Chapter 10

Tony tried hard to muffle his coughing after the first one tore through and ended his ability to talk on the phone. Peter got up and moved away to finish the conversation, and Tony breathed as deeply as he could without setting off more coughs. He wanted a glass of water, but he was currently tucked up in a nice warm bed, blankets covering the assets he didn't particularly want to show off to his host. Unfortunately, Peter was speaking quietly enough and Tony was having to concentrate so hard on breathing that he didn't hear the rest of the conversation.

A glass of water appeared in front of him. "You don't sound well, Tony," Peter said, sitting down on the bed facing Tony.

"Probably just the dust from the trunk still working its way out of my lungs," Tony replied, hoping the lame answer would satisfy the other man. He took a drink of the water and breathed as deeply as he dared. "I'm fine."

"I asked Butch to pick up some cough syrup on his way back," Peter replied, gazing worriedly at Tony.

"Butch wants me dead," Tony said.

Peter leaned forward and brushed his fingers through the front locks of Tony's hair. "Butch is too frightened of me to take any action yet."

Tony blinked, feeling a little frozen by the intimate gesture. "Peter, what do you . . ." He trailed off, not finishing the question. He was afraid that it was too much to ask right now, but it was too late.

Peter tilted his head and cupped Tony's cheek. "What do I want, Tony?" he asked, finishing the question. Tony's stomach churned at the warmth in Peter's eyes, though he didn't show any outward reaction at all. Peter smiled. "I have what I want."

"And the money?"

"Required to provide an explanation for your disappearance," Peter said, his thumb stroking Tony's cheek lightly. "A body of suitable type will be found burned to a crisp a reasonable time after the ransom has been paid, and people will stop looking for Tony DiNozzo."

Tony gulped. "But what . . . you can't just keep me here."

"Why not?" Peter asked. He leaned forward and kissed Tony on the forehead. Tony didn't move, he was so stunned by the gesture that he didn't quite know how to react. "I'd kiss you properly, but I don't want to catch your cold." He stood up. "Get some sleep."

"I'm not sleepy," Tony said truthfully.

Peter paused. "There is a remote on the shelf there," he said, nodding towards the bedside table. He tapped a panel of the wall. "This conceals a TV screen. At some point I plan to add a DVD player, but that will come later. You have full access cable, so watch whatever you like." With that he left the room and Tony sank back against the pillows.

There it was. Out in the open. Peter wanted him sexually. Tony drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, concentrating on ignoring the tickle in his chest. Peter was having people buy him cough syrup. That meant he wasn't going to be deterred by Tony getting sick . . . though it might delay certain activities that Tony would just as soon got put off indefinitely. The question was, did Butch and Lola already know what Peter wanted? Butch kept suggesting they kill Tony. Would he do that if he knew his boss had the hots for him?

Tony stood up and started examining the room. He had to find a way out of here. Peter had total control over him. Food, water, sanitation, stimulation of any kind. He might even be able to cut off the air to this room. The walls were smooth and cool, like glass, and none of the furniture was moveable. He even tried taking the shelf out of the bedside table, but it was solidly placed. The books were lightweight paperbacks, so no threat there. The bathroom contained nothing more dangerous than a comb. Tony's beard was getting thick, and either Peter didn't care to have him shave or he intended to monitor the activity.

He kept having to pause to control coughing fits, though he didn't know why he bothered. Finally, he sat back down on the bed and pulled the covers up again. He reached into the bedside table and drew out the remote. Pointing it at the area of the wall Peter had identified, he pressed the power button. An area behind the wall lit up and produced a menu screen and Tony stared at it. That meant that every last one of the white walls around him could potentially be wired for observation.

The door opened abruptly and Butch came in with a paper bag. The door stayed open, but Tony was still chained to the wall, rendering escape more or less impossible. "Got your cough syrup, your highness," he said, carrying the bag over to Tony.

Tony looked up at him nervously as he fished the little box out of the bag. "Where's Peter?" he asked.

"In the kitchen, bullying Lola into making you chicken soup," Butch said. He ripped open the box and held out the bottle of cough syrup.

"Do you know what he wants from me?" Tony asked.

Butch laughed. "He's a randy little bastard, but he's got more sense than to let his dick rule for long." He wiggled the bottle at Tony, but Tony didn't make any move to take it.

Tony shook his head. "I'm not so sure of that," he said. "I think you could be in trouble. I think it would be safer for all three of us if you and Lola got me the hell out of here."

"Take the stuff," Butch ordered.

Tony took the bottle and Butch turned to go. "I'm serious," Tony said.

Butch shrugged. "I've known him a little longer, DiNozzo. Sure, he wants you, but when the time comes, he'll kill you, no matter what lies he's told you." He snorted. "He wants in your pants, and he's a guy. What makes you think he won't tell you any lie to get you to cooperate?"

