AN: Sorry, I've kept the rating the same, but beware of Arthur and his language. A couple of 'f' words. I feel that the way I write him is a little contrived because it's watered down, but honestly, I literally can't write his mouth as awful as it is. My PC would burst into flames. Me too.
Prime Real Estate
Chapter 10
Roy ran on past, as Gibbs checked his SFA out. "He came out of... the garden shed, Boss... and made a... run for it..."
Gibbs put an arm under Tony's to steady him. "D'ya recognise him?"
Roy came loping back, shaking his head, no-one, as Tony said, "Oh yeah... it was Arthur Hastings."
He almost sank to his knees, spots in front of his vision, as his body tried to cope with trying to breathe because he needed to stay alive, and not to breathe because it hurt.
"Hey, c'me on." Roy stood in front of him, holding him up by the elbows, while Gibbs went behind him and wrapped his arms round his waist, splinting his lower ribs to stop their movement while Tony breathed unsteadily with the upper ones until he managed to get some breath back .
"Dammit, DiNozzo, chasing him was dumb."
"Well, yeah... Boss," Tony told him patiently, head spinning, "I know... that... now. It... was Hastings, Boss." His tone was unrepentant, as Gibbs had expected – that one word said it all, what else could he have done?
Gibbs resisted the urge to ask if he was sure, hell, sure he was... He let go carefully, glad to no longer be feeling the bellows-blown heaving of DiNozzo's lungs, although he wouldn't forget it, and it was Roy Fordham who asked, as he released Tony's arms and stood back, "What happened?"
"Nothing to my credit," Tony growled as soon as he could string a coherent sentence together. "I was in the kitchen, heading for the garage, and I saw a movement through the window. Shed door flew open; I just stood there for a moment, couldn't believe my eyes. Hastings came galumphing out of the shed and headed down the back road. I shook myself, yelled and went after him. Dammit, the guy can't run for love nor money; he looks like a hippo on Temazepam – Speed – Temazepam – Speed... and I still couldn't catch him. I should have yelled sooner."
Gibbs just gave him a 'give over' sort of look, and shook his head. They all walked slowly along the back road, to where it branched into two. One way led to more back gardens; the other ran by a rank, unappealing looking pond with reeds and overhanging trees before leading to basketball courts, a club house and a soccer field.
"Ah... he could have dropped out of sight anywhere," Gibbs said with a frustrated frown. "We don't know if he's got transport -"
"Putting out a BOLO now," Roy told him, reaching for his phone, then he stiffened, looking across at the pond, his light blue eyes wide and angry. "Damn! Who'd have thought it? Ack... I should have!"
The other two looked where his frown led them; as they'd come further up the road, they'd got a different view of the pond, and under the trees, behind the reed-bed, the thick duckweed covering of the water was broken in a wide, chaotic patch, and a brown, greasy slick led to the far bank.
Once again, Gibbs was philosophical, which raised two sets of eyebrows. "Like you said – who'd have thought the likes of Hastings would hide in a pond? He probably fell in, then decided to stay there until you'd gone."
"Maybe we should have it dragged – check he's not still in there," Tony muttered under his breath, and Gibbs pretended he hadn't heard. DiNozzo wasn't malicious by nature, and the venom in his tone, although out of character, was understandable. "So..." he went on brightly, "What did he do next? He'll have been pretty noticeable on foot, unless everyone round here is wearing pond weed."
"Well..." Roy frowned and ran his fingers through longish sandy hair, "I'd say it's a good job your friends went away... he'll go to the Hastings place."
NCISNCISNCISNCIS
Arthur had been a difficult charge, as usual. Swinson had made sure that the two large young construction workers sent to 'protect' him hadn't been warned; he didn't want them refusing the task out of hand. They were used to bad language, on a building site it was part of the job, but they'd never heard such a steady stream of biliousness, and they were sick of it. Nothing was right; the house, the food, the TV stations which were all run by – they'd never heard such a variety of racial and homophobic epithets in one breath before... One young man stood looking through the window from behind the nets, wishing to see Da Silva, or Swinson, or just about anybody, coming to take the damn' guy away, and he stiffened.
"I thought D.S. said we were protecting this guy from heavies?" "And?"
"There... getting out of the black Charger... I know him - that guy's a Metro cop. They've all got badges... they better not be coming here."
