Five FIVE Chapter Twelve - Kidnap, a ncis fanfic

Chapter 12 – Kidnap

"She's gone." Gibbs paced frantically around Fornell's office.

"What?"

"She's gone. I woke up this morning, closet is empty. SHE's GONE!!! How many times do I have to say it before someone does something around here."

"Okay, okay. Calm down. Are you sure she hasn't just gone North as usual? Tobias suggested.

"She hasn't got anything scheduled. And she doesn't take everything when she goes. No, this is different. AND DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, FORNELL."

Tobias held his hands out in submission. He recognised his friend was on a very short fuse. "So, what happened last night?" He asked cautiously.

"What makes you think ... " Gibbs stopped himself from playing their usual game. "I told her." He slumped heavily into a chair beside Fornell's desk, exhausted.

"Told her what?

"Everything. The threats from Samuel. Everett. The wedding, the trip to N'Orleans, the surveillance. All of it. And this morning she was gone. Why didn't your guys see her leave?"

"I will be asking them that exact same question when I see them. In the meantime, where is she likely to go? Boston? Philadelphia?"

Gibbs leaned forward in his chair and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "I called both offices. I called the diner, the hotel in Phillie and her apartment in Boston. Nothing." He looked Fornell in the eye. "I should have just told her from the get go and put her in a safe house. What have I done?"

"You were trying to keep her safe. We all were." Replied Tobias. "But we don't have time now for analysis. What's done is done. Now let's go find her." He took his friend by the shoulders. "And we will find her. This, I promise you, Jethro. She'll be okay."

"Boss, Boss, you won't believe where she is." A relieved and smiling Bishop met him as the elevator doors opened. She jumped onto the elevator and pressed 'Lobby'. The doors closed. "Do you remember the hotel she used to stay at when you guys first got together?"

"The Excelsior? I already checked. She's not there."

Bishop's smile got bigger. She held out a set of car keys. "No, but Moira Jameson and Ashlene Davis are ..."

The car screeched to a halt outside the hotel. Gibbs climbed out and flashed his badge quickly at the valet. He marched swiftly across the hotel lobby not feeling the need to explain his presence there. He waited for the elevator, silently fuming. Of all the stupid, pig-headed things she could do, this had to be the worst. If she was going to run why didn't she at least leave the city?

Twelfth floor. The elevator took an age. The piped music was enough to drive anyone insane. Eventually, he stood outside door 1264. Memories came flooding back. So long ago now. He knocked. He heard voices inside. Eventually, he heard the lock turn. The door stopped short on a chain. He looked up to face Moira and she was most definitely, not pleased to see him.

"Why, good afternoon, Lee-Roy," she said scathingly.

He nodded. "Moira. Let me in please." His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Anyone who didn't know him would mistake it for calm.

Moira shook her head. "You've got some nerve, Mister. There's no way I'm letting you in here. Not after what you did."

"What? I'm trying to prevent my wife from being hurt and suddenly, I'm the bad guy?"

Moira wagged an admonishing finger at him. "Don't you sass me, Son. I ain't afraid of you. I told you a long time ago that as long that as you treated my girl with respect, we would get along fine. Well you screwed that up didn't you? She has nothing to say to you Mister, and neither do I."

The door slammed in his face. There were more muffled voices inside. He toyed with the idea of kicking the door down, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to a safe house. It sure as hell, would make him feel better. He didn't think the whole 'caveman' thing would go down all that well. He smiled ruefully, to himself - Ashlene would have loved it.

Since the cat was well and truly out of the bag, he had no qualms about putting an agent at either end of the corridor and another one in the lobby. She would have to speak to him to get rid of them. And he told McGee to dust off his bell hop uniform. The next Room Service order would most definitely be his.

"Room Service," A rather uncomfortable looking bell hop in an ill fitting uniform pushed a table-clothed trolley into the suite. He smiled nervously at the woman and young girl in the room.

