Day 3: CSIS Designated Facility- 20 miles outside Washington, DC, United States, 19:10 EST
"Ah, Agent Gibbs." Giguère said, looking up from his work as the team leader stepped into the lab. "You have arrived in good time; currently running tests on samples found at Camp Jefferson. Surprising so far- unlike anything I have ever seen." He inhaled audibly. "Dare I say anomaly?"
"Give it to me in English, Professor." Gibbs said somewhat tiredly. He was not in the mood for longwinded speeches- not under normal circumstances and certainly not now.
"Preliminary examination of samples from hostile civilians on base confirmed my suspicions. Significant genetic re-write was committed upon subjects; mental capacity was significantly reduced, ability to reason and rationalize was completely gone. Subjects would have had no self-control. An analogy- almost as if they had been re-wired like a computer program. No ability to make own judgments- only what has been programmed into their minds; surround, attack, kill." He paused for breath. "Slaves to their own instincts. Shadows of their former selves."
"Any ideas on how to tell who any of them were? Or if it's possible to 'un-rewrite' them?" Gibbs already had a feeling that he knew the answers to these questions but decided to ask them anyway just to be sure.
Giguère shook his head. "Non- advancement is too great for any attempt at correction. It is permanent; what has been done has been done. There is no way to undo it. Picture a dog who has been bred to fight and kill; such an animal cannot be taken into a home and be tamed. It will continue to do what it has done all its life; attack and fight to the death. It is in their mind- their instinct. That does not change easily- certainly not in situations like this. It is probable that the Blood Devils have systematically taken many civilians and altered their genetic structure- likely from areas where they will not be noticed. High intensity conflict areas perhaps- or isolated places of habitat."
"What about the Blood Devils? You got any ideas about them? Anything that can give us an edge?"
"I am currently running samples, but there is no new information as of yet. Process is complicated as you understand- details require time to be found. Still have high hopes though." He gave a nod. "Will be working on it until I am needed again."
Gibbs studied the Frenchman intently. "It probably wouldn't kill you to leave the lab every so often." He remarked. "I've never seen you eat or talk with other people."
"Nutrition requirements taken care of- no need to worry about that." Giguère responded. "Cannot afford to drop from exhaustion in the middle of a mission, n'est-ce pas? No, do not concern yourself with that. I was never one for long conversations with other people." He chuckled. "They find my way of thinking and analyzing too tedious and boring. Biological processes do not make pleasant dinner conversation. Explains lack of marriage or close relationships. Besides, priorities indicate attention to work is most critical. Hardly time for idle chatter."
"You might wanna get as much chatter in while you still can, if what I've heard about our chances of survival is right." The team leader remarked, still studying Giguère.
"Ah, yes, I heard about that. Stephanie explained to me while I was in her office just now; I had to return an expensive- what is the correct English term? Brick? No, bug. Yes, that is it; destroyed several others in this lab, but I decided to return an expensive one to her. She explained the strong probabilities of not returning alive from the mission. I acknowledged her remark, left the bug in her possession and returned here."
Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound like you're overly concerned with the possibility of dying." He said, making a mental note to ask Stephanie just why the hell there were bugs placed in the base.
"I have accomplished many things- lived a long life and served my country well, much like you, I believe. No regrets. Lack of close relationships slightly troubling perhaps, but not a significant issue. For me, work always the primary object."
"That the attitude you've had all your life?" Gibbs asked.
"For the most part. I talked about my work earlier- dangerous and complex work in the DGSE. Hardly ideal job for close relations. Secrecy needed to be preserved for both national and personal security."
He turned around and walked towards the wall opposite his work desk, placing his hands on the rail that ran that side of the room. "I… was not entirely honest about the work I did before. It was a lie of necessity as well as of other kinds. It has become necessary to- as you say- clear the air. This mission is far too important for secrets to be kept."
He paused for a moment. "Anti-terrorism work was more controversial than I originally described."
Gibbs raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "I had feeling you were keeping something back." His tone was noticeably cool. "I don't like being kept in the dark about my own team by my own team, Giguère."
"I apologize." The Frenchman replied, turning back towards Gibbs. "It was classified information, but you have earned the right to hear the full story; what happened, what I can do, what I did. I was not completely lying before, but… several details were left out.
"Extremist groups in North Africa were growing more quickly than anticipated. Militants were becoming more resilient to conventional attacks- developing serious counterattack strategies."
"Hardly surprising that they'd adapt their tactics." Gibbs remarked. "No one's gonna do the same things that got them killed the first time through."
"Militant groups rarely change as radically as in this example." The Frenchman explained. "They had adopted past merely surviving attacks- conventional warfare was no longer possible. Had progressed towards successful offensive strikes against government forces. Governments were too unstable- could not end attacks by themselves. They required assistance."