"Cops..." "Yeah. I've got juvie... I've kept my nose clean since – I don't want cops to think I'm involved with him..."
Hastings had shoved him out of the way. "Cops? Where? Ah, damn it all, those two fed bastards again! Don't let them in, ya hear? You've never seen me, you don't know me, an' ya tell that fucking boss of yours to do something damn quick -" he turned round again, to find the two young men had disappeared.
As he'd run to the back door, he could see them in the distance, casually walking up the road as if they belonged in the neighbourhood. One turned and gave him a derisive wave as he went.
Arthur Hastings let out another blast of crudity at his back, then remembered just who was coming to the front of the house, and his gut clenched in fear. He couldn't be found here... his eyes had fallen on the sturdy garden shed, and for once he'd had the forethought to shut the kitchen door, so it wouldn't advertise the fact that someone had gone through it, before he ran across. It wasn't locked; he dashed inside, and shut the door.
Only then did he realise he had a problem; there was no window, so he had no idea what was going on outside, and a few minutes of standing there in sick anticipation amid the flowerpots reduced him to near hysteria. Fight didn't come into it – flight was the only thing left.
He didn't think to open the door quietly; as it slammed back, he ran as fast as his bulky, unfit body would let him. He'd done as little exercise as he could get away with in prison, and had never had any problem obtaining as much food as he could eat. (One glare at the trusties doing the dishing up had always guaranteed a well filled tray.) Sheer terror pushed him on, however, and he'd covered a fair distance before he glanced over his shoulder. DiNozzo... bastard... he ran on to a fork in the road, and saw a brown shingle building, a sports club maybe... he headed for it, thinking it would be built on piles and have crawl space...
He'd come to a green, unattractive pond, and as he skirted its edge he looked back again. Well, shee-ut. DiNozzo was picking himself up, with difficulty, off his knees. Turned out that namby-pamby fucking Eye-talian gigolo couldn't run. Ha...what the f... His own fault, not that he'd ever have acknowledged it; he'd been enjoying watching the pretty-boy bastard struggle, which made it DiNozzo's fault, hadn't seen the patch of mud, and his descent into the stagnant pond was undignified. (It would have warmed Tony's heart if he'd seen it, but he didn't even hear the splash for the roaring in his ears.)
So here he was, wet, smelly, angry, humiliated, and very impatient; having to wait, and he hated waiting. He remembered a guy bragging to him in prison, and he'd have punched him if he'd had the nerve, but he'd thought his plan was a good idea all the same.
"The cops know I hid the money," Brundell had laughed, "And next week, when I get out of here," he'd emphasised the words to his audience who weren't getting out, "I'm not going to go near it. I've got more patience than they have... I've got a place to lie low, and when they've forgotten about me, that's when I'll move."
"They never forget," another inmate had said moodily, but Brundell had just laughed.
"Sure, they do."
He'd seen the big people carrier with all its doors open, as he'd slunk along a back fence, and he'd seen the family loading all their holiday gear. Looked like they were taking a good long road trip. He was a builder, g'dammitall, and he knew how to break into a place. He knew how to take care of a burglar alarm. He sat in the undergrowth, waiting for dark. Once night fell, that house was his, and he'd stay there until he'd been forgotten. Then that two-faced son of his was going to get a visit.
NCISNCISNCISNCIS
The neighbours didn't know when Hastings had arrived at Angela Brock's house, or even that he'd been there. Yes, they all agreed, everyone kept an eye out for everyone else, but if people came and went in the very early morning for instance, nobody would be awake to see. They didn't know Angela's son had died; Angela had been a good woman; sorry, they really didn't know anything.
Fingerprints from a large hand were on the TV and the fridge; there were too many others, all overlaid and smudged, to give any useful information. They called for reinforcements, which arrived in the shape of Kath and Ziva. Both took hard looks at Tony, but wisely said nothing. A careful processing of the house revealed nothing of any interest, except for a small safe, which was empty. They found a couple of clear prints on that; probably too small to be Arthur's.
In the end, Kath clapped her hands together. "Meanwhile, back at the ranch..." she said firmly, and they agreed and called it a day.
Back at the ranch, they found things had been afoot. Jinny, with her superdesk, had been installed in a large spare room at NCIS, as her Chief had suggested she'd be better there where it seemed everything else was happening.
