The next three months saw exceptionally little made progress on their Brotherhood of Doubt case. They weren't any closure to capturing Benham Parsa. All the members of the MCRT were frustrated, but Jethro, in particular, was damn near climbing the walls. Part of him regretted letting his girls dismiss their protective details.
On the more personal front though, he and Shannon had both kept rather busy. Kelly, Michael, Palmer, and McGee all had birthdays at that time. Jethro and his wife had also been invited to a small dinner for Leon Vance's birthday back in early July. Jethro's old man had also flown down for a week-long visit.
Waking up that morning, Jethro showered and threw on a pair of navy blue slacks, a white crew-neck t-shirt, and a maroon polo shirt on.
He shaved and then glanced in the mirror and assessed himself. He'd just got a haircut at Frankie's Crew Cuts the morning before. Satisfied, he threw his navy blue blazer on and headed downstairs for breakfast and to spend some time with his wife and Emily Fornell who'd stayed with them for a couple of days while both her parents were away on separate business for a couple of days.
The twelve-year-old was helping herself to a small glass of apple juice - while Shannon was throwing some Eggo waffles on a plate for her - when Jethro walked in.
"Aunty Shannon," the twelve-year-old said as she put the juice back into the fridge. "I accidentally ripped my assignment. Can you print it off again?"
Shannon tilted her head slightly. "Sure. How bad is it?"
"Pretty bad," Emily grumbled, crumpling up the piece of paper.
"Okay," Shannon said. "Sit down and have some breakfast. I'll go and print you off a new copy in just a minute."
Emily smiled at her gratefully. "Thanks."
Once they'd all eaten their fill, Shannon quickly washed the dishes and Jethro helped to make sure that Emily had everything she needed for the field trip that her class was going on a bit later that day.
"Remember," Jethro reminded his niece, "you need to take a water bottle today."
Emily glanced up at him from where she was putting her lunch into her backpack. She picked up her water bottle from her backpack and waved it at him. It was clear with a light blue rim and a colourful mermaid tail going down it. "I know, Uncle Gibbs. I have it and everything else I need."
He dipped his head slightly. "Just making sure, Kid."
Emily raised an eyebrow and eyed Shannon. "He needs to relax."
Shannon barked out a laugh. "God, I love you kid."
Jethro shook his head, more than a little bit amused by his niece's comment. "Cheeky brat." He grabbed his truck keys and then turned back towards her. "Come on, we're late. Time for school." He gestured to Emily's backpack. "Grab your gear."
The twelve-year-old rolled her eyes knowingly. "If you're not early, you're late."
He smirked. "Exactly." That was one thing from his father that had rubbed off on him. His father had always insisted on being twenty minutes early for everything. He hadn't necessarily ever felt the need to go to that extreme but did prefer to arrive at least a couple of minutes early. "Come on. Don't wanna miss the bus."
Shannon had to head into work a little early that morning which left Jethro to drive the twelve-year-old girl to school. It was just easier all around. He'd ready called into work to let Vance know he was going to be a bit late getting in.
Jethro pulled up just outside of Gunston Middle School - where his surrogate niece was currently enrolled in their Spanish Partial Immersion Program, said goodbye, and gave her a peck on the cheek. Glancing at the time, he then drove into D.C.
Once he was at the Navy Yard, Jethro grabbed himself a large cup of black coffee from the small stand just outside headquarters and made his way through security and up to the squad room.
Things were quite slow all morning and didn't pick up until after lunch. Jethro had just finished eating the hoagie he'd bought for lunch when he found himself being called to the director's office for a meeting with both Vance and SecNav Sarah Porter.
Director Vance eyed their new Secretary of the Navy. "Our people have been working day and night, Madame Secretary."
"I'm sure they have, Director!" SecNav Porter said. "But the president needs progress in this case- results. And after months of nothing..."
"Ma'am, if I may." He knew he was pushing it but in this case, he also felt justified. "A little help from you wouldn't hurt."
The director shot him a look of warning. "Gibbs."
"No, please." The Secretary of the Navy turned towards him. "Agent Gibbs, with your reputation, I expected Parsa to be disposed of long before now. So, do tell me, please, what sort of help am I not providing?"
