Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.
NOT BETA'D, EACH AND EVERY MISTAKE IS MINE.
Warnings: same as Chapter One
To disgruntled guest reviewer: growing up is hard to do and besides my motto is live a little, have some fun.
DETERMINED TO HOLD
Chapter Fifteen, Ringing revelations
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Gibbs and DiNozzo left Jorge Carlson in the hospital with the promise that his wife and mother would be released from protective custody and brought to see him as soon as the ink was dry.
Back in the office that day, Gibbs was needed in MTAC. Tony quietly sat at his desk going over an addendum report on the latest case. Ziva, likewise, was engrossed in some words on her computer.
"Your father, ahh, DiNozzo Senior, is going to be transferred to county jail, Tony, ten minutes or so." McGee checked his watch. "Last chance to speak to him, if you want." Tim looked at him questionably waiting for a response.
Tony's first reaction was an emphatic, "No way in hell!"
Tim's raised eyebrow gave nothing away; it could have meant anything, surprise, distaste - the Probie was getting better at hiding his thoughts.
"But on the other hand, there is a question I've been wanting him to answer for years. Where is he?"
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"Well, well, well. You realize this is the second, no third time, you've been locked up behind bars since you've been in the area and you do know you won't be getting out this time, right? You're going to die in jail, old man. That being said, I've got a question for you."
Senior just stared at him as he sat on his cot in lockup. A dinner tray placed neatly on the floor was untouched. For the first time, Tony saw an old, defeated man slumped forward with hands clasped in his lap.
At first, Tony thought the other man would not answer he was silent for so long.
But, "what do you want?" eventually came out of Senior's mouth.
Tony stood tall and faced his enemy held behind the bars straight up. "Where is my mother's body?"
Looking genuinely shocked, Senior blinked before raising his voice. "What did you say!?" This was not what he expected.
"Where is my mother's body?" Tony repeated. "I want to bury her properly."
Senior remained seated but lost the slump. He didn't even sneer impatiently when he said, "You know exactly where your mother is buried, the cemetery and even the plot number. What are you talking about?"
"She's not there and you know it. The casket is empty of everything but rocks. Where is she?"
Tony saw the exact moment when Senior thought he should be paying utmost attention to what Tony was saying. Senior stood up and came closer to the bars and almost whispered, "She's not there? How do you know?"
Senior thought the smile Tony blessed him with was most malevolent.
"I was there, remember? Never forgot the screams and the blood."
"She was drunk, she fell down the stairs, of course there was blood, you fool!"
"Yeah, she fell down the stairs. Sure she did, right. I may have been little but I know what I saw. She was drunk but you beat her up, dragged her to her room and a few days later, she disappeared. I came home from school and she was gone."
"I told you it was very sudden, she..."
"No, it was suspicious, old man, and I remembered. When I got old enough, I had her casket dug up and opened. And believe me, when you know the right people, you can have certain things done that the authorities don't have to know about. But you know that, right? I mean, you must have paid Dr Medley a fortune, probably still paying him to keep his mouth shut. I know he had a really high class and costly prostitute mistress and a gambling habit and that's where his money went even though he had a wife and four kids he couldn't buy shoes for much less get through college.
"But anyway, I got a copy of the death certificate Dr Medley signed and surprise, 'heart failure due to accidental fall and alcoholism,' was listed as the causes of death. Explain that and why pretend the body's been buried in a certain place when it hadn't? What's that all about?"
Senior turned and walked a few steps away and remained with his back turned. "So, that's why you've hated me all these years, then, thought I killed your mother? Never would have guessed someone as weak-kneed and so lacking in brains as you and a mama's boy to boot could hold a grudge so long and act on it. Ha, ha, ha, the jokes on you, clever boy. I never cared one way or the other whether you liked me or not you were always such a pest and a nuisance but since you asked, I'll let you in on a whopper of a joke your mother and I played on you. Something to get back at you for crying for your mother ad-nauseam.
"I didn't kill your mother, boy. She walked resolutely away voluntarily and with great enthusiasm, ha, ha...for her freedom to be precise, to get away from me and obviously from you." Senior started laughing harder and didn't show signs of stopping anytime soon.
When there was a lull, Tony asked, "Well, you got your revenge against me, what else was in it for you, letting her go, I mean?" There had to be something monetary, Tony thought, the man's greed was indisputable and he was right.
