"Fornell." Gibbs growled. "You're in my way."
"Actually, Gibbs, I think you'll find that you're in my way. We need to talk," Fornell replied.
"Later, Tobias. I don't have the time."
"Oh, I think you do."
Gibbs glared at the FBI agent, and with one finger prodded him to the back of the elevator. The rest of the team hesitated, expecting the two lead agents to want some privacy for their meeting, but Gibbs crooked his finger, so they piled in after them.
"This case falls into FBI jurisdiction Gibbs. DiNutzo's a civilian, not to mention his family's prior dealings with the FBI." Fornell began as the elevator slid downwards.
"Tony's been missing for more than 24 hours, Tobias." Gibbs replied. "We've been running this case the whole time, and we do not need your help."
"I'm hurt, Gibbs. There I was thinking we could co-operate, help each other out."
Gibbs frowned at Fornell. "Everytime the FBI sticks its nose into my business, the whole thing goes to hell."
"Don't make me take this to the Director," Fornell warned.
Gibbs wrinkled his nose. "Fine. But you and your men stay out of the way until we get Tony back. Then they're all yours."
"We get credit?"
"Yeah," Gibbs agreed with a weary sigh. He didn't give a damn what happened to the people who took Tony, as long as he got his senior field agent back.
The elevator arrived at the garage, and Gibbs and Fornell pushed their way out, both satisfied with the arrangement.
"Call me when you've got them," Fornell called back as he walked to his car. "I'll send someone to pick 'em up."
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The teams were in position, surveillance equipment was set up and snipers were trained on each of the four entrances to the warehouse. All that was missing was Anthony DiNozzo Senior.
He was waiting a few miles back as the NCIS agents got themselves set-up. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Anthony tried to imagine what was waiting for him ahead.
He was reluctant to trust any federal agency, especially in light of the charges brought up against his brother, but he had no choice. He had to trust Agent Gibbs to get his son back, and hopefully keep the family out of trouble in the process. It wouldn't be so simple though. Based on Gibbs' plan, they would storm the warehouse as soon as he entered, capturing the New Americans' attention. Momentarily distracted, NCIS would subdue the captors and get he and Tony out of there. There was one problem with that plan.
Gibbs had ordered his men to shoot to wound, not to kill. The FBI would get custody, and the men would sing like birds to cut a deal, he knew. That would no doubt include the family's involvement with the group. The FBI couldn't be trusted to keep that information quiet; they had more leaks than a sieve. The media, the public, everyone would find out, and he'd lose all of his customers. He couldn't let that happen.
Reaching across the console to the passenger seat, he opened the black briefcase and pulled out the knife he'd taken from his safety deposit box while Ziva was distracting the bank attendant. He stared at the serrated blade for a minute, then opened his jacket, sliding the knife into his tie. It looked slightly bulkier than usual, but with his jacket buttoned, nobody would be able to tell he was carrying it. He knew from experience that the New Americans would pat him down, it was one of the reasons they'd decided not to put a wire on him, but they would only check his sides, not his front.
The hand-held radio they'd given him crackled, and he clicked the briefcase shut as he heard Gibbs' voice.
"DiNozzo? Let's do this."
"Copy that," he replied, starting the engine. It was show time.
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Gibbs set down the radio, picking up his binoculars and scanning the entrance of the warehouse. His team; Ziva, McGee and Lee, were stationed in the warehouse next door. They'd commandeered it from a company of Asian importers, who'd willingly let them in once they heard that their neighbours of sorts were really drug dealers.
A few minutes later, he spotted the blue unmarked sedan gliding down the road towards them.
"DiNozzo's here," he announced softly to his team. They nodded, holding their weapons closer to their bodies as they gathered around the door, ready to go.
The car pulled up and Anthony DiNozzo climbed out, carefully smoothing down his jacket before going to the other side of the car and taking out the briefcase. McGee, directing the laser microphone on the warehouse, turned up the volume.
"Name?" A gruff voice called out.
"Anthony DiNozzo."
"Did you bring the money?"
"Five million, cash, as requested."
Listening, they heard the shifting of a bolt and the squeak of hinges as a door was swung back.
"He's in," an agent manning the front of the building confirmed via radio.
"Where's my son?" Anthony asked.
"Money first."
In the warehouse next door, hearing the exchange, three pairs of eyes turned to their leader. Gibbs shook his head, and they nodded in understanding. They had to wait until they knew Tony was there. Anthony would give them the signal, then they'd storm the place.
"Five million. Unmarked bills. It's what you asked for. Now where's my son?"
The other man sighed. "Get the lights!"
"Why is he so far away? I'm an old man, I can't see all the way back to the far corner." Anthony's voice. Gibbs smiled; he'd just told them Tony's location. Now all they had to do was wait for the signal.
It was the waiting that got to Gibbs. That, and having to trust a man he barely knew. There were very few people that Gibbs considered to be members of his circle of trust. His team; Tony, Ziva and McGee, definitely. Ditto for Abby, Ducky, and even Palmer. There was Jenny, Tom Morrow and Fornell to a certain degree. That was it. Gibbs didn't trust easily, his trust needed to be earned. But in this situation, his hand was forced. He had no choice but to hope that Anthony DiNozzo Senior knew what he was doing.