"There's another reason, Lieutenant," Director Vance told Kath regretfully. The tone of his voice sent the veteran, with her dodgy back, sinking into the nearest chair.
"Police corruption?" she asked resignedly.
"Chief Moorcroft wants your team to stay on the case, but no-one else. You may end up having to arrest some of your own."
"What's happened?"
"I'll let McGee and Detective Lasz explain. The Chief says you'll have his full backing, and to keep him posted."
The Director left quietly, and Ollie said, "Remember the tatooed man? That Mr. Gates described? Tim took him down to Abbie, and she built a picture of him. As soon as I sent it to Jinny she went frantic. His name's Treat Farrier, he's one of the uniformed officers who went to her aid after the crash. She recognised him straight away. Said he was kind..."
Kath sighed, glad she was sitting down. "So... was he just moonlighting, or is he a bent cop? And how many more like him are there?" She rubbed her hands over her face with a grimace. "Either way he's finished as a Metro officer... I'll get him over here on some pretext, and arrest him."
"Already done, Kath," Ollie said quietly. "I got him to help bring Jinny's stuff over, then I stood back while Tim presented him with the photofit. It's an NCIS arrest, in case you want to keep out of it."
Gibbs stepped close to her, as close as he could without actually touching, and said neutrally, "I'll handle the interrogation if you want me to, Kath."
The Lieutenant considered it for a moment, then shook her head. "This isn't the first time you and I have been involved in smoking out crooked cops, Jethro," she said finally, with a rough-edged laugh. "It's a wonder there are any left. McGee, nice work. You too, Ol." Gibbs squeezed her shoulder briefly as she stood up. "Show me where you've put him. And then go take a rest, McGee. You as well, DiNozzo," she threw over her shoulder as she swept out after Tim. A moment later she threw the door open to the interrogation room and swept in, and the watchers behind the mirror couldn't help a wince of sympathy at the look of despair on the patrol-man's face when he realised who his visitor was.
She threw herself into the too-small chair with a scrape and a crash that made the man opposite her raise his bowed head. She didn't look at him for a few moments, as she ran her eyes over the sheet of notes that Tim had given her. When she looked up, she spoke briskly. "Now, Officer Farrier, time's short, and you're in the shit. The only way you can hope to survive all this is by your complete co-operation. I want to know everything you know about your day-job, and I want to know it now."
Farrier squared his shoulders. "I haven't done anything wrong."
"Well, I could quote the paragraph in a Metro Police Officer's Articles of Service that says on no account may he or she take other paid employment, so unless you've been playing the heavy for free, which I can't imagine – young man like you always has a sweetie to impress, right? That takes money... well, anyhoos, we've got you on that. Suspension, then dismissal. That's the least you can expect."
The young man looked at his hands, and shrugged sadly. He'd had time to sit and think. "Yeah, well... like you said, Lieutenant, a bit of extra money's always nice... it didn't seem much of a risk... stupid really, I like – hah – liked being a cop. But I haven't done anything wrong. I mean, I haven't committed any crimes."
Kath looked at him without conviction or approval, then glanced down at Tim's note again. "The one witness we have, the one who fingered you, agrees. You 'just stood there looking big.' And if they'd ordered you to get physical, you telling me you'd have said no? And do bear in mind, Officer Farrier, that he's only the first witness we've found. Right now, if I know him, my Sergeant'll be ringing round anyone he can think of who might have had a visit from you, to see if they say different."
She pointed at the blue and green art-work showing slightly under his cuff. "Memorable, that. And rather foolish of you to show it off. You'd better tell me what you have done, then. Let's start with how long you've been moonlighting, then go on to how you were approached and by whom, then you can tell me how many times you've done the job, when and where you did it, exactly what it entails... and who else you know's involved."
"Lieutenant..." The one word was dragged from him, it sounded almost pleading.
"OK," she said more gently, "How long?"
Gibbs turned to say something to Tim, but he wasn't there. Ziva pointed without comment, to where he was sitting on the floor against the back wall, slumped alongside Tony; they were both spark out. The technician said cheerfully, "I'll play it all back for them later." Gibbs grunted and turned his attention back to the proceedings,
Farrier wasn't a coward, for all that the arrival of the feared Lieutenant Wigg had made his heart plummet. He was done; the only thing for it was to fess up.
