Chapter 35: Unholy Crusaders
Everyone has a breaking point.
And it actually looked like they were closing in on Gray's.
"If that's how you pay for your dope we might just be able to help you out, rat. Open you up! That's the best way to use a Taser, did you know that? Sure there isn't anything you'd like to tell us first, though? Might take you awhile, you know, afterward. To be able to say anything."
"Gibbs," Ziva hissed.
Gibbs rubbed a hand over his mouth. His agents didn't handle intake at NCIS. Then again, he was pretty sure this wasn't standard intake or interrogation practice for FBI agents, either.
"They could be bluffing," he said. Except he didn't really get a bluffing vibe from the men on the other side of the glass. "But cavity searches are common when suspects are receiving visitors or moving in and out of general population, Ziva. A Taser can be used if he resists."
"On a minor," she said flatly, and reached to the small of her back to pull her weapon, movement sharp with resolve. "Not on him. I am ending this."
She'd gotten half a step toward the door before he grabbed her arm. "You'll both get worse than a search if you kidnap a suspect, Ziva."
But Gibbs couldn't just watch it happen, either. It wasn't a real search – the agents were just trying to push a kid into breaking his silence. There was no telling how far they would go, but Gibbs suspected it would have to be damn far before this particular kid would stoop to telling them anything.
He flipped open his phone with his free hand and punched up the recent history, finally hitting the button for Kort.
"Nothing to say?" The sitting agent reached into a pocket and pulled on gloves, snapping the latex dramatically around his wrists. "Alright then. If that's what you want, rat. Put him over the table, Fred."
Gray went down hard onto the table. Kort picked up on the first ring.
"Where the hell are you?" Gibbs growled.
"An agent who can get him out is on her way. And you?" Kort was in a car, voice almost swallowed by honking noises and squealing tires.
"North Wing, Sublevel Two, Room Six. Watching the beginning of a cavity search, Kort. Not a very nice one."
Standing Agent pressed the side of Gray's face into the table, fingers digging into his cheek.
"Open wide, rat. I told you this would be good practice, didn't I?" The second agent gripped the top of Gray's head by the hair and pulled. His slender neck stretched out in a bow, jaw opened wide under the force of two men prying it apart. Two gloved fingers slipped into his mouth, moving back and forth over gums and teeth. "Now, this is the part where you swallow." Gray's body heaved as he gagged. "Good rat, just keep swallowing."
Ziva's arm jerked hard in Gibbs', dragging them both toward the door. She was moments away from attacking him, Gibbs could tell.
"Fuck!" Kort hissed. "That cannot happen Gibbs, do you understand me? Get in there and protect him like he said you would!"
Gibbs shut the phone and spun Ziva to face him. "Put your weapon away or you're not coming in with me."
She looked at him, eyes wild before she registered what he'd said, and shoved her gun back into the clip at her back. He got in her face and spoke fast. "I don't have enough pull to protect you if you pull a gun on another agent, Ziva, you got that? You're no good to me if you're locked up or suspended."
Or stripped of citizenship and deported. He'd tell her to wait in the hall if he thought there was a chance in hell she actually would. "If anyone needs to draw a weapon it's going to be me. We clear?"
She nodded frantically, not even looking at him. The first agent held Gray's shoulders to the table. The second was pulling down his pants.
Gibbs was turning to move out of the room when everything went to hell. Gray began to struggle, kicking and bucking up off the table. It was what the agents were waiting for. Gibbs slammed out of the viewing room at a run as one of them dove for the Taser. Fred looked up when the interrogation room door was thrown open, locking eyes with Gibbs, shoving the device into the small of Gray's back. Pulling the trigger.
And Gibbs had his Sig pressed to the man's temple. "Back away."
"Gibbs!" The agent jerked away from the steel pressed into his skin, the Taser in his hand falling to the floor. "What the fuck!"
Gray's shoulders twisted out of the other agent's hold, his body sliding from the table and onto the floor. He scooted quickly out from under the mens' feet, back against the far wall.
