CHAPTER ELEVEN

McGee drove instinctively as he followed the yellow motorcycle. It never quite lost him and a part of his brain warned him he was being led into a trap. But, he didn't care. The only thought that made it through the unrelenting pounding in his skull was to get this bastard and kill him. After that, McGee didn't care what happened. His sister would be safe.

The motorcycle led him up and down the city streets, further into the more derelict parts of town. It was dark now and the streets were relatively clear. He had long ago lost track of where they were, so focused was he on catching up to the small blur of yellow dancing teasingly just ahead of him. The roar of the Porsche's powerful engine drowned out the pounding in McGee's ears. The adrenaline rushing through his system made it easier for him to ignore his pain.

McGee noticed they were approaching what appeared to be an abandoned industrial complex. He cursed. This was bad. It would be easy for Grimes to lose him in there. He watched as the motorcycle zipped through a gap in the fence. McGee screeched to a halt just outside the chain link. There was no way the Porsche would fit through that gap. He watched with growing fury as the motorcycle pulled to a halt about a hundred yards away. The driver turned to look back at McGee, gave him a mocking salute, then disappeared around the corner of the building. McGee gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. He had to think clearly, but it was hard through a red haze of pain and anger. He pulled out his revolver and checked to make sure it was loaded and ready. Sweat covered his face as a wave of nausea washed over him. He could feel himself shaking.

Tim, you have to get him. If he gets away, he'll always be a threat to Sarah. He threw open the car door and lurched to his feet. Clutching the rusted fence for support, he waited for his spinning head to settle. He wanted to scream in frustration. What could he do? Blindly, he thrust his hand into his pocket and searched for his cell phone. Perhaps the time had come to call in back up. Yeah, Gibbs might fire him for disobeying a direct order, but at least Tim would have helped catch his sister's assailant. He flipped open the phone and frowned in confusion. When had he turned it off? He couldn't remember. He turned it on then groaned in dismay. There was no signal. Damn! Desperately, he looked around in the wild hope there would be a pay phone, but those days were long gone. Pay phones were far and few between, and there certainly weren't any available in this derelict area.

McGee rubbed his eyes, again wishing the pain would go away so he could think. He could hear his heart beat throbbing in his ears. He took a deep breath and studied the fence before him. Obviously this had been used as a regular gateway in and out of the abandoned complex. It was badly rusted. He turned and stumbled to the back of the Porsche. He kept a tool box back there for emergencies. He smiled grimly when he found a pair of wire cutters. At last something went his way. He just needed to cut away enough of the fencing to allow the small car to get through. He knew he'd never have a chance of catching up with Grimes on foot.

Do you really think this is a good idea, Tim? Tim jerked. That voice. He recognized that voice. It sounded just like Kate's! He turned and blinked in surprise to see his late partner, Kate Todd, standing not ten feet away, an unhappy look on her pale face. He wants to kill you, Tim. You do know that, right? You can't go in there alone.

Tim felt like his eyes wouldn't focus properly. This couldn't be Kate. She was dead. He knew that, yet she seemed so real. He rubbed his eyes, but the figure still remained. "I have to go, Kate. He'll kill Sarah if I don't. I can't risk letting him get away."

Kate shook her head, her eyes full of pity. Look at you, Tim. You can barely stand. He's already shown you what he can do to you. Is that what you want? To be tortured again? This isn't your fault.

"I should have been there for her," Tim whispered resting his pounding head against the cool metal of the fence. "I should have stayed at the hospital with her." He shivered, his body bathed in a cold sweat.

Tim, call Gibbs. Go get help. You don't have to do this alone. You can't do this alone. This is exactly what Grimes wants. He wants you in there so he can finish what he started. You can't help Sarah if you're dead.

Tim's head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes blazing with fury. "I can help Sarah by killing that son of a bitch. If I leave, he'll get away and disappear. How many more innocent people will he kill? I can't let that happen, Kate. I've got to go in and get him now!" He turned back to the fence and attacked it with renewed vigor until he had managed to create an opening just large enough to drive the Porsche through. Panting, his arms throbbing from the exertion of cutting through the metal chain link, Tim stepped back to survey his handiwork. It would have to do.

