Fallen Angels: Chapter 12


Ziva David had to fight the impulse to check her watch impatiently, the tediousness of the last few hours of looking at one apartment after another getting to her, the thoughts of breaking for lunch to spend some time with Tony—even though she knew it would be time spent with him working—the only thing that had been keeping her for the last two apartments.

It wouldn't have been so bad if the apartments had some redeeming value to them, if she could see living with Tony in a single one of the places the realtor had gushed about, but she couldn't have been so lucky. The first place had been too small, a two-bedroom that had fewer square feet than Tomblin's old apartment. The second place had tiny windows that looked right into the apartment across a tiny alley, something that wouldn't have been too much of a problem had they been in DC, but seemed a little ridiculous in Bahrain, with weather that begged for a balcony and endless beach-front properties that had them. The third one had nothing of what they were looking for, and the fourth was so unsecured that Ziva might as well put up a sign announcing her affiliation with Mossad.

"You do not seem interested," the realtor finally said in Arabic, interrupting her own monolog about the apartment's features.

"No," Ziva said bluntly.

"Perhaps if you told me what you do not like about it, it will help direct our search."

Ziva frowned as she glanced around, trying to figure out where to start. "It is not very large," she finally began. "Both bedrooms are very small, as is the living room and kitchen. I like to cook, so I would like a good kitchen, and this is not a good kitchen. Not only is it small, but the appliances are old and I do not even know what it is that these countertops are made of. Also, it is a ground unit, which is more difficult to secure and more easily broken into. I do not want to live lower than the third floor in any building. The carpet and the furniture are all old. If we will be renting a furnished apartment, this is not the furniture we would want. It would have to be more modern, or just unfurnished. The windows are small and do not have a view of the beach, despite the fact that it is half a block away. Would you like me to continue, or does that give you an idea of what it is that we are looking for?"

"I think I have an idea," the realtor said after a few long seconds of pause, clearly surprised at Ziva's rush of words after an entire morning of the Mossad agent saying barely five words in a row. "I will look at my listings over lunch," she continued. "Perhaps you would like to meet at my office at 1330?"

"Yes, that will work," Ziva replied with a nod, thankful that this apartment was close enough to base that she could walk to NCIS, thus saving her from having to ask the real estate for a ride to Tony's office. "I will meet you then."

A short walk to NSA-Bahrain later, Ziva rapped her knuckles on the open door to the NCIS field agent office, interrupting Agent Freiler's explanation about something that was probably related to the Rabb case. "Hey, sweetcheeks," Tony greeted from desk by the large picture window, straightening and lowering his feet from the desk to the floor. "Productive search?"

"No," she replied bluntly, collapsing into Tomblin's old chair. She wondered idly how long it would be before Tony managed to get a new senior field agent to fill that seat. If he didn't get on it soon, Vance was just going to send someone without his consent, and that would probably not work out well for anyone. "Am I interrupting?"

"I was just going over Rabb's officer jacket," Freiler informed her.

"Seeing if anything jumps out," Tony continued. "Could always use another set of ears." She nodded her consent and settled into Tomblin's chair, indicating for Freiler to continue.

"Uh, like I was saying, he's been stationed in London for six years, following his promotion to captain. He got married immediately before arriving in London, to former Marine lieutenant colonel Sarah MacKenzie, who resigned her commission to move with him to London. They have two children; son Elliot is ten and daughter MacKenzie is two. Uh, Elliot was adopted five years ago. He's a distant cousin of Rabb's half-brother in Russia, and Rabb and his wife stepped in to take care of him after his parents died in a car accident. Rabb—"

"Wait," Tony interrupted. The issue of where he knew Rabb from had been bugging him since he heard the name, and this was beginning to sound familiar. "Rabb has a half-brother in Russia?"

"Uh, yeah," Freiler replied, glancing down at the file on his desk. "Sergei Zhukov. Former sergeant in the Russian army."

"That's where I know Rabb from," DiNozzo announced, smacking his hand against the table in his excitement, hard enough to make it sting. He registered the confused looks on both Freiler's and Ziva's faces as he shook out his hand. "It was about a year after I joined NCIS. The body of a missing JAG turned up, turned out she was pregnant. She had previously dated Zhukov, Gibbs arrested Rabb for murder, thought the kid was Zhukov's and Rabb was protecting his brother."

