"I believe you are correct, my love." Ziva kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear. "It just so happens I have some of those tracking dots."
Tony flinched at that. He or Ziva would have to actually touch this person to get the tracking device on him. He amended that: he would have to do it; there was too much risk of Ziva being recognized, since Eli David had been a prime target.
Just then, their wine arrived. Although a Lebanese restaurant, they had a full range of French wines. They clinked their glasses together and took healthy sips, knowing they were about to jump in feet first.
Vignette Eleven- Part Six
Ilan Bodnar slammed his fist down on the table as he read the email from Ziva. She dares to taunt him?
He started pacing, running his hand through his hair. His anger was overwhelming. He knew he had made a grave error in contacting Ziva when he was in the U.S. He should have just gone over to the apartment that they had her in.
He smirked. Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. The idiot who had killed Michael Rivkin was now harboring his lover. He had admired the way Eli had manipulated both Michael and Ziva to his own devices. He was angered the NCIS Agent had been allowed to return to America without punishment, but he did not question his Director.
That changed when he became aware of his plans with Kazmi. "Fools!" Bodnar spat. "There will never be peace between our peoples."
His goal of taking over Mossad had been thwarted. His only motivation now was to make those responsible pay for their sins. He had accomplished one goal by killing the father of Agent DiNozzo. He smiled almost maniacally. He imagined the reversal in roles: instead of Agent DiNozzo comforting Ziva during her time of loss, it was now Ziva comforting him.
He did not know what their relationship was, and he did not care. He only wanted them to suffer. He looked at the email again. "Little man"? How dare she! He, Ilan Bodnar, was afraid of nothing!
He made his decision and pick up his cell phone and spoke quickly in Hebrew.
Paris, France
Tony and Ziva ate their dinner and chatted, keeping an eye on their suspect. At one point, Tony had Ziva sit across from him, so he could take her picture.
In the background was the table their First Wave target was sitting. The table was full, four men sitting together. The other three were not listed in the database as known members of First Wave, but they could be elsewhere. Tony and Ziva would have to look at the photo and see if the other faces matched up with anyone.
Unlike the U.S., there were no smoking bans in Paris. Their man of interest, Matim Haddad, was busy puffing away on one cigarette after another. Tony decided the only way he was going to get close enough to this man to plant the disk was to somehow get him to light a cigarette for him.
Tony didn't smoke, and had no cigarettes on his person. He made a mental note to carry cigarettes and cigars from now on. Ziva was at his side again, and he pulled her close to kiss her and whisper in her ear.
"I'm going to go buy some cigarettes. Maybe I can get our friend to give me a light. Give me one of those things." Tony was referring to the tracking disk.
Ziva picked up her purse and rummaged in it and came out with some lipstick and a mirror. She had taped a small strip of the disks to the mirror. As she applied her lipstick, she looked at the dots more closely.
Each had a number assigned. She had no doubt this number had to be entered into the tracking software to activate it. She was glad the number was printed on the sheet above the dot, so there would be no question which number to use.
She gave Tony her mirror, on the pretense of checking his hair. As he held the mirror, he placed one of his fingertips on top of a disk. It immediately removed itself from the sheet.
Ziva took her mirror back and kissed him. "Be careful; do not accidently place the disk on yourself." She pulled back and laughed. Tony laughed with her.
"Boy, that would be stupid. Ok, here I go." Tony kissed her again, a quick peck and stood up. He made his way to the cashier and was relieved to see that they did sell cigarettes. He bought a pack of Gauloises, a strong French brand. He looked back and was gratified to see that their target was heading to the men's room.
Tony stationed himself outside the door, holding his cigarette and slapping his coat and pants pockets. "Bloody Hell!" He said distractedly as Haddad approached the bathroom entrance. He looked up.
"I say, do you have a light? I seem to have lost my lighter, which is indeed a bit of sad news as it was a gift from my wife." Tony looked very unhappy, a stiff upper-class Brit about to get in trouble with the Missus.
Haddad did not seem surprised to be asked for a light and pulled out his lighter. Tony placed the cigarette in his mouth and cupped Haddad's hands as he lit it for him. Tony only had to briefly brush his finger against Haddad's skin. He could feel the disk fall away from his finger, knowing it had absorbed into his target's skin.
If Haddad was aware of the assault, he showed no concern. Tony took a drag, almost dying from the strong tobacco, but hid it well. "Brilliant! My thanks, friend. You have saved my life."
Haddad smiled. "You are welcome. Excuse me."
Tony looked at the door in feigned surprise. "Oh, yes of'course. I beg your pardon!" Tony quickly left the hallway and went outside.
He moved away from the entrance so he could gag and cough in private. "Who could ever smoke these things?" He asked himself. He let the cigarette burn down to over half and then returned to his table.
Ziva had been waiting patiently, trying not to watch Tony as he made contact with Haddad. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him return, with the cigarette in hand.
He sat down, and put the cigarette in the ashtray and took a big sip of his wine. Ziva covered his other hand in hers. "Ok?" She whispered, stroking his hair.
