Disclaimer : I own nothing but my typos.
Author's Note : Thanks to all the readers, favoriters and followers so far. As always, extra thanks to AgentD.6, Maunzeli, Scat210, and angelscatie for taking time to leave their thoughts. Your time and opinions are truly appreciated. Thank you.
If anyone who reads this is waiting for the next chapter to Limbo, it's written and should be up this weekend. It just needs a few tweaks.
Starting to get into the more exciting part of the story. Action starts next chapter.
Enjoy.
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10:49am – Viewing Room – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –
Hand on the back of his head, DiNozzo tried hard not to laugh at the case agent that continued to unravel before his eyes. Barely held upright by the wall, Zavoral sprawled her legs out on the viewing room floor. The strident sound of her breath that filled McGee's now-empty lunch bag filled the room. While she desperately tried to control her hyperventilations, Tony smirked and shook his head.
Well, Regina had said she wanted to experience a case with the team.
Even thought she swore that she felt fine, the pallor of her face and the splotches of emesis on her suit jacket would inform even a novice investigator that she was a terrible liar.
"Are you okay, Reg?" DiNozzo asked again. Glancing up at him with eyes outlined in streaky mascara, she smiled tightly.
"Fine, I'm fine. The news about a bomb caught me off-guard," she stated, taking his Tony's extended hand.
Once on her feet, she steadied herself against the glass.
"You sure you still want to watch?" Tony nodded, gesturing towards Gibbs as he marched into interrogation.
"Might as well, I don't have much else to do while I wait for Gibbs to be done with Newman. Anyway, I already signed the viewer's register. I think I have to stay, don't I?"
When Tony shrugged at his uncertainty of the NCIS bylaws, Zavoral hugged her arms to herself. Out of the corner of his eye, DiNozzo watched Gibbs drop into his chair. Recognizing his boss' favorite game of 'stare down the suspect until they crack,' Tony realized he had a few minutes to offer the fledgling agent some much needed advice.
"You don't catch many big cases, do you, Reg?"
She shook her head slowly, staring through the glass at the team leader.
"Not really. I mostly do tactical analysis for the field agents stationed out of Norfolk. But we don't see much down there. Vandalism, AWOL ensigns, theft," she nodded, voice quiet. In the dim light, her pale face resembled a specter's. "Caught a rape case last year, but this is different. Th-th-that man rode in the car with me. He murdered someone and he rode in the car with me. He could have done the same to me."
Raking her fingers through her hair, she bit her lip. Exhaling slowly, Zavoral finally looked over at Tony and he shook his head.
"Newman wouldn't because he didn't kill Fox."
"Why do you say that?"
Without another word, DiNozzo gestured towards interrogation. Facing the viewing room, Newman's face tightened in agitation as he slammed his hands on the table.
"For the love of G-d, just say something," he roared, surprise at his outburst gracing his face. Settling back into his chair, he tried again. "I didn't kill Levi."
"I know," Gibbs said flatly, sipping from his coffee and reaching for his file.
"I swear I didn't kill - . Wait, what?" Brow furrowed, Newman loosened his tie.
"You didn't kill Fox. Confirmed your alibi," the team leader nodded.
When Zavoral glanced questioningly at DiNozzo, he shook his head and pointed back at the unfolding scene.
"Why didn't you just say so? I guess that pretty agent can drive me home. I'd say thanks for the hospitality, but - ."
Rising from his seat, Newman started for the door.
"We're not done here, sit down," Gibbs growled, pointing towards the vacant chair.
Newman crept back into his seat, while the team leader deliberately swigged his coffee.
"If this isn't about Levi, then what's it about?"
"Maxwell Lewis," the team leader stated, more question than statement. Recollection blasted onto Newman's face as he pushed his expression into an unreadable one.
"Who? I don't know anyone by that name," Newman shrugged.
Narrowing his eyes, Gibbs retrieved several documents from his file, individual e-mails from Newman's computer that dictated his correspondence with Lewis. He slammed them down on the table, each thud echoed throughout interrogation, every one sealing Andy's fate.
"I know about the bomb," Gibbs stated.
With a nervous laugh, Andy wiped away the rivets of perspiration that blossomed on his forehead.
"The - ."
"You wired fifty thousand dollars to a shell charity for the Clear Water Crusaders."
Licking his lips, Newman leaned forward onto the table.
"Once my people crack this code," Gibbs leveled his threat, knuckles rapping on each document. "Any leverage you have is gone."
"I think it's time for me to speak with a lawyer," Newman responded flatly.
Time for Tony to break rule twenty-two. Hopefully, it worked like he'd planned.
Seizing the opportunity, DiNozzo hustled out of the viewing room. He heard Zavoral call after him. When he pounded on the door to interrogation, he tensed, knowing Gibbs would probably kick his ass later. But if his plan was successful, they might have a workable lead since precious minutes were ticking away.
On the second knock, Gibbs' angry face appeared in the door. As he glared at DiNozzo, Newman nervously glanced at the pair.
