Finding Home

Chapter Twenty

In a quiet house in Virginia, a man abruptly stopped what he was doing and stood still in the middle of his living room. He had been preparing for service techs to invade his home, now he stood listening to his gut as it roiled. Something was happening with one of his kids and there was nothing he could do about it. His hands were fisted so tightly his short nails left marks on his palms; he turned toward the phone, only to stop again in defeat. There really was nothing he could do, except say a prayer and listen to his gut, hope he'd know when the danger had passed or been dealt with.

XXX

Tim left the cafe first and went right, crossing the street at the upper end and coming at the dealer from the north. Jack wandered out and turned left, crossing at the lower end of the street and coming at the guy from the south. Rather than approach him directly, they ignored him as they spotted each other. "Hey man, what are you doing here? I thought you were going home today?"

"Hey kiddo, that was fun last night, huh? Too bad, Christina got sick, too much grappa. We'll head out tomorrow." They met in front of the dealer who was clearly listening.

"Wow, I didn't realize she drank that much."

As Tim finished his sentence, he turned to the dealer as if he was going to include him in the conversation but instead said, "Carlo Monteleone, you're under arrest."

As surprised as the man was, he still managed to throw a move at him but Tim blocked it and they struggled until he miscalculated and took a blow to the stomach with what felt like an iron bar and while he was winded, was pinned down by the dirtbag. Before Jack could come to his rescue, he used his new move and the guy went down, heavily. Jack slapped the cuffs on him and kept a foot on the dirtbag while he helped Tim up. Tim flashed his badge to frightened passersby. They called the city police and a car arrived within 2 minutes. The officer had been briefed and thanked the two American agents for helping them rid the city of this slime. He and a backup searched the dealer and found plenty of evidence. They put the miscreant in the back of the squad car and took off.

Tim called in, "Special Agent McGee from Brindisi. We've arrested our target; he's on his way to local lockup."

"That's great, Agent McGee. Who's on your team?"

"Agent Jack Hughes."

"Isn't one of Joel's agents with you? "

"She became ill and is resting in a hotel room."

"So she was not on the actual takedown?"

"No, she was too ill to work and I didn't want to leave her in the car, so got her a room. We'll stay until she's well enough to travel, make sure she gets safely on the plane." He hoped his written report would be soon enough to break the news of the agent's mistake.

"Thank you Special Agent McGee – and thanks to our friend Agent Hughes." Jack just smiled. Tim heard other voices now and realized they were on a conference call as one by one the teams reported in. When he heard Pete's voice, he relaxed. By now they'd retrieved their car and moved back to the park. Sitting at the picnic table with no one but the two of them around, Tim put the phone on speaker so Jack could hear the other teams reporting in. Tim heard Joel's voice reporting from Hamburg and Stan's from Prague. Finally just one team remained to check in, the team responsible for taking down the heads of the cartel. There was silence for a full five minutes and then Roger spoke, "We have them, all three of them. I repeat, we have all three in custody."

There were cheers and then Tim's eyes widened as he heard a very familiar voice. "That's excellent work, all of you. You've not only cut the head off a criminal organization, you've destroyed the organization itself. Congratulations! And thanks to our friends for your help, it's been invaluable. "

Tim tensed as the Director paused, willing him not to single him out. "Special Agent McGee, I imagine the London SAIC will be very interested in your report."

"Yes sir."

"Good work, all of you. You can't see us, but there are several of us in MTAC quietly cheering your accomplishments today. Now…get yourselves home safely and relax over the weekend. Who's on call?"

Pete answered, "Athens, Director."

"Perhaps that can be changed since your Senior Field Agent is stuck in Italy watching over a sick taskforce member. Joel, how about it?"

"Took the words right out of my mouth, sir, I'm texting the office right now. Julian, Lydia, let me know when you're home."

"All right, Athens, you're off the hook, well when you get home you're off the hook!" Pete responded, "Thanks, my wife will be happy to hear that."

Tim smiled and then realized he needed to say something too. "And my real estate agent, thank you sir, Joel."

"That embassy party isn't this weekend is it?"

Pete chuckled, "No sir, not for another couple of weeks." Tim didn't know exactly why he was embarrassed that the Director knew about their next embassy party, but he was and he hoped that the man would not ask him if his tux was ready. Fortunately, one of the other callers had a question and that deflected the man's attention.