Gibbs gestured with his gun toward the opposite wall and pulled his phone yet again from his pocket. "Get up against the wall."
The agent on the other side of the table leaned forward belligerently. "What do you think – "
"I will put a bullet in you. Do you understand me?" Gibbs was calm, but his hard tone had the ring of truth to it. His reputation as a loose cannon probably helped him there. The two agents backed against the wall.
Gibbs tossed his phone to Ziva without taking his eyes off them.
"Call Fornell."
The men in front of him relaxed slightly at the familiar name of the section chief, confident he would be on their side. Or at the very least, that Gibbs wouldn't call the man down here just to watch their executions. Ziva handed the cell back to him a moment later and he pressed it against his ear. Fornell answered as the fourth ring died away.
"Gibbs. Let me guess. You've found my missing agents."
"No. But you're going to have two more wounded if you don't get down here."
There was a slamming noise in the background. The man was already moving. "Suspect has a weapon? Where are you?"
"Sublevel two, interrogation room six, and the only weapon in play is mine." Gibbs paused. "But that doesn't mean anything good for your agents, Tobias."
Fornell took a relieved breath and slowed to a jog. It was Gibbs who was off the handle, not a lunatic suspect.
On the other hand he'd known Gibbs for a lot of years, and in all that time he'd learned one thing for sure. The man wasn't prone to exaggeration. "Give me ten minutes," he snapped. He'd need to fly to get from his office in the South Wing to the pens in the North in ten minutes.
"Fornell's on his way down," Gibbs said. He holstered his gun and gestured toward the door. "You two wait for him out in the hall."
Their mouths opened, faces already red.
"Go!" Gibbs roared.
They went.
Bullies, he thought. He'd been tangling with them since the third grade, but they rarely gave him a good fight anymore. Gibbs turned around to find Gray standing again, leaning against the wall.
Gibbs stepped forward, concerned about the scraped up mess on the side of Gray's. "You –" As Gibbs' hand went up Gray's shoulder ducked low and shot forward, driving into Gibbs' abdomen, sending him back. It wouldn't have been more than a hard bump if the kid hadn't also swept a heel into the back of Gibbs' knee. His bad knee.
Gibbs smothered the instinct to launch forward and subdue, managed to keep his feet under him and stagger back into the table instead. Gray retreated into the corner and stood there, twitching, panting for breath. Watching them warily.
From the disoriented look on his face Gibbs wasn't entirely sure that the kid even recognized them. And so far, in this room, Gibbs had been all menace.
"Okay." Voice like he'd use on a spooked horse. He raised his arms slowly, palms open to show no threat, and backed away. "Ziva."
She slipped out of the loose jacket she was wearing and stepped forward, putting her body between Gray and Gibbs, holding the coat in front of her. "I would like to release your arms."
Gray focused on her and she waited patiently. Finally he nodded and she stepped forward, draping the jacket across his front, reaching down with one hand to the knife at her calf. "Lean forward a little, so that I can reach the ties," she murmured.
Gibbs watched in case the kid freaked again and attacked her. But Gray stayed calm as Ziva sawed through the cords around his wrists and slipped the tangled t-shirt down his arms. She handed it back to him and he tugged it over his head. Finally she stepped back and he pulled up his pants, trembling as he worked the zipper.
He looked more himself when his arms were free and he was dressed, some of the strain relaxing out of his face.
"Are you alright, Gray? Are you injured," Ziva whispered. He shook his head.
She looked him over, then turned back to Gibbs.
"We'll wait here for Kort," he decided.
Ziva turned again to the boy. "Sit with me," she said, and put her own back against the wall to slide to the floor, crossing her legs Indian style in front of her. Gray looked at her for a moment, still shaking minutely, and slid abruptly down next to her, drawing his knees up to his chest.
Gibbs watched from the other side of the room as she put out a hand, one the kid didn't even seem to notice. Finally she reached over and simply took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. Gibbs held his breath, but Gray just glanced down at their joined hands and back up again, fixing his eyes over Gibbs' shoulders, on the open door.
