Disclaimer: same as Chapter 1.

Author's notes:

- The landmine is inspired by the story Leap of Death (1980) of a series of French-Belgian comic books named Jess Long, FBI agent, created in 1969 by Arthur Piroton (1931-1996) and Maurice Tillieux (1922-1978). I apologize for any inaccuracies, since I know next to nothing about the army or weapons.

- Details about Humvees come from Wikipedia.

- 'Lullaby' is a song by British rock band The Cure from their album Show (1993).

- Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004) is the third movie of the Harry Potter franchise.

- Citizen Kane (1941) is an American film, directed by and starring Orson Welles (1915-1985).

- To Earthdragon: your fears are justified! ;o)

- To PJ from Germany: Guten Tag! Thank you for your kind review!

- To None: a confrontation between Abby and Ziva will make some fur to fly in the air, for certain.

- To Sprouthater: I hope this new chapter will meet your expectations.

- To Prairiecitygirl: Hello! It's nice to hear from you again. Jimmy should not be taken for granted, either!

Chapter 36: A detection

Meanwhile, in the desert...

Beep... Beep... Beep...

Tim McGee had his eyes riveted to the laptop's screen, completely oblivious to his surroundings. He was back-seating in a High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle - Humvee for short - and Corporal Roberts was driving it, just like they have previously done for The Watcher's dry run at ISAF but this time they were not alone: two soldiers were accompanying them and four other men were following them in another vehicle. Today was a test of The Watcher in desert country, patrolling an area which was supposed to be calm but, like General Stephenson had said, in war-torn countries there was nothing as such as 'completely safe areas' and soldiers had to be heavily armed at all times.

The General had agreed to let Tim run tests in the desert since the program needed to prove its worth in real combat conditions; Stephenson knew The Watcher had to be tried over and over again before it could be considered as part of the US forces equipment of war; for instance, it could be installed in ZEUS-HLON vehicles to improve detection of surface mines or improvised explosive devices and then, once found, they would be destroyed by the solid-state laser sported of those special Humvees. But for Stephenson, sending McGee in the desert had felt like placing his son's head on the chopping block. He had grown increasingly attached to Tim, whose brilliance and dedication were similar to his beloved Christopher's, and the very idea of the young man being hurt in an attack was simply unbearable; however, McGee's strong sense of duty – quite incredible for a civilian – plus the secrecy about The Watcher would have made him refuse to be replaced by another computer tech during those desert runs. The Watcher was McGee's baby and he would rather swallow dishwater than let a person being put in danger in his stead.

Consequently, Stephenson had very carefully sieved the men accompa)nying McGee on this desert test: Corporal Roberts, of course, McGee's designated chauffeur and unofficial guardian angel; Private Winter, a man who had distinguished himself for his quick thinking in ambushes; EOD1 (EWS) Spikerman, Petty Officer First Class and senior technician of the Explosive Ordnance Disposal division, an ace in neutralizing landmines. In the other car were Sergeant Raff (a man who never second-guessed the General), Private Fredericks (recently decorated for bravery), field doctor Lieutenant Lay (a cool head under fire) and Private Emerson (a bright, eager young lad): all good men who trusted the General unconditionally and when Stephenson had sworn them to silence about the future outcome of this peculiar patrol mission, they all obeyed without discussion..

Beep... Beep... Beep...

Being accepted right away had been a nice change for Tim; he could not deny having been a tad worried at the thought of going with soldiers out in the desert, with only Roberts knowing about his lack of military training. Not that Tim feared enemy attacks – he was a courageous man, proficient with a SIG Sauer and the Dark Dove was nestled against his chest – but he was wary of mocking comments out in the field, like the ones he had endured since he had started working for NCIS. But astonishingly, the men had not exchanged knowing glances or whispered after Corporal Roberts had said Lieutenant McGee of Finance Corps would go with them on patrol duty; at first, Tim had suspected they had been warned beforehand of the presence of a tag-along amongst their crowd but one reassuring wink from Roberts had made him realize it had not been the case. Sergeant Raff, Lieutenant Lay, EOD1 Spikerman and the privates were not the kind to waste time speculating about an accounting Lieutenant's worthiness on patrol duty. Besides, they were bound to keep a sharp lookout at their immediate surroundings as the Humvees were driven on bumpy dirt roads and it was not the place for gossiping or boasting. The men were concentrated on spotting the tiniest signs of enemy activity and, in spite of danger, Tim appreciated being in company of professionals focused on their duties instead of giving Hell to newbies.