"Influence," Jethro stated simply. "My reputation aside, there's only one guy who's not cooperating, and he's the only one we know who has any direct contact with Parsa."
"Captain Wayne," Vance said. The director relaxed some now that it was clear that the SecNav wasn't offended. "Relieved of his duties at JSOC. He lawyered up."
"Wayne may be dead to JSOC," he countered. "He is not dead to us."
"And certainly not to you," Secretary Porter stated. "That tour of Iran he set you up on must have left an impression."
Jethro decided to sidestep that and remain on topic. He didn't particularly want to talk about what had gone down in Tehran. It had been a close call. Much closer than Jethro was comfortable with. "A call from you may get us some interagency cooperation."
"Count on it," SecNav Porter assured him. She then turned towards Director Vance. "In fact, why wait? Put me through right now."
The director immediately picked up the phone and dialled the number. "This is Director Vance. Please hold for the Secretary of the Navy."
Thankfully, Secretary Porter had been able to arrange a meeting for that evening. The rest of the afternoon was rather uneventful. So, shortly after 1700 he sent his team home for the night and stopped in to see Shannon quickly.
By 1840 Jethro was sitting down with Dominick Wayne in some diner the younger man had picked out for reasons unknown. Although, Jethro had to guess it may have had something to do with how out of the way the establishment was.
The former captain eyed him. "I'm so sorry, Gibbs."
He shot the man a pointed look. "You save your marriage?"
"My kids won't even talk to me," the man said sadly.
"Wasn't quite worth it, then, was it?" he drawled.
"Look," the man said, "I'm just waiting on my trial date. Trying to put this whole thing behind me."
"Nothing is behind you, Wayne!" he snapped. "Nothing is behind any of us. You got to start talking. Who are these guys? Where is Parsa?"
"All I got were text messages," the man explained. "I tried using JSOC to attach some names, but all the calls came back unlisted. Just a... a 305 area code."
He tilted his head slightly. "305?"
The former captain proceeded to elaborate. "Look, I know Arizona is where you found a hideout, but all communication to me came through Florida."
"Anything else?" he demanded.
The younger man didn't respond which just got on Jethro's nerves even more.
He eyed the former captain rather pointedly. "You got a shot here, Wayne, to redeem yourself. You're not gonna get another one."
"I wish I could," the man said. "I want to make amends. Believe me, I do."
"Then do what's right next time," Jethro scoffed as he rose to his feet. "Not just what's right for you." With that, Jethro made his way out of the small diner.
Jethro was in the back alley where he'd parked his pickup when he felt himself being shoved into the driver's door of his truck.
He tried to reach for his service weapon but quickly felt what was quite clearly a pistol pressed against the small of his back. A voice that Jethro didn't recognize then spoke quite coldly to him. "Lose the gun."
It wasn't hard to figure out that the man had been sent to kill him, so Jethro went into overdrive. He needed to get back home to his family. Turning around abruptly, he then decked the large African-American man in the face. Jethro used the distraction to knee the Glock out of the man's hand, causing the man to grunt.
From that point, the fight was on. They kept on exchanging punches and kicks, Jethro losing his footing a couple of times but recovering until the much younger man was on top of him and hitting his head against the ground.
They were both a bit winded, but neither man was giving an inch either. Jethro tried to focus, which was getting harder and harder for him, and when the man swung his arm at him again, he used the man's body weight against him to cause him to roll over and let Jethro out from under him.
Once he had the opening, Jethro quickly scrambled onto his feet. Several more blows were exchanged before the man threw a winded Jethro into the bed of his truck.
Jethro lay there in pain for a moment, trying to figure out his options. A metal pipe he had from a project he'd been working on was in the back, so Jethro carefully moved to grab it without alerting his attacker.
"You have no idea," the man said while panting heavily, "what's coming tonight."
Jethro could hear the man getting closer, so waiting a moment until the man was close enough to lean over and look into the bed of the truck. He then jumped up and swung the pipe at the man, causing his attacker to fall to the ground. Breathing heavily, the veteran agent eyed the unconscious man. "Neither do you."
Calling McGee back in as well as contacting the director, Jethro made his way back into the Navy Yard to hopefully get some answers.
