Five days later...
Gallo looked up from his desk. "So, it's official. After new year's, we will merge Gallo Corp. and Cordoza Brothers' together. I have to admit, it will be a marvelous success if we play our cards right."
Thomas closed his ledger and shut down his computer. "I'll have some documents and receipts printed and delivered to you to sign. They should be ready after Christmas. Sorry it'll take so long, but they are very specific documents, and I want each of my lawyers to draw them up and go over them, to make sure everything is alright, and I won't be able review them with said lawyers this week. My family is coming in for Christmas, and I like to spend time with them around the holidays. I trust you two understand?"
The two Cordoza brothers nodded in agreement. "Of course," Andrew said.
"So, Thomas," Michael began casually. "Any plans for Christmas and New Year's? You can't possibly be working on Christmas Eve or the day of?"
"No, no," Thomas assured him with a laugh. "Sandra and I will be taking a trip to the Virgin Islands. We have a beach house on St. Croix island."
"Wow," Michael said, envious. "Sure wish I was coming."
"That reminds me," Thomas said eagerly. "Every Christmas Eve a bunch of the members of our...business...and our clients have a formal party to celebrate the year's successes. If you two are going to join our league, you should come. My most important clients always show. It would be a great way to meet potential customers."
Michael and Andrew shared a look. "We're not doing anything for Christmas," Michael said, turning to Gallo eagerly. "We'd be happy to come."
"Fantastic," the criminal said. "I'll add you two to the guest list. It's at the Willard Hotel in D.C...I trust you know it?"
"Yes," Michael confirmed. "Will Kurt Meehan be there?"
"I hope so, but he said he had to leave town for a few days. He had some 'loose ends to tie' he told me."
"Oh...alright."
"The party is formal dress code," Thomas said, writing something and putting it in an envelope. "I'll contact you with more information later in the week. But I think that's enough business talk for one night!" Gallo clapped his hands together happily. "Who's up for drinks?"
The rest of the night was tactfully spent on getting Thomas Gallo wasted. Michael and Andrew encouraged drink after drink, until Gallo was quite tipsy. They were hoping to get some information from him while drunk, but no amount of prying revealed anything at all. When Sandra Gallo came home, it was quite obvious that alcohol would not help to solve the case, as the Cordoza brothers tactfully took their leave.
However, as they exited their cab and went up to their hotel room, Tony was grinning from ear to ear.
"What are you so happy about?" Tim asked.
"Well, I have a great Christmas gift for you and you're gonna love it."
"Tony, seriously," Tim said, too weary to play along.
"Well then, McGrumpy. Guess I won't show you this," Tony smiled, pulling a thick white envelope out of his pocket. It was the same one Gallo had before they all retired to the lounge for drinks. Tim raised his eyebrow.
"What is that?"
"Well," Tony said, opening it and pulling out a set of records. "It's a list of accounts and dollar amounts. I can't tell exactly what it is right now, but with some work, I think you and Abby should be able to pick it apart. I think Thomas was going to put it in his records before he got so very drunk. I got it from his pocket."
"Oh my god," Tim said, taking it from Tony and inspecting it for himself. "But won't he miss it?"
"He won't even remember what went on tonight. I think he won't miss this for a while."
"We have to set up a chat with Gibbs and the director. This needs to get to Abby pronto," Tim said eagerly.
...
Gibbs stood in front of the screen in MTAC, Ziva and the director behind him.
"What do they have for us?" Vance asked.
"McGee just texted saying they found something," Gibbs said, as Tony's face popped onto the big screen.
"Hey Boss! Zee-va! Oh, er, hello director."
"Status update, DiNozzo," Vance said, ignoring the shenanigans.
"Right. Well...Tim?"
McGee's face appeared in the screen as well. "We have nothing to suggest that Gallo killed his brother. But we have this..." Tony held up the paper he pick pocketed earlier, proud of himself.
"It seems to be a record of accounts and transactions. It's encrypted, but a basic decoding program should translate it in no time. I think that if we do some digging, we should find out some important clients and transactions Gallo's been making. We could use this to take him down."
"Great work you two, send a copy to Abby," Gibbs said.
"Yes Boss."
"Keep digging, try and find something that proves Gallo did it," Vance said.
"Alright Director...but what if Thomas didn't kill Markus? It could have been anyone else."
"We have teams working on possible other suspects," Vance insisted. "Just find a way to take Gallo down."
The two undercover agents nodded, and the connection was cut.
...
A week later, the two agents were standing in line at a fast food place, hungry, exhausted, and frustrated.