Beep... Beep... Beep...

The Watcher was screening the vicinity and so far, after having driven fifteen miles from the base, it could not detect any suspicious item buried under the road. The program had detected handguns and rifles while crossing Kabul, but every time it had been identified as weapons used by the Afghan police and army, or Jezail muskets sported by local tribes' leaders. After the Humvees had gotten out of Kabul, The Watcher had remained quiet apart from the rhythmic sound of its radar detecting mountains, roads and an occasional shepherd.

On the passenger's side, Private Winter had barely raised an eyebrow at the sight of the laptop resting on the Finance Corps officer before resuming his attention to their surroundings. Spikerman, seated next to McGee, was occasionally glancing at the computer as the technician in him could not help but be fascinated by the images displayed on the screen. However, he did not dare to talk; from the look of concentration on the Lieutenant's face, it was obvious the man would not hear if someone asked a question.

Roberts looked in the rear-view mirror and indeed, McGee was staring statue-like to his laptop's screen. Probably because he was soaking up like a sponge the data collected by his program but, as long as the radar was not picking up anything dangerous, it meant they could carry on patrolling safely.

Beep... Beep... Beep... Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep!

"Roberts, stop!" exclaimed Tim.

The Corporal slammed on the brakes and the Humvee came to an abrupt halt, immediately imitated by the vehicle driven by Private Fredericks, behind. Winter grabbed at his weapon, imitated by Spikerman while Roberts turned about and asked:

"What's happening, Lieutenant?"

"I've detected something… It is buried at about a hundred yards ahead of us. It is round in shape, with explosive materials inside the casing... There are two antennas… No, two hooks on top of it and it's buried in a shallow hole in the ground... The hooks are sticking out of the ground but but they are thin and barely visible... The casing of the item is made of... Glass? Oh my gosh!" exclaimed Tim as realization dawned on him. He exchanged a glance with Spikerman, who nodded in acknowledgement: the two men had identified the menace.

"What's going on, Lieutenant? What did you see?" asked a frantic Roberts.

"Corporal, just ahead of us there is a landmine with magnetic hooks," explained Tim. "This device was used by the Resistance during World War II and it has a very simple operating system: explosives tucked in a round glass box and the firing mechanism is triggered by hooks detecting the magnetic flux deployed by a moving vehicle."

"Like when a car's alarm is set off by a truck driving in the street?" asked Winter.

"Exactly! And then the landmine clings under the car's axle shafts by its hooks, with the motion's force unearthing the device. Seconds later, it explodes, leaving no chances for the passengers."

"I remember... After the attacks on the Humvees, the guys in charge of the investigations said they found a few shards of glass amongst the debris..." muttered Roberts.

"But why use glass? It's kinda frail material!" said Winter.

"True, but it's also cheap and easy to find," answered Spikerman, his eyes turning somber. "During World War II, the Resistance didn't have access to materials so they built explosives with whatever scrap they could find."

"My grandfather told me about this kind of explosive devices when I was a kid; he saw them being used in 1944 during his time in France. Those landmines were not exactly reliable but when they worked, they could tear apart German trucks like paper," said McGee, remembering how he listened to Grandpa's captivating stories in his grandparents' living-room while munching on Penny's cookies. His father had tried to forbid Timmy from listening to his grandfather's war experience but the elder McGee told his son in no uncertain terms to mind his own business. It had been a shock for Timmy to see his father defeated, and an even greater shock to have been defended by an adult for the first time of his young life, as it never happened at home or in school.

"Yeah, well, there's one buried in the middle of the road!" grumbled Roberts. "So what are we gonna do about it?"

"Letting me do my job?" asked a sarcastic Spikerman.

Minutes later, the senior technician of the Explosive Ordnance Disposal division was kneeling on the road, next to the exposed hooks of the landmine, in full protective gear. The two Humvees had been moved backwards at a safe distance, and placed to form a protective shield for the remaining men staying behind; their attentiveness was sharper than ever as they watched their surroundings while Spikerman took care of the landmine – even though The Watcher had detected no suspicious movement around, it was better to be safe than sorry. McGee had proposed his help to Spikerman but the EOD technician had flatly refused, saying it was quite out of the question and he did not have protection equipment for two persons, anyway.