"And Paris sent its spy agency in to help protect the remnants of its old empire." Gibbs said with just a touch of sarcasm. "Help take care of the problem while ensuring that France gets something more useful than just a pat on the back and a 'thanks'."
Giguère shook his head. "Resources were hardly a necessity. Material goods were unnecessary- we had adequate resources. Security is another matter; extremist groups were in position to attack French nationals and cross the national borders. That could not be allowed- it was necessary to stop them before a certain point was reached."
He walked back to his desk. "I personally led a DGSE team; former military operatives, biologists, sociologists, experts on technology. We created a new variant of an airborne biological weapon and released it in various countries where extremist problem was growing too strong. Widespread effect significantly slowed down militant groups' ability to counterattack; it allowed local governments to take command of the situation."
Gibbs' look became even cooler as crossed his arms again. "An airborne weapon." He repeated, his tone far from friendly. "So all that talk about not experimenting with biological weapons earlier was nothing but crap. Another lie of necessity, Giguère?"
"Please Gibbs," Giguère said, sounding both a little bit exasperated and offended. "We are not talking about war crimes. It was an act that was designed to save lives. Airborne weapon was created to induce cardiac failure in affected subjects- no different than passing away in one's sleep; quick, sudden, painless. Which is more than what most of them deserved."
"And how exactly did you spread this thing?"
"Covert drops within rural and civilian areas; places where militants would accumulate in greatest numbers- Morocco, Algeria, even a test run in Syria. It was very difficult; French nationals were often scarce in such areas. The team was caught once or twice and we had to fight free." He paused for breath. "Those moments were unorganized- messy. Much better when everything went as planned."
"And you really thought this was the best option?" Gibbs asked pointedly.
"Yes!" Giguère said with a sudden renewed vigour. "We considered dozens of other options. Perhaps even more!" He began walking back and forth behind his desk. "Rejected conventional attacks that would place greater civilian numbers at risk! Avoided more high publicity attacks that would incite nationalist anger! May have prevented attacks which would have provoked a visible response from other Western countries and caused serious problems. We were not terrorists, Gibbs. We did everything to ensure the best possible outcome was achieved. The airborne weapon allowed a humane method of rapidly eliminating militant networks while reducing civilian casualties. Less militant numbers meant better opportunity for regular citizens- less chance of them becoming involved in the cross-fire. It was a suitable exchange for everyone- we benefit and they benefit!"
"Releasing a bioweapon that knowingly kills everyone including civilians is more than just protecting national security, Giguère." Gibbs said coldy. "That sounds a hell of a lot like a war crime to me. I don't like war criminals, especially those who try to justify it with something else."
Giguère's face grew cool and unfriendly. "If you do not want me on the team, you are under no obligation to bring me. I can stay here and work on information about the Blood Devils." He shook his head. "But I have no apologies. I did what was necessary then and I will do the same here. The Blood Devils are doing horrific things- we may face hard choices. I hope that you are wise enough as leader to not let a valuable opportunity slip by."
He turned his attention back to the monitor in front of him. "I must return to work. If you need me, I will be here. Free time for discussion is limited; perhaps the next time this synthesis of issue must compile? Your decision. Will continue work as necessary."
The Frenchman ceased speaking and now focused completely on the screen in front of him. Gibbs turned and walked out of the lab, his mind pondering deeply.
Since when did I become the soft one arguing against 'any means necessary'?
NCIS
"I was unaware that the Canadian intelligence agency sent its operatives on likely suicide missions." Ziva remarked to McCrae in the common room, sitting in a chair in front of a long table. "I thought that most of their job involved sitting in an office and analyzing information."
"Yeah well, we in the Great White North don't have much reason to assassinate people so we're a little rusty at this kind of thing." McCrae placed a cup of coffee in front of the former Israeli, which she gratefully accepted. He sat down beside her, clutching his own cup in his hands. "That little FLQ crisis in the sixties got all the human rights advocates and populace scared of too much government power, and all they did was suspend a few civil liberties and arrest some people."
"FLQ?"
"Quebec terrorist organization seeking to separate from the rest of the country. First real domestic terrorism we've ever had on our soil. Scared the shit outta a lot of people. We've had to tread carefully since then."
"Ah, I see." Ziva took a sip of coffee before continuing. "But that was the military taking action, yes? Not intelligence based."
"No, Canada isn't much for killing off its international enemies." McCrae chuckled. "We don't have that many enemies to speak of; very few terrorists hate Canada for simply being Canada. I doubt most of them could even point us out on a map- think we're a virtually unimportant satellite of the US. When they do focus on us, it's more out of our alliance with them and other, more powerful countries. So our bureau of assassination is getting a little dusty." He took a sip from his own cup. "Any way you look at it, CSIS doesn't have the power of the CIA… or Mossad."