Finally the call was ended and he relaxed. He looked at Jack, "So, what do you want to do? I've never been here before. "

Jack laughed, "How about we check on Miller and then do some sightseeing?"

Tim shook his head, "Sure not what I expected to do today!" Then he smirked and raised five fingers to Jack, counting down. He'd just said "One" when his phone rang and they laughed, knowing without looking it was Pete.

"Hey Pete, how are you guys? What's Bucharest like?"

"We're fine, glad it's over; it's an old city, we're on the way back to the airport now. Now tell me about you. How are you and what really happened with Miller?"

"Jack and I are fine, just trying to figure out what to do with the rest of our day until Miller is well enough to travel."

"Really fine or playing tough guy fine."

Tim huffed, "Ok, I promise I will always tell you if I am not fine. But we are, really. A little discombulated now that the adrenalin's gone and we'd rather go home."

"Tim."

"Shouldn't I be telling Joel this first?"

"Oh he'll be calling, but they had to go check in with the Police Chief so I've got a few minutes and I want to know what happened with my Senior Field Agent."

"Yes sir." Tim told him the whole story, talking over the angry huffs from his boss.

"You did great handling that situation Tim and then the operation, I'm proud of you and I know the Director is too, he'll be even prouder, once he gets through being angry, when he hears the whole story."

"Thanks Pete. It was just common sense, really."

"Maybe for you but as you can see, not every agent is blessed with that."

Tim's phone beeped and Pete heard it.

"Got another call?"

"Yeah, it's Joel."

"Good, you tell him the same thing – all of it, Tim."

"Yes sir."

"And get home, tell him to send someone else to babysit Miller, I want you home and I'm sure the CIA doesn't need Jack hanging around Italy. Never mind, I'll tell Joel to send someone else, that's not something you want to do right now."

"Ok Pete, talk to you later, I'll keep you or Kim updated."

He clicked over to Joel. "Tim, you and your new friend are ok?" Tim laughed, "Just got through convincing Pete of that, Joel, yeah, he and I are fine, your junior agent, not so much. "

He proceeded to tell the story once again, this time having to stop and answer Joel's questions. He'd never seen or heard Joel angry but he heard the difference in his tone. He was surprised, however, when he was told that Joel's Senior Field Agent was on her way to Brindisi, in fact her flight was due to land in less than 15 minutes and Tim should expect a call from her once she was on the ground. Tim and Jack were sincerely thanked for taking care of Joel's errant agent and released from their babysitting duties. By the time Tim was off the phone, Jack had their flight home halfway booked. They had an hour before they needed to be at the airport, so they wandered along the waterfront, Tim buying postcards as he didn't think he'd come back here. The rest of Italy, sure, but right now he had no desire to visit this place again. They were on their way back when Tim's phone rang. It was the London SFA, Lydia, on her way in from the airport. They agreed to meet her in the lobby to hand over the card key.

The two men took their time getting back to the hotel, stopping to put the bag with Tim's postcards and a refrigerator magnet for Sarah in the car. They reached the lobby and Tim paced, not wanting to sit down. His gut was beginning to hurt and he knew if he looked he'd find a bruise. He was angry with himself for his miscalculation and Jack, seeing the look, figured it out. "Hey that could have happened to anyone, he knew his moves. He's a dirtbag, he's practiced at getting out of things."

"And I'm…who I am, I should be too."

"Man, you did great! You recovered and took him down."

He saw the eye roll and he chuckled, "What, did you forget you're human?"

Tim smiled at that, yeah, he was human and he made mistakes. He just hoped they'd always be as easy to recover from as this one had been.

"You starting to hurt?"

"Yeah, some."

"Put some ice on it when you get home."

Tim nodded, "Good idea."

"Word of advice?" Tim looked up. "Tell Pete about it. He'll be pissed if you don't. I know from my own experience with the man and I've seen him chew Carla out for not telling him about an injury."

Tim started to take a deep breath and winced. "Hey, you don't have a cracked rib, do you?"

Tim shook his head, "Don't think so, I'm just sore. I've just started a new martial arts class and our second session was last night. I think part of the soreness might be from that too."

Jack twisted his lips. "Ok, when we get back, you're going to let me look and maybe we go get an X-ray."

Tim opened his mouth to refuse and then remembered being hurt and no one doing anything to help him. He nodded and grinned. "Yeah, ok, if it'll make you feel better."

