The next two weeks and a bit proved to be very interesting. Of course, they'd all gone out for DiNozzo's birthday after work on the thirteenth. Jethro's team had also caught a rather strange case regarding a decorated Navy pilot and rockets which Jethro gave McGee point for almost immediately. The younger agent knew a lot about the subject and Jethro, well, didn't. Nor did the combat veteran particularly care to.
He was just glad that particular case was over because by the end it was legitimately giving him a headache. The defence attorney was a pain in the ass and kept getting in the way of him and his team doing their jobs. Hell, Jethro could barely get anyone to sit down for a simple interview and when Jethro did finally manage to get a sit down Defence Attorney Allison Hart would repeatedly interrupt him and not even let him get through a single question making it damn near impossible to get anything useful.
Jethro admittedly liked the challenge though. He always did love a good fight.
The day prior had been the real surprise, though. Tobias' team at the FBI, who were still working the case, Tobias refusing to back down and drop the case, had thrown a stick of dynamite into the water to see what would float to the surface so to speak.
Keegan Anderson, the one-time medical records clerks at Bethesda ended up screwing up big time, giving them enough leverage to finally get Anderson and the buddy that he was arrested with to roll over Roy Evans. Anderson also claimed that he caused the clerical error because when he realized that a child was involved the man got cold feet and decided to fake their deaths instead of letting Hernández finish the job.
Tobias' team had also managed to figure out just how Long and Evans were smuggling their heroin and other drugs into the country - via the rugs that Evans' little shop was selling, which meant that he was definitely going to do time. Now it was just a matter of them physically connecting Long to the drugs and to Pedro Hernández. Evans ended up refusing arrest, however, pulling out a gun and getting himself shot in the shoulder by Tobias when the man went to fire his weapon.
The agents working their case were finally starting to get somewhere, but Jethro was admittedly more than a bit concerned about his family. Kicking the hornets' nest could either go very well or very very badly.
Regardless, that Tuesday morning Jethro pushed it all aside, for the time being, got up, and had a quick breakfast with his wife before kissing her goodbye.
"See you after work," she said softly.
"Good luck with the field trip this afternoon," Jethro said, giving his wife another quick kiss. "See you tonight." His expression shifted. "I'll call you at lunch."
"It'll more or less be like hoarding cats," she said, "but it'll be fun." Shannon adopted a slightly more serious expression. "And you better, Marine."
Jethro looked at the woman standing there across from him in understanding. "I plan on bugging you for a long, long time." I love you.
"Good, 'cause you're my partner in crime," his wife replied. She then gave him a quick peck on the cheek, wanting to prolong Jethro's departure. I love you too.
Closing the front door behind him, he hopped into the front of his pickup truck and drove to Frankie's Crew Cuts to get a haircut before heading to the Navy Yard.
All three of his agents were already in the squad room, DiNozzo currently on his office phone, the younger agent visibly and audibly irritated. "Oh, you would like me to spell my name for you again. Are you guys in India?"
Jethro walked towards the middle of the room and eyed his Senior Field Agent. "Tony, you're going to have to deal with that mess later." Why doesn't he just call his father to straighten things out?
"Got a body, Boss?" DiNozzo inquired.
"Yes," he confirmed. "A dead foreign national at Patuxent River." Apparently, a group of foreign nationals had received a rather nasty wake-up call while they were at Naval Air Station Patuxent River that morning.
"Patuxent River?" McGee asked, a little surprised. "Weren't we just there?"
McGee and Ziva swiftly followed Jethro over to the elevator while DiNozzo smacked his office phone against his forehead in frustration a few times before the younger agent quickly followed suit.
It was an hour-and-a-half-long drive to the Naval Air Station in St. Mary's County, and Jethro was glad the roads were actually quite decent. The road conditions when they'd driven to Patuxent River a few days prior had been less than ideal.
Once they were on scene, Jethro had DiNozzo talk to the individual who had called the explosion in while he and the rest of the team started processing the scene.
They were in the middle of assessing the damage to the car when DiNozzo walked up. "Boss, car is registered to Beltway Executive Auto Leasing. Rented to a Prince Sayif Ibn Alwaan on a month-to-month. Hope he got the full coverage."
"Appears an explosive device was placed under the car," Ziva said by way of suggestion.
"Get the vehicle to Abby," he ordered.
"The victim is Walid Abbas," DiNozzo informed him. "He entered the U.S on a visitor's visa. He worked for the prince as his driver." The younger agent eyed him. "You know, there are over 7,000 princes in the royal family."
"Huh," he said. "What do you got, Duck? Tell me anything I don't know?"
"Well, yes. He wasn't killed by the explosion. At least not directly," Ducky told him. The medical examiner gestured to the body as he continued to talk. "There are no burns or blistering on his... the skin of his hands." Ducky then kneeled down to show Jethro the victim's rather severe head wound. "Cause of death was most likely blunt-force trauma when his head hit the tarmac."
Of course, DiNozzo had to make a joke about everything and anything. "I've heard the saying 'He got blown out of his shoes' but I never thought I'd see it."