In that whole week, they were no closer to solving the case than they had been before. For the previous few days, Thomas had been too busy with family, and excused himself from any business with the Cordoza brothers in that time. Surveillance turned up nothing; he was simply welcoming visiting family for the holidays. Intelligence gathered that the most underhanded thing he did in that week was cheat at cards against his cousins. He wasn't lying, he really was taking time off to enjoy the holiday. He might have been a crook, but even Thomas Gallo knew the importance of family during Christmas. Ziva and Gibbs couldn't turn up anything on their end either, and Abby was busy in her lab digging around the accounts and clients listed on the paper Tony found.
"So," Tony began, eyeing the menu. "If by some miracle we wrap up this case tonight, what are you gonna do for Christmas?"
"What do you mean?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, it's Christmas Eve tomorrow, Tiny Tim. Are you missing anything at home?" Tony asked conversationally.
"No way. Sarah is going to be spending Christmas with Penny, my dad and my mom. If World War III doesn't break out over the dinner table, the night will be a success. I told Penny ahead of time that I had to work. It's a blessing, really."
"Come on, it can't be that bad..." Tony said. "At least you'd be with family, right?"
"Right," Tim chuckled darkly. "My divorced parents fighting over the mashed potatoes, my Dad questioning NCIS and my life choices. Real Christmasy."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Tony said. "My Dad showing up to cause trouble- or not showing up at all, with no calls, no presents or even a card..."
He trailed off, and the two of them stood in silence, awkwardly waiting their turn to order.
"So what do we do?" Tim asked. "About the case I mean. Gallo's not giving us anything."
"We stick to the plan," Tony insisted gently.
"We have no evidence that Gallo killed his brother. None," Tim hissed, exasperated. "The plan won't work anymore. We can't keep schmoozing him until he confides his deepest darkest secrets to us. It's not going to happen. And eventually we will have to back up our words and records with actual weaponry and stock. Which we don't have!"
"Shhh!" DiNozzo said. "Not so loud. We're in public."
"Sorry."
"But you're right. It doesn't add up," Tony said quietly.
"The last email from Ziva said that the director's getting impatient. If we don't turn something up, he's going to call off the case."
"He can't do that," Tony groaned. "We have evidence that Gallo's guilty of smuggling and dealing illegal firearms!"
Before Tim could speak, Tony continued.
"Yeah, I know. He can get himself out of that. The lawyers, the Harvard background, I know."
Tim nodded. "We don't even have evidence of smuggling yet. Remember, Abby's still working. But if we have forensic evidence that he murdered his brother, we can at least arrest him for that. Then, we can pin smuggling and dealing on him while he's already nursing a wounded reputation."
"But that's if we get him on murder. So far, we've got nothing!" Tony frowned, worried. Gibbs spent all of that time, all those years ago, trying to bring down Ernest Gallo to no avail. And now their work in bringing down Thomas would end the same way. For their sake, and for Gibbs, they had to wrap up the case. Markus Gallo was going to get justice...
Tony was just about to consider giving up, when an idea popped into his head.
"Let's go back to the room. I have an idea," he said hurriedly, all but dragging Tim out of the restaurant, lunch forgotten entirely.
...
Several hours later, McGee let himself into their hotel room and sighed, dropping his belongings and sinking into the chair in the corner.
"How'd it go?" Tony asked, to looking up from the TV screen.
"Fine," Tim said. "Let's not talk about it."
Tony looked at his friend worriedly, but dropped the subject. "Did you get the food?"
McGee grinned and tossed a wrapped up sub towards Tony. "And there are sodas in the other bag."
As they ate, Tim checked the email address that they gave to Thomas and James. There was one message, from Gallo himself:
Cordozas,
Just a reminder that the party is at 8:00 tomorrow, at the Willard. I will meet the two of you at the Scotch Bar before we head to the ballroom. I want to introduce you to some of our associates. Also, it is of the upmost importance that you both wear red carnations on your tuxedos. Don't forget.
T. Gallo
Tim then checked his work email, which had a message from Ziva:
Under the bed closest to the window, two earpieces. One way. We will hear you but it is wise that you do not talk to us while under cover. Everything the piece picks up will be recorded. Our van will be in the alley two buildings away. If there is an emergency, let us know. Agents will be on the scene immediately. Be safe, both of you.
Break a neck.
"Break a neck?" Tim said, worried. "What..."
"She means break a leg," Tony chuckled. "But if a neck needs to be broken, then I guess we can do that too."
Tim groaned and fell backwards onto his bed. He reached an arm underneath and felt for a small box. When he found it, he opened it to find the promised earpieces.
"You ok there, Tim?" Tony said, forgetting his sandwich momentarily.
"What if something goes wrong?" Tim said.
"Don't go getting the pre-show jitters on me," DiNozzo joked. "It'll be fine." Growing serious, Tony sat on his bed and faced Tim. "Look McGee. No matter what...Stick to our plan," Tony said quietly. "It'll be fine. Dangerous, but fine."
Tim nodded, silent.
"You ready for this, McGee?" Tony asked once again. It seemed like he was asking that question a lot lately. Nevertheless, Tim nodded.