She walked out of the bedroom at the sound of McGee's voice. Her arms wrapped around herself protectively. She looked gaunt and tired - rather like the Boss, McGee observed. Sometimes, they were so as bad as each other! Moira was rummaging in her purse for a tip.

"Don't bother tipping him Moira, he doesn't work for the hotel. He's one of Jethro's guys."

"I'd rather think of myself as your friend," McGee replied. "I had to come here for myself and make sure you were okay. We're all really worried about you."

"He didn't send you?"

"No. This is one of my undercover alter-egos." He said as he gestured at his attire. "The others get to play international jet-setting spies, or the like. Apparently, I play Hotel Catering Staff very convincingly." He fiddled with the top button of his shirt sighing as it released itself from the buttonhole and he was able to breath comfortably again.

She walked towards him and hugged him. There was a slight sniffle. He hugged her back. She stepped away from him wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Where are my manners?" She exclaimed. "Moira, Ashlene, this is Timothy McGee - he works for Jethro."

"I bet that's a challenge," scoffed Moira, shaking his hand.

McGee laughed. "Oh, it has its moments." He agreed. "So, you must be Ashlene." Tim said to the shy girl. "I've heard a lot about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I just wish it was under better circumstances." Ashlene smiled at him behind her hand.

McGee turned back to the others. "You know," he started, "you really should be in a safe house instead of here. I'd feel a lot happier if you were."

She shook her head. "Thank you Tim, but I refuse to let Samuel OR Jethro dictate how I live."

McGee winced. "Isn't it a bit harsh grouping the two of them together like that? The Boss loves you. He is so scared for you right now. Gibbs is a lot of things, but he's not a monster. "

She fought back a sob. "I haven't decided yet. I swore no man would ever control me like that again. In some ways it's worse, at least with Samuel, I knew he was doing it."

McGee winced a second time - Perhaps he wouldn't mention this part of the conversation to Gibbs after all.

She was getting upset again - undoing all of Moira's hard work that afternoon.

"Okay, Mr. McGee. It's been very nice to meet you, but now you have to go." Moira instructed.

McGee nodded reluctantly, "Well, if you won't go to a safe house, will you at least let me check the room for bugs?"

"What? Don't be ridiculous, Son!" The old lady stood, hands on hips. McGee wondered if she'd packed her rolling pin.

"Moira, just let him. It'll take five minutes and it'll keep Jethro off his back." She waved McGee to go ahead.

"Thank you ... Ellie says 'hi' by the way. She was the one who figured out where you were. And it only took a bag and a half of corn chips."

She couldn't help but laugh. It felt good to smile. She missed her friends. They'd only been trying to help. But Jethro? Jethro had crossed a line. She felt her heart crack a little. She took in a shuddering breath. Could she ever trust him again?

McGee watched her thoughts play across her face like an old movie across a screen. He figured they were about the Boss.

He tried to lighten the mood. As he rummaged around the room he asked, "Everybody has been trying to work out how you got passed Fornell's guys the other night? He's giving them such hell about it! I think they're on filing duty for the next 150 years!"

"Oh please," she replied. "I spent years keeping out of Samuel's way. Sneaking passed those two was a piece of cake."

"Yes, but with your luggage and all?"

"I left that hidden in the back yard. Once Jethro realised I was gone, everyone went running off to find me. I knew there would be no-one at the house so I went back for my stuff. Tell Jethro he needs to make something up to tell Old Mrs. Denes - she saw me loading up a cab and crying."

McGee scoffed. "I doubt you're the first woman she's seen leaving Gibbs' place like that." He got down from the chair after checking the light fitting. He rubbed his hands to get the dust off. "Okay, you're all clear. You ladies are safe here for now."

He hugged her again, this time kissing the top of her head. "Please, promise me you'll reconsider the safe house."

"I'll think about it. Say hello to everyone. I didn't mean to get mad with them all. They were just following orders I guess."

"You know it wasn't like that. We're all very concerned with what's happening. Hey, shall I get Ellie to come by with Housekeeping? She'd love to see you."