"A scam, Anthony, a lucrative scam. Grow up, will you! What do you think it was about!?Money, that's what! She had to pretend to die accidentally, which meant double indemnity for me, a million dollar payoff times two for the insurance fraud. Dr Medley got fifty thousand for the death certificate and to buy his silence and I was a semi-rich man again. Your mother had all the money she inherited and she didn't want any of it, just her new dream life with her patsy lover the pool guy. So I let her go and I got millions in exchange, insurance and all her property and stocks as the grieving widower with a young son. I came away smelling like roses. So you see Anthony, of course there's no body. Your mother's walking around somewhere warm, barefoot and free with some stepbrothers and sisters you don't know about probably. She's been having the time of her life for the past thirty years and I doubt very much if she gave you even one iota of a thought in all those years."
Senior turned back around to face Tony disappointed that his cruel words hadn't had the effect of what he expected and hatefully wanted to see - devastation and loss. "Is that what you wanted to know?"
"Yeah, I guess so." Tony answered quietly. He wasn't surprised as he'd known as much after all he was a good investigator. He had just wanted it confirmed.
Tony watched as Senior sat back down on his hard cot uncaringly with apparently nothing more to say. But when Tony turned to go, Senior spoke out of the blue to give him a few parting last words as though trying to explain the unexplainable. "I would do anything for money. I deserved it, lots of it and wealth and prestige, it was my right and my nature, good or bad. What I couldn't earn, I stole, I bribed, I connived, I cheated, yeah, but I'm not down for the count yet, that'll only happen when I'm dead and gone."
And good riddance! The thought was there before Tony could bridle it.
Senior watched Tony's expression and seemed to read his thoughts. "Or maybe not," he bated sarcastically, "maybe I'll be back from the dead or maybe I'll use my 'get out of jail free' card," and he laughed.
"Come to think of it, hell probably has plenty of residents I could swindle out of... well, something, and I can always take turns haunting you for my pleasure." Tony just stared at him impassively.
Suddenly, Senior sat and slumped forward again, the joking and putdowns forgotten as though it finally dawned on him that this was the real thing. All kidding aside and there'd be no more slippery chances for him to get away. And a son who could care less.
Swindling someone? No high hopes for that anymore. Hell, he'd probably end up dying slow and ignominious locked up in his jail cell of really old age and senility and no one around who would give a damn to change his diaper more than once a day. He turned and watched his son determinedly walk away without any obvious feelings of guilt for his abandonment. The empty realism that was Senior was not often offset by truths but this time, he didn't blame the younger man. He had walked away from his son in worse ways in the past and recently without regret or conscious and what's good for the goose...well, at least goody-two-shoes Junior had picked up something useful from his old man.
Anthony DiNozzo, Sr was just too jaded to give a careful thought after so many years of not caring about his only child and it was too late to start now. But, one word of warning was not going to break his track record and it may give him some brownie points for his next life's worth in the great hell beyond. "Watch out for that hungry man-eating co-worker of yours, Junior. Beautiful Ziva is just like me and she'll rip you ear to ear when, not if, she gets the chance."
Tony didn't pause in his retreat down the corridor lined with mostly empty cells. He took note of his father's dire warning but didn't give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. He had gotten his suspicions about his mother confirmed so the information held no surprises. His parents had cheated the system and their son, gotten what they wanted out of it and gone their separate ways and to them he was just collateral damage. So be it!
That this could be, finally, what precipitated the end of his father's presence in his life for good was guiltlessly comforting, and his mother? He wouldn't go looking for her, that phase of his life was over.
Tony heard ugly laughter behind him and as the electronic clang of the closing jail door sealed the irrevocable separation of father and son for good, he didn't look back.
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"What, McGee?" Tony answered his phone as he paused before entering the stairwell on his way back to the bullpen.
"Where are you? Gibbs said to get back here ASAP." Said Tim sounding agitated.
"Gibbs doesn't say ASAP, McGee. I'll be there in five."
Tony entered the stairwell and started to ascend the stairs rapidly but he didn't get far before he found himself struggling for his breath.
Not now! Not now! Tony pleaded to his traitorous body as he tried hard to control his breathing. Panic attacks, though he would never admit out loud that he had them, and stress exacerbated his hypersensitive lungs. His pulmonary doctor and the herbalist recommended by Abby jabbered on about spasms in the bronchi and asthmatic stress and chest infections blah, blah, blah. And don't forget exhaustion and just plain bad nourishment for his asthma-like symptoms, but he only ever had them when his father came around.
