Chapter 37

Abby sat quietly aboard the 757 on it's way to Washington DC. When she woke that morning in Berlin she had found a deep red rose on the pillow near her head and a note. Her darling Gibbs had apologized for leaving her. But he had also explained: "Thinking of you going home on that plane without me I knew I couldn't watch you go. I know I am the only one who can get the information on the American contact.

Even if Sallah doesn't give me the information I know I can get it from the files in the main frame of the compound.

Please go home Ab's. I'll come to you there. Tobias is going to protect you. Anything you need, he'll help. I hope we'll all be home soon.

I love you My Girl. Know that you are my reason for living."

Abby read and re-read the note until she had the printing and the indentations in the paper memorized. Placing it back into the envelope she continued to hold it in her hand. Tears slowly slid down her cheeks unchecked.

Mike Franks stood outside the converted stables where the help lived smoking. His eyes were on the front of the castle watching for Proby. It was now the 21st of December. There was a large party going on tonight. Sallah's sycophants were all inside now. Mike spit into the snow.

There were at least 100 people in there. Their cars and limousines filled the entire courtyard. It had been Mike's job to help park them. A large number of the guests were staying at the castle tonight. Rooms had been opened, cleaned and readied that hadn't seen occupation since last years party.

The inner courtyard door opened and Proby stepped out. He lit a cigar and stood quietly smoking into the snowy night. Mike lit up himself and gazed back in Gibbs direction. He was getting antsy at this game. He didn't have a good feeling and his gut told him the gloves would be off soon. The team was equally anxious.

Étienne saw Mike's cigarette lighter as he lit up. He continued to stand for a few more minutes in the shelter of the doorway then a servant came to him.

"Monsieur Étienne, The Lady asks for you to return to the ballroom. The United States representatives have arrived."

"D'accord. Rentrez à l'intérieur." (Alright. Get back inside.)

Étienne looked up into the snow, so crystal clear in all of the spotlights and looking so lovely. His Ab's loved a good snowstorm, the kind with the large soft flakes. She loved to catch them on her tongue. He had laughed the first time he saw her do it and then she reminded him she was from New Orleans. It was still special to her. He had picked her up in his arms and dragged her to the ground in his back yard and helped her make snow angels. They had laughed and laughed, then they went inside and made love.

"Étienne? Où est vous? Oh, are you still smoking Darling? It's time to come in and greet our American guests."

Sallah stepped outside a bit and wrapped her arms around his waist. He allowed it and continued to look up.

"Oh my! It certainly is lovely out here in the snow. I think we are in for a wonderful winter. We can definitely hit the ski slopes with such an early storm! Come my Love."

"Oui Madam, as you wish." He followed her inside after putting out his cigar.

Upstairs they went into a large ballroom with tables set around a dance floor. There were huge fireplaces at either end of the room and two large Christmas trees. Ancient chandeliers hung from the smoky beamed ceiling. The only change from similar medieval decoration being the electric lights rather than candles and torches.

The people present were eating the hors-d'oeuvres and drinking. Sallah spared no expense with her liquor and foods. She was a premier hostess among the jet set. She led Étienne slowly through the crowd holding his hand and stopping for kisses to painted cheek with hello's to all. Gibbs allowed Étienne's memories to tell him who all these people were and how to greet them. It was an eclectic mix of well known celebrity, politicians and gun runners mixed with intelligence and dope dealers. He remembered other Holiday parties where he had been equally out of place without knowing why.

Knowing the 'why' of something didn't necessarily make things better. He gave lip service to those Sallah indicated, assessed the rest and noted things of importance. The party had been on for only 2 hours and there were some very drunk people here.

Étienne was in one of his tuxedo's, this one with a red waist coat over spotless embroidered white linen shirt. His tie had not been tied but left loose and the shirt was open to the second button allowing his gold and platinum rope chain to be visible. Sallah had openly admired it and Gibbs didn't bother to tell her it was a gift from Abby. Perhaps before he left he would… the thought made a ghost of a smile on his alert features.

As they moved slowly but steadily toward the far end of the room Gibbs saw their ultimate goal. Standing near the fireplace was a group of 8 people laughing and talking. Gibbs recognized only one, Director Henry Sampson of the CIA.

So, this was the American contact. He might have made the excuse that the man was here under cover, but he knew better. Sampson had met him as Gibbs. He wondered how his nemesis would react to see him here as Étienne. As Sallah pulled him up next to her she gushed to the Director.

"And here is my Beloved Étienne Henri. Étienne this is my proposed American business partner Henri Sampson." she smiled broadly at both men.

Étienne nodded and tipped his head slightly to the left and bowed slightly in respect to Sampson. He bent over Sampson's wife's hand and repeated the gestures for the other members of Sampson's party. He filed all names away for future reference. He also watched Sampson out of the corner of his eye.

Sampson had not been able to completely hide his surprise on seeing Gibbs.

Gibbs however had kept both eyes and face neutral. Sampson's response to that had been a little confused. Sampson had kept looking at Sallah who merely kept smiling at him and occasionally nodding.

"We will all have plenty of time to catch up over the next few days Henri. I promise we will all be best of amis by the time you return to les États-Unis."

"I'm going to look forward to that Sallah. I surely am."

Henry Sampson gazed in disbelief at Gibbs talking in a completely charming and warm way to his wife Bernie. She was obviously infatuated with him as were the wives of his two assistants. Sallah had told him about Gibbs brainwashing, although she called it 'reprogramming'. If it was truly this successful then it was going to be worth the millions he would pay for it in intelligence and cash.

He watched as Sallah walked over and slid her arm through Gibbs' and chattered with the women before leaving and dragging the former NCIS agent with her.

"Jesus." he muttered, "Jesus wept."

He hadn't thought of his grandmother's saying in years, but it seemed apropos at this time and place.

The party went on until the small hours. Sallah had retired with Étienne long before the last guest staggered to their room to collapse. Henry Sampson sat up long after his wife went to sleep smoking at the fireplace in their large room, watching the logs turn to embers.

He wondered how in God's name Sallah had managed this. None of Military Intelligence's or the CIA's brainwashing techniques had ever been so completely successful as to suppress a subject's basic personality. In other words a man not so intended to violence could not be made to kill. And yet… there had not been a single flicker of recognition or uneasiness in Étienne's eyes, face or body language. He would have to speak with the man to be sure though. Yes, face to face was the secret and a necessity.

Sallah had told him of her kidnapping and the planned 'reprogramming' of Special Agent LeRoy Jethro Gibbs. He honestly hadn't thought she had the balls to do it until Gibbs disappeared. When his body didn't turn up and time went by Sampson just assumed there were lots of places to 'vanish' at Shalamonte. Places where the smell of decomposition wouldn't bother anyone.

Sampson sighed and threw his cigarette butt into the embers. He rose and wished his mistress Janet was in the bed and not Bernie. There would be hell to pay once he got back as Janet had been furious at being left behind. He climbed into the bed and lay on his back trying to organize the questions he would ask Gibbs tomorrow. Gradually he dozed off.