Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.
Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.
Warnings: same as Chapter One
DETERMINED TO HOLD
Chapter Ten, The ayes have it
Previously on NCIS
'Fornell's on his way. He has some news.'
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Ziva and Tim trailed back into the bull pen behind Fornell, not having gotten far for the food collection, and coffee all but forgotten.
"We're in touch with his handler. According to him Carlson got out a message that he needed a little more time, two more days at the most. Something is going down and it's vital he stay there. Forget a mall bombing or planes crashing into buildings, do the words, 'hyper velocity rod bundles', 'space drones', 'THOR,' mean anything to you?"
McGee blanched, "That's just rumor and speculation."
"Rod bundles, as in Area 51 enemy firepower from outer space?" DiNozzo tried to quip but it fell flat.
"Mossad is convinced that the technology is available." Sacks looked appalled at the Israeli woman's announcement.
"No way!" he exclaimed.
"Well, it seems we've all heard the rumor. What of it?" Questioned Vance who had come down the stairs with Gibbs.
"Some low-life prison inmate scum has the power to threaten the world with it." Said Tim, his voice and words conveyed his profound disgust that good didn't always win versus Evil.
Gibbs observation was less naive, "Dirty SOB!"
"Yeah. Anyway, he's in jail but he's got powerful friends. Worse, an ongoing rumor that the FBI takes seriously, is that a jail break is expected and that he's only still there because he wants to be there." Fornell replied.
It was quiet until Tony said, "So what now?"
"Now?" Fornell snorted. "Now, we've got warrants for everybody. We're picking everyone up including Shane and Peggy Ringold, Yonta Carlson, Tom, Dick and Harry and don't forget Elvis." Fornell replied sarcastically.
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Surveillance showed that Ringold was still at his office at 2000 hours. Gibbs, Ziva and McGee would drive ahead in the company car while Tony went to get an unmarked van. The plan was to get Ringold, with the least amount of fuss as possible, into the van and whisked away. Whatever they did, it was vital he was not allowed to make any phone calls, timing was everything. Everyone understood this and agreed.
"Shall I partner with Tony, Gibbs? Ziva had asked as she watched the other agent head for the parked vans.
"I think he can manage, Ziva. Let's go," ordered Gibbs.
Keeping the agency car in sight, Tony drove a few blocks thinking of the ops ahead. He was getting ready to turn right on a mostly deserted street when he was suddenly cut off by an SUV that seemed to come out of nowhere. He honked his horn to get them moving out of his way, he didn't have time for any further confrontation or he'd arrest the bozo. Instead of moving out of the way, two men in dark suits climbed out of the stopped vehicle and right away Tony knew this was a no-brainer, trouble. Feds or hoods? Hard to tell as they all wore suits but Tony wasn't waiting around to find out.
He gunned his motor causing the van to jerk and roll straight ahead, and the Suit in front of him barely jumped out of the way. The vehicle smashed into the side of the SUV causing it to sideways skid and crumple of the side doors. Tony immediately backed up, turned left and gunned the motor again. He pressed his foot on the gas pedal and sped away or at least he tried to.
The second vehicle slammed into his, clipping the rear bumper and, of course, thought Tony as he bumped his head on the roof, causing the Van to roll once before coming to a stop against the cliched fire hydrate. But it didn't matter, everything went black for Tony after that.
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Gibbs, McGee and David waited exactly five minutes for DiNozzo but he was a no-show. With thinned lips, Gibbs announced tersely, "Let's go!"
The elevator to the fifth floor executive suite was ridden in silence. They burst through Ringold's outer office door, the team and FBI agents alike. Ziva distracted Ringold's secretary while McGee found the button hidden under her desktop and everyone got in position before he pushed the button to unlock the door. The group rushed in to the inner sanctum, which had the shades drawn and the lights out.
"FBI, NCIS, REMAIN IN YOUR SEATS!" Was yelled to a roomful of executive types who were apparently having a meeting. Ringold stood at the head of the large conference table with a long pointer in his hand and a screen as his backdrop. The other chairs around the table were occupied by mostly men and some women and there were carafes of water scattered at regular intervals on the table and each person had a filled water goblet with ice and a sliced lemon in front of them. Coffee and cups, sugar and cream containers along with two boxes of pastries were on a sideboard. It appeared the meeting had just started.