Jack opened his mouth to reply when a woman walked into the hotel. Tim realized he'd seen her in the office in London although they'd never been introduced. He wondered at that as he walked forward. "Tim McGee, thanks for coming down here to relieve us."

She pursed her lips and looked at him. "It wasn't my idea, believe me. What room?"

"Room 209, here's the key card." Tim started to hand it to her but she snatched it out of his hand. Tim raised an eyebrow but turned toward the front door, Jack right behind him.

The other agent commanded, "Wait. Who paid for the room?"

"I did. Agent Miller was asleep on her feet."

"Did they run it yet?"

"Probably not. There was no way I could know how long she'd need the room."

" I want to transfer it to my card so we won't have to pay you back."

Tim stood in the lobby and looked at her and her snotty attitude and decided to give it right back to her.

"That's fine since it's my personal credit card paying for your agent, the one misguided enough to take a pharmaceutical before an operation. The one my partner and I had to take time from the entire mission schedule to get out of harm's way. So yeah, I'll be just as glad to have this hotel bill off my personal credit."

He stood straight, his eyes expressionless, face blank. Jack backed off thinking that now he knew what a pissed off Timothy McGee looked like. Without another word, Tim turned to the front desk and explained the situation in fluent Italian. The front desk clerk, who spoke perfect English, got that he was annoyed with the woman and it seemed like the snotty one didn't speak Italian. She liked this man, he'd obviously taken the time to help a sick co-worker; she answered him in Italian and took both cards. She quickly processed the return on his card, giving him a receipt and then stopped to watch him walk out with the older man. Nice ass, Mr. McGee, especially in those jeans. The bitchy woman cleared her throat and the clerk decided to have some more fun. She stopped to get herself a bottle of water and slowly taking the top off, took several sips, swallowing each one before asking the woman in Italian if she wanted anything. Then she returned to the card and took her sweet time with it.

Jack cleared his throat as they reached the car. "You know the clerk heard everything? From the look on her face, that agent might be at the front desk for awhile."

Tim shook his head, "What a piece of work. You ever seen her before?"

"No, but I've only worked with your office and Rota."

Tim nodded, "I think I'll ask Carla about her."

"You going to tell Pete?"

"Nah."

"You were in the London office before Athens, right?"

"Yep, for a month, working on an IT project."

"Huh, and you never met her?"

"No and I realized when she walked in that I'd seen her in the office, walked by her a few times, in fact I think she used to ride the same train from the office."

"Odd."

Tim snorted. "Ya think? Carla will tell me her story."

The drive to the airport seemed to take longer than the drive in but the traffic was moving swiftly. They turned in the rental, went through security with their weapons and permits and soon were in the air, on their way home.

By the time they landed, Tim was in a considerable amount of pain. Without saying a word, Jack took his gear, the car keys and drove them to Tzaneio General Hospital. While Tim waited to be seen, Jack persuaded him to call Pete. His cell went directly to voice mail so Tim left a message saying he had a bruise that had gotten more painful and told him where they were. That took enough out of him that he didn't want to make another call so Jack took his phone and called Kim, knowing she would be waiting to hear from both teams. He told her what was going on and Tim was trying to say a breathy hello when the nurse came for Tim. By that time, walking was more trouble than he wanted so he rode in a wheelchair to the exam area. When his shirt was removed, he was surprised to see that almost his entire abdomen and the lower portion of his chest were bruised. The nurse told him it looked like one big bruise. He was asked questions and he answered as best he could without divulging their operation. The nurse told him the doctor would be in as soon as he could but they were having a busy night. Tim lay back and tried to relax.

He was just drifting off to sleep when something poked him and he cried out in pain. A new voice apologized, "I am sorry, Mr. McGee, I just barely touched you." The voice turned away from him and Tim heard it ordering an immediate CT scan. Tim asked them to get his friend Jack from the waiting room and someone left, Tim heard footsteps. He sighed with relief when the curtain was pushed aside and a familiar voice spoke to him, "Tim, they're taking you for a CT scan. I'll be here." Tim nodded. It was Pete.

XXX

In the house in Virginia, the man's gut had relaxed over the last couple of hours and he'd let his shoulders stand down. It was midday when he felt another flare and knew someone was hurt. Now he'd have to wait again, either for the fire in his gut to subside again or…he pushed that thought away. Surely someone would tell him if it was bad.

"Mistakes are a fact of life
It is the response to error that counts." Nikki Giovanni (b. 1943), U.S. poet.