"Let me talk to my son." Anthony's voice again.
"What? You can see him, what more do you want? We'll check the money; all of the money, and then we'll release him."
"I told you, I can barely see him. I don't have my glasses on. It could be a sack of potatoes on a chair for all I know. I need to hear his voice."
The other man seemed to be considering this, for he took a moment to reply.
"Fine. Bring him over."
They heard footsteps, some seeming to drag more than others.
"Son?"
Gibbs could hear a tearing sound, imagining all too vividly a piece of duct tape being ripped back from Tony's mouth.
"Fuck."
That was a new voice. One Gibbs knew very, very well. It was a lot rougher than he remembered, even with a cold, but it was definitively, undeniably Tony. Gibbs smirked. Tony always did have a potty mouth. Beside him, identical smiles were spread across the faces of McGee, Ziva and Lee.
"Dad?"
"Son, I'm here. I love you."
Gibbs stood up. I love you. That was the signal to go. Anthony had been the one to suggest it, much to the surprise of Gibbs. Perhaps it was his way of proving, out loud, that he really did care for his son. Gibbs didn't give a damn. It was time to get Tony back.
"All teams, we are a go," Gibbs announced through the radio. Clipping it back onto his belt, Gibbs kicked the door open, knowing his team was right behind him. Sprinting, they crossed the gap between the warehouses in a matter of seconds, lining themselves up along the wall on the left-hand side of the warehouse.
"In position."
"In position."
"In position."
"Copy that." Receiving transmissions from all three of the other teams, Gibbs nodded to his own. They were ready. "In three… two…"
As Gibbs spoke into the radio, Ziva moved in front of him, raising her boot to the door.
"….one."
Simultaneously, teams burst through the door on all four sides. They were instantly met with gunfire, and they took cover. Crouching behind a stocked pallet, Gibbs didn't have time to be surprised, quickly assessing the situation. They'd been trying to take the hostiles by surprise, using that to their advantage to subdue them with minimum force. But something had happened in the ten seconds between Gibbs leaving the warehouse next door and crossing to this one. Something had tipped them off, all elements of surprise thrown out the window.
It would be a bloody battle.
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Handing the briefcase over to the balaclava-clad man, Anthony tried to keep his voice from quavering. He was a business man, not a hired gun. This was precisely why he'd tried to force his son to follow in his footsteps; to keep him from getting himself into situations like this. The beefy man who'd patted him down hadn't seemed to notice the ultra-thin Kevlar he was wearing under his clothing. He certainly hadn't noticed the knife shoved up his tie.
He was relieved when they switched the lights on, at least now he could see what he was dealing with. There were at least ten men, all wearing balaclavas and all armed with semi-automatics. Following the man's finger, he spotted a man tied down to a chair in the corner.
"I told you, I can barely see him. I don't have my glasses on. It could be a sack of potatoes on a chair for all I know. I need to hear his voice." A lie, of course. His vision was fine. More than fine actually; Tony inherited his 20:10 vision from his father. But he needed to actually speak to his son, pass on the message to Gibbs who he knew was listening in through a laser-microphone. However that worked. The younger agent, Mackey, or whatever his name was, had tried explaining it to him earlier, but nothing had stuck. Anthony could use a computer; it was essential in his line of work, but beyond that and a Blackberry, he had no desire nor any need to know anything about technology.
"Fine. Bring him over."
He watched as two of the men approached Tony, cutting the rope binding him to the chair and yanking him to his feet. He didn't miss the muffled sound of pain or the way the men were pretty much holding Tony vertical as they brought him closer.
"Son?"
The two men came to a stop a few feet in front of him, one on either side of Tony. Tony was blindfolded, and one of the men reached over, tearing the silver duct tape from his mouth.
"Fuck." Tony scowled, an expression of pain briefly flashing across his face.
"Dad?" The pain was replaced with surprise.
"Son, I'm here. I love you."
There it was, Gibbs' signal. In any other circumstances, he would've felt hurt as Tony's look of surprise lingered. Had his son really not expected him to help? What, did he think he would just leave his only son to die? But Anthony had other things on his mind. All of them involving the knife under his jacket.
Tony provided the distraction he was looking for, doubling over as a cough racked his body. The two armed men were forced to hang onto him tighter to keep Tony from falling, and in that moment, Anthony reached into his jacket, sliding the knife out of his tie.
It seemed to happen in slow-motion. Pulling out the blade, Anthony lunged, stabbing it into the right-hand-side goon's chest. As the man cried out, the other nine men turned, instantly vigilant. At the exact same moment, the doors on all four sides of the warehouse burst open as NCIS agents flooded in.
The New Americans fired on them, causing the agents to scatter in search of cover. With bullets flying around him, the last thing Anthony registered was the sight of the little Israeli woman scuttling towards his son, before he became aware of the burning pain in his chest and fell to the floor.
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A/N: One chapter to go. I'll post it tomorrow. Thanks for your reviews, guys. I really love hearing your thoughts on each chapter :). And kudos to Loozy for correctly guessing it was Fornell. Happy Valentine's Day!!