Ziva was the second one in the room behind Gibbs and even in the darkened room, they both saw Ringold moving to reach inside his jacket pocket. Taking no chances that he was going for his phone, Ziva made a running leap onto the tabletop and used the momentum to slide halfway down the table. The crystal glasses, water, ice and lemon in her direct path were the only casualties as she dived for her target. She smacked into Ringold and they both fell to the floor.
When the lights were turned up, the room was how you would expect a room to look as men and women panicked at the violent intrusion of combat dressed people into their midst. Staring at modern day assault weapons pointed in their faces didn't help, either.
But shortly, the chaotic screaming and uncontrollable fear was quickly subdued when the poor folk saw the familiar FBI jackets and less recognized NCIS logos and realized the intruders were the good guys and not some fanatical terrorists looking for hostages. Ziva had Ringold on his stomach, arm twisted behind his back in spite of his complaints and a cell phone held up in her other hand.
"Good work," said Gibbs as he took the phone and handed her his handcuffs.
The rest of the people in the room had found their voices, loud and clear, angry and ugly, even though the Government agents had lowered their weapons and stood by harmlessly at parade rest. Such profanity from the rich and World Changers was surprisingly not shocking as they voiced their outrage at the uncouthly interruption of their meeting. They failed to remember that a few minutes ago, they would have welcomed these men to fight and maybe even give up their lives for them if there had been a terrorists attack.
The team had Ringold, that's all they wanted and he had not been able to call anyone thanks to Ziva's quick actions. They stepped out of the room with their prisoner in tow and left the disruption behind for the FBI to clean up. A quick call to Fornell confirmed that his teams had picked up their quarries also and that no messages appeared to have gotten to the prison. Their mole was safe.
"And tell DiNozzo to get his ass over here or he's about to have it fired for disobeying orders!" Gibbs warned Fornell.
"DiNozzo? What're you talking about, he's not here. I thought he was going with your group. What, Jethro, can't keep track of your agents?" But his voice didn't sound amused.
Gibbs' abrupt answer filled Fornell with increased unease. "He never showed up here, Tobias."
"I'll meet you back at NCIS," Fornell promised and he hung up first for a change.
"Where's Tony?" McGee wanted to know as he came up to Gibbs with the secretary in tow. He had held onto her and made sure she had no access to a phone while the takedown was taking place.
While the FBI escorted Ringold to one of their vehicles in a change of plan since Tony hadn't shown up with their van, Gibbs was on the phone dialing Tony's number, again. No answer.
"Don't know, McGee." Gibbs pointed to the secretary. "Get her in a separate FBI vehicle from Ringold's than meet me at the car." Tim looked worriedly back at Gibbs as he hurried away with the crying woman.
"Ziva, get Abby on the phone. Have her track DiNozzo's cell and the van's GPS."
"On it, Gibbs!" Ziva said as she raced behind him to the car.
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Tony DiNozzo tried shaking the grimy guy off his leg while he held firmly onto another around the waist and lifted him off his feet. Where was his partner when he needed him? The third perp, the ringleader, tried scrabbling away on all fours after being kicked in the stomach by one of Tony's thrashing feet, and was making good headway towards the dropped gun lying on the pavement. Tony managed to free his leg from Grimy who lost his balance and went down to the ground in a patch of dirt while the one he had around the waist, head butted him and Tony saw stars. He kicked him in his sensitive body part that really must have hurt because the guy went to his knees.
Tony was putting up a struggle but now all his energy was depleted and he was losing this battle. He knew it, they knew it. He was bruised and beaten and had been left by his team to deal on his own. Just then, the ringleader, who had been racing for the pistol had reached his goal and as he turned to face Tony, Tony lunged at him with the last of his waning adrenaline strength and reached for the Ringleader's arm just as the pistol came around and smacked him in the face. Gravel embedded into his cheek as he went down to the paved driveway of wherever he was but he was down, not out.
Tony noted whoever these men were they were either amateurs or were really, really trying hard not to seriously hurt him as he had been able to punch and kick without impunity avoiding getting himself a concussion or worse. But it seemed that thought came too soon. Somebody had run out of patience.
"Okay, enough of this! The boss said not too much rough stuff until he gets here but this guy is asking for it," said the guy in charge of the level of rough stuff and suddenly the game got a lot rougher. Tony bent over double after being belted in the stomach more than once while his arms were held on both sides. They kept hold of his arms and dragged him inside the predictably dark grimy deserted warehouse where he was dumped unceremoniously on the dirty floor. But not for long as his wrists were tied together non too gently behind his back with rope and he wondered why they hadn't done it before.
