NCIS

Tony and Ziva began their drive to Summit Point to see where Bronston had done his racing. Tony won the coin toss to determine who drove. Fifteen minutes into their drive, Tony had astonished Ziva by remaining quiet since the drive began, and they had another hour or so to go. At first, she enjoyed the quiet, but it was unusual and therefore uncomfortable, and it meant something was obviously wrong with Tony.

"I've never seen you this quiet before," she said, just barely breaking the silence.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tony responded through gritted teeth.

"About?"

"You know what about, McGee and David, together."

"It wasn't my place to say."

"Well, when was he going to tell me?"

"Are we really having this conversation again? If you want to be a part of McGee's personal life you have to-"

"Oh stop it already, I'm just surprised is all, and I hate being surprised. I should've known."

"The only way you could've known is by being there for McGee. You probably would've figured a lot more out about him if you had spent more time actually listening to him and being actual friends than pranking him or teasing him with every chance you had."

"Oh really, and you did that?"

"Yes! I was even there when things were first developing with David. Admittedly, I had to drag it out of him a little, but I let him know I was there, that I had his back, and took an interest."

"You sound like every shrink on the planet talking to my father about how to raise a child. And for the record, you helped McGee take an interest in a criminal."

"He's not a cri-" she stopped herself and took a moment to reconsider, "Ok well he's not perfect but he acted exactly like one should to avenge the death of a loved one. That, to me, proves loyalty. And it's not like he killed the guy! Gibbs wouldn't have even let him back in the door if he did."

"So you're saying you approve of him and Probie?"

"He obviously cares for McGee, and is trying to make up for his mistakes."

"Yeah, well we'll see when this case is over. Personally, I don't think it'll happen. McGee's too good of a Boy Scout to have someone like that bringing him down. Not to mention his family. That conversation will definitely not go over well."

They arrived at the track, and Tony immediately fell in love. Signs pointed to various circuits, supercars and professional racing teams were lined up for their turn on tracks, and there were large screens everywhere so you could keep in on the action on each track wherever you were. There was a large building with stands, offices, food areas, and an observation deck overlooking the multiple tracks and lots. Tony got distracted so many times he almost hit a very expensive-looking Aston Martin. They eventually parked and found an employee who directed them to the owner's office.

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo and Officer Ziva David, NCIS," Tony said as he closed the office door.

"Charles Breslin," the man answered. He was a portly man with a handlebar moustache and rough hands, wearing professional but casual clothes. "NCIS? Don't think I've ever heard of you."

"We're investigating the death of an officer," Ziva held up his picture, "Chief Petty Officer Warren Bronston. We believe he frequented the track."

"Hmm… doesn't look familiar but there are so many faces, I can't possibly remember them all. Was he a professional driver, or amateur?"

"Amateur, from what we could tell," Tony answered. "He drove a yellow Shelby GT500, usually on the weekends."

"Sounds about right. Usually the weekday is set aside for corporate events, training, and pro practice. Weekends, the amateurs come out to play with their toys. We don't do much in the way of large races here, especially not with amateurs, too much of a risk, so we have them run time trials, best of three. People stay all day trying to beat each other's times. We do a sort of 50/50 where people can pay to be part of a larger pool based on their class of vehicle, and whoever gets the best times gets half the pot. Other half we usually pick some charity at the beginning of the month to give it to. Makes the guys look good in front of their wives and girlfriends."

"Do the drivers ever get involved in any… altercations?" Ziva asked.

"Occasionally, macho pride and all. If anyone gets too rowdy I boot their ass outta here. I got enough trouble making sure someone doesn't wreck themselves. Everyone signs waivers, but crashes are still nasty and bad for reputation. I don't remember the face, but I think I remember the car here doing laps. I think he did well."

"He also got parts and work done here," Tony added.

"Every amateur that wants to be like the pros tries to look good in front of the scouts. A couple of people have made their careers starting right here. It helps sell parts and labor, and keeps them coming back for more instead of just getting their rocks off one time."

"What about after hours?"

Breslin looked surprised that the question was asked, but the look in his eyes told Ziva he knew exactly what happened at night.

"We're closed, locked down," he said with a slight stutter.

"Mr. Breslin," she started, "we're not here to question your business practices, we're here investigating a death. Any information you could give us that could shed some light on it would be much appreciated."

He looked down, knowing he was caught. "Ok, well, there's a company that pays us every month for track time for its employees on the weekends, late at night, off the books and schedules. They keep the track and space clean, they get to come back. Been like that for a year now and never had any trouble."

"We'll need to see your security footage and transaction receipts." Ziva asked.

Breslin looked away.

"Mr. Breslin, we have a warrant but any information you provide us pertaining to our investigation will stay in our investigation. We're not partnering with the IRS as long as you don't give us reason to," Tony said smugly.

"Ok, ok…" he said, going into a locked file cabinet in the corner of the room. "Look, I told them we turned the cameras off at night, but I didn't want to risk anything so I kept them on. If anyone asks, you didn't get these from me."

"I doubt anyone will ask so long as you don't tell."