Gibbs moved to stand in it.
The two ejected FBI agents huddled at the end of the hall, turning to glare at him when he appeared in the door. One of them was already muttering into his phone.
Gibbs looked back at them nonchalantly as he pulled his own phone from his pocket. He called Vance first, thankful when it went to voicemail and he could just leave a message. A head's up.
Then he called Dinozzo. It didn't come as any surprise that his senior agent was no longer napping in Fornell's office, or any other office for that matter. Dinozzo did keep himself busy.
x
A woman in a dark, crisp suit reached them a few minutes before Fornell did. She spared the two FBI agents a glance before stepping past them and stopping in the doorway, giving Gibbs a once over.
"Agent Gibbs." He raised an eyebrow. He'd never seen this woman before. She was striking, black hair, pale skin and very cool blue eyes. She looked past him into the room, but couldn't have seen anything except the walls over his shoulders. "I believe you have one of my charges in your custody."
He folded his arms over his chest. "That so? Who would that be?"
"Alan Grayson." She smiled sweetly, at odds with those icy eyes. "A minor. My colleague assured me you would know where he is."
"Your colleague. And who are you?"
She reached into an inner pocket of the suit and pulled out a badge. "Agent Trent, ICE."
"Agent Trent, huh?"
He eyed the badge. Courtney Trent, of ICE. It was a real badge alright, and that was her picture. Cute.
Gibbs spoke over his shoulder. "Someone here to see you, says her name is Courtney Trent." Gibbs frowned a little at whoever this woman was. "That okay?"
"Yeah," Gray said hoarsely.
Kort's lady lackey glared at Gibbs as she stepped past him.
"Good to go, Grayson?"
"Yeah."
The kid's favorite word, only slightly more emphatic this time.
"Alright, let's go. Stay behind me, Gray. Agent Gibbs, if you could bring up the rear."
She was nice enough, but professional. There was no indication that she'd even met the kid before. Not one of Gray's personal contacts, then. Not like Kort.
Gibbs stepped back from the doorway so that she could sweep out of the room, Gray moving so closely behind he looked like a shadow. Gibbs and Ziva followed.
Fred and the other one stepped into their path as they walked down the hall. A few minutes without Gibbs' gun on them and they'd recollected their backbones.
The talkative one got into Lady Trent's face. "Who the hell are you?"
"Agent Trent, Immigration and Customs Enforcement. This boy is in my charge." She pulled a piece of paper from her suit. "Transfer of custody papers. ICE's jurisdiction precedes yours in this case. Unless you have credible reason to believe he has committed a crime in your jurisdiction, or that he has any knowledge of a crime in the same?"
The agent frowned, unsure of himself in the face of official looking paperwork. Gibbs rolled his eyes despite the confusion in their favor. It was amateur hour down here.
And then Fornell appeared, face like a storm. "What is going on?" It was good, Gibbs reflected, somewhere between a growl and a yell.
Ziva opened her mouth, ready to let loose. Gibbs shot out a hand and jerked her close. "No," he whispered.
Kort's lackey held up the sheaf of papers. "This boy is now in ICE's custody. You can apply for his return to FBI holding," Gibbs heard the sweet smile, "if you can manage to come up with a reason to hold him at all."
Fornell stepped forward and took the paperwork, looking it over. "Alan Grayson." He handed it back and glanced from the woman to his agents. "Does this kid have anything relevant?"
The one who wasn't Fred muttered something along the lines of, "Don't know. Wouldn't talk."
"Was he anywhere near the scene?" Fornell pressed. "Anyone place him there? Or with the gang?"
Fred shrugged.
Fornell, unimpressed, shook his head and stepped aside, addressing Lady Trent again. "Fine, take him."
The woman and Gray stepped swiftly by the men in the narrow hallway. Gibbs and Ziva moved to follow.
"Gibbs!"
He turned back to see Fornell standing next to the two seething agents, his arms held out in a What the hell?
Gibbs glanced pointedly at the junior agents. "I'll call you, Tobias. Good luck finding your people."
