Silent Misery R&R - Chapter 29
by HidingInSight
Using the remote, Gibbs selected one of the interrogation rooms at random. The view was of Ziva with Alejandro. His breath hitched. The camera was placed to give the viewer a wide shot of everything happening within the room. By default, it saw about a quarter of the interviewer's face, and three quarters of whoever was sitting on the other side of the table. Gibbs knew it could be zoomed and repositioned, but he wasn't confident he knew how, and wasn't inclined to do it at the moment anyway.
Gibbs stared for several minutes at the man who'd almost raped DiNozzo. Who'd stood there jacking off while Gibbs was raped. Who'd taken his pleasure at the sight and sound of Gibbs' torment. A pain shot through Gibbs' right hand and he glanced down to discover he was squeezing the remote so tightly his knuckles were white. He forced his hand to relax, set the remote on the table, and returned to staring at the screen. The bastard was in custody. Couldn't hurt anyone else. His team had done its job well, even if it had taken an FBI assist to cross the finish line. He continued to stare until he felt calm return.
Gibbs could tell Alejandro wasn't speaking, and he could tell that Ziva and the FBI agent were trying hard. He clicked the audio on briefly, just to be sure. Just his people.
Muting the sound again, Gibbs clicked over to the next camera. It was the one he was looking for. Montero was in the chair closest to the door, partially obscured by the lawyer. He was talking to McGee and another one of Fornell's feds. Talking a lot, it looked like.
For a dozen heartbeats or more, Gibbs held his breath. He felt his stomach flutter. He interlaced his fingers and squeezed his hands together. As he had with Alejandro, he stared hard at the image on the monitor. Montero was well-dressed in what even Gibbs could tell was high-end golf attire. He seemed in command of the room, brushing off his lawyer who was clearly trying to get him to shut up. Gibbs stretched his neck to one side and then the other and took measured breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. They had him. He would pay for what he'd done, to all of them. He would never hurt anyone that way again. He would never rape anyone again, at least not outside prison walls. There would be justice for everyone he'd brutalized.
It took longer this time, but Gibbs was able to recenter, to arrive at a place that while not normal, was as good as could be expected. It was almost a type of self-hypnosis: focus on a singular thought or feeling until nothing else was able to get through. Back when he used to kill people for a living, it was part of his stock-in-trade. He would sit or lie in a sniper's perch for hours or days, waiting for his shot, his entire focus on his biometrics. Back when it was routine, he could slow his heart and breathing down through sheer force of will to just what was needed to maintain clear consciousness. It wasn't at all unusual for his pulse to slow to the low 40s. In this situation, he figured anything under 80 would be reasonable. When he was as calm as he figured he was likely to get, Gibbs picked the remote off the table and brought up the volume.
He was ready for the jolt of adrenalin that hit him when he heard Montero's heavily accented voice. He was ready for the bitter taste that flooded his mouth. He was even ready for the clenching of his abdomen and a reflexive gagging that he fought hard to control.
What he wasn't ready for was the sudden, overwhelming press of fear. Even as his conscious mind tried to convince him it was ridiculous, that it was only an image, that he was in no danger, his subconscious was screaming at him to escape. Run. Flee. Before he even registered movement, he was on his feet and moving toward the door.
"No," Gibbs said aloud, and forced himself to stop. He would not run. He would not allow the panic to take over again. Standing with his back to the screen, he squeezed his free hand into a fist, clenching the remote tightly in the other, and waited. He could hear Montero's voice behind him, laughing off something McGee had said.
… yes, he'd had sex with the Navy lieutenant, but it was ridiculous to call it rape. They'd both enjoyed it very much, and if she said different, she was lying to save face ...
… why would he rape anyone? He had plenty of willing partners. If she claimed it was rape, it meant she'd been embarrassed by how much she'd enjoyed it. She might say that now, but she'd never say it in court, of that he was certain …
Without lifting his head, Gibbs slowly turned to face the screen. He backed up a few steps so he could lean against the front edge of Leon's desk. His hands were shaking and his knees were threatening to give out, but it was a small distraction. Gibbs could feel himself skirting the edges of panic as Montero continued to speak.
… did he enjoy the company of men? Why not? After all, a hole was a hole, right? And besides, men were tougher, could take it better…
… enjoying the tight ass of a young man, especially one who hadn't previously indulged in such activities, didn't make him gay. It made him a connoisseur. There was nothing better than busting the cherry of a virgin ass. Especially when the ass had to be convinced a little…
Gibbs began to breathe faster, almost panting. He pursed his lips, trying to slow it down. No threat. No danger. Just a bastard two stories down, bragging about …
… the daughter of a business associate … a very young-looking Asian woman … an older man with a sweet mouth and a tight ass who'd invited his young friend to watch …
The memory consumed him again; his knees buckled and he hit the floor, unaware he was falling. Nothing existed except the pain … the terror … the shame.
