Chapter 11 Make it Tuesday

Fornell called back on Wednesday afternoon. "We were at the shore," Fornell said. "A lovely little family vacation for Labor Day weekend. The first time Emily's seen the ocean."

"Did Diane eat any sharks?"

"Jethro."

"Or does she leave them alone as a professional courtesy?"

"She is my wife," Fornell said testily.

"For now. Are you busy these days?"

"When I'm not at the shore? Truthfully, not very. Want to go out for pizza?"

"I want to go to Baltimore."

"Crab season is just about over. Don't tell me this is about the Mob again."

"It is. Circumstances have changed." And he told Fornell about Montefiore, Macaluso, and the Gold Tops.

"But your killer isn't in the Mob, Jethro. And I told you, this takes months, or years, of work. Getting someone inside…"

"Baltimore PD already has someone inside."

"My God. They're trying to do this on their own? How long?"

"He's been inside for four months."

"So how close is he?"

"He says he's pretty close. Playing pool with the inside guys most nights. He knows the dealers and the hitters and how the stuff is coming in, but not when."

Fornell whistled. "Jesus, Gibbs, that's just crazy. One guy, no prep, no wiretaps, no real backup? This is why I hate when the locals try to run their own undercover ops. Amateurs. And in this business amateurs get killed. So have you met this guy?"

"Yes."

"Any good?"

"His sergeant says he's a good policeman. He's an arrogant piece of work."

"The best ones are. But how's his goombah?"

"He fooled me."

"And no one has ever done that before, said the much-married man. I don't know, Jethro, you've busted a few goons in your time. But it's not in your blood." Fornell's tone turned bitter. "I've lost a few undercover agents, and I thought they were more than pretty good. These Mob guys are terribly, terribly suspicious. It's awfully easy to make a wrong step, especially if the necessary legwork hasn't been done first."

"He's made it through four months."

"That's something, I guess." Fornell sighed. "So you really just want me to take pity on this poor Baltimore cop."

"I want to bust a drug ring and find a murderer."

"If you bust the drug ring you'll probably find several murderers, but not the one you're looking for. Are you getting sentimental on me, Jethro?"

"Are you drunk?" Gibbs asked. "Or did you get sun poisoning?"

"Probably, because the thought of you being sentimental—that's one of the seven signs of the apocalypse, isn't it?"

"You say you're not busy," Gibbs said. "Are you at least interested?"

"I'm interested," Fornell said, "though it'll probably be a disaster. Mostly because I am sentimental and I know what those guys will do to a cop if his cover gets blown. I'll tell you what. The new director gets sworn in next Monday, the 10th. Big meetings are underway right now, setting policy. I'll talk to my boss. What say we meet one day next week? Bring the Baltimore guys in."

"Monday it is."

"Did I mention that the swearing in is on Monday? There will be sheetcake and punch. Make it Tuesday."

"Tuesday the 11th. Eight-thirty?"

"Really, Gibbs. Nine-thirty. And I'll expect decent coffee and donuts."

"Do you consider Klowny Kakes donuts?"