They practically jogged to the exit.
Kort was waiting for them in the front parking lot, leaning on an idling black Suburban. Gray crawled into the back without even looking at him. The ICE agent – or whoever she was – disappeared into the front seat.
Gibbs stopped in front of Kort and nodded to the dark tinted window. "Someone should look at his head. And his back."
Kort nodded, already moving away.
Gibbs licked his lips, feeling unsure and not liking it.
They say you know people, you know things . . .
But he was a cop now, before all, and that loyalty held true. He had to try.
"I'd like to ask him something."
Kort paused to look him over, then turned, reluctant, and rapped on the front passenger window. It slid down and the CIA agent ducked his head into it slightly, speaking to the back of the car, words too quiet to make out.
The back door popped open again, shoved just wide enough for Gray to see him.
Gibbs took a breath and settled the kid with an open, steady gaze. The one for friendly witnesses. "You know anything that might help the missing agents? Help find them?"
Gray stared at him for a long moment. For a second Gibbs thought he would get the same silent treatment as Dargas' crew.
"You think I give a fuck about those people?"
Gibbs actually winced. "Most of them aren't like those two," he waved back toward the building. "You know that."
Gray was silent, hard and cold again already, the boy who let Ziva hold his hand long gone.
"No," Gibbs said. Calm. "I don't think you care. But if you have any information I'm asking you to tell me. They have families."
Gray grabbed the handle of the door and leaned back, swinging it shut.
"Hey," Gibbs stuck out a hand to keep it open. "Your friend. The one who was sick back at the lot."
Gray stilled.
"He's at the Naval Hospital in Bethesda under the name Alan McGee. He won't be able to stay there long before the paperwork catches up to him." Gibbs released the door and stepped back. "You want help getting him into a program," he said gruffly, "give me a call."
"Hey Boss!" Tony's voice sailed over them as he trotted up behind Gibbs.
The portion of Kort's face not covered by his sunglasses grimaced, and he looked away.
"Actually that's old intel. Alan McGee's been transferred to Phoenix House, over in Arlington." Dinozzo stopped just over Gibbs' shoulder and paused to catch his breath. "It's a voluntary facility, you know, so he can leave whenever he wants. Or he can stay, till he's feeling better. Ninety days is sort of the minimum package." Tony's eyes slid over Gray's face. "Hey Smokey. How you doing?"
Gray kept his grip tight on the door. But he didn't move to pull it closed, not right away.
"If I did care I'd look in the river," he said finally, eyes settling on Gibbs. "Same place that crew usually dumps."
Gibbs frowned. If the gang had "usual" dumping grounds the FBI had definitely searched them by now -
"Course they haven't gone after anyone you'd give a rat's ass about so those bodies probably aren't on your books. Seventh District cops pulled three junkies out last spring. They'll know where to look."
"You think they're dead?" Gibbs pressed.
Gray's gaze left his, squinting instead out the car's front window. "I don't know the first goddamn thing about your precious agents," he said faintly. "But that gang hasn't left anyone who crossed them alive before. Don't know why they'd start now."
He tugged firmly on the handle then and the door of the SUV swung shut. Kort left his post next to them, striding around to climb in the back on the other side, the car pulling away instantly.
Gibbs glanced at Dinozzo. "That was fast."
Tony shrugged. "I got to know some of the ladies at Phoenix when I worked Vice. It's a good program, as far as they go. If he sticks with it."
It was an excellent program, one of the best on the East Coast. The waiting period for that place was months, if not years, and patching together enough financing for a rootless kid to be accepted there in just a few hours would take some serious red tape finesse. More finesse than Gibbs had, anyway.
"Good job, Dinozzo," he said. But this wasn't just the job, so . . . "Thanks."
Tony grinned.
Gibbs called Fornell and the FBI called the Seventh District, then put divers in the water. They found both agents a few hours later, bodies pulled from the bottom of the river.
x
Gibbs figured he would be persona non grata at the FBI building for the next . . . well, two or three years, probably. Might last right through to retirement.