His stoicism and seeming lack of hurt or any feelings were all that showed on the outside but stowed away on the inside where his figurative heart, soul and mind hid, the mental pain and distress ran deep. His parents were dead to him and he to them. But he was only human though even animals in nature had some things ingrained in them like the need for parental love and family, pack and pride.
He'd seen a documentary once when he was younger about the seven thousand miles migrant flight of an overweight godwits. Instinct, the sun and moon, gravitational pull, magnets, or just plain magic, any or all played a part in the bird arriving safely at its destination. Like the godwits, Tony had had to use his innate capacity for survival to exist on his own and he had and he would again.
He slowed down his breathing by force of will as he bent over and supported himself with his hands on knees and talked himself and his racing heart down. In the long full minutes it took to breathe easily again he got his thoughts firmly placed on the here and now, not thoughts or regrets over the past that he couldn't change anyway. Tony counted down to zero and finally could stand up straight and inhale deeply. He continued up the stairs much more slowly, like an old man, he grumped, and reached his floor.
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Six minutes and 29 seconds later, Tony arrived at the bullpen with no visible signs of anything out of place.
"You finished socializing, DiNozzo?" questioned Gibbs glaring at him impatiently.
"Wasn't socializing, Gibbs," he answered shortly, "unless you call a final showdown and last words to my father socializing."
Gibbs didn't look impressed.
"He still breathing?"
"Far as I know."
"Good. Gas the car we need to talk to Shane Ringold."
Tony didn't complain to Gibbs the taskmaster that there were attendants down in the garage whose job it was to gas the fleet of cars and all it took was a simple phone call. Or that gassing the car was a probie thing so I know I'm being punished for being a minute late.
That thought came and went and he realized he didn't care if Gibbs was annoyed or not though he did care that he hadn't been left behind. Somethings were irritants and other things earth shattering. So gassing the car was a mosquito bite compared to being wolfed down by a pack of rabid dogs, the analogy to his father apparent. Tony slipped his inhaler unobtrusively from his top desk drawer before leaving as instructed and heard low laughter coming from the vicinity of Ziva's desk.
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The ride to the Hoover building was quick and silent, until it wasn't. "You gonna use that inhaler, DiNozzo?"
"What?" Of all things for Gibbs to ask but of course he had seen the furtive movement earlier in the office. "If I need it, yeah, but I don't."
"Then why bring it? You fit for duty?"
Geez, give it a break! Biting his tongue, Tony held off from snapping back that answer out loud. "It's an empty container, Gibbs. It's been empty for a while. Empty containers are recyclable and can be returned to the pharmacy for them to deal with. Satisfied?" There, that was civil enough. Tony glanced over at Gibbs to see if he was going to be difficult but the man barely shrugged a shoulder as he stared ahead and continued driving.
They arrived without further conversation. A young junior agent at the FBI, helpful and eager, directed them to Fornell's office. Tony remembered when he use to be helpful and eager like that and felt sorry for the poor sap when his eyes were finally opened and the altruistic innocence gradually morphed into the bland suit and tie jadedness of a one-dimensional government agent. And eager to please? Yeah, that would go by the wayside quickly enough by the things he would see just doing his job.
"Fornell will be right here," the young agent said as he left the FBI agents office.
Fornell showed up a few minutes later pushing the door open with his shoulder and carrying a beverage tray and white bag with a Gourmet Donuts logo. "Help yourself," he said indicating the cups of coffee he laid on the desk. The bag was emptied on a paper plate and set on the desk also.
"Can we just get this over with, Fornell?" Surprisingly, it was Tony's impatient request not Gibbs who had a cup of strong black coffee in his hand.
"Just waiting for you, DiNozzo, hold your horses." Fornell said with raised eyebrow. "Ringold made bail, set to be released in an hour when his lawyer gets here. Good luck getting anything else outta him."
"What!" Tony paced a few steps in the small office then gave that up as he knocked into the edge of Fornell's desk and sat down in the lone visitor's chair instead.
"The only thing we've got him on is his wife's assertion that he knew things about the undercover opt our man was on in prison. He blackmailed his wife into staying with him by threatening to expose him to the kingpin inside. He, though, hasn't confirmed or denied anything and his mouthpiece is talking for him. We held him on obstruction of justice overnight but like I said bails been posted."
