Chapter 21: Motivations

Gibbs climbed from the car and pulled off his sunglasses. Blinking he took in the building in front of him. It had seen better days; the sign on the wall had paint that was just beginning to peel. The fire escape that was at the opposite end to the door was showing similar signs, the rust peeking out from underneath. There were no windows, just the aluminium slats on the delivery bay and the small wooden doorway painted black. He did a slow scan, there were no other cars around. The building had been closed since the body had been found, and nobody seemed in any hurry to start up operations again. The only other buildings in the area, what looked like warehousing of some sort, seemed equally deserted. It gave the whole place a strangely depressing feel, despite the presence of the early afternoon sun.

He took one last scan around before heading for the door, opening it to duck under the crime scene tape. It was the smell that hit him first, sea breeze mixed with rotting fish. He wrinkled his nose slightly, taking a deep breath through his mouth as he tried to block the sensation, concentrating instead on his first view of the inside of the building.

The paint in here was in no better state than the outside, if anything it was peeling more. Ragged pieces of white paint, some as big as dinner plates, hung slightly away from the surface, forming odd patterns of white and gray relief. He moved cautiously down the narrow corridor, not sure what he was guarding against in the empty building, his instincts keeping him alert. Ignoring the door that led to the delivery bay he made his way up the narrow stairs to the floor above, traversing two more, equally narrow, corridors before the sides opened up into a maze of rooms. He walked through silently until he found the one he wanted, the pool of blood still staining the floor.

He took a step forward and then another, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He closed his eyes. He could almost smell the sweat, the fear. It soaked in through every pore of his skin as he allowed the room to speak to him. This was a room of violence, of terror. He could hear the thud of flesh against flesh, the grunts of pain, the involuntary squeals of a man being beaten, trying not to show how much it hurt. Beads of sweat ran down from his forehead, trickled down his neck. It didn't require much imagination. He had been in rooms like these, too many times.

It wasn't as hard when it was the enemy, when it was some nameless faceless man who had information that you needed, information that would save lives. It wasn't as hard, but it was still impossible, unless you cut off all emotion. If you knew the man that was being tortured, that was screaming, well then it was just impossible.

In this room it had been Tony. He didn't need Abby to confirm it. He knew.

Dammit! He opened his eyes, tried to block the images, the smells, the sensations, the strangled screams, from his mind. He studied the room again, his eyes narrowing. He took a step forwards.

"It's dangerous to enter a crime scene without watching your back Agent Gibbs." Agent Fornell said as he stepped through the door into the room. He had followed Gibbs in, hung back; waited for the perfect moment to surprise him. He blinked twice as he stared round the empty room. He heard the click of the gun being cocked next to his ear.

"Even more dangerous to try to sneak up on someone Fornell," Gibbs said dangerously.

Fornell swallowed once, and then gave a slight nod. "Conceded," he swallowed again, "Is that a hair trigger?"

"Don't worry," Gibbs stated, "It won't go off unless I want it to. Now, would you care to tell me why you're following me?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not sure that you won't want that gun to go off. . ." Fornell finally turned, backing slightly away from the gun that was now pointed squarely between his eyes. "When I do tell you."

Gibbs lowered his weapon slowly, releasing the trigger and clicking the safety back on without looking at it. He studied Fornell but said nothing.

"And technically I didn't follow you here. I just had a hunch when Miss Sciuto started requesting the forensics that you'd want to check the place for yourself."

"And what made you think that I'd want to come here?"

"Because this is where Agent Dinozzo," Fornell deliberately pronounced Tony's surname differently changing the emphasis, softening the z's to a ts sound, it was an unexplained affectation, "was beaten."

Gibbs back straightened slightly as anger rippled down his spine. "You knew about that?"

Fornell nodded.

"Before? During? After?" Gibbs struggled to ask the question with any semblance of calm.

"Technically during and after," Fornell admitted. "Now you know why I wanted you to lower the gun."