NCIS - NCIS - NCIS
"You bastard!" Fornell shouted as he grabbed Montero by the left arm, hauling him out of his chair and to the ground before either the agents or the lawyer could react. He got in one solid punch to Montero's face before McGee and Agent Young intervened. It took both of them to pull him off and to his feet, putting themselves between the downed man and the raging fed as they pushed Fornell toward the wall.
"Frank! You saw that. That animal attacked me, for no reason!" Montero shouted from the floor. He was trying to staunch a sudden rush of blood from his nose with one hand, while pointing at Fornell with the other. "I will own you for this!"
The lawyer scurried out of the range of the agents while they tried to contain Fornell. The senior agent was swinging wildly, kicking out at them, consumed by his rage. McGee tucked his shoulder into Fornell's chest and managed to force Fornell out through the still-open door. Young slammed it shut behind them, staying behind in interrogation as the two men's momentum carried them down the hall.
"Fornell! Stop it!" McGee yelled, trying to break through. When that didn't work, when Fornell twisted away, trying to get back into the room, McGee shoved him against the wall. He was taller and bigger than Fornell, but it still took some serious work to force the smaller man's hands up over his head, pinning them to the wall even as Fornell continued to fight.
"Stop it! Agent Fornell! Stop!" McGee yelled right in his face. "Gibbs wouldn't want this!" At that, Fornell seemed to freeze, then relaxed all at once. He closed his eyes, his breath heaving as he remembered his promise. McGee held his wrists for another 10 seconds until he was sure Fornell wasn't playing possum, then cautiously let him go. He took a step away, ready to intervene again.
Fornell opened his eyes. "Damn it."
"Yeah," McGee said. He paused a beat, then took a chance. "That was pretty stupid."
Fornell gave a wry half smile. "Felt pretty good though." He blew out a breath and pushed away from the wall, straightening his clothes. "Sorry about that. Gonna make it harder."
"It's okay," McGee said. "You probably beat me to it. I've heard a lot of stuff since coming here. But it's different when it's family."
Fornell nodded. Still, he'd been stupid. He couldn't imagine how he was going to explain it to Jethro if his loss of control hurt their case.
"You think he raped all those women he's talking about?" McGee asked, bringing Fornell's focus back.
"Even money," Fornell replied, then: "Wonder how young the Asian girl really was."
"The youngest victim we know of so far was 16," McGee supplied.
"Son of a bitch," Fornell said again, then sighed. "You'd better get back in there. Make nice with the lawyer."
"I will. You gonna keep watching?"
Fornell made a negative sound. "No. I've seen enough. I'm gonna take Gibbs home. Call me when it's done."
"Okay." McGee pushed the door open only as far as necessary to get through it, slipping quickly inside. Fornell heard Montero's outrage spill through and felt his anger spike again. Resolutely, he turned away.
Ziva was in the squad room with the other three FBI agents who'd come to work the suspects. Fornell gave her a questioning look.
"They refused to speak," she supplied.
"Nothing?" Fornell asked.
"Not even 'name, rank and serial number'," one of the men added.
"We believe they are under orders," Ziva said.
"Yeah. Where's Gibbs?" Fornell asked her.
"He is not here," she answered. "I thought he was with you."
"I left him here." He glanced at his watch. "Over an hour ago."
"Perhaps he went home."
Fornell shook his head. "Not a chance. He was waiting. And he didn't drive here." Fornell reached for his phone, and his fingers brushed Gibbs' cell. Right where he'd put it when they were in the bathroom.
"He might have gone for coffee," Ziva suggested.
"Maybe," Fornell said. He turned to his agents. "You're done. Thanks."
The three men cleared out quickly. After all, it was Sunday and they all had to be back at work in the morning. Fornell sat at Gibbs' desk. Ziva returned to working on her report of the day's events.
After a few minutes, Fornell stood again. "I'm gonna look for him. If he shows up, keep him here."
Fornell rode up to the top floor and started with the break room. The coffeemaker was on, the pot about half full. With almost no one else in the building, it was more than reasonable to assume Jethro had been here. But where was he now? Fornell couldn't imagine why he would've left the building if he didn't need coffee. He had to be here somewhere.
He checked the conference room and the men's room. No Jethro. He might be in MTAC, but Fornell knew better than to knock on that door. Bad things happened when uninvited people sought entry to the secure room. Descending to the squad room level, he checked the men's room there, then went down the hall past the interrogation rooms. Fornell poked his head into each of the observation rooms in turn. He opened the door to Two only far enough to see that no one was there, then firmly closed the door without even glancing at the glass. He rode the back elevator past the public ground floor down to the first basement and Abby's lab, knocking on the locked door and calling out. No response. The armory and evidence garage were similarly locked and apparently empty. He checked the gym and locker room before dropping one more level to autopsy. No Jethro. Where the hell was he?