"Fornell, why'd you dragged us down here for if that's all you've got?" Gibbs pressed.
Fornell eyed him curiously surprised he didn't see this wasn't over yet. "What about Ringold's wife. I thought you might want to have a few words with him before he gets the idea to go after her. She told me she was through with him and either way, she wasn't going back to him. How do you think he's going to take that rejection?"
"Not well," Tony was the first to answer.
"That's what I thought. I'll take you to interrogation, you can go from there."
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Shane Ringold sat stiffly in the straight back chair in the FBI's 'best torture suite', he thought sarcastically. He would be having words with Margaret about this shortly, his incarceration and maltreatment and anything else he could blame on her. As a result, punishment would be meted out for her presumptuousness and defiance slowly and with great emphasis.
Nothing had changed and he still had a few outs he could use. For instance, it was his wife's word against his regarding what he might or might not have said or known about her previous lover's activities. More importantly, if she thought she would be leaving him to reunite with her hero lover boyfriend, it wasn't going to happen. No man would want her after a few rounds with a fist to her beautiful face. Just punishment doled out to the unfaithful bit...
The door opened interrupting his musings and dreams of revenge.
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Shane Ringold was a free man. "Take the long way to the hotel," he instructed his driver as he sat back in his luxury lined car and savored his brandy from a crystal goblet. He placed his thoughts in order; first thing, deal with his wife Margaret in a most persuasive way, she must literally feel his anger. Then, find out whatever happened to the jailbird - still playing his spy game in jail or beaten to death by another inmate, which was undeniably the best option. His spy at the FBI would know.
He laughed at the comic baboonish antics of Anthony 'Tony' DiNozzo as he tried to no avail to get him to talk along with that glaring Gibbs boss of his. What a team. Leave Margaret alone, no way! Don't leave town, laughable. Nothing they said would affect his actions.
Soon enough, they arrived at his destination. He dismissed his driver and whipped out his cell to check with his men stationed in the hotel.
"Anything going on?" he asked as he walked through the 5-star hotel lobby.
"Yes sir, your wife arrived about an hour ago alone and she hasn't come out of her suite since. Housekeeper you hired to keep an eye on her says she's been quiet but won't allow her in the room."
"Good, no mother-in-law, boyfriend, cops or lousy agents showing up?"
"No one, Mr Ringold."
Ringold issued one last order before hanging up."Meet me at the elevator with the room key."
Ringold used his illegally gotten key to enter his wife's rooms quietly. The television droned over the sound of water running in the bathroom. Compulsively, he picked up a discarded jacket lying on the sofa arm and a pair of pumps carelessly tossed on the carpet and placed them neatly in the closet. Such flagrant violations of his orders to be neat and orderly that he had drummed into her had returned. Another thing on his list of things to do to get their life together back to normal.
He fixed himself a stiff drink from the bar and found a comfortable position on the sofa to wait patiently. His wait wasn't long. The water stopped running and shortly, the bathroom door opened. Margaret stepped out clad in a wooly hotel bathrobe, slippers and a white fluffy towel wrapped around her wet hair.
"Darling." He spoke out confidently, assured of his welcome as he saw it.
He was surprised at her reaction as she didn't jump in shock or cower though she couldn't have known he was there.
"Shane. How did you get in here or even know where I was?" Her face scrunched up in that cute way she had that showed perplexity but she had responded matter-of-factly.
It dawned on him that the moment seemed awkward, stilted, but not for her. What was going on? Where was her nervousness and fear of him? And she hadn't moved from the bathroom door. Still, he persisted.
"Never mind that, sweetheart. Come say hello to me properly," he coaxed, extending his right hand out to her.
When she remained standing in place and stared unfazed back at him, his tone changed, becoming menacing. "I said come here, Margaret, now!"
A smile that was more sneer crossed her face. "Come and make me, Shane," she dared.
Was she taunting him, being coy? Taken aback, his uncontrollable fury surfaced. He threw his glass across the room, stood up and stomped to her side.
"What do you think you're doing, Margaret? Disobeying me is not an option for you...," he paused at her beguiling smile that turned his flesh cold.
"There's not going to be any proper hellos now or ever, Shane. You'll be receiving divorce papers by mail in a few days. I suggest you sign them immediately. This farce of a marriage is over and there's nothing you can do about it."