Gibbs bristled. "You knew that someone was beating the crap out of one of my people and you did nothing to stop it?" His eyes narrowed. "Give me one good reason why I don't shoot you anyway?"

"Again technically. . ."

"Cut it with the technical crap Fornell."

Fornell held up a hand in a placating gesture. "OK, but we only knew about it because we had an agent on the inside, and he risked his own life to get the beating to stop." Fornell let out a sigh. "He wasn't happy about it when Dinozzo was picked up but he figured that he could handle it, until they started on him with the iron bar."

The air around Gibbs crackled, the image of swollen black stripes across Tony's back flashed across his mind, causing a sharp intake of breath.

Fornell didn't quite understand the reaction but he could guess. He held his hand up again in the same placating gesture. "Our guy talked them into taking a break when Dinozzo passed out. It was the best that he could do without getting himself killed, but he was prepared to blow the whole operation to get him out before they started in on him again."

"Considerate of him," Gibbs tone dripped sarcasm.

"Hey, he was gonna blow months of hard work and risk his own life further to get your guy out."

"Was?"

"Turned out he didn't have to, Dinozzo managed to escape, before they got back." Fornell looked across at the dried blood that still coated the floor. "They shot the guard who let him escape through the head." His eyes turned back to Gibbs, clearly challenging now, the statement emphasizing the danger his own agent had been in.

Gibbs drew in a deep breath, lowering the hostility level a little. The explanation certainly fitted with what they knew but it was still too damn little. He stared at Fornell. "Don't suppose it occurred to you, at any point to let NCIS know what was going on. You know in the spirit of inter-departmental cooperation." He gave a wolfish smile that held no humour. They both knew that such cooperation only existed when it was forced.

"At the time we didn't know how Agent Dinozzo was involved, we still don't. Nothing in this investigation has a naval link, but part of it was focused on someone from law enforcement being corrupt, for all we knew that could be Dinozzo."

Gibbs shook his head. "Not Tony," he stated.

"You don't know what's at stake?"

Gibbs met his gaze. "No, and I don't care, and nor would Dinozzo. Corruption is not in him"

Fornell studied Gibbs expression. "I wish I had your faith."

"Don't need faith I know my people." Gibbs took a step forward, deliberately moving into Fornell's personal space. "Now, since you obviously know a lot more about what's going on, why don't you share."

"I told you there's no naval connection. This is an FBI case there's no reason to. . ."

"Oh there is a reason, in fact there's more than one reason. I'd say any case where one of my people is beaten half to death falls under my jurisdiction, and, even if that weren't the case." He moved in a little closer. "You owe me."

The two men stood nose to nose, the air between them thick with barely contained emotion. Gibbs had saved Fornell's career, possibly his life, and he was calling in at least part of that marker. Breaking down the tense inter agency rivalry was never easy and he was asking for full access on a case that he didn't really belong on.

Fornell didn't give in straight away, even though he knew that he would. That wouldn't fit with the complexities of the game. It wasn't how you played. In a world where your opponents were often on the same side as you, and you frequently ended up doing deals with your enemy. It was important to appear strong even when you were about to give everything up. Finally he gave a slight nod of agreement. "There's a coffee shop about two blocks from here," he stated. "I'll fill you in on the way."

NCISNCIS

Tony moved his arm lazily, fumbling for the alarm. The insistent ringing was annoying, but he could find no means to stop it, as his hand met empty air. He moved it, experimentally probing the surface, only hard wood met his fingertips, curiosity forcing his brain into ever higher states of awareness. Sensations registering slowly at first, then in an exponentially increasing rush as disorientation took over. It wasn't his alarm clock it was a cell phone, blurry eyes opened and attempted to focus on it across the floor. He was lying on the floor. The surface cold and hard, and he was shivering, and, God, every single part of him hurt, from his fingertips to the roots of his hair. His head was pounding. His eyes refused to focus properly, and the damn phone was still ringing.