The other soldiers had looked at the Lieutenant with rounded eyes from his suggestion, making Tim feel like a fool from his faux pas. Thus he remained behind, his laptop in hand and looking morose; Roberts tried to console him by discreetly saying:

"Don't take it badly, Lieutenant, but disarming landmines is Spikerman's specialty. Our job is to watch his back until that goddamned thing is harmless and we can go back to ISAF with all our limbs intact."

"I know, Roberts; it's just… I feel so useless standing here and watching one of our guys taking all the risks."

"I beg to differ, Sir!" protested the Corporal. "You've done more than enough; you detected the landmine in the first place with that magical computer of yours, remember? Besides, I don't see how you help Spikerman; do you have any experience with explosives?"

"A little; I've stumbled upon a few time bombs and I had to disarm them by cutting the wirings of the countdown mechanism."

"WHAT?" exclaimed Roberts, making Private Emerson crouching nearby to jump slightly.

"But I thought…. I thought you were a federal agent in civil life, Sir." said the Corporal in a lower voice.

"I am! It's just… In some cases, we investigate terrorists groups and they can leave behind explosive 'presents' in warehouses or the likes to cover their tracks; we don't always have time to call in the Bomb Squad and so we have to act swiftly to protect passersby, you see?"

Tim remembered a special case, when the team had to track down a mentally-retarded man carrying a bomb in his backpack, right in the middle of a shopping mall. The poor guy was sitting on a bench, completely oblivious of the dangerous device resting on his knees and he had to be coaxed for long, stressful minutes before he would agree to open his backpack. Then, Gibbs had ordered his subordinates to leave the area but Tony, Ziva and Tim had refused to move a muscle, out of loyalty to their Team Leader. Then, the Israeli woman had managed to disarm the explosives in the nick of time, simply by using the multi-tools of her Swiss Army knife!

Of course, the relief they had felt afterwards had been spoiled by a lousy joke from Tony, who had to make his usual wise-guy number to calm his nerves; he told the bomb-bearer that Tim had soiled himself out of fear, a calumny of the poorest taste and a deliberate denigration of the computer tech's courage. However, the innocent man had ruined Tony's moment of glory by pointing his finger at Tim before asking: "Why would he piss in his pants?" Being outsmarted by a retarded person had been the ultimate insult for Tony and he had sulked at his desk for a week. McGee had appreciated this poetic justice even though he would have preferred a word of praise from Gibbs, but it never happened.

"I had no idea… Meaning no disrespect, Sir, but I never thought being a computer ace would place you right into danger."

"Well, some time bombs' wiring is similar to computers'… You just have to cut the right wire and the whole system is shut down."

"Maybe, but computers are unlikely to explode in your face!" objected Roberts.

"You'll be surprised," answered Tim before returning his attention to the scene ahead. The EOD technician had torn off the magnetic hooks and was slowly unearthing the glass casing. Raff, Emerson, Winter and Fredericks were still on the lookout, weapons on the ready, while Lieutenant Lay watched Spikerman with a mix of apprehension and fascination on his face. Knowing the technician was so close to mortal danger would drive any sane man out of his mind, but Spikerman had been trained to deal with every sort of threats and he would not take inconsiderate risks just to show off his teammates. Disarming explosives was not a job for fools or loudmouths, and Spikerman was neither.

"The Spider-man is gonna weave its web around the bomb," whispered Emerson, making the other soldiers smile briefly.

"Spider-man?" repeated McGee.

"That's Spikerman's nickname, Sir," answered Robets. "He doesn't appreciate it too much, but it fits him like a glove. When he's on the job, he acts like a giant spider: he makes landmines harmless as if he wraps an invisible web around it, and then he drags the device home to be torn apart."

Out of the blue, the 'Lullaby' song by rock group The Cure came to Tim's mind; Abby had pestered him to listen to all her CD of this group she adored and Tim had relented until he got fed up with it – irritating Abby to no point, making her loudly state all over NCIS that he did not know anything about neither real music nor real life. Tim had not forgotten this frightening song, thought, and under this stressful situation he mentally changed the lyrics into:

"On MARPAT trousers Spider-man comes,

Softly through the shadows of the desert sun,

Stealing past the eyes of the blissfully aware,

Looking for landmines in beds of dirt, beware,

Chasing away fear from countries abroad, and suddenly!