So it was definitely out as a meeting place for him and Fornell the next night. Tobias proposed Gibbs' house. Then, shocked that the suggestion was shot down, his own.
Gibbs said NCIS instead, and even offered to pick up the burgers.
The office was quiet – it was Sunday, Gibbs' team finally home for a day. The overhead lights were out for the night and the lighting was dim, most of it from the glow of Gibbs' desk lamp. Fornell draped his suit jacket over Tony's empty chair and pulled it toward Gibbs' desk. "Hey, mood lighting. Romantic. Why aren't we at your house?"
Gibbs didn't say anything, busying himself with sweeping the stuff on his desk to the side, out of the way of the food.
"Let me guess. Another termite infestation."
"Something like that."
"And why aren't we at my house? Your termites catchy?"
"Could be."
"Uh huh." Tobias reached into the paper sack and pulled out a plastic tray with a burger in it, prying off the cover and taking a sniff. Alas, no onions. He passed it to Gibbs. "Mind telling me what you're into, Jethro?"
Gibbs shook his head and snagged the enormous foil packet of fries, setting it on a napkin between them. "Nothing special."
"Dargas is screaming for your head. I think he wants to put it on a pike in the lobby."
Gibbs shrugged, grinning wryly at his french fries. Pissing off Dargas was about the only thing that went right yesterday, as far as he was concerned. "He's welcome to try," he muttered. "Man's out of control. And those agents should be brought up on charges."
Wasn't the first time a few hotheaded Feds used the threat of rape to scare a minor. He knew that. But it sure as hell was the first time Gibbs had watched it happen - and the last. If they were on his team those agents would be in lockup right now. If they were lucky.
"Mmmph," Tobias said.
It was a tricky situation. Dargas was generally savvy enough to keep his people out of anything that was clearly illegal. Or at least, anything so obviously illegal it was likely to get them busted.
Fornell picked up a fry and bit off its head. "He'll be eligible for retirement in two years. They'll push him out then and break up his squad."
Gibbs shook his head.
"Yeah," Fornell said. "Trouble is he gets results, even if he does create an unholy mess along the way. Something like the way you operate actually."
Gibbs glared at him and snatched up the baggie of ketchup packets. He was no Dargas.
"Well," Fornell continued, "I appreciate you keeping the incident quiet. The agents you hijacked a suspect from are too damn embarrassed to raise much of a stink about it. You're lucky they're green. I'm not sure how much Dargas even knows." Tobias reached back into the paper sack, hoping for some stray ketchups. "Hard to tell, since his rage for you was already operating at full capacity."
The fact that it was a tip from Gibbs that cracked the search hadn't helped in the least.
"They're lucky all I did was hold a gun on them. And they're gonna wish they'd been reassigned to Juneau if Ziva ever sees either one of them again."
Fornell raised an eyebrow at the dark tone. Nothing those two agents had done was technically illegal, as far as he knew. But there'd been no camera on that interview room and he was aware he didn't have the whole story. "File a complaint and we could take disciplinary measures."
Gibbs shook his head.
Tobias eyed him over his burger. He'd been doing this long enough to sniff out a cover up. The weird thing here was that Gibbs' team was doing the covering up and not Dargas'. "Of course to lodge a complaint you'd have to give up the name of that kid," he said leadingly.
Gibbs laughed as if he'd said something hilarious. "I don't know his name."
Fornell frowned. Gibbs seemed sincere about that. But the anger at the FBI agents was personal . . . he shrugged. "Well, not much we can do about it through official channels, then."
When Tobias glanced up Gibbs was sitting back in his chair. Looking at him in that tell me your secrets I know you're holding out on me way.
Fornell sighed and finally threw him a bone. "I've got some feelers out to Internal Affairs." Which Gibbs probably already guessed. "If there'd been a stink about those two clowns the investigation into Dargas could've busted wide open. He'd of dodged it, put it all on his probies, probably gotten leeway 'cause one of his teams just lost three agents . . ." Fornell paused. "Don't ever tell anyone I told you that."
