Gibbs tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, waiting and watching. It was just after midnight and he had already had plenty of time to regret asking Jen to join him on his stakeout. She had been seething the entire time, accusing him of fishing for information every time he asked if she was okay. It was one of his goals in inviting her to join him, but he hadn't expected her to be in such a foul mood. Additionally, she was drinking all his coffee.

The smell of French Roast filled the car as she unscrewed the cap of his thermos yet again. He kept his eyes on his target, but the telltale sound of a decreasing trickle made him speak up, "Caffeine is a diuretic, you know."

She glowered at him, her reply dripping sarcasm, "I'll let you know if I need to slip into the shrubs for a minute. Thanks for your concern."

"Just mentioning." He kept his eyes on the door of the building, sometimes looking even further up the street to see if the man in the back of the SUV had emerged yet. He'd had Abby run the plates of every car parked on the block; that one had come back registered to a rental company, currently loaned to Transtech Enterprises, a Mafia front according to the FBI's files. His gut feeling when he'd seen movement in the back of it on their second and third circuits of the block would have been enough to tell him he was watching the right car. Without turning his attention away, he asked, "There any left?"

"Plenty." Jen reached behind her seat and pulled out an unfamiliar thermos.

"You didn't think I'd come prepared?"

"I didn't think you'd share."

He inhaled as she opened it – hazelnut? He grudgingly accepted the cup she poured him. "Sharing is the foundation of any good relationship."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He pretended that he hadn't been aiming for that particular nerve. "Read it on a Hallmark card." He took a sip of the coffee and made himself swallow. "Thanks."

"How much longer do you think this will take?"

"Eager to catch at least one bad guy today?"

She surprised him by answering coyly, "Who said we didn't catch someone?"

He pressed his advantage. "So I guess the question is how many got away?"

Her change in demeanor was immediate. "That's need to know."

"So at least one, then?"

"Stop it, Jethro. I'm only here because I thought I'd get a chance to speak with Ziva." The fact that whatever was occupying Jen in MTAC also had something to do with Ziva was nothing new. Gibbs sighed and took another sip of coffee as she said, "Thanks for sharing that part of the plan with me ahead of time, by the way."

He smirked, giving himself a moment to appreciate the simplicity of his strategy. Bait and switch. Good thing DiNozzo and David weren't too concerned about the formalities. "You could've talked to her on the phone a little while ago."

"Unsecure line," she griped.

Feeling that Jen was still staring at him a few silent minutes later, he said, "Don't drink all the coffee yet. I think he'll wait a while yet. I doubt they turned out the lights long ago."

"We should have set up cameras. Or at least parked on the other side of the building where we could see the windows."

"Like Bilotti did?"

"You can't be certain that's him."

"Oh, he's over there."

"Let me guess – coincidences?" When he nodded, she continued, "Do you really think he's been sitting there for hours after following them here? Assuming he did follow them here?"

"Guard at the gate of the Navy Yard said a dark SUV had been in the lot up the street all afternoon. And the FBI file says he's patient."

"The coldblooded ones always are." Something in Jen's voice made him turn his attention away from the building for just a moment. She was staring out the passenger side window, stress evident even in her distorted reflection.

"Jen, if you'd just tell me what's going on, I could…"

"I have people on it. I just need to make some calls and speak with Ziva."

Gibbs turned back to the dark street. "Okay." The only thing moving was a tabby cat stalking through the bushes.

Frank checked his watch. 1:30. That'd have to do. The lights had gone off over ninety minutes ago, so they'd have to be asleep. Everything else about their security was pretty damn cavalier. No one even watching the place… Metro PD seemed to be making an appearance every half hour, but he couldn't be sure if this was something new or just a normal patrol route.

He would have liked a few days to scout the location, but time was a factor; he needed to get rid of the witness and get back to his real job before anyone noticed he was running an operation on the side. You could only make so many personal loans before this shit went down – then everyone always wanted a fucking cut.

He kept his head down as a patrol car made its way down the street. It continued at a snail's pace until it had just disappeared around the corner. Was that normal? Didn't matter. His target would be eliminated and he'd be long gone by the time they came around again.

He peered up at the windows of the apartment – still dark. Now was it, then. He performed one last check of his piece, securing the silencer and the magazine. His hand slipped into his pocket to feel for his lock-picking tools. All there. Good. He had the same feeling he always had before a job. Nearly quivering with anticipation, he opened the back door of his SUV and stepped out.

Just to be sure he'd gotten the right number, he paused at the intercom. 4F. DiNozzo/David. Her name looked like fresher ink than his. So the feds were allowing partners to hook up now? He'd have to pass along that little tidbit.

The front door of the building was exactly as he expected – almost like not even having a lock. Did they think they'd get a leg up on him when he tried to buzz in or something? Dumbasses. Frank had learned long ago not to overestimate the intelligence of the feds. They probably hadn't even found the shell casings he'd left in the front yard at the house where he'd shot the man and woman. Feds were so easy to tease, he wasn't even sure why he bothered.

He made his way through the lobby to the stairwell. He never trusted elevators. "Fourth fucking floor," he muttered, looking up the space between the stairwells – the one that daunted him when going up and reminded him exactly how far he could fall on the way down. This one didn't have enough room to allow him to jump for it, if it came to that. Which it wouldn't. He glanced at the fire exit connected to the alarm – that would have to be his escape plan. He could probably just get lost in the confusion. He could even yank it on the fourth floor. No, too obvious. He gripped his gun inside the pocket of his overcoat and made his way up.

The door was at the opposite end of the hall from the stairwell. He paused before passing the door of each apartment, listening for anything. A yappy dog and a late night infomercial were no cause for concern. He waited outside 4F for at least five minutes. Nothing. Smiling as he took out his tools, he quietly went to work on the bolt. In and out, one dead witness. Maybe he'd get lucky and none of them would even wake up. If that were the case, he'd do at least one of the feds too. Half the happy couple, he decided – that would be like two for one.

The door swung open without a creak.