Hoping maybe Gibbs had come back, he returned to the squad room. No such luck. Ziva looked up, frowning. "Did you try to call him?" she asked.
Fornell gave her a look. "I've got his phone."
"Why?"
He shook his head. "Call MTAC, see if he's in there."
Ziva did. She spoke briefly to someone and hung up. "He has not returned there since you left."
"Where the hell are you?" Fornell said aloud. It wouldn't be like Jethro to just walk away. Especially not on this.
Another five minutes passed before Fornell broke the silence. "You have Vance's number?"
Ziva nodded and pulled out her phone, reading it off to him. He used Gibbs' desk phone to call. When the director came on, and after Fornell clarified it wasn't Gibbs calling, Fornell asked if maybe he'd heard from his senior agent. No, not since he'd left Gibbs' house this morning. Why? When Fornell explained the situation, Vance was equally concerned. He agreed that it was unlikely Gibbs had just left. Which meant he had to be in the building somewhere. Vance told him to put Ziva on the phone.
"Ziva," Fornell called, and held the handset out to her. Ziva came across to take it. After a few 'nos,' a couple 'uh huhs' and two 'yes sirs,' she handed it back.
"We are to use the 'all call' page, and if there is no response, have security search the building."
"Why not do it ourselves?" Fornell asked.
Ziva smiled slightly. "There are many locked doors in this building for which I do not have a key. Gibbs has the master and could be behind any of them."
Fornell nodded his understanding. Of course Jethro would have access as senior agent that Ziva did not. And while the truly secure spaces in the building were held by retinal scanners, there were many interior doors that were not.
Ziva pulled out a phone directory, searching for the instructions on how to do a building-wide page. The system allowed anyone from any phone to send out an announcement that would be heard through the speakers of every phone in the building. Even in MTAC. It was seldom used due to the level of intrusiveness. Ziva followed the directions and spoke into the phone. She hung up and a moment later, the message was played.
"If anyone knows the current whereabouts of Special Agent Gibbs, please call Agent David at extension 1225 immediately." The message repeated, then the speakers fell silent.
They waited for a response. A minute, two, three.
"He does not appear to be here," Ziva said.
"Or he's not responding," Fornell countered. "Let's go." He stood and the two of them quickly descended to the security station in the lobby.
NCIS - NCIS - NCIS
Arriving in the security office, Ziva explained what they needed. The guard considered.
"Why don't we just track him?" At the agents' questioning look, he elaborated.
"Most of the building's covered by a security camera net. He's not on camera now," he indicated the dozen color monitors in front of him, each divided into multiple views. "So he probably left. But if you tell me when and where you last saw him, I can track him through the building and find out when. That'll give you a starting place anyway."
"Do it," Fornell said. "I left him in the squad room about … an hour and 15 ago."
The guard turned to his computer and started working. It took almost a minute for him to find video of Gibbs standing alone in the big room and push the single image onto one of the screens.
Fornell and David leaned in as the guard tweaked the video speed. They watched Gibbs move back and forth in the room, then head toward the back hall. The guard sped the replay up a little as Gibbs made coffee in the break room, slowed it down when he headed back to the squad room, sped it up while Gibbs stood at the windows. He fast-walked down the hall outside interrogation, then spun back to the big room and his desk. The guard dropped it back to normal speed as Gibbs searched for something in his desk, then went to the elevator. It took a moment to determine which floor he'd gotten off on and switch to that feed. Fornell and David watched him exit the elevator on the executive level, and enter Vance's office.
"The Director's office isn't covered," the guard said. "We'll catch him when he comes out." They waited, watching the time tick forward in the bottom corner of the screen. After a minute passed with no sign of him, the guard sped up the recording. Twice the speed, triple, four times. Nothing.
"What the hell's he doing in there?" Fornell mumbled. A minute later, the recording seemed to stop.
"Real time," the guard said.
"He is still in there," David said needlessly.
Without a word, Fornell spun out of the room. David was quick to follow.
"You'll need a key!" The guard called after them. When they didn't stop, he picked up his radio, calling for another security officer to meet them at the Director's office, immediately.
Ignoring the elevator, Fornell took the stairs double time. Whatever Gibbs was up to in the director's office, it couldn't be good.
"The all-call goes into the Director's office," Ziva said as they hit the second floor landing.
"He might have ignored it," Fornell said.
"It would not be like him," Ziva said. They reached the third floor and jogged down the back hall. Fornell said nothing.
... to be continued ...