"Perhaps that is a good thing. You do not have to worry about terrorism so much that you need to design your intelligence service to constantly be on alert and kill them. There is no extreme level of paranoia as there is in Israel."
"Maybe." McCrae sat back in his chair. "Doesn't mean we're incompetent or irrelevant, but sometimes I wished we'd take a more active role in hunting down the world's bad guys. Guess I got more than I bargained for, eh? We all did."
"Yes," Ziva said thoughtfully. "It is strange for me to be told I will be going on a likely suicide mission and to not feel totally isolated and emotionless. Very strange."
McCrae looked at her. "Sounds like you've had some past experience."
Ziva's face betrayed nothing except for a slight flicker in her eyes. "I… was knowingly sent on a mission in Mossad last year that had a strong possibility of my not returning. It is a risk in every mission but especially in this one. I was captured- starved, beaten and tortured for months. I had convinced myself that I would die in that dirty room in Somalia- it was one of the things that kept me from talking. I am certain I would have died there…"
"But?" McCrae prompted.
A flicker of a smile appeared on her face. "I had friends in NCIS who had not forgotten me. They had come to avenge my supposed death- Gibbs and Tony and McGee. They came to kill my alleged murderers. Instead they ended up saving my life. I will never forget that- never forget that I have true friends who are willing to risk their lives for mine, even with the smallest probability of success. That is worth more than anything my father ever gave me. Those are the friends you trust to… have your six."
McCrae smirked. "Gibbs rubbing off on you, I see. Old bastard still hasn't changed."
"I doubt an earthquake could move Gibbs."
"Damn right on that." The two sat in silence for a moment, drinking their coffee, before McCrae said, "You really believe we're walking into hell with no chance of coming back?"
"We are facing an unknown, highly advanced enemy in a location that no one has ever returned alive from." Ziva bowed her head, staring into the depths of her cup. "I will not lie to myself about being optimistic; our survival odds are very low under the circumstances. Perhaps it is easier for me to understand since I have been in situations before like this, but… it has never been anything like this. I had a feeling back in Virginia that this mission had a certain sense of finality in it for us all; I suppose this it. I will do everything I possibly can to try and not make this an exception. But," she shook her head, "I am not certain it will be enough." She looked over at him. "What do you think?"
"I'm a soldier, remember?" He gave a slight grin. "Always will be. Figure if I'm going to go out, it may as well be in battle now rather than in my bed thirty, forty years down the road. Still, if there's anything I can do to make sure that any and all of our team back home alive, I'll do it."
"Do you believe that is possible?"
"We gotta try, don't we?" McCrae said with slight vigour, downing the majority of his coffee and leaning back in his chair. He remained silent for a moment before a thoughtful look came over his face. "There has to be something we can do to increase our chances."
Ziva narrowed her eyes. "Does that mean you have an idea?"
"Maybe," The Canadian interlaced his fingers as he continued to look off thoughtfully. "But I'll have to look at it closer- see if it's even possible. No guarantee of it happening." He shrugged. "Ah well, better to try, be wrong and go down fighting than curled up scared not knowing for the rest of your life, right?"
"Indeed." Ziva agreed. "And it is better to have someone fight alongside you when you try- friends you can trust."
"Yeah- risking your life is always better when you've got something to fight for. I may not be in my prime, but I'm still a soldier. Fighting for my country, all it represents and all the good people within it. Make it a better place, right?" He mused. The Canadian turned towards Ziva. "What about you? Got anything that's especially important enough to drive you to survive this mission- or anyone?"
Ziva had fleeting image in her mind; a brief yet clear picture that pushed itself to the front. A dark handsome face with green eyes and the grin of a Cheshire cat…
Tony.
She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of coffee, her eyes in a mode of concentration. When she didn't say anything, McCrae didn't push her and instead turned and looked straight ahead, finishing the rest of his own drink.
NCIS
Day 3: CSIS Designated Facility- 20 miles outside Washington, DC, United States, 21:18 EST
"So this is what you meant when you said we were walking into hell." Tony mused as he lay on his bunk in the male crew quarters. "Waiting around for the all-mighty CSIS director to tell us when to go rushing into the unknown with a good chance of us never coming back. Gotta say, I never thought I would miss some good old fashioned paperwork."
"Look at it this way." Nigel responded as he crossed over from his own bunk across the room, having just come from the armoury. "If the odds are truly as bad as they seem, you'll never have to worry about filling in reports ever again. But if this operation succeeds, everyone- CSIS, ASIS, NCIS- all will be remembered differently and held up as heroes. All of us will be considered above the meagre task of doing paperwork." He shrugged. "Or we'll all be tried, executed or thrown into Guantanamo for some 'secret debriefing'. Either way, I doubt you'll have to worry about paperwork."