"Now if the explosion had knocked his socks off," Ducky replied with a joke of his own, "that would be impressive, wouldn't it?"
Shaking his head at the pair, he headed over to talk one of the witnesses with McGee, leaving DiNozzo to finish processing the scene with Ziva.
"How long has Prince Sayif been in the country?" McGee asked, Jethro opting to let the younger agent take the lead on questioning.
"Almost three months," Lieutenant Commander Clarke stated. "He's attached to the Navy-Marine Corp's Strike Pilot Training Program."
"Where is he?" he asked.
"Last I saw Sayif," the naval officer replied, "he was in the hangar."
"You've been his flight instructor the whole time?" McGee inquired.
"Oh, no," Clarke told them, "He's been through several. I've only had the pleasure for the past, uh, couple weeks."
"I detect some... friction," McGee said.
"Let's just say that I hope he doesn't screw up on his check ride," the naval officer replied. "That way, he'll graduate the day after tomorrow, with his class, and he won't be our problem anymore."
Deciding to let McGee continue on his own, he started making his way to the hangar in the hopes of finding the apparently high-maintenance prince.
As luck would have it, the man was still there and chatting away rapidly in Arabic. He had managed to catch about a quarter of the conversation even if it had been a while since he spent any real length of time listening to Arabic. The accent though him off a little as well given the fact he'd mostly learned Kuwaiti Arabic.
"I was just making arrangements to be picked up," the young prince said.
"Cancel them," he replied. "Don't want to jump to conclusions here, but we have to assume that that bomb was meant for you. Until we know otherwise, you're under our protective custody."
"Yeah," the young man replied, "I don't think so. Look, I am sorry about Walid, Agent Gibbs, but if you know anything about the Saudi royal family, assassinations are a part of our lives. I came to the United States for flight training, and I'm not going to let what happened stop me."
"Okay," he said, "I have no influence with your country. But I do with the United States Navy, and I'll have your training stopped immediately."
"Okay," the prince agreed, clearly less than thrilled. "Protective custody on my terms. I'm not going to be sequestered on any base or in a government safe-house. I'm staying at the presidential suite at the Adams House. If you would like to protect me there... you're welcome to."
Irritated like hell with the entitled brat, but trying to not show it, he left the hanger to see if his team had anything else for him.
They didn't have anything new for him, but Ziva did notice his irritation and decide to throw her two cents in. "On... menya interesuyet." (He's, uh... interesting.)
Jethro raised an eyebrow at that in grim amusement but switched into Russian easily. The young Israeli was the only person on the team that Jethro could actually practice and use his Russian with, although neither of them spoke the language often. "O, ya mogu pridumat' neskol'ko slov, kotoryye luchshe yego opisali by." (Oh, I can think of a few words that would better describe him.)
Ziva gave a little snort at that. "O, ya uveren, chto ty smozhesh'." (Oh, I'm sure you can.)
He just smirked in reply before gesturing for the both of them to catch up with McGee and DiNozzo who were about five meters ahead with Prince Sayif.
Unsurprisingly, almost the second that Jethro stepped back onto the Navy Yard he was called in for a meeting in MTAC.
"I've been in contact with the Saudi embassy," Joanne Torrence, an official that Jethro had crossed paths with before from the State Department said. "They insist their Royal Guards be part of the security detail."
"We'll coordinate with them," Vance assured the woman.
"Where is Prince Sayif now?" Torrence inquired.
"He's here," Jethro swiftly explained. "We brought him back to the Navy yard while his suite and adjoining rooms are being cleared."
She eyed him. "Agent Gibbs."
He dipped his head slightly. "Ma'am."
Torrence adopted a more serious look. "Al Jazeera is reporting that Jihad Al Hurriya is claiming responsibility for the assassination attempt," she informed the both of them. "You aware of them?"
"Yes," the director said. "It translates to 'Freedom Warriors.' They're an offshoot of the Mujahideen. Didn't know they had a presence here in the United States."
"Don't know," Torrence admitted. "NSA is checking into it. You questioned Sayif. Did he mention Jihad Al Hurriya?"
"No," he said. "He didn't seem too concerned about the incident, either, Ma'am."
"The Saudi ambassador assured me that Prince Sayif will be leaving the country as soon as he graduates from flight training," Torrence said much to Jethro's relief. The young prince acted like the entire thing was some dumb joke. The sooner he wasn't Jethro's problem, the better.
"So he's only our problem for two more days then," DiNozzo said, equally relieved.
"His father, Prince Omar, is a major player in the royal family," Torrence said. "We need to be kept in the loop."
"Yes, Ma'am," the director agreed. Vance then turned to face Jethro as he spoke. "Let's call the embassy from my office."
He nodded his head and started following the director out of MTAC. Jethro had just got to the ramp by the door when he was stopped by McGee
"You need me, Tim?" he inquired.
"Uh, no, Boss." McGee looked at him with a cheeky smile that made Jethro think that the younger agent was up to something. "Just gotta tell Tony here something."
He raised an eyebrow. Yes, McGee was definitely up to something. Deciding to leave it alone, he left MTAC, hurrying to catch up with the director. This was no doubt going to be yet another case that gave him a migraine.
