AN: I couldn't write about the graduation ceremony; I couldn't find any info, so I drew on memories of my own, many years ago in mucky Manchester.

Graduation Celebration Confrontation

Chapter 8

He was feeling the thump of the bullet again… and again… and again…he wasn't even feeling the heat any more… or the pain, unless he moved… his body had had enough… it was quitting on him…

Goodbye, Boss, I know you'll come… in the end… Goodbye, Ziva… I can't think of any words to say to you… that you'd want to hear… Tim… I know Gibbs saved you… be happy… Abbs… sweet Abby… No!!! Oh, I'm roaring… it's only inside me… but I mean it… I meeeaaan it… No silly sad farewells… DiNozzos don't do schmaltz… I won't die… I will not… Gibbs'll come… Gibbs'll come…


Life attempted to return to normal. They all agreed that although there was nothing to alarm SecNav with, Director Vance should be filled in on the weekend's discoveries. He agreed that a watching brief should be kept, although there was nothing to specifically involve NCIS other than the planting of a bug on an agent's vehicle. He surprised them utterly by ordering Tim to go with Marianne on her return to Switzerland, to meet with an agent from the Naples office who would fly up to check over her security there.

"Thank you,Director," Tim said, unable to conceal his astonishment.

"Dr. Weiss has dual citizenship," Vance said, "We don't want the Swiss thinking we're any less than assiduous in keeping her safe. It could also be seen as information gathering for sister agencies." His grin was a little wolfish, as he knew just as well as any other agency director that sisterhood could be shaped any way you like.

"I'll arrange for you to consult with the Swiss Intelligence Service, to be polite, and to see if there's anything they need to do. I don't know if there's anything in all this… but you and the rest of your team aren't the only ones that have gut feelings, McGee. Oh, and I don't want to rain on your parade, but you do what you have to do, and then you come home. You're not going on holiday. Clear?"

"Clear, Director." For a couple more days with Mari, he'd have agreed to get on the plane wearing a tutu.

In the fortnight before she went back to Europe, they kept up their information gathering in between working cases. Tony spoke to Paddy Frame again. "Hey, you know we were quits? Well… I really am going to end up owing you this time…" The lieutenant agreed to have his men keep an eye on Mari for the time she was in New York City and away from Tim's protection. "She'll be OK with us, DiNo, no problems. We'll photograph anyone we think's showing an interest. And we'll keep a close eye on our Mr. Ware. How's that?"

"Like I said, Paddy, I owe you."

"Hey, just wait until I need someone tracked in DC, all night, every night for a week." Tony winced. It was unlikely to happen, at least he hoped it was, but if it did, it was a small price to pay for Mari's safety and McGee's peace of mind.

Tim followed the ownership of the motorcycle back to an agency in New York City that called itself simply 'Fixer'. It was a bona fide company, except, as Tony said, anything that gave itself a slightly shady name like that couldn't complain if you thought it was shady. It specialised in finding people and equipment to solve problems.

Nikki Jardine offered to go and see them, posing as a lawyer who was being blackmailed. They insisted that they were completely above board and had nothing to hide. But, they said, they knew people who could be 'very scary' if necessary. Nikki thought fast, pretended to take fright – "I only wanted the photos stolen back, I don't want anybody hurt!" She fled convincingly. When she got back to DC she said, "Well, either they spotted me, although I don't think so, or they're crooks." Tony and Tim had flowers sent to her desk, since they couldn't take the pretty germ freak out to lunch.

They pulled together all the information they could on the personnel of Fixers, it was run by a South African called Piet Veldt, and Gibbs said 'ex-mercenary' as soon as he laid eyes on his photo. Tony grimaced, that wasn't good. He drew Gibbs to one side and mentioned his people snatching theory. Gibbs nodded. "Something to keep in mind."

The ladies went shopping for ball gowns, and it was the only time that Mari thought she might have been aware of someone watching. Tony contacted the store, and pulled a shot of a young, intense looking man with dark hair; Willi Hartig, an employee of Fixers. They spoke to the Director, but they knew it still wasn't enough. They compared notes with Fornell, who said they were aware of Fixers too, but hadn't anything new to add. When Fornell said couldn't, they knew he didn't mean wouldn't. They'd gone as far as they could.