"So how is he now a captain?" Ziva asked with a frown.

"He didn't do it," DiNozzo informed her. "It was the kid's father, but that wasn't Zhukov." Ziva nodded her understanding. "I doubt it has anything to do with where he is right now, though. Freiler, when we're done here, get me Zhukov's contact information, just to make sure his brother didn't take a side trip to Russia on his way down here and got lost."

"Got it," Freiler agreed, making a note of the assignment on his ledger. "Uh, do you want me to continue?" Tony waved for him to go on. "No blemishes in his record since he arrived in London," the junior field agent informed them. "He's presided over a few big cases in EUCOM, a few murders and the like, but nothing overly political."

"And his wife? She's a lawyer, too, right?"

"Right. Uh, she's a partner in the international division at Lord, Hendersen, and Layne. It's a civilian law firm in London. I don't have any information about what kinds of cases she's been working."

"And she's not going to tell us, either," DiNozzo commented in disgust. He had definitely inherited Gibbs' distaste of lawyers, and that one, he wasn't afraid to admit. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. I'll call Zhukov and talk to him. Freiler, you're now in charge of keeping Mrs. Rabb up to date, every twelve hours until we have Rabb back. Be thankful they've got two kids keeping her in London; she said if it weren't for them, she'd be on the first flight down here to 'help' our investigation. Ziva, you're coming with me to the deli to tell me about the apartments you saw today." He had said that last sentence with the same commanding tone as the ones that came before, causing Ziva to take a few seconds before she realized that it had nothing to do with the case. Actually a bit surprised that he wasn't pressing her for more information about Mossad's involvement on the capture of Zazi—yet—she rose from Tomblin's old chair and followed him to the door without saying anything.

Freiler had a packed lunch out on his desk and Sergei Zhukov's contact information for Tony when they returned from the building's deli, sandwiches in hand. "Thanks," Tony said, indicating the slip of paper. He returned to his chair and unwrapped his cold cut trio before turning to Ziva. "So. Apartments."

She made a face as she, too, unwrapped her sandwiches. "At this rate, we should probably get comfortable in Tomblin's old place. It was preferable to anything that I have seen so far today."

"You're being too picky."

"And you are not being picky enough," Ziva shot back. "We will likely be living there for at least three years. Do you not think we should find a place that meets all of our qualifications for those three years?"

"Sweetcheeks, there isn't an apartment on earth that meets all of your qualifications."

"And yet I managed to find a place that was satisfactory in DC."

Tony looked at her, aghast. "You lived in Silver Spring!" he exclaimed. "And not the good part of Silver Spring. You were living in the closest thing Montgomery County, Maryland has to a ghetto!"

"And yet it was more easily secured than any of the places I have seen so far in Bahrain."

He shook his head at that, clearly at a loss for what to say. "Freiler, tell her she's being unreasonable," he finally said, turning toward his junior agent.

"Huh?" Freiler asked, momentarily confused. "Oh, no," he continued, catching on. "I'm staying out of this one."

"You have a lot to learn, young grasshopper," DiNozzo said to him, shaking his head sadly. "Such as how to back up your boss. If Gibbs had ever asked my opinion on an argument between him and whoever he was dating—"

"Gibbs would never ask your opinion," Ziva interrupted, taking another bite of her sandwich. Tony was right; the deli was pretty good. "He had far too much sense for that."

"Funny. Just so you know, Freiler, your job description includes agreeing with me. About everything."

"Do not listen to him," Ziva instructed the younger man. She turned to Tony. "And you do not try to convince him that you are being serious."

"I am being serious."

Ziva rolled her eyes, taking the last bite of her sandwich. She glanced at her watch. "I should go upstairs and check in before returning to the realtor's office," she said reluctantly. She caught the look on Tony's face and frowned. "And no, I will not be pressing Cohen for more information," she said forcibly.

"Delaying could be putting Rabb in danger," Tony pointed out.

Ziva switched to Hebrew before replying. "Do not try to force my hand," she snapped. Neither broke eye contact for a long minute, before she leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. "I will see you back in the apartment tonight," she said.

He nodded slightly before giving her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Good luck," he said. "As much as I'm enjoying Tomblin's apartment now that you're here, I don't know if I can stand to live there for the next three years."