"Maybe later. I think I want to lie down again for a while. It's all got such a mess." She rubbed a weary hand across her forehead. That was Moira's cue.

"Come on Mr. McGee, that's enough." Said Moira shepherding him towards the door.

"Okay, I'm going. I'm glad you're okay. Delilah says hi," he managed to add as the door closed in his face.

McGee stared at the door for a moment or two. Then he turned, walked to the next door down the hall, knocked and entered. On a table sat a bank of laptops. At the laptops sat Gibbs and Fornell. They looked up at him as he came into the room.

"All set?" Fornell asked.

McGee nodded then sat at the extra laptop and tapped away on the keyboard. Pictures from three separate angles of the suite next door appeared on the screens. "She's going to kill me if she realises," he complained " ... I'm already off her Christmas List."

Ashlene was bored. The sudden emergency dash to DC was exciting. Staying in a fancy-pants hotel was exciting. All the spy and security stuff was so exciting. But now? Now, days in, she was bored. Very, very bored.

According to Moira they couldn't do anything fun. They couldn't go shopping. They couldn't go out to eat. They couldn't go out at all. She couldn't call anyone. She couldn't message anyone. And all they did was a lot of talking and crying. This wasn't fun no more.

The others were having an afternoon nap. They had talked and cried long into the night. Ashlene had watched all her usual soaps - quietly. Then she flicked through a couple of magazines – quietly. She was so BORED. She stood, determinedly. That's it. She was going to do something fun. She was going to go shopping and buy something nice for everyone and cheer them all up. They couldn't keep her cooped up here in this 5 star prison forever.

The agent in the lobby spotted her. He made a phone call and then followed her out at a discreet distance. Two hours later he returned having received a boredom transplant from the teenager. Ashlene seemed suitably entertained however. She swung her shopping bags jauntily as she crossed the hotel lobby to the elevators. Wait until the others saw what she had bought for them. Now, that was going to be fun!

She returned to the twelfth floor happily humming the tune from the elevator. The corridor was crowded. It was full of very busy official looking people in various uniforms. Radios squawked. Cameras flashed. Everyone intently focussed on their duties. A gurney was being wheeled out of their room. Moira lay very still upon it.

The young girl dropped all of her shopping and ran to her friend. "Moira, my God, what happened? Moira, can you hear me? Are you okay? Moira?"

Moira had definitely had better days. When the men came, she did her best to defend herself but there was, realistically, nothing she could do. It hadn't stopped her from trying. She was very quickly knocked to the floor. She hit her head against the wall on the way down. Everything after that was a jumble of unfocused shapes and muffled sounds.

At least she'd fared better than the man in the hallway, she thought ... May he rest in peace. She grabbed Gibbs' sleeve as he tried to traverse the corridor. "I tried, Leroy. I tried to stop them."

Gibbs reached for her hand and wrapped it in both of his. He leaned in close to her ear. "Don't you worry about that," he whispered softly. "You just concentrate on getting better now. It's okay. We'll find her. Rest now." He stood. Every vertebrae creaked as the weight of the world descended upon his shoulders. He nodded to the medics and they wheeled Moira away to the waiting ambulance.

Gibbs walked into the hotel suite, all business. There had clearly been a struggle. Broken glass and furniture were strewn around. There was a bullet hole in a wall, a gun under the couch. He recognised it as the one he had bought her. He smiled ruefully - well at least she had tried to use it although she'd have been more effective throwing the damned thing at them! The gun was bagged and tagged for Abby. Worryingly, there was blood on the carpet and on the wall.

The team were fully absorbed in their tasks at hand. Samples collected, photographs taken, measurements made. They worked quickly and in earnest. None would make eye contact with him. No-one knew what to say that would help. They knew the only thing that would placate him right now, was that they did their jobs.

"What are you doing here, Jethro?" Tobias asked, perhaps a little kinder than usual. "You know you can't be here."