A movement in the corner of the road!

And there's nothing the landmine can do when it realizes with fright,

The Spider-man is having it for dinner tonight."

This absurd poem made Tim chuckle lightly, and when Roberts turned interrogating eyes towards him he just whispered:

"He paralyzes its preys like a spider, that's true."

Fortunately, the disarming of the bomb went without any fatal mistake. Spikerman had cleared the dirt covering the transparent casing with a brush, made a small opening in the glass and cut the wires through the gap before extracting the landmine out of its earthen hiding place.

"It's all right, men! This thing's harmless now," announced the EOD technician as he locked the device up in a portable safe; he would hand out the box to the experts at ISAF, who would dismantle its contents and test it.

The rest of the men let out a big sigh of relief. Winter and Emerson congratulated Spikerman, who merely shrugged before placing the safe in the second Humvee's trunk. Lieutenant Lay put the unused first-aid kit back to its place, inside the first vehicle.

"Well done, Spikerman!" exclaimed Tim sincerely.

"It was an easy one, Sir – thanks to the information you gave. It was definitively a landmine with magnetic hooks, but you detected it way before the mechanism could be triggered by the metallic mass of the Humvee, so I had all the time in the world to cut off its wires. I dunno how your laptop did it to identify the device so early, Sir, but it's great!"

"And we have an intact landmine for our experts to study," added Sergeant Raff. "No doubts the boys will get some interesting info out of it… Maybe even identify the culprits!"

"Yes, as every bomber has a personal signature," said Spikerman. "The experts will dust it for fingerprints and, if we're lucky, even find DNA samples."

"No doubts the guy who is making those landmines for local warlords didn't bother to wear gloves, as he'd be certain the glass casings would shatter into a billion pieces, too little to get even a partial fingerprint. So far, we had no idea we were dealing with an 'antique' bomb model but now we know what kind of weapons the enemy is using, giving us the upper hand; the patrols will have to look for metallic hooks sticking out of the ground, as it means explosives are lying in wait," concluded Tim.

The men exchanged glances, as the implications of this discovery sank into their minds. They were quite aware of the terrible casualties suffered by troopers and civilians alike for months, ever since those landmines started to appear on Afghan roads. So far, the Coalition forces had not been able to find what kind of materials were used for those devices, making detection very difficult but Lieutenant McGee seemed to have found the solution! Had they had not been sworn to silence, they would have been in a hurry to drive back to the base and tell their buddies of the good news – but the oath Stephenson had made them take before leaving ISAF prevented them to do so. The General had made it very clear of what would happen to their careers if information was about Lieutenant McGee's work was leaked without his approval…

"Er… Well, it looks like our job here is done, Sir," said Roberts, returning to the matter at hand. "The General told us to go back to the base once we've found something interesting and I daresay we did, unless there is something else around, Sir?"

Tim opened the laptop and glanced at its screen; The Watcher had kept on working imperturbably, scrutinizing every rock, mountain and bush in the perimeter with a soft and steady "Beep... Beep... Beep…" but the data collected was related only to the weapons carried by the Marines. There were no other landmines hidden under the road as far as The Watcher could detect and the patrol had to go back to ISAF promptly to warn Stephenson about their recent discovery.

"No, Roberts, there's nothing or nobody else around. Let's go back to ISAF," said Tim.

"Right away, Sir!"

The men wasted no time turning the Humvees about to head back for Kabul. Even though he was very pleased with the results of this mission, Tim was not the kind to rest on his laurels and he stayed glued to his computer screen on the journey back, reading attentively the data provided by The Watcher and remaining on the alert at the tiniest beep coming out of the laptop's loudspeakers.

In Washington, DC…

Tony parked his car just in front of Gibbs' house and he grabbed a paper bag containing a bottle of Jack Daniel's Old No. 7 before leaving the vehicle. After the disastrous confrontation in the bullpen's elevator a week ago, the Senior Agent felt it was high time to put past differences behind and reconcile with Gibbs. The man was more than his mentor and it was only thanks to him that Tony had become a respected federal agent; otherwise, he would have remained a loudmouthed Baltimore cop with no chances to earn anything further than the grade of Sergeant, dooming him to remain under the orders of snot-nosed Lieutenants or irascible Captains.