Tony had time to ponder who the hell these guys were and what did they want as he was lifted onto a straight back chair and tied to it. But he knew, he just knew this had to be part of his father's predictable and uncomplicated lifestyle modus operandi, piss-off his latest con. Like white fish following killer sharks, his father was the scum of the pond trying to creep his way in with the big boys to siphon off of them ectoparasites and leftovers but never finding that underwater pot of golden crustacean for himself.
So he wasn't surprised in the least when he heard the next voice, smooth and insincere as he walked into the room.
"I'll get right to the point, Junior. I owe some business associates who feel it necessary to use, shall we say, cave-man like techniques to get what they want, and also basically to make a point that..."
"Okay," Tony interrupted, the one word a passionless monotone, as though proven right again and resigned to his fate.
Senior, dressed impeccably in an obviously new, expensive suit had entered last and stepped around one of the men so Tony didn't know if he had just come in or had been there all along to witness his beating. Irrelevantly, Tony knew the suit was new as there were no shiny wear of fabric on the lapels or knees. His dress shoes sparkled from a high shine, and even Senior's newly capped teeth shone in the dim light. Yep, the guy had shopped till he'd run out of money, probably for the best stuff his recently acquired millions could buy. Probably had been gourmet eating too at the best restaurants and bunking up in a thousand dollar a day hotel room.
If Senior had paid any part of what he owed to his 'business associates' instead of hoarding what he had left, Tony would be with his team now doing what he did best and loved rather than hogtied like a rodeoed steer wrestled to the ground.
"Okay?" Senior's shocked face and reply were real for a change. He was truly surprised at Junior's quick acquiescence. Tony showed no emotion at all and it unsettled Senior when Junior stopped living down to his expectations.
"Yeah, you want money, right?" Tony said through a throbbing lip and bitten tongue.
"That's right," said the voice of another man who had just entered. Tony, always fashion conscious, took in the decent grey suit on the portly man and figured this was the head honcho, who probably waited in the car while his muscle took care of subduing the poor slobs he wanted tamed or who got in his way.
"My friend Anthony here says you stole his money and that's why he can't pay us back. We just want what's coming to us."
Why is it that Capone wannabes never showed an ounce of originality or even a spark of daring anticipation in their life of crime? Tony laughed internally. He felt like he was in a comedy of errors or a Three Stooges slapstick. They wanted what was coming to them? Really? Would they find it funny if he answered in the same vein? Yet, if they were stupid enough to put credence in what Senior said in spite of his already scamming them once, then they wouldn't see the humor and they'd deserve the jail time that was coming to them and that he would gladly see to, yeah, locking them up and throwing away the key would be what was coming to them once he figured on a way to get out of here.
"Something funny, Junior?" The short, fat man in the grey seersucker, who had grey eyes to match and a brownish toupee, had noticed the smirk and Tony wiped it off his face. Getting smacked around was getting old.
"Nope, I'm not laughing that you're being played for suckers by Senior here. It's just the banks are closed and believe me, in spite of what he might say, I don't have any money trees or large green bills in a satchel hidden under my mattress. You're going to have to wait until the banks open if you want cash. Then again, would you accept a personal check or money order from Seven Eleven?" Tony asked with a thoughtful frown.
Thwack! Grey suit got his hands dirty and smacked Tony so hard the chair fell over backwards and with him tied to it, Tony went over with it and his head and back were getting too used to the abuse as he hardly felt a thing though he saw intermittent stars interspersed with black spots twirling around, and birds were chirping.
"Now, this is what's going to happen," said grey suit, and grey leather shoes came into Tony's vision as he lay sorta supine on the floor.
"You'll stay here tonight. Tomorrow we'll visit a bank owned by, let's just say, people who have the same interests as me. You'll sign over the money, we'll get our cash, and no one needs to get hurt. That is, hurt anymore than they already are," and he chuckled at his own good humor.
At his signal, grey suit's henchmen lifted Tony's chair placing it back on its four legs. Grey suit patted Tony's face in camaraderie. "Be a good boy and you'll live a long and healthy life," and he turned casually to Senior his new best friend. "Come, Anthony, it's way past dinner time." Grey suit turned and walked away with Senior willingly following behind without a backward glance. Tony considered himself a dead man. He tested his bonds and while his thoughts weren't admitting to defeat yet, they were starting to slink that way.