The ex-cop gave a slight chuckle. "Guess you're right." Tony turned and lay on his back staring at the ceiling. "Well, at least if I go out, I'll be sure to go out in a blaze of glory! Have to think of an appropriate movie to quote when the time comes. It'll either be in the form of famous last words or a real badass line when we come out of it alive. And of course, there are plenty of hot women that would mourn the passing of Tony DiNozzo… along with a few rare exceptions who'd be thrilled to see my obituary."
The Australian smirked. "Broke a few hearts across the country, did we mate?"
"Oh, like you're one to talk!" Tony couldn't help but grin despite the grim scenario. "I bet you left a few Aussie girls wanting your blood back home."
"Not that I know of, but that's probably a good thing. Personal relationships don't seem to work out for me, whether it's romantic or just friendly. Probably why I'm in the job that I'm in. This isn't exactly the best place to get friendly with anyone." He shook his head. "Maybe it's better that way."
"You got anyone waiting for you back home?" Tony asked.
"Nope. I'm an only child with no close extended family and no long-term relationships. Wouldn't be fair in this line of work. Suppose it's better- you can't miss what you never had, right?"
"Your family wouldn't miss you or know what you did?"
"My mum died last year- sudden stroke out of the blue. This for a woman who was healthy and active almost every day in her whole life. I barely had the time to hear about it before I was sent back out on another assignment. I hadn't talked to her for a few years before that. Think she preferred I went into law or med school instead of the military. But she respected my choice. Rarely got the chance to talk her once I was deployed. After she died, well… almost made me regret my decision. But I pushed on- fighting the good fight, right?"
"And your father?" Tony asked.
Nigel's eyes seemed to flicker for a second. "I never knew him. My mother and he were never married. The way I've heard it, he took off as soon as she told him she was pregnant. Guess he didn't think I was important enough to even know. I was slightly bitter about it as teenager- who wouldn't be? But I think I turned out right enough; my mother sure as hell worked hard enough for two parents. I wouldn't be surprised if it helped her along the way towards her stoke. Trying to keep me on the straight and narrow probably didn't help."
Tony nodded. "Definitely isn't easy to deal with that as a young kid." He said in agreement, knowing full well what it was like to grow up without a loving father.
"So as a teenager I basically told the world to go to hell and started doing everything I wanted to do." Nigel went on. "Surfing all day, partying all night and sleeping with as many girls as I damn well wanted. It all seemed like one giant blur- until I was almost snapped out of it."
Tony narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"At that point in time, I had a take-it-or-leave-it about using protection. If I had a condom on me, great. If not, I'd say 'fuck it, I'm doing it anyway'. Well, the summer when I was twenty, I heard it through the grapevine that one of the girls I'd been with a few nights earlier was HIV positive. And this had been one of the times I hadn't used protection."
Tony stared. "Damn."
"Exactly. I was scared out of my bloody mind. When I went to get tested, I nearly lost it when they told me the tests wouldn't be back for forty-eight hours. Up until that point, it was the longest forty-eight hours of my life. I think it was even worse for my mum- to see her child scared and possibly infected with a killer disease. When the results finally came back as negative, I think she actually cried. Put me off of sex for quite a while- and always used protection for when it did happen."
"At least casually, I'm sure." Tony grinned, even though in his mind he was wondering about some of his own early escapades. "You ever think of settling down?"
Nigel gave a slight chuckle. "With our odds being as low as they are, it's probably a good thing I haven't already. Being away all the time, likely won't come back alive- I'd say it's for the best. There's no guarantee I ever would anyway. It's not like I have a bunch of free time on my hands." He shook his head. "I'm in this to stop the Blood Devils and to avenge all those have been taken. Ensure Australia and every other country won't ever be threatened by them again." He looked at Tony curiously. "What about you, mate? Assuming we survive this, can you ever see yourself settling down with anyone?"
Tony was silent for a moment. "I… don't know."
Nigel chuckled and shook his head. "Don't let me rub off on you too much; there's only room for one brass, young permanent bachelor around here!"
He lay back down and closed his eyes. "Well, if you do get hitched, I get the sense she'd have be damn special to get Special Agent Tony DiNozzo to give up his womanizing and settle down for good!"
A picture pushed itself to the front of Tony's mind; a beautiful female face, smirking in a friendly teasing kind of way, with pink lips and long, raven hair…
Ziva.
"Yeah." Tony replied, staring at the ceiling. "She would be."
A/N: Love it? Hate it? Please review and give me feedback!
There's going to be more character development in the next chapter- I had to split it up so it would flow better. Please tell me what you think!
