The hunt for Ray Cruz was beginning to drag on into weeks. The weeks soon turned into months. September became October. October became November. November then slowly drifted into December. Cruz fled Rome in Late November, and the best lead didn't come through until Early December.
Wednesday, December 8, 2004.
Ziva walked back into the safe house, muttering angrily in Hebrew. Sam & Westen were out looking for a CIA informant, and Tony was setting up a feed to MTAC on his computer. He looked up when he heard Ziva.
"I'm not fluent in Hebrew, but I'm pretty sure you just swore," he joked. "What's wrong?"
"I went to meet with one of my informants," Ziva replied. "Before he could tell me anything, he was shot."
"Where'd the shot come from?"
"He was shot in the back."
"Did you know him well?"
"He was one of my most trustworthy informants in this region. He wanted to meet in private, but I convinced him to meet me in public. I feel like such an idiot!"
Tony stood up and pulled Ziva into a hug. "It's not your fault. There was no way that you could have known what was going to happen out there."
"Are you trying to make me feel better?"
"How am I doing?"
Ziva shrugged. "Eh."
"Well, then, tonight, how about you and I sneak out of here sneak out of here by the moonlight with a bottle of Italy's finest wine? What do you say?"
Before Ziva could answer, the MTAC Feed went live. "DiNozzo, are you trying to catch a killer or get lucky?" Gibbs' voice rang out like a head-slap, so Tony turned and faced the monitor.
"I can multi-task," he answered, still holding Ziva.
"Multi-task later. What do you got?"
On that note, Tony finally released Ziva. "Cruz fled Rome. Right now, we have nothing. Officer David had a meeting with an informant, but before he could tell her anything, he was shot in the back. He's dead. Agent Westen and Commander Axe are out looking for a CIA Informant right now."
"Well, we might have something for you then. Ari called one of his contacts in Italy; looks like Cruz is in Naples."
Ziva, get the details," Tony said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I'm gonna let Westen know."
...-_-...
Westen and Sam were standing were standing in a cramped room waiting for their informant. He was late, to say the least.
As a spy, you learn to mind your surroundings. Where the cameras are placed... Where there are witnesses... And where you can make a quick exit...
"This is getting ridiculous," Westen growled, checking his watch.
"Is Giovanni running that late?" Sam asked.
"Put it this way: He has five minutes or we're gone."
Sam nodded as the door to the room was kicked in and two guys with guns entered.
...Of course, if you're trapped in a small, windowless room with people who want you dead, you're pretty much screwed.
"I take it Giovanni's not coming," Sam muttered.
"Good guess," Westen muttered back. "He's probably dead."
"Which of you is NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo?" The shorter of the men asked.
"Neither of us," Westen said.
"Do you know where we can find him?"
"Neither of us even knows this Special Agent DiNozzo," Sam said. "So if you want to find him, you should try asking someone else."
"Who are you?"
Sam went into smart-ass mode, using the Geneva Convention as a weapon. "Axe, Sam. Commander, United States Navy. Serial Number... Uh... I don't really remember it."
"Get out."
Sam looked at Westen, who nodded.
"Don't have to tell me twice," Sam said as he left the room. Westen clenched his fists as he looked at the two men.
"Agent Westen, I grow tired of asking you. Where is DiNozzo?"
When someone puts a gun to your head, you either do what they say or you get shot. Or, you pull out a bigger gun. Or, you take their gun away from them. Or you do any one of 147 other things. Personally, I prefer option three.
The shorter man put his gun directly on Westen's temple. That was a mistake. Westen delivered a kick to his adversary's head and pistol-whipped the taller man with the shorter's gun. He left the room at a run for the car that he "borrowed" earlier.
"Floor it, Sam!" Westen yelled, slamming his door shut.
Sam peeled away from the curb, asking, "Mike, what the hell's going on? Who were those guys?"
"I don't know. But if they're looking for DiNozzo, we may have been compromised. Get us back to the safe house as fast as this thing can go."
"You gonna let 'em know?"
"Yeah. They may be in deep..." Westen's phone started ringing. "Give me a second. Agent Westen."
"Westen, it's DiNozzo. Cruz is in Naples."
"That's great to hear. But we ay have a problem."
"Define 'problem,' Agent Westen."
"We may have been compromised. You and Officer David grab everything and scuttle that place. Ditch your car for something faster. Go to a Mossad safe house. Sam and I'll meet you there." Click.
...-_-...
Tony snapped his phone shut and looked at Ziva. "We've been compromised. We need to get everything out, scuttle this place, and grab a new car. This time, we're going to one of your safe houses. Westen and Axe are gonna meet us there. Let's go."
"I'll place the explosives if you find a fast car," Ziva said.
"Deal." Tony left to look for a faster car while Ziva set the charges and threw everything into the go-bags that they belonged to. That took the better part of an hour. Tony returned with a Ferrari as Ziva was walking out of the safe house.
"Move over," Ziva said to Tony.
"What?"
"We are going to a Mossad safe house, ergo, I drive."
Tony wasn't in the mood to argue, so he moved over into the passenger's seat. He regretted his decision as soon as Ziva hit the accelerator. The safe house exploded behind them, raining down chunks of cinder-block and flaming pieces of wood. Ziva started driving like Dale Earnhardt as she swerved to avoid the debris. Tony started muttering prayers in Latin, and a small smile graced Ziva's face.
Ziva wouldn't have been smiling if she knew what was going to happen next...
So the next chapter, someone gets Burned. Anyone wanna guess? Reviews are appreciated. Toda! And try to guess who the goons are too. They'll be back.