"I can't just sit in the office, Tobias." Replied Gibbs. He changed Fornell's train of thought by nodding towards the door. How're your guys?"

"One dead, one in surgery. These guys weren't messing around. They knew exactly where she was, they waited patiently for an opportunity - a crack in the surveillance. It was bound to happen sooner or later. None of us are perfect."

They turned at the sound of a howling banshee. Ashlene had followed Tobias into the suite. She wailed in horror as she looked around the room at the blood and the debris.

"It's my fault ain't it? 'Cos I went shopping? I showed the bad guys where we were. Oh my God. They hurt them. They hurt Moira. Are they gonna hurt her too Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs looked over at Tobias. He couldn't speak. His expression stone like as his emotions ran from fear to fury and back. The answer to all of Ashlene's questions was 'yes'. He didn't dare think about it. He didn't dare answer. He closed his eyes for a second to clear his head. Tobias stepped into the breach. He tried to calm the girl, making all the right non-committal noises. He passed her over the another agent to arrange transportation to the hospital. He would be along shortly, he promised.

In the meantime, he needed to get Gibbs away from the crime scene. He was currently kneeling on the carpet staring at the patch of blood on the floor. "Hey, Gibbs. Time to go. Come on, I'll give you a ride home."

"No." replied Gibbs as succinct as always.

Fornell could not accept that answer. "Come on. You know the rules better than anyone. You can't be here. Let's get you home. And stop looking at that will ya? It's probably not even hers."

"It's hers."

"Don't be ridiculous. How can you tell."

"It's hers. Don't ask me how I know. I just do."

"Okay, that's it. We're leaving. Come on, I'll call Emily when we get to your place. She can keep you company and out of trouble."

"How do I get out of here?" was her first thought. She hurt all over. Her mouth was sore. She had taken a solid right hook. The cheek was already swollen, her eye already closing and she was pretty sure they had broken a tooth, maybe two. She could taste blood in her mouth and her tongue caught on a sharp jagged edge that used to be smooth. She didn't know how long she'd been out. There was no way of telling.

She looked around her. It wouldn't win any awards wherever this place was. It was musty and damp - a basement maybe? The air was thick with dust and decay with a faint chemical smell. Her hands were bound behind her. She lay on a severely used mattress on the floor with one blanket and a bucket in the corner. A solitary bare light bulb hung from a cracked and cob webbed ceiling. There were no windows to offer up any clues to where she was or time of day.

The main thing was not to panic. Stay focussed - Jethro would be moving heaven and earth to find her. She didn't envy these men when he caught up with them. She had never met that part of him but she had overheard enough conversation to know that it was not pleasant. She would play her part from this side. There had to be a way out of this, right? There are always choices she told herself. She just had to figure them out.

The elevator doors opened to a chorus of, "You can't be here, Boss."

"I'm tired of that sentence." Gibbs barked, glaring at any of his team who dared to challenge him.

"It's the only one you're going to hear." Shouted Vance from the mezzanine.

Gibbs looked up. "Damn," he muttered. He didn't want to argue with Vance. Slowly, he climbed the stairs to meet the director. "I can't stay home, Leon. I can't. I can't do anything from there."

"You can stay out of the way. You can let your team do their jobs. Let Fornell work the case."

"Ah come on Leon. You must need me for something?"

"Well we could use a new mail boy." Replied his boss drolly.

Gibbs ran his hand through his hair irritably. "Leon. Please. I need to do something. I can at least co-ordinate things from here, surely? Let me be useful. I'm going crazy at home."

Vance looked at his watch as he mulled over Gibbs' request. "You couldn't have been there more than an hour."

"Just long enough to payoff my babysitter." Gibbs replied.

Vance sighed and relented - he would have done exactly the same. "Okay, for now I'll let you stay. But if you start getting in the way I'll send you home. This is Fornell and DiNozzo's case. You can stay on as an advisor - no-one knows her better than you after all."

"Thank you Leon. I owe you."