Tim went back to Geneva with Marianne, and came back four days later with that look on his face that he was completely unaware of, but that had Tony and Ziva looking at each other and firmly wiping grins off their own faces. Tony wondered if he'd ever wear an expression like that over Ziva, and dealt with it the only way he knew how. He pushed it aside and made some silly joke.

At some point the tracker fell off Tim's car, and although he checked regularly, another one didn't appear. Mari reported that nothing much was going on; she'd been offered a job in Japan, but by a rival of Professor Oshiro, and anyway, if she wanted to leave Switzerland to work permanently in another country, she'd only want to work in the States. Tim's heart beat a little faster when he read that email, wondering if he should read between the lines.

A month went by when they almost forgot about things, then Paul Ware was spotted in Mari's garage again, so NYPD picked him up. Paddy Frame was a good interrogator, but the kid didn't even know the name of the agency, let alone the boss. "So who are you going to go and tell you've been questioned?"

"I get called if they want me to do something…"

"O-kay… the next time you get called, you tell me. You let me know where you're meeting up, and you don't let on that we're there taking photos. That way you stay out of jail. But we know who you're working for, even if you don't, and if you tell, we'll know. We'll let them know you're unreliable, and you'll wish you'd chosen jail." He didn't know how accurate he was.

"Did I do right?" he asked Tony when he reported how he'd handled it.

"Oh, yeah. Now I really owe you. Come down to DC and me and McGee'll take you out to lunch."

"Who's McGee? And buying me lunch isn't going to get you out of owing me."

"McGee's our ex-probie. All growed up, and Mari Weiss is his lady. Means a lot to him."

"So it's him that owes me, then.

"No, and don't you go saying anything. He's got enough on his mind. I set this up."

"Fine, DiNo." He laughed, a mixture of good friendship and sadism. "I'll collect from you, then."

"Sure, Paddy. So long,"

As he put the phone down, he realised McGee was standing at his shoulder, close enough to have heard the whole conversation. He didn't even know he was back. Damn – letting your guard down even sitting at your desk is a Bad Idea, DiNozzo.

"So," Tim said, sitting on the edge of Tony's desk, "All the protection for Mari in New York was done as a favour to you?"

"What? No, no, McGee, all I did was convince them that it was necessary."

"Same thing. What did you have to promise him?"

"I have no idea. Look, Tim, it's no big deal. He's a friend, he won't seriously do one over me. It'll be police work. And it's worth it anyway."

Tim stood up again, folded his arms, and looked his friend in the eye. "When it happens," he said flatly, "You involve me. You went out on a limb for me, but you have to know that I wouldn't leave you there." Tony opened his mouth, but Tim cut him off with a finger under his nose and, "And no cracks about coming up the tree after you with a saw. I could be tempted. You ready to go?"

Tony's smile was contented. "Sure, McAxe."

They'd worked out a plan to avoid a tail, and it had gone like clockwork. Tim had put the Porsche in a corner of the parking lot at Dulles, where it could only be observed from one direction. Shortly afterwards, Gill Cooper parked her big GMC alongside, blocking the view. Mari walked round as if to get into Tim's car, but hid in the big vehicle instead. Tim checked yet again for a tracker…yes! Follow me, you fools.

Gill drove off to collect Anne-Marie and Claire, and Tim headed back to the Yard. The boxster went into the NCIS garage, Tony collected a four seater Lexus rental, they picked up Josh, and about an hour after the ladies, they headed for the hotel in Princeton.

They had no idea that, about an hour after that, Gibbs and Ziva followed them.


The Graduation Ceremony was grand, the setting splendid, and the weather perfect. The new Bachelors, Masters and Doctors and their supporters spilled out onto the green lawns, where photographers, both official and unofficial waited. Josh and Anne-marie, fine in their gowns, had their official shots taken, and then one together. Tim videoed the scene, Gill and Claire beamed with pride and Tony fired off dozens of unofficial group shots. Mari produced a laptop, and set up a video link with her young friend's parents; the two agents kept on recording.

Tony looked at Gill and saw tears in her eyes; he sat her down, hugged her and caught Josh's eye. As the young man and his sister both hurried to their mom's side, the SFA quietly got out of the way and left them to their memories.