"That is not happening."

"Good. That means he'll kill you all the sooner and we can be shut of you." Butch walked out and the door slammed home. Tony stared at it, only vaguely hearing the commercial for sleep aids on the TV. Who should he believe? He rested his forehead on his knees. Gibbs and Ziva needed to come in here and shoot these three wackos so Tony could go home.

He took a shot of cough syrup and settled back to watch an episode of Sex in the City.

Gibbs and Ziva burst through the door to the apartment, Fornell close behind them. They hadn't bothered with the petty issue of announcing themselves, which meant that nothing they found could be used in court, but Gibbs didn't give a damn about that. All he wanted to know is what Clancy Rodriguez knew about what Aaron Thornburg might be up to right now.

The man they were after stared at them from his seat on the sofa, but, though he tensed to run, he apparently thought their combined firepower sufficient cause to stay where he was.

"Who the hell are you people?" he demanded as they moved through the apartment, making sure that there weren't any other occupants. Gibbs returned to the front room and shut the door the best he could after his entrance.

"You're friends with Aaron Thornburg," Gibbs said. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"Who?" Rodriguez asked. "I don't know anyone by –"

Ziva had returned to the front room as well, and she suddenly surged forward to press her gun to Rodriguez' throat, wrenching his head back with her hand in his hair. "You know him, you were arrested with him five times. Do not lie to us."

"What the . . . get away from me, lady!" he exclaimed.

"Ziva?" Gibbs said.

"I do not like liars, Gibbs," she replied without looking at him.

"No, I get that," Gibbs said. "I feel the same way." He caught Rodriguez' eye. "She's a little cranky, and she's used to hurting people to get answers. I'm not sure I can control her right now."

"Hey, man, I don't know where Aaron is. He's been working with some scary guy that I didn't want nothing to do with."

"This scary guy have a name?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't know it. I know what Aaron calls him, but I also know it's not his name."

"What does Aaron call him?"

"Peter."

"Do you know what Aaron's up to right now?" Gibbs asked.

"Not a fucking clue, man. Get her off me." Ziva's hand tightened in Rodriguez' hair. "I don't know! All I know is him and Denise are working something big. They asked me, but that Peter guy's got a messed up rep, and I didn't want anything to do with it."

"What's his rep?" Fornell asked, and Gibbs glanced over, mildly surprised that the FBI agent wasn't freaking out over the way Ziva had taken control of their witness.

"I'm not talking about him," Rodriguez said. "He'll kill me if he finds out."

"I will kill you if you do not speak," Ziva said, digging the gun barrel deeper into Rodriguez' chin. "And you cannot run from me."

"I don't know him!" Rodriguez exclaimed. "I just hear things."

"What do you hear?" Ziva demanded.

The story was unpleasant, and it didn't speak well for DiNozzo's future. According to Rodriguez, Peter was a volatile, unpredictable man, greedy and violent when crossed. He was also utterly ruthless in going after what he wanted, but Rodriguez had never heard of him getting involved with a kidnapping before.

They left Rodriguez to stew in his own juices. Gibbs hoped he was macho enough not to want to confess that a woman had intimidated him and thus wouldn't report them, not that it mattered much so long as they got DiNozzo back. Ziva pulled ahead of them as they went down the stairs. Fornell leaned over to him. "She wouldn't have killed him, would she?"

Gibbs shrugged. "I don't honestly know, Tobias." Fornell shot him a worried look but didn't reply. The phone rang. "Gibbs."

"Boss, none of these guys seem to know much about Thornburg's current activities. One of them, Mark Stuart, says that he heard from Denise Rimbauer that she was working with him and a couple of guys he didn't know on something big, but that's as much as he knew. Said she was bragging she'd be able to buy him a good lawyer for his appeal."

"Good work, McGee. Any information on this Denise Rimbauer?"

"Apart from being wanted in Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania for various frauds, not a thing."

"Get back to the office and find out everything there is to know about her. Pay particular attention to anything that seems to be connected to someone named Peter."

"Peter what?"

"I don't know." Gibbs suspected that McGee made some kind of response, but he flipped the phone shut and glanced at the clock. Forty-one hours . . . coming up quickly on forty-two. DiNozzo's time was running out.

A thunk awoke Tony and he looked up to find Lola entering the room carrying a tray. His head ached abominably, and he could have sworn he'd been watching something on TV. He glanced over at the wall and blinked. It looked like an episode of Sex in the City, but it wasn't the one he'd been watching earlier. How long had he slept? He pushed himself upright, but the movement jarred loose the phlegm in his chest and he started coughing again. Glancing at the cough syrup, he cleared his throat. "How long has it been since Butch gave that to me?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"A little over an hour," she said. "You probably shouldn't take any more yet." She held the tray out to him. It held a bowl and a handful of saltine crackers. "Have some soup. Just like Mom used to make."

