Chapter 10

"It's not over." Tony said, walking purposefully into the squad room. Ziva looked up from the paper s at her desk, her brow creasing.

"What do you mean?" McGee stood up from his chair and stepped over to them, carrying a stack of files. "Donald Weber, 31. He's ex-Mossad, he has the training."

"The lack of training." Ziva corrected.

McGee ignored her and continued. "He tried to kill her! How is this not over?"

Tony sat down heavily and rolled the tension out of his neck. "Gibbs interrogated him. There's no motive. He admitted that he was hired, but he's adamant that he doesn't know who hired him."

"That doesn't mean anything." McGee argued, poring through the evidence in front of him.

"He says he didn't drug her food either." DiNozzo continued, examining his nails vainly. "No alibi, but Gibbs thinks we should look elsewhere."

"He knows more than he's saying." McGee said. "I'll dig into his computer and cell phone. I have his financials here, he's basically broke. Nothing in his checking account, and he's two months behind on his credit card payments."

"So he's doing it for money?" Ziva asked incredulously. "There's got to be more than that."

"Maybe that he didn't make it into Mossad, and you're pretty much the poster girl for the sexy high life of action and adventure." Tony suggested lightly. Ziva's glare burned into the back of the computer monitor that obscured his face, but she relented thoughtfully.

"You may actually be on to something. I'm going to tell Gibbs." She rocketed out of her chair, up and away before they got another word in.

"Have you noticed…?" McGee trailed off, unsure of exactly what he was noticing.

"She's different." DiNozzo agreed flatly. "I don't know what it is, but it's there."

"You think she's upset because Weber got the drop on her?" McGee asked, desperately poring over his files as if hoping to find the answer.

"No, this has been going on since she left the hospital. And she had no way of knowing that her things were drugged. That was one thing he did well." Tony said begrudgingly.

"A little too well." McGee said, lost in thought. "Tony, what if Weber didn't drug her? What if he was just cleaning up someone else's mess?"

"You think that whoever hired him is the one who drugged her?" He sat for a second, rolling the idea around in his mind. "It's plausible. But Ducky and Ziva both agreed that the cut showed inexperience."

Gibbs walked back to the bullpen angrily, Ziva trailing in his wake. "What do you have?"

"New theory." DiNozzo stated, leaning back in his chair. "Weber was only clean-up. The real man is still out there."

McGee sent Weber's file onto the screen. "Now, the mastermind is just as inexperienced as Weber, if not more. Weber may have a vendetta against Ziva, but he might not. He could be motivated by loyalty…to a friend, or family even."

"He would have avoided official Mossad channels, or even the chance of being picked up on their radar. It's too risky." Ziva said,

"Could he be ex-Mossad, like Weber?" McGee asked, hidden behind his computer. "Do you think they met in Mossad?"

"Bonded over being kicked out?" Gibbs said, taking a sip from his coffee.

"You would be surprised how many people do not make it through Mossad training." Ziva said, her eyes unreadable. "Or the number of people that are recruited in the first place."

"Ziva, DiNozzo, go through Mossad's channels, see if you can get a list of ex-Mossad agents or failed trainees. McGee, check Weber's next of kin, recent phone calls, anything, to see who his friends are." Gibbs sat down at his desk, his fist crushing an empty cup of coffee. He sighed, turning back to his computer. "We'll find the bastard." He said through clenched teeth. "And we'll find him soon."

McGee's babbling voice rang through the bullpen. "I got it. I got him. I mean, I know. Who he is. I found him!" Ziva and Tony looked up from the various reports and pictures that scattered their desks, their eyes red and sleepy after countless hours of reading.

"Slow down, McGee." Ziva chastised, rubbing her eyes and striding over to his desk. "You found him? Who is he? Where is he?"

"I contacted Weber's service provider to get his call logs, and found out that he has two phones. The second was registered to an Annalise Weber, his sister."

"Weber doesn't have a sister…" Ziva said slowly. "Who was using the phone?"

"That's the thing…I think Weber was using it. He had two cell phones. I got the records, and he has only received two calls, from the same number. It's registered to a house in Maryland, in a small town about an hour west of DC."

"And who owns this house?" DiNozzo asked, rising slowly from his chair.

"The name on the lease is Anah Peled."

"Peled?" Ziva's voice was empty, yet filled with emotion at the same time. "Are you sure?"

McGee looked up, startled and wary. "Do you know him?" She didn't respond.

Gibbs took in the scene as he entered the bullpen, and stopped short at the silent tension before him. "Know who?" He asked, his terse words pulling Ziva from her reverie.

"Peled. I don't know him…I knew his father. He…he was good friends with my father." Sadness settled in her face, and the team couldn't tell if it was the mention of her father, or of the history gone by. "Hadar Peled grew up with my father, and worked for Mossad. He worked abroad." They watched her as she wrestled with her words. "He worked in Germany. That's where Anah was born."

"That doesn't make sense." DiNozzo said slowly, his brow curled. "If they were your father's friends…"

"Were, Tony. It is…a long story." She pulled the tack from a photo on her wall, almost cradling the image. It was a snapshot of her father and another man, taken years ago before the gray that peppered Eli's hair had taken over. "Hadar was head of the Mossad operations in Munich, a liaison position with the German government not unlike my own here, but with much more power. He visited Israel often, and would always share a meal with our family when he did. Anah was born in Munich, and never visited Israel. I do not know why, but I do not remember his father ever being there for pleasure; it was always business." She stared at her father's face lovingly, stroking her finger along his shoulder as her voice grew stony. "Hadar was killed in Israel when I was eleven. He was assassinated on his way to a meeting with my father."

"And Anah?" Tony prompted quietly, breaking the dense silence.

"I never heard from Anah. Never met him, never spoke to him. My father tried to keep in touch with him, but Anah rejected all things Mossad. He refused to even speak with my father or to answer his correspondences." She tacked the picture back onto her wall, glancing at it one more time before turning to face the team, who was blatantly staring at her. "I've always wondered if he resented me for still having a father, when his was taken so violently."

"Well…I guess now we have our answer." Gibbs said, standing up. "Let's go."