Chapter Nine: Fact Versus Opinion
The car fish-tailed wildly with Gibbs at the wheel. It wasn't like Roy expected anything less. Instead, he had the location on the laptop, one hand braced against the door to keep himself from whacking his shoulder into the window. He'd already informed Dalrym, who had been in the car park before Roy had hung up the phone.
Gibbs knew he had two good agents with him. Dalrym was calm, collected, distanced. You'd hardly ever see anything getting to the man in his mid-thirties. His aim at the firing range was good and he could take the jibs that Roy threw at him, he didn't seem as well rounded as his partner, not having a great deal of family life outside of work, but Gibbs didn't pry too much into his agents work lives.
Roy was a hard working, dedicated man. He had an empathic personality which could get him involved in cases, but that had never stopped him doing his job. He was a determined man, following something through to the end. However, his family came first. Which Gibbs understood perfectly. Family came first and there had been two occasions when Gibbs had snagged a member of another team for a day, even though he hated doing it and wouldn't unless there was an ambush or robbery in progress, to let the man deal with his sons. Of course, both of those times had been utterly serious: when his wife, Annie, had been caught in an RTA, and when both his sons had developed a severe case of the flu. Circumstances.
The black sedan Dalrym had taken was already parked at the back of the warehouse. The place was run down, the second floor completely unstable with a roof that sagged in high winds. Right now it was just the frigid close that was slowly freezing over the corrugated iron room. When it thawed it would be dangerous. Behind Dalrym was another car, three agents standing in their bullet proof vests, waiting upon instruction.
"Pacci." Gibbs exited the car, walking over to one of the three agents, the most senior among them. He'd called in Pacci's team as back-up. He wasn't having this going down any other way that perfectly without a single hitch. Pacci stepped forward, hand resting on his gun holster. Gibbs explained briefly, speaking quick as a flash, but Pacci, as an experienced agent who had lead his own retrieval missions, took it all in quickly.
"Wilcove, Yates, with me." Pacci muttered to his two agents, splitting off from Gibbs team, taking the back of the warehouse. The blueprints had told of two entrances to the dark, lonely warehouse, each one had to be covered.
With the confident movements, Gibbs sent Dalrym a few steps back, covering both himself and Roy as they checked out the corners, leaning a head around before assessing it was empty and safe.
"Found the car, Gibbs." Pacci's voice whispered over the microphones. It wouldn't be hard to spot, the blacked out car only had three functioning wheels and multiple bullet holes in the back. So, at least they had definitely been here. No doubting that. And it was most likely they still were. Roy's trace had the signal still coming through, even if it was a different number, strong and clear when they pulled up.
"Boss, got a visual…It's Monroen. He's alone, right of your position, in the open quarter." Dalrym's voice was low and quick. Gibbs affirmed back, scouting round the side of the building with Roy at point, gun held steady.
From behind, around the back of the warehouse a shout echoed around the cold warehouse. Gibbs team immediately whipped their heads around for a second before getting to the job in hand.
"Chris. Pacci! Report." Gibbs demanded in a hiss as gunshots pinged through the cold, silent air, the tension rising to suffocating levels. "Roy." The command was quick, sharp. Roy braced himself, skirting around the wall with his boss, keeping an eye out, and an ear sharp. Especially as the gunshots faded. "Dalrym, where's Monroen?"
"I lost visual, he ran out the left side, away from the shots." Well, he would, wouldn't he? Running towards shots would be idiotic.
"One of them is down, Gibbs!" Pacci's slightly breathy voice informed them.
"Chris, watch the car, one's running." Roy countered, sprinting after Gibbs as he entered the warehouse, sweeping his gun around, checking for any target. The room was empty, frigid. Except for a single table. Roy kept a close watch over the door leading away from this main area whilst Dalrym covered the door they'd come through.
The table had sparse contents coverage. A laptop, a smashed phone and a Polaroid camera.