His eyes narrowed, who did she think she was talking to? "Have you forgotten I know all about your lover jailbird, Margaret? A word from me, just a word, and he'll be your dead lover."
"I think you're lying. I'm not afraid of your threats anymore. Jorge and I will be together. The FBI has assured me that..."
"The FBI, ha!"
He took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. That was his preferred prelim to greater punishment for her disobedience and things would get rougher depending on her level of resistance.
"The FBI can't do a damn thing. The minute something happens, I'll know about it! You got that?"
"You're lying..." Still holding her by one arm, he slapped her in the face before she could finish and watched her cheek turn red, her cut lip bleed and tears form in her eyes. Satisfied when she bowed her head in what he thought of as submission he reprimanded her as though she were a child.
"That's the second time you've called me a liar and you know I don't like your talking back to me. Let's get something straight, you'll never get away from me and I'll know every move that bastard makes. You think I'm dumb? That stupid clerk in the FBI Assistant Directors office is getting paid top dollar for information and she hasn't failed me yet." He knew better than to reveal his secrets but he couldn't help bragging to her as he twisted her arm behind her back and pushed her towards the bedroom.
"Now get dressed and pack your things, we're going home!"
He shoved her so hard, she tripped and went down to the carpeted floor. "A clerk, in the directors office? You've been paying her to spy, to leak information about me, about Jorge? That's how you've known...?" her voice trembled.
"Precisely, now GET DRESSED or go naked, your choice!" Drastic measures were called for as she didn't seem inclined to obey him. He leaned down where she was sprawled on the floor to grab her ankle and drag her roughly to the bedroom. His first mistake was not noticing her booted foot and clearly fully clothed body under the long encompassing bathrobe. His second was not ducking when said boot struck a fierce blow to the side of his head. He was cold-cocked no doubt about it as he went down on one knee blurry-eyed and dizzy.
He managed to get up but wished he had stayed down when what felt like a sledgehammer impacted with his rib cage and he felt ribs shift. Karate, she had used Karate on him? When had she learned Karate? He was bent over breathing heavy and managed to get his cellphone from his pocket to call his men when she used a twirl and kick maneuver and knocked the phone out of his hand breaking his wrist. He screamed and fell to the floor writhing in pain. She shoved him on his stomach and jumped on his back. When her arm slid around his neck, he knew he was a dead man.
Her chokehold was perfect. He couldn't breathe and felt his lights going out. Strangely, he could hear every word she growled. "I've been wanting to do this ever since the first time you put your filthy hands on me. You make my skin crawl. Come near me or mine again I'll kill you. Send your people after me or mine, they'll die. Sign those divorce papers, stay out of my life, you'll live. If you get to me, Jorge will torture and then kill you...!"
His hearing left after she started a list of his future torture and his consciousness faded and went out.
He gained consciousness so he wasn't dead but he was in a lot of pain. Deep male voices were what he heard first. Something about how they had gotten the evidence they needed to lock him up for years and who the traitor in the FBI was. He knew he should had kept his mouth shut. "I need an ambulance," he managed.
"Yes you do and one is on its way. After that, you'll be a privileged guest of the state of whatever prison they assign you to."
"DiNozzo, is that you?" Shane's tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth and he tried sitting up to a wave of dizziness.
"I'd stay put if I were you. You just got your ass kicked by a woman who's in the other room by the way and is deeply inclined to finish the job." Tony came closer, "Just in case that wasn't warning enough, I'm in line to help her finish the job."
Shane heard a commotion at the door, the paramedics had arrived. "Another thing, Ringold, Jorge Carlson is out of prison, his mission there is over. As soon as he's out of his hospital bed, he'll be coming for you. Do you understand jail or no jail, your days are numbered?"
Shane Ringold was a bully and a coward and a small, useless man. He gave up without a fight.
"I got it, okay, I got it! He can have her, she was a lousy wife anyway."
"Good. Take him away boys," Tony told the EMT team. The last thing he saw as he was being wheeled out was Margaret standing with DiNozzo and that beady eyed Gibbs. Her hatred and scorn were evident as she spat in his direction and gave him the finger. He closed his eyes and turned his head away as he heard DiNozzo's hateful laughter.
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Next chapter, how to deal with Ziva. Still no fan of hers, so beware Ziva fans.