"You owe me nothing," Leon countered. He chewed on the ever present tooth pick between his teeth. He placed a reassuring hand on Gibbs' shoulder. "You did the same for me once, remember?"

Gibbs sat at his desk sorting through possible leads. The apprentice. He was sure that was the key. Everett was too old and too sick. He would need someone younger for the dirty work. What did they really know about Lomas?

He jabbed away irritably at his keyboard with the index finger of both hands; stopping occasionally to add to his note book. Gareth Lomas was a low life to the nth degree. He made a living by faking scripts, dealing narcotics and treating the injuries of other low lifes. He got caught when one of them inconveniently died on his operating table in the back room of a veterinary practice. The vet got a deal and sang like the proverbial canary.

Gibbs boggled at the verdict – Man II? Really? 12 years, out in 6. Lomas had spent half his time with dear old uncle Harry and then been moved up north to eventually join Samuel on kitchen duty. So there it was - the link, just as they had suspected.

After 6 years Lomas was allowed out. He ended up in a half way house. Gibbs picked up his creds and his gun from their desk drawer and headed for the elevator. Maybe someone there would know where he was hiding

The halfway house was a large rundown old boarding house in the wrong end of Baltimore. Unkemped men of various aged hung around the building smoking and drinking, playing cards and dominoes or lost in their own drug induced worlds aware of nothing and nowhere.

Gibbs got out of his government issue sedan that might as well have had "Cop" painted on it in letters two feet high. He opened his ID and waved it pointlessly at the group. They in turn ignored it and pretended he wasn't there.

"I'm looking for anyone that has knowledge of Gareth Lomas. He stayed here for a while," yelled Gibbs. Still, nobody said a word. Nobody moved a muscle. "Fine, where can I find the supervisor around here?" he asked. Finally, someone forgot the silent pact and pointed towards a door. Gibbs left the group to their games while he could still fight the urge to bust heads

--.

The supervisor sat in what might have been a reception office in the building's previous life. A greasy haired, overweight, stained shirt of a man in his forties. He sat typing on an old typewriter - Another parolee had gone AWOL again. His name tag read 'Kenneth'. He yawned and scratched his armpit before he noticed he had official looking company.

Gibbs held up his badge, "Gibbs. NCIS Looking for information about Gareth Mervin Lomas. He resided here about three years ago.

The greasy haired man shrugged without looking up from his paperwork. "I don't recall anyone of that name. You sure you got the right place?"

Gibbs swept an arm across the desk. The typewriter and assorted stationary and deskware landed on the floor in pieces. He slammed a photograph of Lomas in front of the suitably rattled clerk. "Try harder." He demanded. "Lomas, Gareth M."

"Oh y-yes. I, I think I recognise him now I've had a closer look. L-let me check my files." Kenneth stood and shuffled over to the filing cabinet in the corner of the room. A snowfall of pastry crumbs and powered sugar fell to the floor as he stood. Gibbs followed him and leaned close enough for the clerk to feel his breath down his neck. Kenneth trembled as he rifled through the over stuffed drawer of papers. Eventually, he lifted a file out and handed it to Gibbs.

"Now that wasn't so difficult, was it Kenneth?" Gibbs snapped at the man sarcastically. He placed the file on top of the filing cabinet and opened it. Reaching for his glasses and his pen he scribbled into his ever faithful notebook.

Lomas had stayed at the halfway house for the maximum 6 months he was allowed. In that time he had three jobs. He washed dishes at a local diner. Then he was a night security guard at a transport hub and finally at a shoe warehouse.

He moved out of the halfway and took an apartment downtown. Gibbs took down the address, closed the file and slapped it against Kenneth's stomach. He tucked a business card into the file.

"If you see or hear from Lomas you're going to call me." Kenneth nodded quickly in agreement. Gibbs continued, "And you're going to tell him that I am looking for him." Gibbs leaned in very closely to the clerk, his eyes icy blue and arctic cold. "And I won't stop until he's in the ground." He breathed barely above a whisper.

