A/N- Vance's spree of evil. Thanks for all the lovely reviews
Vance stood in the shadow of a tall pine tree, partially hidden from view. Of course, considering it was a sunny mid-afternoon, it wouldn't mean anything if anyone was looking for anyone suspicious.
Thankfully, the man bounding down the hospital stairs wasn't checking the area for unusual activity.
In fact, Vance suspected that Hezbollah could storm the parking lot and Anthony DiNozzo wouldn't notice a thing.
From a distance, he could see that DiNozzo's face was flushed and he was rubbing his eyes, while his shoulder shook.
Anthony DiNozzo was crying.
Perhaps luck was with him and Ziva David had died, considering the length of time she had been held in Somalia, it was a miracle in itself she had survived this long.
But he could not leave it up to guesswork; it would be foolish beyond belief, until he had the lifeless body in his hands...
Ziva David would be a threat.
He waited until DiNozzo had crossed the street, disappearing into the busy, populated area, then he trotted into Bethesda Hospital. Assuming that Ziva would still be under the alias, he headed over to the large nurse at the desk and smiled politely at her,
"James Whitemore for Sarah John please"
She narrowed her eyes mistrustingly at him, "Hang on a moment sir,"
Nurse Washington, as he read from her nametag, looked up the information on the computer,
"Psych...room five, but only two visitors at one time"
"I'm not holding a naval conference in there" he shot back, irritated. This woman was only a nurse for crying out loud!
"Yes...but you and the other men make three visitors"
Three visitors!
Gibbs? No, the last trace had placed Gibbs down in his basement, building another boat. It wouldn't be another member of his team...
Fornell perhaps? But then the FBI would be holding Ziva on their own turf, to have full access to her once she was able to talk.
Franks? Quite possibly. Gibbs trusted the man with his life, it would make sense that DiNozzo would entrust him with the secret as well.
He realised that he'd been standing at the nursing station while he'd been trying to determine the situation before he walked into it, and the nurse was watching him suspiciously.
Not bothering to thank her, Vance turned on his heel and headed up to the psych ward, his shoulder nearly knocking an intern off his feet as he bumped past him.
Vance moved quickly but as silently as possible, staring at the face of everyone who past him, looking for someone he'd hopefully recognise he walked straight past the room and didn't realise until he looked up and saw he was in the high twenties.
Backtracking, he was almost reached the room when he saw a familiar, bald headed giant.
Trent Kort.
Of course, Mossad was of interest to the CIA, especially if she could provide the agency with information.
Or rather, if she could provide Kort with information.
He was talking on his cell-phone, arguing quickly in fluent Arabic. Smirking, Vance saw a fat couple cowering against the wall opposite him.
Kort might be Caucasian but damn if even a hint of the Middle East didn't have hicks diving under tables, he remembered the issues Ziva David had brought to NCIS when her Israeli accent caused people to mistake her for the enemy. Once, working a case, in the Deep South, she had been jumped by a gang of youths looking for a 'terrorist', every last one of them had ended up with a broken bone and a court date.
Suddenly, Kort swore and aimed a kick at the wall, not making contact but clearly coming to a decision. He rapped on the closed door to room five, not bothering to open it,
"DiNozzo...I have a prior arrangement I now have to attend...I'll be back in two hours. Call Gibbs"
Ducking into an empty room, Vance was able to hide as Kort stormed past him, swearing under his breath. Vance counted to sixty before emerging again...
To find the fat couple staring at him, both wearing gold crucifixes and WWJD bracelets, amongst other religious insignia, smiling politely at them, Vance crossed the hall and tried the door to Ziva's room.
It opened easily under his hand and he peeked in,
Ziva David lay on her bed, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, the machines surrounding her beeping forlornly. Her body bearing obvious marks of torture, her face was still heavily bruised and Vance found himself wondering how on earth he was going to carry her out of the hospital, half-naked without attracting attention. This was the flaw in his plan.
"Excuse me"
Closing the door behind him, Vance turned to find the fat man standing before him, an indignant look on his face making him resemble a startled pig.
"Yes?"
"Aren't you a policeman?"
For a moment Vance was flattered, thinking this man had seen his face on the television or read about him in one of the many patriotic magazines. Then he remembered that his hand was resting on his holster, displaying his SIG to the world. He wondered if he was about to be caught up in another debate on the Iraq war.
"Yes" he grunted, "I am"
"Well..." the man spluttered wordlessly for a moment before coming out with,
"What are you going to do about that suspicious guy who just stormed out?"
"He was speaking in one of those Middle Eastern languages" the woman supplied helpfully. It didn't matter what she said though, Vance had just had a brilliant idea, it was foolhardy,but it might just work.
"I'm a federal agent" he announced, seeing himself rise in esteem in their eyes. Pulling out his identification he gave it the customary flick, making sure to rest on the badge rather than his licence.
"I'm looking into reports that we have a supporter of Alkaida in Washington, the woman in that room..." he paused to jerk his head in Ziva's direction,
"Matches the profile of one of our suspects"
And that was all he needed to say. Mr and Mrs Wiltshire, as he discovered their names to be, were visiting their son who had been injured in a bar fight last night; they had also lost a cousin in the Iraq war to a roadside bomber. They were all too happy to help him by pulling the fire alarm while he unplugged Ziva David from the machines and carried her out the side entrance.
He knew that Paula Cassidy's team had been forced to kidnap a suspect from a hospital before- the complaints and legal issues had still been going on when he'd become Director, so he understood why it was almost too easy for him to carry her across the parking lot, with her wearing little more than a hospital gown and his jacket.
She cried out as he slipped her into the backseat of his car, the movement clearly jarring her. It didn't matter though, without the machines hopefully she would die.
"Director?!"
For a moment Vance looked down at Ziva bewildered, wondering if she had woken up and how much of a threat she would be conscious.
But the voice was different from hers, less accented, more timbre.
The hint of his cultured Long Island upbringing still in his words.
Grabbing his keys, Vance scrambled to the driver's side of the car, flinging himself into the seat and jamming the key into the ignition. Throwing his foot down on the gas, the car shot forward, tires screeching in protest and horns blaring at him as he sped from the parking lot. Adrenalin pumping through his system, he looked into the rear-view mirror to see Anthony DiNozzo pounding the pavement, chasing after the car, but losing ground every second.
Damn it all to hell. Leon Vance had no idea how he was going to get out of this one.
A/N- His crazy actions will make sense later