He'd been approached about three months ago, by a stranger, while helping to set up a local fund-raising event. He'd been doing some heavy lifting, the guy had remarked that he looked strong, and how would he like to earn some extra cash. He hadn't been in uniform, no, he didn't think the man would have asked him if he'd known he was a cop.
As far as he'd known, his job was to protect the 'persuaders' in case their intended victims took a swing at them. He'd never had to do anything. He'd told them he wouldn't.
"You were never asked, Officer Farrier. Do you really know what you'd have done if you had been?That's just one reason why you were stupid to get involved."
"Yeah..."
Kath flicked her eyes at the mirror, hoping that Jethro and everyone else she knew was piled into that room, would understand that she believed she'd had the truth so far.
From the description, the stranger had been Ackerman. Did he know he was dead? From the reaction,they all thought no. So, to the where and when. Farrier asked for a notepad and pencil to keep track of what he'd already said, and to write dates and places. He'd told Ackerman after the last visit to the Gates dairy, that they were wasting their time, and had heard him on the phone later in angry conversation with someone on the same subject. He'd heard 'tell the boss', so he'd assumed that it was that creepy lawyer guy.
No, he knew nothing about businesses called Tail Stars or Equipease, and yes, he'd been involved in a couple of cases where the intimidation had worked. That lawyer had been there then too.
"We know him," Kath said heavily. "Now, the truth here, Treat..."
"Lieutenant, I've been telling you the truth."
"I know. But that was the where and the when. Now, I need to know the who."
Farrier leaned an elbow on the table and rubbed a clenched fist against his forehead. "I know Swinson says the boss has 'tame cops'," he said finally, "But I'm not one. And I don't know who they are. I heard him one time telling Da Silva to stop worrying, the boss paid his informants well, in the police, and local authorities... 'He's got a finger in every pie,' he said. 'He knows what's going on before they do, and we'll always be able to stay one jump ahead of the law.'"
"Tame cops," Kath grimaced again. "How many different authorities?"
"If I knew I'd tell you, Lieutenant. More than one, from what I heard. I can tell you names of guys I met, but if any of them were cops I didn't know it."
Kath sighed. "OK," she said as kindly as she could. "So, anything else you can tell me?"
Farrier shook his head resignedly, and then his eyes widened. "Wait a minute... what's Tail Stars?" When Kath explained, the cop was almost excited. "It's at Riverbend, right? Not so far from Harper's Ferry?"
Gibbs' gut gave him a kick under the ribs, so he kicked Tony's foot, and then Tim's, (but gently,) then wished he'd been able to film the undignified tangle as they struggled to leap efficiently to their feet. Ollie and Ziva were kinder, and helped them.
"I think," Farrier began slowly, "that Ackerman thinks the hired help doesn't have ears. I was out at the construction site that Ackerman managed, waiting to go visit places with him, and Swinson arrived. There was another guy with them, had a South African accent, in the end he went with Ackerman, and I got sent to Da Silva. Anyway, Swinson was mad. He said that the'digger trick' hadn't worked, and someone had used generators. He wanted to know what Ackerman was going to do about it.
"Ackerman said if he thought 'that woman' was bad, he was going to have worse trouble at Riverbend. Even if they could get rid of the 'horse ranch' – that's the tails in 'Tail Stars', right? - they'd still have big trouble with getting a change of use for the park land. Swinson just laughed, and said oh, he'd got a Congressman working on that, just like at Holt."
The watchers on the other side of the mirror looked at each other, in shock at first, and then resignation.
"A Congressman, no less," Ollie said wearily. "It's like the Twelve-bloody-Days of Christmas. We'll be getting Five SE-NA-TORS next. And it's already too late for Holt. It's on Jinny's list 3, the one where we suspect coercion may already have worked. It's gone under the diggers."
Tim turned back from the technician's laptop where he'd been typing furiously. "Congressman Norman White," he said. "A Veritable Pillar of Virginian Society."
Tony was silent, trying to catch something elusive that had flitted through his sleepy brain. Yeah... he'd got a Congressman working on it... That word 'he'. Hmm...
AN: I'm posting this before heading up north for three days. Anyone kind enough to review, and I know some pals will, bless... I promise to reply when I get back on Thursday.