From a dorm window, Gibbs and Ziva overlooked the scene, and scanned the crowd, but saw no-one from their files. Having swept all the teams' rooms at the Prince of Denmark earlier and found nothing, they went back to their own more modest hotel and checked in with Abby. There was nothing out of the ordinary, but Gibbs' famous gut still told him they should be vigilant.

"We should be down there, Gibbs," Ziva said with a slight pang in her voice, as they stood on a balcony high above the ballroom that evening. Conservatively dressed, unremarkable, unnoticed, they continued that vigilance, as the gorgeous peacock creatures strutted below.

"Oh, we'd look good, Ziva," the Boss said. "But we're better up here. There'll be other opportunities for you to dress up."

Ziva managed a smile. "It is not like me to have a fit of the girlies, Gibbs."

"Every little girl loves dressing up, Ziva," he said, and now there was a soft edge to his voice. They both sighed to themselves, and turned their attention back to the job. They could see their agents, impeccable and stylish, taking their jobs as escorts very seriously. Tony scarcely touched the buffet himself, but made sure that the ladies never had to join the bun-fight themselves. The ladies themselves had clearly done some co-ordinating when choosing their gowns, Ziva noted approvingly.

Gill wore sapphire blue, with a straight, wrap-round skirt, a high, straight slash neck and long, close-fitting sleeves. Mari wore peacock blue a shade lighter, with a halter neck decorated with beads and spangles. Young Claire, in her first ball-gown, wishing her dad could see her, wore silver net over turquoise satin, and at fifteen was already turning heads.

After a couple of hours, during which the two watchers had had to step back from the balcony rail several times when it seemed as if Tony would spot them on one of his periodic scans of the room, the band played a loud, attention-grabbing sting. Three beautiful young oriental ladies in spangled black and purple, came out to join them. One took up a microphone.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We're the Songbirds, I'm Adrienne, these are my sisters, Denise and Carys, and on this very special evening, we'd like to invite you to bring your partners out onto the dance floor."

Gibbs observed with a grin that one of the first to move was Tony. Well, he supposed that being able to dance was one advantage of a Long Island upbringing, and the big man was light and graceful on his feet. He saw Ziva watching, her expression unreadable, as he swept Gillian Cooper round the floor. Josh was about to ask Anne-Marie, but she said something, he smiled broadly, and led his sister out instead. Josh had found himself an exceptional young woman, Gibbs thought.

The girl group was very good, and their clear voices and the catchy songs they chose, tempted more and more dancers out onto the polished marble. After a while, Gibbs turned to Ziva, and said, "Let's go back and check with Abby, I'm not seeing anything here." Ziva was too professional to say 'thank heavens', but it was hard for a girl who'd been a dancer from the time she could toddle to watch some of the inept performances going on down there. They left quietly.

Trouble came without warning. As Tim led Mari back towards their table at the end of a dance, a tall, sandy haired man approached them. He seemed as if he was walking past, but at the last moment, he turned swiftly and jabbed a gun into Tim's side. "Don't move, Special Agent McGee."

"What…?"

The man jabbed him harder. "And don't speak either. Doctor Weiss, step over here if you please… I would like you to accompany us."

"No!" Marianne said, and "No way," Tim said even louder at the same time.

Tony, coming back with Gill, stopped, eyes widening in horror. Piet Veldt! He pulled Claire to her feet, and hissed "Gill, take her away. Now." Gill didn't argue. As she led her daughter across the room, she was looking for her son, but couldn't see him. Tony spotted him coming over with Anne-Marie, and tried to warn him off, but another gun clicked behind him.

"I don't think so," another voice with heavy South African overtones warned.

"Willi Hartig," Tony said, in as laid back a tone as he could muster.

"What? How do you know – "

"Keep your mind on the job, you fool," the other man said. "And don't draw attention to us."

"Piet Veldt," Tony said easily. "Proprietor of the agency that's all clean and above board."

"Special Agent DiNozzo," the sandy haired man appeared unsettled for a moment, but then said calmly, "If you don't want a lot of people to die, you really should do as we say."

"And that is?"