I'm a dead man. I knew that when Grey suit walked away, and after he gets his money tomorrow, there's no reason for him to keep me around. The SOB never tried to hide his face from me or keep his identity secret and my 'father' as my only living relative won't report me missing. Yep, I'm a dead man. My lifeless body is gonna be dumped somewhere in an indiscriminate, unremarkable, makeshift grave. NCIS... Gibbs' team, will probably look, but not for long or maybe Fornell will try...
Oh, hell! Tony scoffed at himself for wasting time maudlin away in self pity. He looked around his prison after the boss and Senior left. Two of his guards were sitting in a small office and he could see through the glass windows surrounding the room that they were enjoying their dinner spread out on a decrepit old desk while sitting in rickety wooden chairs and there was a filthy mattress on a cot that even the roaches and rats had abandoned.
The office, the whole place was reminiscent of one of those centuries-old factories where the curator or bookkeeper worked with his documents or books and a quill pen in poor light so Tony knew he was in an older building in an even older part of town.
He guessed food wasn't on the menu for him and they hadn't even given him a bathroom break, which was a great reason for not leaving him any water. He was out in the open in a cavern of a room on his own and exposed so he couldn't do too much wiggling but even though the ropes binding him were securely tied, when Grey suit had smacked him to the floor, he'd managed to loosen one hand slightly; so that's what he had and that's what he'd work on, getting that one hand free.
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"We found the van, Boss, and Tony's phone is at the same location. That's good, right?" McGee related, the optimism heard in his voice that Tony would be found, maybe hurt, but alive was obvious.
"Let's go!" Gibbs was less sanguine hoping they wouldn't find his senior field agent's dead body in the back of said van.
Ziva David hustled along with her team to the elevator and down to their vehicle. Still on a high from her save of the situation at Ringold's corporation, she refused to let DiNozzo's childish Scheherazades; no not a Sultan's wife, shenanigans, yes childish shenanigans, ruin her moment of glory and as they raced to the scene of the abandoned van Ziva stayed close to Gibbs as a second in command should.
The Van had suffered obvious damage and Tony's cell phone was found on the passenger seat but thankfully there was no blood, but no signs of DiNozzo, either.
"Find something!" Gibbs ordered to his beleaguered team as they scattered away focused and determined to do just that.
"There's damage in the front passenger door along with transfer of paint, Gibbs. Looks like the car that struck the van was a dark blue and there's plastic imbedded in the grooves and on the ground as well as glass probably from a broken headlight." McGee placed the evidence in plastic bags as he described what he had found.
"I have taken pictures of the skid marks and tire marks, which might indicate the type of vehicle that was used. I have contacted the towing company to transport the vehicle to the navy yard. Perhaps Abby can find out more." Ziva stood next to Gibbs to give her report and in case he needed more from her.
Gibbs, who had just returned from interviewing the few witnesses who basically witnessed nothing, looked around impatiently; no information on the make of the car or cars involved, no license plate number not even the color of the vehicles, nothing.
"What about cameras, McGee?"
"Nothing, Boss. They picked the perfect spot to do this, a blind spot, the nearest traffic cameras are two blocks east and west and none of the retail businesses here are equipped with outside surveillance cameras.
They waited for the tow truck and then left the sight back to the navy yard with nothing. 'We got nothin'!' Tony would have said. They had nothing.
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Back at the navy yard after giving an anxious Abby their evidence, the remaining team sat at their desks. Gibbs was on the phone getting the lowdown on their recent sting from Fornell. Those who were in lockup and denied lawyers or a phone call due to the patriot act were vocal and demanding and not admitting to anything especially since the evidence against them had not been forthcoming. But they couldn't keep them confined forever, charge them with something or let them go, that was the law.
Fornell understood Gibbs' team was distracted. Was DiNozzo kidnapped because of their ongoing investigation or was it something else? Speed was of the essence. By now Ringold's friends and associates knew he had been taken away in chains and were any of them ready to betray their man in jail or their Country?
Just in case, their man Jorge Carlson had been placed in solitary confinement for fighting. If they couldn't get satisfactory answers from Ringold, Carlson would not be sent back to the prison population and the mission, as far as his part was concerned, would be over.
Fornell got off the phone with Gibbs and sat back in his chair. Gibbs had been his usual stoic but underneath the obvious lack of feeling, he could sense the real worry for his missing agent. Fornell was worried, too.
"Fornell!" Sacks rushed into his office urgently. "We've got something on DiNozzo, possibly who took him and why."
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