He forced himself to move, drawing in a sharp breath as he rolled onto his knees. He pulled one hand across his chest as he tried to force an awkward crawl across to the phone. Maybe the person at the other end would have some answers. Could explain why he was here, why everything hurt. Why. . .?

The phone stopped ringing.

He stopped with it, blinking as it finally swam into focus, only a couple of feet away now, not that it had been much more before. He continued his awkward three-limbed movement but the urgency had gone now. He moved even more slowly, quite a feat since he had barely been moving before. His entire focus was still on the cell phone, on controlling the pain and the shivers enough to move towards it. He gave a sigh of relief as he reached it, but instead of grabbing for it he maneuvered carefully to a seated position by it. Leaning his back gingerly against the bed, he blinked his eyes once more as he looked down at it. It was in the position Julie had left it. After she'd answered the wrong number. She had placed it on the floor before talking to him, before asking for the location they were going to. He drew in a deep breath as he realized that she had left without him, but he did not have time to consider it further as broken ribs protested the violent movement of the ribcage. Tendrils of fire shooting out across his side and he could do nothing but ride out the waves, swallow back the accompanying nausea and try to force his breathing to slow from the rapid panting gasps that threatened to take over.

When he could think clearly again, when the pain wasn't wiping all thoughts, he gently probed the region where his ribs had been cracked. Somehow he'd done more damage, they were broken now, he was sure of it. It must have been when he'd fallen. Julie was helping him to the car and he'd fallen.

She tripped you.

The stray thought barely registered. He dismissed it. He'd fallen, she'd decided to go without him, or she'd gone for help.

She didn't want you with her. She tripped you.

He dismissed it again. There was no way that she could know where he'd sent the package. She needed him to find where it was. It didn't make any sense that he had done anything other than fallen, besides she'd asked for his help. It just didn't make sense that she would hurt him.

He turned his attention back to the cell phone, picking it up he checked the missed call number. It wasn't one he recognized. Curious since this was the phone he had supplied her with, an old one with no GPS chip so that it couldn't be traced so easily. He checked back through the phone's memory. The number had called this phone five times in the last few days. He stared for a moment more. It was the only number that had called this phone today. So it couldn't have been a wrong number. She'd known who'd called. He checked again, whoever it was had left a voicemail message. He hit the button that would take him there.

NCISNCIS

Julie tried to control her speed as she headed out of the city. The last thing she needed was to be pulled over. She'd cleaned off most of the blood but she'd only managed to find a loose sweater to fit her, nothing to replace her skirt, which was still splattered in patterns of an unmistakable coppery red. As were her shoes, damn, she was annoyed about that. She really liked those shoes and they were ruined now. Why hadn't she remembered to take them off? She hit the steering wheel in frustration.

She couldn't believe that she still didn't have the package, her package; it was like the whole world was conspiring against her. She hadn't believed that she was wrong about Jason Black. Not until that last moment, as he drew in those last gurgling breaths. She'd looked into his eyes and realized that he didn't have it. Tony hadn't sent it to him. Damn Tony, she hit the steering wheel again. Why hadn't she brought him with her? She had just left him on the floor. In her eagerness to get to her package, she had just left him there. Damn him, if she'd brought him he could have told her where it was. Now she had to go all the back to that godforsaken cabin, but this time he would tell her. No more tricks, no more asking for help. This time he would tell her.

NCISNCIS

"So, bottom line," Gibbs asked, as they emerged into the sunshine. "What is this all about?"

"You're so sure your Dinozzo's incorruptible."

"Yes."

"Then why is he involved?"

Gibbs swallowed, a little uncomfortable with his answer. "For love."

Fornell stopped and looked at him for a moment. "Love?"

Gibbs nodded.

"I suppose it does fit his character a little better than money." Fornell conceded

"How much money?"

"100 million in uncut diamonds."