"Ok." He replied. He looked at her and smiled. "Let's go, Lisa. That big bed looked very inviting."
She smiled in return and shook her head in amusement. "I am ready when you are, Thomas."
Tony stood and helped Ziva out of her chair, acting the perfect gentleman.
They paid their bill and were soon strolling back to the hotel. They took a different route, to see what else was in the neighborhood. Finally, they arrived at their destination and headed to the third floor.
Tony threw the pack of cigarettes on the table. Ziva picked them up in surprise. "You had to buy probably the strongest cigarettes on the planet, except maybe for Egyptian cigarettes." She teased him.
"Did he suspect anything?" She looked worried.
Tony shook his head. "No, it was surprisingly easy. Once I touched his skin the disk immediately dissolve and the cover fell away. Two seconds, if that? It was unreal. We need to call this in."
Tony grabbed their newest burn phone, which already had the number placed in the contacts list. He located the number and pressed send.
"Oui." A voice responded.
"This is 'Dove'." Tony said, still in his British Accent.
"Go ahead."
"Matim Haddad, First Wave, disk number AB60748. We have photo of suspect for ID, please advise method to send."
D'Arcy smiled. This was working out better than he expected. He gave them a secure email to send the photo to using the iPad. He explained an email address had been set up for them to use for this purpose.
Ziva pulled out the iPad and opened the email browser. Sure enough, it was already set up with an account.
"Understood." Tony answered and hung up. He removed the SD card from the phone and inserted it into the iPad. It immediately sensed the card and downloaded the photo.
Ziva opened up the photo and began to crop herself out of the picture, so that only the table with Haddad was visible. She saved it as "FW Haddad". She saved the original photo as "Lebanese Restaurant-Paris".
She looked at Tony. "Send them the cropped photo. I do not need to be in it. Just in case." Tony nodded, agreeing with her sentiment.
"We can send the original to McGee." She added. "I think NCIS should know what we find as well as Interpol. Not that they can do anything about it, but still…"
Tony smiled, loving the way Ziva's mind worked. "At least they'll know we are actually working and not just 'having too much fun'. Gibbs made a point to say that when I talked to them earlier."
Ziva took the burn phone from Tony and proceeded to dismantle it, crushing each of its components, and then placing the bits and pieces in a brown paper bag. Tony had already gotten their next burn phone out and added the Interpol number as he had with this phone.
"Ok, plans for tomorrow." Tony looked at Ziva. "One, we go to our hotel and check out. I think we should tell them we are leaving Paris."
Ziva nodded in agreement. "I would also like to get rid of this 'reward money'. We can put it in the safety deposit box, along with my brooch." Ziva fingered the piece of jewelry lovingly.
"Did I remember to properly thank you for this beautiful gift?" She eyed Tony.
Tony sat back in the soft arm chair and crossed his arms. "I don't think so, Dahling." He responded in his best Cary Grant imitation. "Why don't we move to the Divan?"
Ziva chuckled, remembering he had used a similar line when they were trapped in that damn box. She looked around. "I think that is a lovely idea, but we do not seem to have one, Dahling."
Tony pouted. "Well, that is a bother isn't it? I guess we'll just have to make do." He stood and swept Ziva up into his arms bridal style and carried her laughing into the bedroom.
He threw her onto the bed, and then jumped on top of her. "Tell me how you really feel." Ziva chuckled.
"Oh, I plan to show you, Ziva Lisa Paddington." Tony covered her mouth with his and slowly undressed his "wife".
Several Hours Later
Tony awoke with a start. He looked around vaguely, trying to get his bearings. He looked a Ziva, snoring contentedly as she was sprawled across most of the bed.
He smiled, memorizing again each of her curves. Groaning, he got up and got some bottled water and then settled on the couch, looking at the iPad. He'd had a nagging thought at the back of his mind and it wouldn't go away. "This was too easy."
He didn't know how much Gibbs and Vance had shared with this D'Arcy guy and Tony made it a point to double check. What were the odds that within an hour of getting an iPad with every known terrorist listed they would be sitting within ten feet of one? And not just any terrorist; but one that belonged to a group that was known to have wanted Eli David dead?
If anyone should have alarm bells going off it should be Ziva. She was the experienced undercover agent. Tony had only been undercover three times in his NCIS career, once with Ziva and all three in the U.S. He had never worked as a foreign operative, and had no major prior experience to gauge their success or lack thereof.
Tony let his gaze shift toward the bedroom. He would talk to Ziva in the morning, away from this room in case they actually did miss a bug, though he wouldn't say that to her.
The more he thought about it the more he thought they should go by their original plan and get the Hell out of Dodge. Oh, they would use all the handy weapons and tools provided to them by Interpol, but their focus needed to be on Bodnar.
He also believed they should step up their game and no longer be passive assistants but maybe actually take someone down on their own. He didn't want to think that this D'Arcy person was lying to them, but other than his word what proof did they have that Interpol actually took these people out of business?
Tony sighed. Maybe he was reading too much into this. Maybe they had just had a lucky break with the guy in the restaurant. He didn't want to waste time second guessing everything they did. He would talk to Ziva and get her take on things. He trusted her more than anyone, even possibly Gibbs, and certainly more than Vance. They didn't even know Michel D'Arcy.