He looked around and saw Kate was gone. He frowned. Had she really been there? She really was dead, wasn't she? He was having increasing difficulty keeping things straight. Enough. It was time to go. He tossed the cutters back into the car and himself into the driver's seat. With a grim look of determination, he carefully maneuvered the car through the opening. Once clear, he accelerated in the hopes of finding Grimes somewhere in the complex. This time, McGee was determined to be the last one standing.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Tony and Ziva settled into the booth of a small cafe and ordered coffee and a couple of hamburgers. The two agents were exhausted. They had just spent hours checking out every garage, self-storage, and parking lot they could find in downtown Arlington. They had stopped in the coffee shop for a quick bite and to figure out where to go next.

"Who would have thought it would be so difficult to locate a bright yellow motorcycle," grumbled Ziva irritably. "A black Harley, yes. But a bright yellow motorcycle? There cannot be too many of those."

The waitress had arrived with the coffee just in time to hear Ziva's complaint. "Y'all looking for a yellow motorcycle?"

Tony blinked in surprise. "Uh, yeah. Have you seen one around here?"

The woman, heavy set and middle aged paused. "Well, I've seen one go down the road towards Buck's shop."

Tony and Ziva exchanged confused glances. "Buck's shop?"

The woman nodded. "Yeah, Buck and his son run a small repair shop a coupla blocks from here and down Lee St." She gave a small snort. "If you can call Lee a street. More like an alley. Buck's the best there is when it comes to fixin' motorcycles. He don't advertise or nuthin'. Simple word of mouth. Anyway, I seen a bright yellow motorcycle head down that way a few times."

Tony and Ziva leaped to their feet. "Thanks!" grinned Tony, throwing several bills onto the table as the two agents rushed from the café. The waitress, her mouth open in surprise, watched them go.

It took only a few minutes for them to locate Lee Street and the garage tucked away at the end. It was dark now and the shop was closed. Silently, guns drawn, the two agents climbed from the car and began to scan the area. Adjacent to the shop was a small fenced parking area where a number of motorcycles were parked. None of them were bright yellow. Tony motioned with his head, and with a nod, Ziva slipped around to the back of the shop. When he was certain she was in place, Tony strode to the front of the shop. He quickly turned the knob, not surprised to find it locked. He took a deep breath and loudly rapped on the door.

"NCIS! Open up!" He waited several moments before trying again. This time, he was rewarded with a light coming on and a shuffling sound behind the door.

A moment later, an irritated bald headed man stood glaring at Tony through the door. "What the hell do you want?"

Swiftly Tony flashed his badge and ID. "NCIS. We're looking for David Grimes."

The man rolled his eyes and shook his head. " Grimes ain't been here for a few days. I don't know where the hell he is. Why don't you ask that other agent with the Porsche? He's the one that took after Dave."

Tony stared at him in surprise. "Other agent? What other agent?"

Buck pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "That sick lookin' guy. Looked like he should be the hospital. Can't remember his name. Oh, wait." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled card. He peered at it. "Timothy McGee." He looked back at Tony. "You know 'im?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah, I know him. You said he looked sick?"

The man shrugged. "Pale, shaky. Kept wincing like he was in pain. I think his head hurt."

"When was he here?" Tony could feel his excitement growing.

The man thought a moment. "Oh, maybe a coupla hours ago. Dave pulled up on his Indian, took one look at that McGee guy and took off. Your agent got in his car and lit out after 'im. If anybody should know where Grimes is, it's your guy."

Silently cursing to himself, Tony thanked the man and went in search of Ziva. She appeared several moments later and quietly listened to Tony's report. "McGee has gone after Grimes then."

"Looks that way," sighed Tony getting into the car. "And it doesn't sound like he's doing too good. We gotta find him."

Tony's phone buzzed. Tony flipped it open. It was Gibbs. "Yeah, Boss." He listened intently for a few moments. "Got it. We're on our way. We'll meet you there." He snapped the phone shut and quickly turned on the engine. "Abby finally got a fix on McGee's phone. He's in an industrial park near the river. We'll meet Gibbs there."

Ziva nodded. "I just hope we will be in time."