"Gibbs, you'd better get over here, dirtbag wants to talk." Pacci's voice was crackling over the microphones.
Massimo was slumped against the cold wall, one hand pressed against his shoulder. Gibbs took no time in kneeing down, ignoring the protest from his knee, and laying an "accidental" hand on the bullet wound. Massimo growled, jerking away.
"Talk." Gibbs commanded, eyes giving no leeway of questioning.
"I want…the money." Massimo replied. Mistake.
"Tell me where he is or I'm calling the coroner instead of the paramedics." Gibbs voice was a mere hiss in Massimo's ear, not even Roy, standing confidently over his boss and the scum-bag could hear the threat.
"Promise me a deal!" Massimo pleaded pathetically. Gibbs reached inside his coat, pulling out his phone. "I hear the morgue tables are especially unwelcoming with a bullet hole in your skull."
Roy wasn't trying to listen, but occasionally he could hear a soft moan of pain or a squeak of fear from the scum below. And he didn't feel sorry at all. Not for the pain, mentally or physically Gibbs could be inflicting on the kidnapper. Never underestimate anyone. First rule of survival.
"Roy, with me. Pacci, get him out of here." Gibbs voice was curt and he was already on the move down the thin corridor. Roy stepped over the dirt on the floor and broke into a run after his boss, keeping up with his frantic pace.
There was a door at the end of the corridor. Just a plywood slab held by hinges to the wall. Raising his gun, Roy took point letting Gibbs smack his foot into the plywood. It crumpled open, revealing the room. It was no bigger than a broom cupboard, but that wasn't what had Gibbs heart stuttering, faltering. He was sure his heart had stopped.
The exposed skin was white as paper, the body still as a summer breeze. Blue tinges highlighted his lips and his eyelashes created dark crescents under his eyes. Gibbs reacted immediately, falling to his knees in front of the boy. His boy. His Tony. Stilling the shaking in his own hands, Gibbs reached forward for a pulse. Nothing.
No, wait. Thready, almost non-existent.
"Ambulance." He couldn't even remember giving the command as he unbuttoned his coat. Fearful of his battered injuries, Gibbs pulled the small figure onto his lap, wrapping his coat around the drained of colour boy.
"Hey, Tony. C'mon. Open your eyes, buddy, open up." He whispered softly, holding the boy close, carding a gentle hand through his hair. "C'mon, you can do it. C'mon, kiddo."
Nothing. No reaction. Nothing. The freezing skin of the boy's head soaked into Gibbs shoulder as he tightened an arm around his charge. Brushing a hand across Tony's bruised cheek, the agent's eyes burned.
A flutter. A shudder. Gibbs wasn't even sure he'd felt it. But, there it was again, the slightest movement. He hardly noticed as Roy draped his own coat over the child, but he did notice the sliver of green eyes. "Hey. Hey, buddy." Gibbs whispered, stroking a warm thumb across Tony's cheek. The dark eyelids fluttered, eyes trying to focus. Tony opened his mouth, attempting to speak. "Shh, it's okay. I've got you. I've got you now." Green met soothing blue for a second. A shudder ran through Tony's thin frame and a whimper escaped the frozen boy. Gibbs ran a soothing hand through the soft hair as Tony's head rolled on Gibbs' shoulder. The violent shaking was increasing, grating across Tony's ribs.
Pleading green eyes, laced with pain met Gibbs', Tony's hand gripping Gibbs' sweater as tightly as his waning energy would allow. Gibbs' continued murmur increased, Tony leaning into the warmth of Gibbs' chest. A single word mumbled by the frozen, juddering body, held safely in a tight embrace, sounded a great deal like a whispered "Dad."
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Yes…So? Who knows my first try at real affection? Who knows if it worked? But again, two in a night, awesome. You can guess the rest of what I'll say by now. Just give a quick thanks to Annika. And a hi to everyone. Reviewers? You're amazing in so many ways, you don't need me to tell you how, just thanks. And who knows what direction this'll go in next?
Soul Music.