"Boss, we - ," DiNozzo started, catching the desperation in Newman's eyes.
"Wait, wait! If I tell you what I know, you'll still get me a deal right?"
With a wry smile, Gibbs winked at DiNozzo and retreated back into interrogation. When DiNozzo wandered back into the viewing room, he grinned broadly at Zavoral's slack-jawed stare.
"What's the target?"
"I don't know." Gibbs rose and the suspect slammed his hands on the table. "I swear that I don't know the target. If I knew, I would tell you. But I don't know. I met Lewis in a chat room on the Put Earth Before Yourself message boards a few months ago. We started talking about the unnecessary destruction of the environment. I always hated how wasteful we are as Americans, but never knew what to do other than recycling, protesting and donating money to charity. Well, Lewis said he knew a way to get our point across but he needed funding. I was on the fence about it at first. But after he showed me just how much devastation that Navy has caused, I knew we had to do something."
Pausing, Newman pressed his lips together.
"So you just decided to build a bomb?"
"Look, Agent Gibbs, I didn't want to at first, but do you know how many whales die every year from SONAR use in subs and ships?" The team leader stared at Newman blankly. "By the Navy's own admission, thousands of whales and dolphins are needlessly slaughtered."
"What about Fox?"
"I don't know anything about Levi," Newman pressed his hands to his face. "I didn't find out he was dead until those agents showed up at my house yesterday."
Gibbs nodded, seeming to accept Newman at his word.
"What do you know about the bomb?"
"Nothing. Lewis was supposed to put together a small one, just to show the Navy that we won't accept any further deaths without cause. Those e-mails are his progress in procuring the pieces. Once he found them all, I wired him the money to make the purchases. When it was done, we were supposed to meet here in DC to finalize the plans. But - ."
Picking up one of the printouts, Newman exhaled loudly. As he placed his coffee on the table, Gibbs glared at the suspect.
"But what?" When Newman closed his eyes, Gibbs slammed his hand on the table. "But what, Newman!?"
"This is the first time I've seen this e-mail," Newman said quietly, pushing a piece of paper towards Gibbs. "He's letting me know that he's already chosen a target."
Blue eyes burning, the team leader gathered his papers.
"I swear I don't know what it is. No one is supposed to get hurt. I just wanted someone to take us seriously. No one listens -," Newman continued, oblivious to Gibbs' disinterest.
"Where's the meet?"
Pressing his lips together, Newman stared blankly at his folded hands. Gibbs slammed both fists on the table, leaning forward into Andrew's face. Wide-eyed, the suspect met Gibbs' glare.
"Fox knew about you and this guy. Now he's dead, that's your fault. You're already an accomplice to murder, you wanna add terrorism to the list?"
"Columbia Self Storage, unit #1802, 3pm."
Gibbs silently stormed out of interrogation, slamming the door behind him. As he exhaled slowly, DiNozzo raised his eyebrows at the escalation of the situation. With their worst fears confirmed, Tony knew that their work had only just begun.
Zavoral continued to stare at the sobbing suspect in amazement.
"That was - . Oh my G-d, that was – ," she paused. DiNozzo held his breath, hoping she wouldn't feel the need to report Gibbs' unorthodox interrogation techniques to the director. "That was more awesome than any of Tim's stories."
Tony grinned broadly.
"That's how we do it in DC."
-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-
12:18pm – Bullpen – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –
While he ran a search on another number from Fox's list, McGee pressed his lips together, trying to make sense of notes about the phone calls. Unable to figure anything out, he minimized the screen and checked the progress on his intrusion attempt on the Sun Ray Foundation's bank account. His program was still in the process of overloading the bank's server to grant him access. As he watched the numbers race across the screen, he rested his hand on his chin. Across the bullpen, Ziva spoke into her phone in hushed whispers, the words in her native guttural tongue. With her scarcely audible tones and different language, Tim didn't need to understand she'd received bad news. Features tense, she smoothed her ponytail like she always did when she tried to calm her anger.
After all those times he'd stopped her from killing Tony, McGee had learned her tells.
Slamming her phone down on its receiver, she growled something in Hebrew that sounded particularly nasty. Before McGee could question her, his computer flashed, closing out his phone number search program. The blinking results indicated another disconnected phone.
Tim dropped his head to his hands.
Each and every one of the fifteen numbers had been disconnected burner cells. He was completely empty, which could only mean - .
Over the partition behind Ziva's desk, McGee noticed a bobbing grey head with an unfortunate haircut. Cringing, McGee scrambled to find some tidbit of information that would appease his boss' perpetual wrath.
Slamming her phone back onto the receiver for good measure, Ziva muttered another curse in Hebrew.
With one foot in the bullpen, Gibbs' sight set on his junior agent.
"Whaddya got, McGee?"
"Uh, boss - ," Tim started, feeling the blush creep onto his cheek.
Fingers flying over the keyboard, he'd just managed to access the bank account of The Sun Ray Foundation. As he looked for the remote to transfer his findings to the plasma, he noticed Ziva already pointed it at the screen.