Tony snorted, then rode out a coughing fit that ensued. She held onto the tray, looking impatient. "Your mom, maybe," he said finally. "Mine made mint juleps." He took the tray and contemplated the soup. He knew he should eat, but he didn't feel like he had the energy. Whatever this was had hit him hard.

"Maybe I should just put you out of your misery," she said. Tony looked up, alarmed, and she laughed, but he knew that two of his captors would be happier if he was dead. He looked back down at the soup in mild alarm, and she laughed again. "I didn't poison the soup," she said. "Everyone's having some." He looked up at her, his alarm only increased by the fact that she'd caught on so quickly to his thinking. It sort of suggested that she might have had similar thoughts of her own.

She stood up, walked over and picked up his spoon. Meeting his eyes, she dipped the spoon into the soup and took a sip from it, working the spoon for all its possible erotic effect. Then she dropped it back into the bowl. "You see. It's not poisoned."

"But now it has Lola germs," Tony said, and she glared at him. She stood up straight again, went back over to one of the chairs and sat down.

"Do you have to stay?" he asked.

"I was instructed to take the empty bowl away when you were done," she said, sounding irritable. Tony looked down at the bowl. It was heavy stoneware and might make a decent weapon. He looked up to find that she had her taser out. "Don't even think about it."

Tony blinked at her uncertainly. "Will I get tasered for thinking about it?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Eat your soup."

"Soup à la Lola, huh?" Tony said. His appetite had been nonexistent before, but with her having used the spoon, then dropped it in the soup, the idea of eating the soup made him feel faintly sick to his stomach. He gave the crackers serious thought, but without the soup, they'd be awfully dry. He looked up at Lola, who was watching him with an odd smile on her face. "What?"

"Poor little rich boy, Mommy didn't even cook for him."

Tony sat up straighter. He hated that phrase. "I am not a poor little rich boy!" he snapped.

She shrugged. "That's what Peter calls you," she said. "Poor little rich boy, his daddy doesn't deserve him."

Tony shivered. "Has it occurred to you to wonder if Peter's crazy?"

She tilted her head. "Peter? Crazy? Of course he is, but then so am I. He's also watching." She made a vague gesture at the walls and ceiling.

"Duh," Tony said. "I'm not an idiot."

"But you play one on TV?" she said. "I've watched you playing around in nightclubs and bars. You do an exceptional idiot impression."

"Thanks, I think," Tony replied. "But don't you find all of this just a little creepy?" He gestured at the walls.

She shrugged again. "Not so much, he wants you, he's got you, whatever. It's all temporary, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked nervously.

"Eventually you'll do something to piss him off, he'll kill you, and it will be on to the new obsession. It's how he operates."

"You know he said he likes me better than he likes you."

She laughed. "Thank God. I've seen what he does to people he likes, DiNozzo. I'm not interested." Tony really didn't like the sound of that. "Don't worry. I've never seen one of his toys last longer than six months. You've got too much attitude to make it that long." Tony couldn't decide if that was more reassuring or alarming, but he didn't want to look at it too closely. She stood up. "Are you going to eat your soup?"

He looked at it. Her spit in his soup combined with these recent revelations made him feel even more nauseated. "I don't think so," he said.

"Fine." She took the tray and left. "Use the clock on the TV to judge your doses by. And that stuff won't kill you, so don't think you can take it all and escape like that." The door clanged shut behind her and Tony stared at it. Suicide was a possibility he hadn't even thought of. It wasn't an option. Gibbs would find him. At this point it was just a question of whether Tony could stay alive long enough. He had no idea whatsoever how long it had been. More than a day, but he'd been drugged so much that he didn't know more than that.

Gibbs had to be looking for him. No doubt he'd recruited Fornell to make it look like the right agency was doing the searching, but if he knew Gibbs, he knew who was in the lead of the investigation regardless.

His stomach gurgled faintly, as if regretting, far too late, his failure to eat the soup. His head felt like it was in a vise, though, and every breath caught at his chest. He pulled up the menu on the TV. Another two hours at least before he could take more cough syrup, and that assumed he'd be awake to do it.

While Lola had been in the room, he'd had adrenaline on his side, keeping him awake and alert, and pushing back both pain and fog. Now that she was gone, he felt his brain start to shut down. He put the back of his hand against his forehead. He felt warm, but he couldn't be sure if he was really warm or if he was just imagining things. Another coughing fit wracked him, and each cough felt like he was ripping through his lungs.

At this rate, pneumonia would kill him before Butch did. He drifted off to sleep again to the sound of Sarah Jessica Parker nattering on.