Kenneth nodded his terrified compliance, sweat dripping onto the file. "I'll be sure to pass that on if I see him, Sir." Gibbs nodded in satisfaction and left the building.

The apartment block was a nondescript cube of brick and steel nestled in amongst a half dozen others exactly the same. They surrounded a space that might have been a garden or park when this place was first designed. Maybe a kids playground and some trees. But that was back in the '80s when they'd been the height of fashion and this had been a desirable place to live. A rusted, wheel-less car, piles of trash and an old couch were all that resided there now.

Gibbs looked around for signs of civilisation. He saw no-one as he approached the stairs but he felt eyes watching him from behind window blinds and ratty drapes. A burnt out elevator meant a four storey climb to the apartment. His knee objected fiercely to the extra exercise. He knocked loudly on the door. "Gareth Lomas, NCIS please open the door. " He knocked again and waited.

A door chain rattled and a bolt slid back from the door of an adjacent apartment. An old man with scraggly white hair in a holey undershirt and shorts peaked though a gap in the doorway. A semi-toothed grin smiled at Gibbs. "He ain't there. Not him nor his pal. Haven't been for weeks now."

"Any idea where they might have gone?" Asked Gibbs as he reached into his wallet for a business card

"Dunno," said the old man. "Didn't really talk to 'em much. Maybe if I saw 'em on the stairs. Only knew his name 'cos you shouted it."

Gibbs nodded as the old guy spoke. He handed him the business card. "If you see him or his friend or hear anything about them be sure to give me a call."

"Is there a reward?" the old man asked.

"Only the gratitude of a federal agency," Gibbs replied.

"Then I won't be calling," the old man replied and slammed the door.

Gibbs sighed. A tired, world weary sigh. If the world won't help him then he must help himself. He reached into his pocket for his lock picks. Seconds later he was inside the apartment.

The first thing to hit him was the smell. The place wreaked of rotting food and sour milk. Gibbs walked towards the kitchen stepping across trash of every variety. The refrigerator has been left ajar. Everything in it was now a furry shade of green, grey or black. He pushed the door shut with his elbow to try and lessen the odour.

A layer of dust and cockroaches covered every surface. On a small kitchen table among the unwashed plates and mouldy cups was a pile of mail. Gibbs pushed the envelopes around the table with a pen to make them easier to read. Amongst the bills and junk was an opened envelop containing a pay slip - $163.72 from Wyman Workwear and Shoes. He placed the slip in an evidence bag and sealed and signed it. He walked through to the lounge. Clearly two people had been living here. A lack of feminine touches told him two men.

He continued through the apartment to the bedrooms. Both were occupied - so not lovers then. Lomas' bedroom was fairly tidy. It contained his Security guard uniforms but few other clothes. The bottom of the closet contained boxes of dressings, surgical instruments, drugs and paraphernalia. So he was back in business.

The second bedroom also contained uniforms. This time nurse/carer uniforms. Gibbs recognised the company instantly - Eden Care. The logo had been clearly visible on Everett's carer's shirt. A cold shiver shot through him. He was not dealing with one apprentice here, but two. He'd been standing right next to one of them. A name badge on the dresser caught his eye. It confirmed everything ... Roy Williams. He picked up the badge with his pen and placed it in a second evidence bag. He needed Fornell to take over now.

Tobias stood at the coffee cart leisurely stirring sugar into his latte. A second cup stood next to his. It's owner would be along shortly. Gibbs had been all business when he called. The conversation had totalled nine words.

As if from nowhere Gibbs tossed the two evidence bags next to Fornell's coffee as he took a sip of his own. The two men walked away from the cart and sat on a nearby bench. Tobias looked at the bags. "Where d'you get these?" He asked.

"Dumpster diving," replied Gibbs, his face unreadable .

"Really?" Tobias asked sarcastically. "In that suit?"

Gibbs was in no mood to play. He jabbed a finger at the bags. "There's two of them. Two. It's up to you now Tobias. You have to find them before I do."