He frowned at Gibbs' little grin. So he'd known all along. Or suspected some of it at least. "Smug bastard. Now tell me why our trafficking squad even knows who you are."
Gibbs picked up his burger and took a big bite, chewing it slowly as he shrugged. "Cartel in Colombia."
Tobias almost choked on a fry.
After last spring's murder charge and then Gibbs' sudden, totally unexplained reappearance from the middle of a Reynosa kidnapping spree . . . well, he'd expected to hear something, at least, about a cartel in Mexico. How many international criminal organizations had the man managed to piss off?
No wonder they weren't eating at home.
"You don't say?" Fornell prompted. Honestly. It was like pulling teeth from a crocodile. A grumpy crocodile.
Gibbs shrugged again. "Got unfinished business."
Fornell took a long pull from his soda, studying the man across from him. "And that kid has something to do with it?"
Gibbs concentrated on his fries, picking several up and looking at them pensively for a moment. "You ever tangle with drug runners in your section? Anything international?"
Tobias narrowed his eyes at the dodge. "Not often. Interstate trafficking gets shunted to Dargas and his goon squad pretty fast. Anything national or international goes to their senior section chief. And the A-team agents," he muttered.
Gibbs nodded.
Tobias crunched through a sour pickle, studying the man across from him.
Well, what the hell. "I heard the head of the Reynosa cartel disappeared."
Gibbs investigated the little styrofoam pickle bucket for himself. "Yeah. Heard that too."
"Private plane up and vanished, apparently. Over the Caribbean. Paloma Reynosa and three of her top men on board."
Gibbs sipped his coffee silently.
How the man could wash down a perfectly good burger with coffee was beyond him.
"Just like that," Tobias said. "Poof." More sipping was the only response. That coffee must be empty by now. "It's almost like - well," he scratched his stubble thoughtfully. "Dark magic would be the - "
"We think it was a rival gang," Gibbs cut in drily.
Fornell grinned. "Not dark magic?"
Gibbs didn't deign to respond. Fair enough. Disappearing a whole planeload of people wasn't really Gibbs' style anyway.
"You know, that jet was flying awfully close to the Bermuda Triangle. Jinxed airspace," Tobias said seriously.
"Right."
"Not too far from the coast of Colombia, come to think of it."
Gibbs looked at him, then shook his head. Playing this one damn close to the vest, then.
They were quiet for a bit, munching their food steadily. But that was alright. Jethro would bring him in on it when and if Tobias could ever lend a hand with the . . . fumigating.
"Hey," Fornell said. "Did I tell you I saw Diane stalking through the Homeland Security lobby last week? Had on a little black dress, red heels, whole nine yards."
They looked at each other and grinned. A little black dress and red heels meant big game.
"I wonder who she's got her claws into over there. I thought about distributing some leaflets, you know, a warning, but then I thought – this is Homeland Security. What if whoever it is deserves her? Could be a match made in heaven!"
Gibbs chuckled, binning his empty burger wrapper, and proposed his least-favorite DHS pencil-pusher.
a/n: If I had to pick a favorite NCIS episode, Internal Affairs would be right up there at the top of my short list. So I had to give it a shout-out. Thanks for your reader shout-outs!
- From NCIS Season 5 Episode 14: Internal Affairs -
Abby: You think there's a murderer here, like, right underneath Gibbs' nose. That whatever took place took place without Gibbs knowing.
Fornell: And that could never happen.
Abby: I'm going to share a secret with you. It's a theory that I've been working on. Off the books.
(She pauses to scope out the room for surveillance.)
Okay. The man . . . is magic. Like, dark magic. He has eyes and ears everywhere. He appears like a - a mist. Whenever I get a clue he just, materializes.
Fornell: Maybe he bugged your lab.
Abby: No. I checked.
Fornell: What's that like? It sounds aggravating.
Abby: No.
Fornell: Does he ever get angry?
Abby: Never. He only uses his powers for good.
Fornell: Well. Sounds like you're a fan.