"Tony?" Ziva called softly. He looked up to see her standing at the entrance to the bedroom. "Are you ok? You look worried." She curled up with him on the sofa.
He sighed. There would be no going back to sleep now. He checked his watch. Four a.m. He put his arm around her and explained what he had been thinking about. Ziva listened quietly, letting him get it all out without interrupting him or asking questions.
When he was done, she sat silent, giving his words careful thought. Finally, she spoke, softly and deliberately. "I do not think you should discount your feelings because you have less experience than I do in this theater. I take many things for granted because I have done this so often. A set of fresh eyes is essential to our success."
She took his hand and twisted his wedding band. "I too was surprised we found someone immediately, but it is not unusual. The area we are in is a prime location for recruitment, being near the University. If we had only been given the First Wave photos and then there was one sitting with us at dinner, I would have run from the place." She shifted and brought her legs up onto the sofa and tucked them underneath herself.
"But we have been given such a large amount of information; they would have to know we were looking for this particular person or that we were focused on the First Wave. It could be that we would have seen him tomorrow somewhere else around here, and I know how Gibbs feels about coincidences, but I have to think that is what we have in this case."
She took a deep breath. "Having said that, I agree with you that we really have no proof that Interpol is acting on our observations. I suggest we go back to the Antique Shop. If Favreau is still behind the counter, then we will know that D'Arcy is lying to us."
Ziva leaned back against Tony's shoulder. "And I think we should leave Paris and continue with our own plans. We can use what they have given us, but I do not think we should rely solely on this database. And I agree we may have to risk detection by acting on our own."
Tony closed his eyes at that. He really didn't want any attention drawn to Ziva if he could help it. Changing ones hairstyle and color only went so far. Ziva had been on many missions for Mossad and there were people out there who knew her, most of them of the unfriendly variety.
"Do you want some breakfast? The Farmer's market opens at six. It is five thirty now."
Tony looked at his watch again in surprise. They had been talking for an hour and a half. Tony stood up and pulled Ziva up with him. "How about a shower, then we head out. We have a lot of things to do today."
Ziva smiled and kissed him on the cheek. She was pleased that Tony was really taking an active role and not just relying on her experience to guide them, even though that had pretty much been their plan.
NCIS
Gibbs had gotten in early, around six a.m. He was anxious to hear back from Tony and Ziva, to hear what Interpol had arranged for them.
Director Vance had relied heavily on Secretary of the Navy Clayton Jarvis regarding the validity of this Michel D'Arcy person from Interpol. He had assured both Vance and Gibbs that he knew him personally and had worked with him on multiple occasions.
He was high enough in the food chain that he could make the arrangements they had requested without needing to go through channels. D'Arcy was also counting on them, that his efforts to help his friend would be mutually beneficial. It was in his best interest for Tony and Ziva to succeed, so Vance and Gibbs felt confident that he could be a trusted ally.
Gibbs rubbed his knee. It had been aching more than usual lately and he didn't like not being as close to 100% as he could be. He thought about his time in the field and started wondering if the clock was speeding up.
He shook his head. He was nowhere ready to retire. What would he do? Build more boats? He wasn't management material, at least upper management so an A.D. position was out of the question, even if he was leaning in that direction, which he wasn't.
Other than the time he quit and went to Mexico to stay with Mike Franks, Gibbs never gave any serious thought to what he would do when he actually retired. He realized, truthfully, that he never expected to "actually retire". Even if he stopped working full-time at NCIS as a Field Agent, he could still act as a consultant. He may not be able to go out in the field anymore in the next few years, but his experience was a valuable commodity.
This brought his thoughts back to his "heir apparent" Tony, and to Ziva. Whatever he thought about their feelings for each other prior to this was thrown out the window. When they came back, they would either be together, or one of them would be leaving the team. It was as simple as that.
Gibbs didn't want to lose either of them, but he knew they probably would not be able to work together if this adventure of theirs brought a rift to their professional and personal relationship. He thought briefly of Jenny and how the intermingling of the professional and emotional had been their undoing. Hence, Rule No. Twelve.
But Gibbs knew that was only because Jenny had her eyes on the prize; cohabitation with Gibbs was secondary to everything else. He knew DiNozzo would like his own team, but was content to wait for Gibbs to retire. Ziva had expressed no desire for advancement, but that didn't mean she didn't have aspirations, it only meant he wasn't aware of them.
He thought Ziva would make an excellent Assistant Director, with her background. But she was also of the same ilk as Gibbs, being too hot-tempered and blunt to be "politically correct". For that matter, Tony would also make an excellent Assistant Director and had the schmooze to pull it off.
He was pulled from his musings by his phone ringing. "Blocked Number". Gibbs smiled, wondering if their ears were burning.
Thanks as always for the great reviews, they keep me going. Work hours are being increased, so fatigue factor will impact my updates. For my new readers who don't know, I had major neck surgery in August and just returned back to work. Don't have all day every day to write my new adventures anymore.