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Tony sat under the rickety stairway, holding Ziva's head in his lap. He hadn't really noticed before how much blood she had lost. Her dark hair hid it well, concealing her injury. Grateful for her dazed state, he poured some antiseptic on her head, running his fingers through her hair to help clean her scalp. He was both relieved and worried that she didn't seem to care. Finally, she began to come around, "Tony? Where are we? Why is my 'ead 'urting...?" she groaned looking around
"Damn, drugs must be wearing off," Tony rummaged through the box Miguel had left with them, "Let's see here...I have some snacks?" he offered, "Water, granola bars..."
"We 'ave water?" she reached for the bottle in his hand, "Why was I not informed?" her uncoordinated fingers struggled with the seal on the bottle, "Tony? Help?"
He took the bottle from her, "Yeah, hang on a sec." he removed the lid, and held the bottle to her lips, not trusting her to be able to drink it on her own, "Just take little sips...or you could do it that way." she drained the bottle in less than a minute, "Thirsty much?"
She nodded, "Any more?" she too started to look through the box, "Can I 'ave this?" she grabbed another bottle of water, one of at least a dozen in the kit provided
"No, no more water," he sadly, but easily took the water from her hands, "You'll probably puke if you drink any more. How about something to eat? Balance out all that liquid you just chugged?" he looked her over, not missing her recent weight loss. It had only been a few days, but the malnutrition was already taking a toll on her
"I will eat almost anything," she leaned back, her eyes half-closed
"Here, try that," he offered her a piece of chocolate, one of the few luxuries in Miguel's care package, "If nothing else, it will help get some calories in you. Keep in mind, chocolate here isn't like chocolate in America or Europe. Its usually kind of spicy. Not bad, but not that good either."
"Hm?" she had already eaten most of it, not really paying attention to what he was saying, "What?"
"Nothing." he dug deeper. Apart from what they only had on Miguel's word was morphine, there wasn't anything he could give her for the pain. And for some reason, he didn't trust a bunch of misogynistic drug dealers to take care of his partner, "How bad's the pain?"
"Not bad. I have been through worse," she told him, her voice neutral. The scariest part was, he knew it was true, "I will live. How is your shoulder?" she reached over, lightly tracing her fingertips over his wound, "Any better?"
"Yeah, bandages and antiseptic will do that," he pulled his shirt away, letting her have a better look, "What about your head?"
She shrugged, "What about it?"
"Oh, this had better be good," Gibbs muttered coldly, walking up into MTAC, stepping over Abby's bubble wrap GEWD (Gibbs Early Warning Device). "Abbs, what did I tell you about the bubble wrap?"
"Sorry," Abby told him, "I told Director Shepherd, and she adapted the idea. It works...just as long as you don't look down and see it." she picked it up off the floor, setting it in a pile on one of the empty chairs
"Jethro, we may have a lead on their location," Jen pulled up a map on the screen, "The last place we knew they were was in this radius, right?"
Gibbs squinted, looking at the traced circle which McGee made bolder from one of the control panels, "Yeah, what about it?"
"Well, a few days ago, Santa Monica hospital reported a break in," she zoomed in on the hospital, just inside Columbia's borders, "No one was hurt, but the thieves made off with a month's shipment of morphine."
"Fortunately, with a shipment that large, they have to have a way to track it!" McGee highlighted an area inside the circle, "The tracking device packed away inside the crate was last active here, along Domingo Boulevard. There's really nothing there. The whole area is... well, I wouldn't call it residential, but there's no business there. There are a few homes, but that's it."
"You think they're holed up there?" he looked at the four houses shown on the plasma, all of which were run down and in serious need of repair "Hell, they all look like drug houses to me!"
"Yes, but if they make contact with us again, we can trace the call to a specific house," McGee smiled proudly, "keep them on the line for about thirty seconds, and Abby and I can give you their location, accurate to the size of a postage stamp!"
Gibbs tousled the younger agent's hair, "That's good work, McGee."
Ziva woke up, leaning heavily against Tony, not having realized she'd fallen asleep. She was wearing his shirt, which was torn and bloody, but it was still a thoughtful gesture. She managed to slip away from him unnoticed, searching the box for something to eat, "I would kill for real food now..."
"That makes two of us," Tony chimed in, grabbing a bag of peanuts, "Hardly gourmet, but its food!"
The stairway above them creaked, heralding the arrival of their captors. Not knowing who was coming, they stashed away the box, leaving it at the mercy of the rats under the stairs. Tony shoved Ziva behind him, not willing to let them take her without a fight. "Who's there?" he called boldly
Julio and Fransisco showed themselves, the faint light from the run down house above giving them an unholy glow about them. "Your time is nearly up," Julio pointed out, "We have tried the Americans, let's see if the Israelis will give us what we want." he tossed a prepaid cell phone to Ziva, "Call your people, tell them as much as you want. Let them know they have six hours before we take things to the next level."
Tony placed a hand on Ziva's shoulder, "Who ya gonna call?" he was tempted to add 'ghostbusters!' to that statement, but rethought it
Ziva sighed, dialing a familiar number, "My father."
"Shalom?" a deep, tired voice answered, "It is either very early, or very late. You must have a good reason for calling me here." he wasn't used to receiving personal calls anymore. He didn't really have any need for them either. But generally, if someone calls your work at such an ungodly hour, its either a telemarketer, or someone who knows you well enough to know that you would still be working
"Aba?" Ziva managed, "Aba, I need your help." the man on the other side of the conversation perked up, recognizing his child's voice
"Ziva? Why, what is wrong?" he immediately got up from his desk, signaling to his secretary to begin tracing the call
"My partner and I have been kidnapped by Columbian drug lords, and they intend to mutilate and torture us to death, unless they receive an exorbitant ransom." she sighed, "They want a million dollars within six hours, if we are to remain unharmed. Well, we are already harmed, but they will not further injure us for a while; Tony has been shot, and one of them struck me over the head with his gun."
Benjamin David cringed, feeling his fingers tightening around the receiver, "The money is not an issue. I will have it wired to their account, provided I have proper information." he prompted, knowing Ziva would understand that he needed another minute
"Let me ask," she turned to her captors, "They wish to know where to send the money."
The two men looked at each other in surprise, "There is a PO box in Bogotá; number 53789. Have them send it there. Small bills, overnight shipment."
"Aba, did you hear that?" Ziva asked
"The postal system would be too slow!" he insisted, "Tell me where you are, and I will deliver the money myself!"
Ziva turned to them again, "He wishes to deliver the money to you in person. To avoid unnecessary delay."
"But of course," Julio grinned, "232 Domingo Boulevard. If the money is not here within six hours, we will send you to your beloved father in a matchbox."
Tony tightened his grip around Ziva's middle protectively as the two men ascended the stairs. "They have no idea who your dad is, do they?"
"Not a clue." she smiled