Saved by the assassin.
"Gibbs, my information cannot wait," Ziva stated, rising from her chair.
Obediently, she pointed the remote at the plasma and waited for Gibbs' approval before proceeding. When he gestured his head to the plasma, she brought a picture of a middle-aged blonde man.
Settling in front of the plasma, Gibbs crossed his arms while Tony slid next to him.
"James Abram," she explained, smoothing her ponytail as she exhaled. "According to my contacts, he is the only person in the general area who has recently attempted to purchase the necessary components to fabricate an incendiary device."
"Only person in the general area? Wait, there's more of these guys?!" Zavoral repeated, raising her voice several octaves.
The entire team glanced towards her position by Tony's desk. It was obvious they'd forgotten she was even present. When Gibbs shrugged at her wide-eyed concern, the team turned back to their discussion about Abram and Ziva's contact.
Blocking out the team's animated dialogue, McGee sifted through the lists of the transactions in The Sun Ray Foundation's multi-million dollar account. When he noticed a large deposit that lasted only a few minutes before being transferred out, he started a trace on the money's origin and destination. The search on the money's origination hit first, flashing across his screen. A quick cross-reference confirmed that the bank account belonged to Andrew Newman. Pressing his lips together, McGee noticed that it had only been deposited into the account a few minutes prior to its transfer to The Sun Ray Foundation.
A quick check on its first place showed that it came from the back account of James Abram.
"You got something or not, McGee?" Gibbs growled, swiveling from his spot in front of the plasma. With a nod, Tim registered a few clicks of his mouse, bringing up bank account list on the screen.
"The Sun Ray Foundation's financials. Got a big deposit from James Abram via Andrew Newman's account into the account that lasted about four minutes before transferring to another."
"So it appears Abram is building out Newman to finance the bomb?" Ziva suggested.
"Setting up," McGee corrected, nodding slowly. "Looks like it."
"Where'd the money go?" Gibbs growled.
Glancing back at his monitor, McGee watched search ping in Mongolia before moving on.
"Don't know yet, boss," Tim shrugged, pointing at his screen. "I should be able to find it, but it'll take a while."
When his boss nodded slowly, McGee typed frenetically as he started searched into other deposits into the account.
"You got anything, DiNozzo?" Gibbs growled, turning towards his shadow at the plasma screen. Uncharacteristically quiet for the information session, Tony pulled his angry eyes off the images.
"Hey, McGoo?"
Concentration shattered, Tim's face popped off his computer screen. Completely oblivious, he glanced between Gibbs and Tony.
"Wh-what?"
"You think you can find out where the money headed after it went to Newman, McBloodhound?" DiNozzo asked, looking at Gibbs. Instantly suspicious, Tim raised his eyebrow at the senior agent.
"Only if you leave me alone," McGee groused, turning back to his computer.
As the trace touched a point in Sydney, it hopped to another part of the globe. Tim sighed quietly as Tony rocked on his heels, dramatically pointing at Ziva.
"And your contact, Zee-vah, will they testify about Abram's purchase of the material to make the bomb?" Picking up her letter opener, she slid it over her fingernail. Tony smiled nervously, loosening his tie as she closed one eye to check her aim. "I think that's a no, boss. You know what this means, right?"
When Tim's trace flashed a dead end in Paris, he rubbed the heels of his hands over his face.
"McGee?" Gibbs growled, glaring over his shoulder.
"Lost the trace on the money, boss. Whoever we're dealing with is good," McGee admitted, choosing a different transaction at random and running its destination. Within seconds, he got a hit. "This transaction went to a group in Tibet that calls for succession through violence."
Crossing his arms, DiNozzo followed his boss' motions to face the junior agent's desk. With a clench in his chest, Tim searched another transaction and managed to successfully find the destination.
"This money went to the Falun Gong." Pressing his lips together, McGee glanced up at his superiors.
"The account's used for freedom fighters?" DiNozzo asked, surprise touching his features.
"Terrorists," Gibbs corrected.
A low gasp escaped Zavoral as she supported herself against Tony's desk. The team ignored her again.
"They are often the same," Ziva supplied, folding her hands on her desk. With a meaningful smile, she managed to redirect the conversation back to their original purpose.
"So the money for the bad guys?" DiNozzo asked.
"Not our problem," Gibbs shrugged, swiveling back to the plasma. "We need to find the bomb target."
"So then, boss?" DiNozzo grinned, smoothing his suit jacket. "No way we'll get this done by three. Which means - ."
"Yeah, DiNozzo. Come on, McGee you're up," Gibbs stated, marching out of the bullpen. Still engrossed in his hunt for the lost trail in Paris, Tim missed the senior agent blink slowly and raise his eyebrows.
"Boss, you're kidding, right?" DiNozzo laughed, unable to hide the wounded look on his face.
Ziva snickered.
"Come on, McGee, let's go!"
"What?" Tim asked, tearing his attention away from his monitor. When he noticed the moody senior agent and Ziva's spiteful smile, he did a double-take.
"What's going on?"