"Don't screw me over, though," Tony smiled grimly, to which McGee looked horrified.
"You know I wouldn't-" he started earnestly, to which Tony shook his head.
"Relax, McGeek, I know that. I just...the last assignment...I didn't know who I could trust. I'm glad I can trust you."
Tony felt the awkward of the situation, and clapped Tim on the shoulder once to end it.
"Get some sleep. I don't want you dead on your feet the moment we get there tomorrow."
...
The next day, they arrived at the hotel with time to spare. Both men were dressed handsomely, in tuxes and the requested carnations. The whole situation, though dangerous, was ritzy indeed.
The Willard is a gorgeous hotel. As soon as one steps into the lobby, they see holiday decorations, baskets of flowers on every table, and the crest of every state hidden on the ceiling's ornamentation.
Tony led Tim to the bar, and they sat, talking quietly.
"Don't forget your earpiece," Tim said, digging it our of his pocket and passing it to Tony. "And when you turn yours on, let Gibbs and Ziva know that mine's not working."
"Yeah, you'd think they'd test those things beforehand," Tony frowned. "Thank god we did, anyway."
The bartender came up and asked them what they wanted.
"Something hard and Russian," Michael Cordoza remarked, to which his brother snickered and muttered "that's what she said," then ordered a scotch.
"Scotch? Impressive Andrew," Michael said. "I'm surprised you didn't go for the white wine."
"Ha. Ha. So funny. I drink more than wine, you know."
Tony looked around. "This really is a great place."
"Beautiful," bartender agreed, overhearing their conversation. "And so much history. Did you know Martin Luther King Jr. spent time in the lobby to work on his I Have A Dream Speech?"
"Seriously?" Tim asked, leaning forward. He was about to ask a question about the history of the building when someone called their names.
"Gentlemen," Thomas Gallo's voice greeted from the door. "Come meet some friends of mine!"
Andrew and Michael turned at the sound, and saw a couple of heavyset older men in tuxedos matching their own.
"Thomas," Michael greeted eagerly. "Good evening. And your friends...?"
Gallo quickly introduced his associates: smugglers, bootleggers, drug lords and criminals. All were incredibly important in their lines of work, but completely irrelevant to the mission. Nevertheless, handshakes went all around and stuffy old jokes laughed at as the little group went over to the ballroom.
Because it was Christmas Eve, large Christmas trees lined the walls. Huge golden ornaments shone and reflected, hanging from the ceiling and from the trees like a canopy. What a way to spend Christmas. It sure beat sitting in your apartment alone, as Tony would have, or listening to your parents fight over nothing, as Tim would have.
"You have your red carnations?" Thomas asked the Cordoza brothers, who nodded. "Good. They are your way in. We don't do written invitations. Anyone who knows about the party is the kind of person welcome. The carnations are our symbol."
"Who's we?" Andrew asked.
"Certain dealers have guilds. These guests are all part of the same guild we are."
The doors opened to reveal a grand party, full of men in tuxes and women in stunning dresses. Every single person had a red carnation on them; on their coats, their wrists, even their hair. Everyone was laughing gaily and shaking hands and sharing pictures of their kids. For a moment, it was easy to forget that most of these people were wanted in several countries.
"There are more clients of mine I want you to meet," Thomas began, but Michael spoke up.
"Sorry, but where's the men's room?"
Gallo pointed towards the far corner of the room. "Over there. Join us when you're through."
The elder Cordoza brother nodded in thanks and beelined for the bathroom. Luckily, there was no one inside, and he quickly pulled his earpiece from his pocket and turned it on.
"Ziva, Gibbs, this is Michael Cordoza coming in. 'Andrew's' earpiece didn't work. I guess the tech department is lacking without McGeek to play with the gadgets. Anyway, I've got to get back to the party."
With that, he opened the door to the men's room and stepped back into the fray.
...
Gibbs and Ziva heard everything Tony relayed to them from their position in the van. They were right where Ziva promised they would be. Gibbs leaned back into his chair and took a sip of his coffee. Then, he pressed a call button on the switchboard in front of him.
"All units, stand by," he said, as choruses of affirmation came back to him. Balboa's team was waiting on the other side of the building, and Johnson's team was on the opposite end of the street, keeping the front door of the hotel in sight.
"What's the plan here, Gibbs?" Balboa asked over the radio.
"We stay put until we get a signal. If something goes wrong, we storm the room. There's a back door that leads out onto the street. We enter through there. Remember: our only target is Thomas Gallo. The other guests are not in our jurisdiction right now."
"Right, we know that, but what are we looking for? Or waiting for?" Johnson asked.
"A confession from Gallo. Or at least a reason to bring him in and interrogate him."
"Fine by me," Johnson laughed. "I'm getting overtime for this, and I could really use a big holiday check this year."