"Come with us quietly. You and your colleague, and Doctor Weiss. And those two young people too; they've seen us. We have four others, all armed." Tony and McGee both looked around the room; there were easy to spot people by the entrances, and close by stood a middle-aged guy with a paunch, and the skinny form of Paul Ware. "If you don't co-operate…"

"We won't do anything silly." Tony said very calmly. "But we know who you are; we've been tracking you for weeks, we have people here too."

Veldt believed him for a moment, and glanced round. "They are very well hidden, then."

"Sure they are. NCIS and FBI; like I said – "

"Oh, my god…" a woman's scream interrupted him. "He's got a gun!!"

Paul Ware looked down in horror at the butt of the semi-automatic revealed as his jacket had snagged on the back of a chair. People reacted calmly, as they do in such situations; they screamed and began heading for the doors. The main doors were blocked by Veldts men, and running forms collided with the ones in front as they could go no further. The sound of a drum-kit coming to a sticky end warned Piet Veldt, too late, that some of the band had made their escape through the door at the back of the platform; absolutely no gallantry there, the three pretty singers were elbowed out of the way by men twice their size.

At a nod from Veldt the paunchy guy fired a burst into the ceiling from his machine pistol, and everyone froze. "Well," Tony said, "That lets our people outside know you're here, then." The response was quick, and savage. Hartig, closest to Tony, swung his gun, butt first and drove it into the Special Agent's ribs.

"You talk too much."

"He's right though," Tim said, as his friend doubled up and sank to his knees in pain. "They know about you out there now. You've got a hostage situation when you were hoping for a quick kidnap. It can't end well for you, let alone us."

Hartig began to lift his weapon again, but his boss said "Enough," sharply. He looked at the paunchy guy as Tony got back to his feet. "Get them all together in one corner." All the guests, the remnants of the band and the three singers were made to sit on the floor. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you co-operate you'll be safe enough. Just sit still and shut up." Paunchy fired a burst over their heads to let them know what would happen if they didn't. "Derek, go and see if the cellar is still clear."

Paunchy went off, and nobody spoke for a moment. In the silence a voice speaking through a bull horn was heard from outside. The words were indistinguishable. Veldt ignored it, and said smoothly, "Of course we have a way out, it may be a while before they discover it… we must move quickly." Even so, he paused. A nasty look crossed his face. "Just how did you find out about us?"

Two trained agents looked anywhere but at Paul Ware. Marianne simply didn't realise the consequences as she looked straight at him. Veldt sighed. "You're a liability, Paul." He nodded at Hartig, who swung his gun butt again, hard, hitting the skinny youth under the chin, and snapping his head back. Some of the women screamed. Ware didn't hear it, dead from a broken neck before he hit the floor.

"Now, Doctor Weiss, Professor Kashai requests the pleasure of your company."

Marianne's eyes widened. "Tim, he's the man who offered me the job…"

"Apparently you have information that he needs, and will pay well for. You – " he jerked his gun at Tim, "Come along for the ride; you can keep your friends away from us. And you two…" He pointed at Josh and Anne-Marie.

Hartig's eyes were pleased as he looked at Anne-Marie. "Oh, yes," he said pleasantly, moving to grasp her wrist, "We definitely take this one." Neither youngster had said a word up to now, but Josh leapt to his feet and got in front of Hartig.

"You won't touch her," he said, shaky but brave. The gun butt started to swing again, and both Tony and McGee jumped forwards. Tony got there first, deflecting the swing with his shoulder, and getting the downswing along his ribs again.

"Shit," he thought, going to his knees again, "That's exactly the same place." The pain was much worse this time, but now he was down, and no-one was watching him, he could do what he'd started before…he'd moved the back-up gun he always carried strapped to his leg into the back of his waistband when he was down the first time, and now Veldt was reaming out his second in command, he was trying to reach it.

"Keep your mind on the job and out of your trousers. If you jeopardise us I'll kill you." He called the two door guards over and they began to herd Josh and Anne-Marie down the corridor after Paunchy. Tony pushed himself up and began to bring the gun round, but Veldt turned back to him. "Not you," he said calmly, "You'd hold us up." He shot him in the chest.

AN: I wrote you a nice long chapter; please review it???