After Gibbs had offered him to work for him at NCIS, Tony had barely believed his luck: he had asked for a transfer in another division for weeks but all his applications had been rejected, partly because of his dirty former partner but also his reputation as a loudmouthed troublemaker preceded him for miles. With a record filed with complains about his behavior at work, Tony had been seriously considering moving to another town for the third time in six years, when fate had made him arrest a man under suspicion of drug trafficking in a backstreet alley. Afterwards, his Captain had told him the guy in question was Leroy Jethro Gibbs, ex-Marine and federal agent in an undercover career. Tony had thought his career as a law enforcement officer had come to an end, since feds rarely appreciated to be mistaken for miscreants but instead of wanting him fired, Gibbs had offered the young man a future out of Baltimore and its bad memories. Tony had barely taken the time to slam down his resignation on his Captain's desk before fleeing to DC, and it had turned out to be the best decision of his life.

Sure, the road to become a federal agent had not been easy but Tony had put all into it, culminating in being promoted Senior Agent and becoming Gibbs' adopted son. He had always thought of himself as being unbeatable but this title and his mentor's affection had felt like winning the jackpot at a Las Vegas casino for Tony. After years of being overlooked by his father and criticized by his co-workers, he had earned the respect of the NCIS best agent and he was firmly resolute in keeping it.

Tony remembered in the third Harry Potter movie (he had never bothered to read the books) where a magical creature called Boggart could take the shape of what a person feared the most – in the case of Harry, it were the ghostly Dementors. But if Tony had been in the movie, his greatest fear would have taken the shape of stone-faced Gibbs saying: "You're finished, DiNozzo. I've found a better man than you to be my Senior Agent. Go back chasing low-life scum in Baltimore!"

The young man shivered slightly at the thought, and then he reasoned himself: being temporarily at odds with Gibbs did not mean he would be send back to Maryland anytime soon. Quarrels could happen within the best teams, plus he and Gibbs were both alpha males, bound to lock horns from time to time. It was the reason why Tony had come to the silver-haired man's house with a bottle and a peace offering; they needed to patch up their differences to prove to the other agents in NCIS that Team Gibbs could function even in the absence of McQuitter.

Tony climbed the front steps and opened the front door without knocking; as expected, it was unlocked so he let himself in. The house was dark, meaning Gibbs was most likely in his basement, working on a boat or drinking Bourbon. That was perfect!

With a wide grin on his face, Tony walked towards the staircase leading to the basement, guided by the light coming from down. Then, the murmur of a conversation reached the Senior Agent's ears, making him pause on the first step:

"Yeah, I know you can't tell me exactly where you are, Butler… But at least you can tell me on which continent you are, can't you?"

Tony frowned at those words; Gibbs was talking to a guy named Butler and, since no other voice than the Team Leader's was audible, it could only mean he was having a phone conversation.

"Asia? C'mon, you can do better than that… Between Middle East and Asia? I told you to not waste my time! Look, here's a simple question and you can answer it with either a 'Yes' or a 'No': are you in Afghanistan?"

The mention of that country made Tony frown deeper: why would Gibbs manifest an interest towards the place where McDeserter had gone to show off his knowledge? In spite of Gibbs' repeated reprimands, Ziva's advice and even Ducky's nuggets of wisdom, the Senior Agent had not find the courage to admit that Tim's leaving the team had been partly his fault. He still could not see how a few jokes and pranks could have hurt the man he had worked with for more than seven years. He still thought Tim was too soft, even after all this time dealing with gruesome murders, and it was his duty as Senior Agent to harass the former Probie until he would turn into what Tony called a 'perfect partner': in other terms, another DiNozzo.

"You cannot answer?... Gee, that's too bad, because I would have had a job proposal for you…. Oh, so you're in the neighborhood, right! Well, since you are supposedly not far from Kabul, then maybe you could do something for me. I'm looking for a man… Oh, ha-ha, very funny, Butler! Now, listen: according to my sources, this man is working at ISAF…. Yeah, that's right, the NATO-led security mission… No, I don't want you to infiltrate the base and kidnap the guy, good grief! In fact, I forbid you to lay a finger on this man, do you hear me?... You don't touch a hair of his head, not even on a comb or else!... Right, now that we've come to an agreement, listen carefully: I only want to know if this man is faring well…. Well, the usual stuff! If he looks healthy, he comes out of ISAF, he goes to Kabul, this kind of things… Yes, of course, it's a surveillance job! Why else would I have contacted you?... No, your bloodthirsty business is your own; I just wanna know about this man and don't tell me you're not interested in getting a bit of extra money on the sideline…. Good!... The man's name is Timothy McGee…. Describe him? Caucasian, thirty-two years old, light-brown hair, green eyes, tall, very intelligent… No, he doesn't have any specific scars or tattoos… Well, you can hang around ISAF and ask questions, dammit! It won't take too much of your time for whether nasty business you're involved in… Right… Good… Call me on this number only as soon as you have some fresh news and don't worry about the time difference, okay? Right… Bye."

