Chapter 9
"Boss, there is nothing else to find out here!" Tony said in frustration. "We checked every house, every barn, every single place that could possibly hide a human being and there's nothing! It's like McGee...just...just vanished! Why would they bring the van here? There's nothing out here!"
Then, Tony's eye caught a small plane circling for a landing.
"Nothing...except..." He pointed.
Gibbs turned. "An airport."
"Boss...what if..." Tony couldn't even finish as the area they needed to search began to balloon astronomically.
Ziva gestured from the car. "Gibbs, Abby is on the phone and she says she has something important!"
Gibbs paused briefly to get Tony to walk with him, and headed to the car. Tony could barely notice anything outside of the sudden fear that had gripped him. He could see, in his mind's eye, the entire globe opened up as a place where Tim could have been taken.
"Tony."
Tony shook himself and nodded as Gibbs put the phone on speaker.
"What is it, Abbs?" Gibbs asked.
"Hey, Gibbs...Agent Andrews and I were going through the van and...well...the blood is Tim's, some of it. Some of the other blood isn't, but I could only type it. I couldn't figure out whose it was. Other than that...I've got nothing from it."
"That's why you called?"
"No! That's not why I called! I called because we had an idea!"
"Sorry, Agent Gibbs. We did try–"
"Don't interrupt me, Agent Andrews!" Abby said.
"Abby, focus, please."
"Sorry, Gibbs. I was thinking... This whole thing with Tim is so weird that maybe there are other weird things going on that might be linked to it."
"Weird things?" Tony asked. "Like what?"
"Like murders that don't have any real explanation. I know that there are lots of murders all over the country, Tony, so don't tell me that. I decided that there must be something to explain why we haven't found any sign of Tim. So...I focused on airports. There are lots of places they could take Tim if the van wasn't really a sign of their final destination...and Agent Andrews had a great idea. Didn't you, Agent Andrews?"
They heard a nervous throat-clearing.
"Oh, fine. I'll tell him. Agent Andrews said that if the cars were abandoned here in DC to throw us off, maybe the van was, too. So...I started looking around, and I put Agent Andrews on search duty...once I explained to him how it worked. He didn't know."
"Sorry, Agent Gibbs. I haven't really–"
"Shush!"
"Abby!"
"Okay, okay. So, we did a search of strange crimes at airports...and guess what!"
"You got a hit."
"Exactly! Of course...it took ages, but we still got one!"
"Where?" Tony asked.
"At a little airport in Texas. A man was found...stuffed inside a crate! There was blood in the crate that didn't belong to him, but the samples were all contaminated from the guy's blood. So...they were thinking that it was probably drug related, but they didn't have any suspects. Guess where his private plane originated?"
"Virginia?"
"Gibbs! How do you do that?"
"Who is this guy?"
"Sending all the information to you e'en as we speak."
"E'en?" Tony asked.
Thwack!
"Sorry, Boss."
"Anything else, Abbs?" Gibbs asked.
"One thing."
"What?"
Abby's voice changed. "Please, find him."
Gibbs met Tony's gaze. "We will."
"Okay. I'll get back to work."
"Agent Andrews?"
"Yes, Agent Gibbs?"
"I want you to get on the phone to your boss and tell him we're going to be needing a plane."
"To...to Texas, sir?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"It had better be ready by the time we get back to DC."
"Yes...sir...I mean, Agent Gibbs."
Gibbs smiled and hung up.
"Let's go."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Your name."
Tim kept his working eye closed and tried to remember to keep breathing. They had kicked him a few times, but finding that less effective, they had returned to the falaqa.
"Your name."
He could hear himself hyperventilating. He inhaled some dust and had to cough to get it out of his throat. He couldn't stand this anymore. He couldn't take it. It hurt too much.
"Jubran."
"Timothy McGee!" he shouted in desperation. "My name is Timothy McGee. Timothy McGee. Timothy McGee."
"Jubran."
"Please. Please. No more. Timothy McGee. That's my name." Tim began to weep.
"Jubran...give him some water."
Tim barely heard, but the part of him that did comprehend the words his captor had spoken laughed in triumph. This would give him time to recover and face more of the torture. Outwardly, however, he let the part of him that was weak and broken whimper and choke on the water that was forced into his mouth. A tooth was chipped by the canteen, but Tim hardly cared. Water was much more important than a measly chipped tooth.
"That is enough, Jubran."
They left him alone. It was a relief. Tim began to regather his resistance. There was a risk in telling them anything at all because the obvious positive reinforcement (and negative reinforcement) left the weak part of him wanting to keep talking just to prevent any further pain. He would have to resist as long as possible and then answer the surface questions as slowly as he could. With any luck, he'd be dead before he could be of any real use to them.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Man, I love this plane," Tony said. "Comfy seats. Easy boarding policy. You guys have it nice at the CIA."
Ziva smiled at Tony's bravado. He was trying so hard to act normally when it was clear to everyone that this was tearing him apart. Agent Andrews looked determined but incredibly nervous. She wondered how in the world he had ended up at the CIA when it seemed as though he would be better suited somewhere else...anywhere else.