Both Jethro and his attacker, who Jethro's team had quickly identified as Vernon Dale, looked beaten to all hell, but the second they could, Jethro had the man put into NCIS' main interrogation room.
Sitting down across from Dale, he started flipping through the man's file. "Robberies... Assaults... hardly the international conspiracy type."
"What conspiracy?" the younger man countered smugly. "I just got paid to get you out of the picture, is all."
Jethro gave a sarcastic little shrug in response, both palms facing upwards. "Yeah, but it didn't work, did it?" His expression became more serious. "Who paid you?"
"Don't know," the piece of work claimed. Hell will freeze over before I believe that. It wasn't hard to tell that the man was holding quite a bit of information back. "I just get text messages, and bags of money after."
"After what?" he pressed. "What happens tonight?"
"Your boy Wayne didn't tell you?" the man mocked. "Look, I'm not trying to break your heart over here. And Wayne didn't know that he led me to you." Now that I can maybe believe. "But maybe you should've tried to ask him these questions a little harder."
Before Jethro could respond, McGee opened the door. "Boss." He turned towards the younger agent. "You're not gonna believe this."
Deciding it was probably a valid exception for Rule #22, Jethro got up and followed his agent into the observation room.
"This guy's got a bunch of cryptic numbers on his phone," McGee explained. "Orders to keep you away from a predetermined target. All from dummy numbers with the same 305 area code."
"Okay," he said. "What part won't I believe?"
"The part that I don't," McGee said while starting to type on the computer now in front of the younger man. "I traced the blocked numbers to a mainframe owned by a series of dummy corps. One buffer after another till I hit an actual, legitimate company called Gran Castillo." As McGee spoke, the company website popped up on the screen. "It's a real estate company."
"Méndez," he surmised. Jethro had recognized the company's name near-instantly.
The younger field agent dipped his head slightly in confirmation. "Yeah. And get this… the short-range detonators used in both bombings, transmits using a phone signal."
"Méndez's phone," he surmised. A lot of things were starting to make sense now. "Call he got at the hospital was him triggering the bomb."
The younger agent gave a little nod of the head. "Could be the only reason he's part of that anti-terror group is to stop guys like Walters from trying to support it."
"Call Fornell," Jethro ordered. "Get Ziva and Tony out of bed. Pull a team together. Tell every agent to get to the safe house; FBI too."
McGee shot him a questioning look. "What about you?"
Without a word, Jethro turned and grabbed an old hammer of his. He then went back into the interrogation room. Drained, Jethro leaned against the wall beside the door and took a breath, eying the man icily but making sure the hammer was held out of sight. He needed the man to talk before anyone else got hurt. This mess needed to end. Now. "Where is it happening tonight?"
The man tried to act nonchalant. "And what if I don't tell you?"
Jethro stepped forward wordlessly and placed the hammer down in front of Dale with a threatening look. Jethro didn't intend to actually hurt the man, but if it got the man to talk Jethro had no issues scaring the piece of work.
Thankfully, Jethro was able to get the bastard to cave. Unfortunately, everything then began happening really fast.
Tobias was unaware of Méndez's complicity and wasn't picking up his damn cell phone. His long-time friend had no idea that the man the two of them were going to visit was yet another of Méndez's targets, and that a bomb had already been planted within the man's residence. Before Méndez could send the signal though, Jethro arrived and used a rifle found there on scene to kill him, hitting Tobias in the process. It was just a flesh wound and his friend would be fine, but Jethro still felt a bit bad.
Unfortunately, Jethro knew that it wasn't over yet. He had said as much to the director and McGee while they were all still on scene.
He eyed his boss. "This wasn't just Méndez."
"No," Vance agreed. "Parsa's pulling the strings."
"And he's still out there somewhere," McGee said.
"Yeah," he agreed. "And not alone."
Unfortunately, the man was still out there and they were no closure to finding him. His team had to go straight back to the drawing board now and, likely, wait for the young terrorist to make his next move.
God, this was so damn frustrating. Jethro was just glad that his family was safe and sound. For the time being, at least. For the first time in a long time though, he caught himself wondering just how many more miles he had in him.
Shannon had started talking about possibly retiring at the end of the school year and it was starting to feel like it might not be the worst thing.