Tony had a hard time believing his own ears; Gibbs was talking to a shadowy character, and had asked him to investigate about McLooser's whereabouts? All this behind Vance's back? The Director would have an apoplectic fit hearing about this! Tony knew Gibbs had met some disreputable individuals during his Marine years: mercenaries, bounty hunters, spies, turncoats to name a few, but the silver-haired man refused to talk about them – even after a lot of questions from Tony, which had earned him some hard head-slaps. In the end, the young man had thought it safer for his skull to stop prying about Gibbs' past.

So, why would Gibbs commit career suicide? Why would he disregard Vance's orders and ask a weird guy abroad to keep a close eye on McSoftie?

Lost in his thoughts, Tony let his eye wander around the living-room. He had been at Gibbs' place many times and he knew the design of this room like the back of his hand: the cathode-tube TV tucked in a corner, a real antique; the hated sofa, too lumpy and too short; the dining table, useless since Gibbs ate in his basement; the complete lack of basic comfort like cushions or rugs; the bookcase…

What?

Tony jumped on his feet at the sight: a bookcase? The living-room did not have one on his last visit! By the looks of it, it was brand-new and smelt of fresh varnish; considering his boss' love for woodworking, it was not hard to deduce Gibbs had made the piece of furniture himself but why on Earth would he build a bookcase? The Team Leader was not known for his love of reading and neither was his Senior Agent. In fact, there were only three books stored on the upper plank…

Then, Tony saw something that made his blood boil: next to the books was a framed photo…

A portrait of Tim.

McGee had his photo at the place of honor, whereas the rest of Team Gibbs' picture was relegated to the basement.

McGee had been placed above everybody in Team Gibbs.

McGee had been placed above Tony.

McGee had replaced Tony in Gibbs' affections!

Seeing red, Tony's first impulse would have been to grab the framed photo and smash it on the floor, before stomping it under his heel and only years of fearing Gibbs' wrath stopped him from committing irreversible damages. For all his bravado, Tony could not dare to destroy his boss' property but the mere sight of this photo had awakened his sense of outrage: it was not fair, it was not good! McGoogle did not have the right to be more important than Antony DiNozzo, Junior! He was the most important man, the Senior Agent, the born leader, the one who had replaced Gibbs in a snap! McGee was a computer tech, and that was final! A mere computer tech, barely able to stand his own, vaguely useful in finding data for their investigations before scrambling back behind his screen, where he belonged!

The bitter taste of jealousy filled Tony's mouth and throat; it felt as if his whole world had crashed and fell in a cloud of dust, leaving only ashes and desperation. He had been betrayed; he had been betrayed by his mentor! Gibbs was officially favoring McGee! Tony had voiced out this fact in the bullpen, just before he had a conference with his boss in the elevator, but Gibbs had brushed away his fears by stating that his Senior Agent should grow up and stop worrying about his place within the team. Tony had believed it for a moment and it had prompted him for a late evening visit with a bottle of Jack Daniel's in hand… But the whole thing had been only deception and lies. Gibbs had tricked him into believing that he was still his adopted son, while at the same time he was moving Heaven and Earth to get some news about McCheater. The hypocrite, the silver-haired hypocrite! And he had the nerve to lecture Tony, on top of everything!

Furious, the Senior Agent turned heels and left the house; since Gibbs was no longer interested in him, it was pointless to try and patch up things between them. Tony ran to his car, climbed on the driver's seat, carelessly threw the paper bag on the backseat and fired up the engine. The alcohol would not go to waste, though: Tony would drink it in front of his TV, numbing his mind with Jack Daniel's and Orson Welles' Citizen Kane!

TBC…