Then, her mind drifted to Tim. He must have been a lot like this at the beginning...before she had met him. From what Tony had said and gleefully related, Tim had been the epitome of green...in more ways than one, at their first meeting.
"I've...never been on this plane. It's...It's Director Carew's plane," Agent Andrews said, almost in a whisper, looking terrified at the prospect.
"Even better," Tony said and closed his eyes. "About time we got some of the good stuff from the CIA."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
They landed two hours later and immediately met with the Rangers assigned to investigating the case. Any thought Tony might have had about making fun of the Ranger who met them was quickly dispelled by his professional and brisk demeanor.
"You're the guys looking into the Gasque murder?" he asked them.
"How did you know?" Tony asked.
"You're not Texans," he said with a slight smile. "I'm Ranger David Walker." He paused. "And no, I don't know any karate or whatever it is that Chuck Norris does."
Andrews laughed and then flushed when they looked at him. "My...My dad used to watch that show."
Gibbs rolled his eyes. "What can you tell us?"
"Not much."
"More now, Dave!"
Ranger Walker looked back over his shoulder. "What is it, Luke?"
"They found the sedan!"
"You want to come with?" he asked Gibbs and company.
"Absolutely."
"All right. Come on, then."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Two men conferred in quiet voices. There was no light from above, not even from the moon. They would have looked like they fit in an earlier era...except for the small electronic device which cast a dim light up onto their faces. It was shielded from the desert in the hopes of keeping their location from being discovered.
The conversation was short.
"They are still there?"
"No sign that they will leave on their own."
"Shamal?"
One of the men smiled. "Soon. The charts predict it. The air feels right."
"Good. We will plan."
They ran off across the dunes.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
They gathered around the abandoned sedan.
"This car was picked up on the cameras leaving from the general area where the murder took place," Walker said. "We put a BOLO out on it, but just got the sighting. What is it that you're expecting to find here?"
Gibbs crouched down by the tires. "A clue about where one of my team was taken. He was abducted from DC over a week ago. We traced him to an abandoned van about a mile away from the Falwell airport in Virginia. Gasque took off from there the day after McGee was abducted. I don't believe in coincidences."
"Neither do I...and Gasque's death had nothing to do with drugs."
"How do you know that?" Ziva asked.
"Because, for one thing, we didn't find a single trace of drugs on the plane or in the crate. Whatever was being moved...it wasn't drugs. Even the best packed bags will leave traces. Gasque was known to have connections with the drug trade, but he's small fry. Not worth killing, certainly not like he was. It was too professional. Gasque wasn't worth that."
"What now, Boss? We're stuck again."
"Maybe not," Walker said. "There's a...a clandestine airstrip not too far from here. It's sometimes used by drug runners. We try to keep our eye on it, but we don't catch people very often. It could be where they were taking your man."
Gibbs looked at the sedan and then followed Walker's pointing finger out into the desert.
"Sir? Agent Gibbs?"
Gibbs looked over at Andrews.
"Yes?"
"I...I have an idea."
"What is it?"
"I probably shouldn't talk about it out here. Too public."
"You CIA, son?" Walker asked.
"How did you know?"
Walker laughed at him. "You're trying too hard to be secret. Let it be more natural."
Andrews flushed.
"Don't worry. I can see when I'm not wanted. Why don't you all have a little secret meeting and let me know when you're ready to leave." He tipped his hat and walked off to consult with the other Rangers on the scene.
"What is it, Andrews?"
"We...We might be able to find out where the plane went...if there was one...and if we can figure out when it took off. If the airstrip is as empty as Ranger Walker said...then it should be easy enough."
"Spit it out, Andrews!"
Andrews looked distinctly uncomfortable and looked over toward Walker. He was out of earshot.
"We might have...some satellites...in this area. There might...be a record of what was happening around here...when Agent McGee was taken."
"Might?"
"Might."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
By that evening, they were on their way back to DC. ...and while they desperately wanted to keep going, they needed rest. They were pushing themselves as much as they could, but pushing themselves too much would only lead to falling down when it was most important. Gibbs decided that they would wait until the next morning to invade the CIA. He was certain that Andrews would report anyway, and Carew would be ready for them.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"I thought you had understood how it works."
Tim smiled. "I do. I'm not going to play."
"You already have."
"I'm better now," he retorted.
Syed struck out, punching Tim in the face, knocking over the chair. Tim felt as though his face had exploded with pain. He barely noticed the knock he got. It was the first time Syed had actually hit him.
"It seems that you need more persuading."
"Maybe if you ask me real nice," Tim said, lisping slightly because of his broken tooth.
In a strange shift, Syed began beating Tim himself rather than getting Jubran in the room. That relentlessly logical part of him couldn't help but wonder why.
Not that it mattered. He felt a rib crack and he screamed in pain. When the beating stopped, he thought it was over for now. ...but no.
"Jubran!"
The door opened again.
"Who do you work for?"
Tim whimpered but then swallowed his pain. "I work for the Keebler elves."
"Jubran. Go."
Tim took a deep breath, winced at the pain in his chest and then closed his eye.