"He'll be fine David, I'll take care of everything," he replied shortly. "In fact, I just came in to collect his things. Boss, I'm taking the rest of the afternoon. Call if you need me." Without giving Gibbs a chance to respond, he picked up his backpack and Zeke's sports bag, turned on his heel and left.
Gibbs gave Ziva a dirty look, who responded in turn with a defensive expression on her face. Before he was able to chew her out, his phone rang. "Yeah, Gibbs," he growled.
"Jethro, it's me."
"Tobias, you better have some good news for me, or I swear I'm gonna hang up."
"Depends on your definition of good news Jethro. I've just interviewed Martin Tunes – he's the one that's already in lockup – he admitted to paying Alison Wilkerson for the, and I quote, 'privilege of knowing her son'.
Gibbs closed his eyes. "Anything else?"
"Gone through his medical records, it's probable that he infected young Zeke with HIV. He's just about in the final stages of the virus development from what the prison doctor has told me, so he'll probably be dead before the year is out."
"Thank God for small mercies." Gibbs echoed Tony's earlier thoughts.
"Well, yeah in some ways. How's it going on your end?"
"Slowly but surely. McGee's leaving shortly headed your way, he's got some presents for you."
"Something tell's me it's not gonna be what I asked Santa for this year. Ours not to reason why, Jethro."
Gibbs smiled bitterly. "Ours but to do or die." With that he hung up the phone.
Once again, DiNozzo found himself driving aimlessly. Ziva's words had infuriated him, but the sting was slowly fading. He knew she was just trying to be practical, and it wasn't as if he'd ever given her reason to believe that he could care for a kid. As he drove, he found himself in the vicinity of the mall. Grinning, he pulled into the parking lot. He might not have the most experience with kids, but he knew what they liked. He jumped out of the car and headed straight for Toys R Us.
30 minutes – and $180 – later, he left the mall and headed for his apartment. He might only have the kid for one night but he intended to make it an enjoyable one. Armed with some new kids' movies, a Batman blanket and some toys and books, he quickly made his living room a little more kid-friendly. Dashing around to make sure there were no inappropriate magazines or dvd's lying around, he surveyed his work proudly. He even had enough pillows and cushions to make a fort – something he did on occasion, though he'd never admit it to his co-workers. He checked the pantry to make sure there was enough Cap'n Crunch for the two of them – there was – and checked the freezer for ice cream. Takeaway would have to do for dinner, he decided. With one final glance around the apartment, he grabbed his keys and left.
