Chapter 8 - Within a Fingernail

Somewhere in the Desert, Somalia

Ziva's POV

I stretched my sore limbs as I got up from the small camp in the sand that I had made the night before. I drank the last of my water. If I did not find the camp by noon I would have to return to Mogadishu or some other small village and find some water and try again. This felt like an impossible mission just because of the lack of resources that I seemed to have. It would have been better with two or three people on it, as I had originally thought.

I finished my stretching and placed my guns and knives where they belonged and did a once-over of my clothes. I was absolutely filthy. I had not had a decent moment to clean up since being in Jordan. I was totally filthy and also had been wearing the same torn cargo pants for the last three days of combing the desert for Saleem Ulman's camp. I would find it eventually.

I began my day and began my search. I could hear some voices coming and I ducked behind a sand dune. They were speaking Arabic, which was easy enough for me to understand, as it was one of my stronger languages.

They were talking about Saleem. I decided to follow them until I was close enough to see the camp. I found it soon and I killed both of the men that were talking of this terrorist and admiring his handy work and how wonderful he was to train them all against the United States, which was apparently what their problem was.

I did not take these words to heart. Perhaps that was just what they were told. Or perhaps that was another target of theirs in the future. However, there was never any mention of Israel or Mossad. That meant that my father had lied to me.

I shook my head at the thoughts and snuck my way down the side of the dune, careful not to cause too much disturbance in the sand that covered the ground.

The camp was a series of buildings. There was one long building and many smaller buildings. The smaller buildings looked like housing, where the long building looked more like an abandoned asylum or warehouse of some sort. I sighed and counted at least ten men outside with guns, protecting the camp while training was going on that day.

I snuck down the rest of the way and silently killed the guards with my knife and continued on to the longer building. There were two men at the door that were talking to each other in Arabic. I crept up behind one of them, quickly reaching around him and slitting his throat before stabbing the other one straight in the heart.

I was proud that I had made it this far without using my gun. I was doing very well. Once I was inside I pulled out the gun, but kept the knife in my left hand, just in case I got close enough to kill another. I did. I killed three more silently and then saw the back of Saleem's head. I snuck up behind him, but was not going to kill this man behind his back. As I readied to call his name something hard hit me over the head, knocking me to the ground and rendering me unconscious.


I could see Tony sitting in front of me across the squad room of NCIS. He was staring again. I was usually quite annoyed by this, but not today for some strange reason. I looked down and saw my dirty shirt and cargo pants. I could see the dirt of the desert on me. How did the squad room get involved in the desert of Somalia? I had been so sure a second ago that I was in Somalia and about to make another kill, but now I was in Washington. How?

I looked at Tony and he looked at me. Our eyes locked and I could see the perfect green of his eyes. But, as I watched, he began to turn away. I wanted to shout to him. "Tony," I whispered as he turned away, taking his green eyes away from me. "Tony," I said louder, but he either did not hear me or was pretending not to. What had I done to him that caused him to ignore me? I did not know. Then, I could feel a throbbing pain in my head as he started to fade.

"Tony," I said as I finally came to. That was not good. Dreaming about Tony while I was unconscious in a terrorist training camp was not good.

I studied my surroundings. My hands were bound behind my back and I was tied to a chair, with my ankles tied together. The knife that had been in my hand was sitting out of reach on a table across from me. The gun that had been in my other hand was on the floor some twenty feet away. I could not see him, but I knew he was there and I heard a cell phone ringing.

"Shalom, Eli, old friend," said the voice of a man… a voice that I did not recognize and at once did not like.

"Shalom, Saleem," said my father's voice, sounding as though it was coming through a phone that was set to the speaker setting. My capture probably had not realized that I had come to at last. "Have you done what I have asked of you?"

"Not yet," Saleem said. "But, do not worry, friend. I will break her of her American ties. She has just come to me. I wanted to know what you thought was going to be necessary to break her. You did warn me that she was a little... stubborn."

"Do whatever you must, Saleem. You are a terrorist, I am certain you can think of something that will make her talk. Besides, it is NCIS that you want, is it not? That is where she was a Liaison for too long, friend. Once you break her ties with America, I can play the hero and come rescue her from you, leaving you alive, and not many of your incompetent men, as you put it. Do not worry, I will not harm the others. Then, I can be valued and she can rejoin me in the way that I want her to, instead of out of fear."

"It is very sad that your own daughter is no longer loyal to you, Eli," the man's voice said. "It is heartbreaking, yes?"

"Yes, it is," Eli said without any hint of emotion in his voice. "But, I am sure you will handle it. Once she is broken you will receive the other half of your money. Thank you, Saleem.

I could hear the phone click and I felt sick by what I had just heard my father say to this terrorist on the phone. My father had set me up so he could break my ties with NCIS, so that he could sell them out to the highest bidder, which happened to be this terrorist. I wanted to murder my father but, I was tied to a chair in Somalia and nowhere near my father.

The man came around and saw that I was awake. He smiled. He went to the side of the room and pulled out a chair and placed it in front of me. He looked straight at me and I wanted to spit on him then, but I waited. I would have plenty of time for aggression by the looks of things.

"You will tell me what you just heard of my conversation," he said.

"In your dreams," I snapped at him. He stood up and got close to me.

"You know nothing of my dreams," he whispered quietly. He stood up and paced the room once and then sat back down. "Tell me what you know of NCIS."

"Never," I growled through my teeth.

Saleem stood up fast and punched me in the ribs, causing the air to knock right out of me and me to gasp in pain. I suppressed it and continued to stare up at the man stubbornly. I would not betray my only true family. I would not give them away to this terrorist that wanted them all dead and gone.

"You are stubborn," Saleem noticed. "We will see how long it takes, but you will break eventually. Trust me."

He laughed an evil laugh that made me feel sick to my stomach as he untied my legs and pulled me up from the chair that I was chained to. He grabbed me hard around the arm and punched me in the face. I could feel something crack in my nose, but I made no noise and gave no wince. My eyes were watering with the reaction of the blow.

He pulled me from the room and threw me face first onto a dark dirt floor and slammed the door shut behind me. I inched my way toward the wall and curled in a ball. I wished that I could see my family one last time and tell them to their faces that I was sorry. But, I was not going to give up yet.

I had been within a fingernail of getting Saleem and it was my slightest hesitation that had caused me to be captured. It was my need to see him die, the way I was trained and kill him properly that had gotten me captured. Was this what my father wanted for me? I had heard him on the phone.

My father had called Saleem a friend and referred to payment for breaking my ties with America. That was wrong. My father was a bastard and it was showing through full force now. There were other ways to make me loyal, but it was always too late, ever since I had gone to America to work with NCIS. That was my home and my family and that was the only place that I wanted to be now.