Chapter 9

Abby was on her third Caf-Pow of the day, and it wasn't even eleven o'clock yet. McGee actively feared the coming caffeine crash. Gibbs seemed not to notice her excessive energy, but McGee knew better. Gibbs noticed everything.

Abby looked earnestly at her idol. "I have a plethora of evidence, but nothing to check it against," she said.

"Nothing?" Gibbs asked mildly, and Abby burst into frenetic explanation.

"All right, well, almost all of the fingerprints you found in the prison cell were Tony's," she said. "There are a fair number of smudges that we can't get anything from, and two index fingers and a thumb from unknown individuals, I'm running them against AFIS and nothing yet."

"It looks like Tony did a very careful examination of that room, Boss," McGee remarked. "His fingerprints were on every wall, the door and sections of the floor."

Gibbs just shrugged in that way that said he expected nothing different. "What about the blood spatter in the outer room?"

"That appears to have come from the events we saw on the video," McGee said, and Abby nodded to confirm.

"It's Tony's blood type and it follows the classic pattern," she said. "It definitely came from when that guy punched him." She tilted her head curiously. "Are you going to punch him back?"

Gibbs didn't answer verbally, but McGee thought Abby already knew the answer. "What about the ballistics?" Gibbs asked.

"The gun found on the desk is definitely the one that killed Thomas Alkire. The slug you dug out of that door in the outer room of Tony's prison was too malformed to get anything from. I can say that there was no blood or tissue adhering to it. It most likely did not pass through a human body on its way to the door."

"Good to know." Gibbs turned to McGee. "Background on Thomas Alkire?"

"He is wanted for fraud in three states," Ziva said. "He never married, has no children, both his parents are alive. His mother lives in Los Angeles and his father lives in Chicago."

"Divorced?"

"And remarried, both of them," Ziva said.

"Friends?"

"His known associates are either in prison or proving difficult to track down," Ziva replied. Gibbs looked at her for a long moment and she said, "But I will find them. Excuse me, Abby." Then she hurried out of the room.

"Anything useful to learn from the DVD?" Gibbs asked.

There was a ding as the fingerprints found a match. They all looked up at the green bar and watched a picture come up on the screen. Aaron Thornburg, wanted for armed robbery, extortion, blackmail and sundry other charming offenses.

"McGee, find out everything there is to know about Aaron Thornburg."

"On it, Boss." McGee gave Abby's shoulder a squeeze and hurried out.

Tony took a long and very hot shower. There was no point in not since he was naked anyway. He pulled the curtain across and turned the water as hot as it would go. Maybe he could ease the tightness in his lungs with the steam. He turn the water off as soon as it started to cool. There were two towels in easy reach, so he wrapped one of them around his waist, scrubbed his hair dry with the other, then wrapped it around his torso. He did make a half-hearted attempt to break the window, but it just jarred his arms to the shoulder and made no impact.

Once the water was off, the room cooled down quickly. Bathrooms were always cold, and this one was no exception. He started to shiver. As he grew colder, he leaned out against the handcuff and reached for the nearer of the dry towels. The damp ones were increasing his chill. He couldn't quite grab it and he cast around the room looking for something he could use to increase his reach. There just wasn't anything. The shampoo and conditioner containers were hotel-sized, and one toothbrush wasn't enough to grab with. Not that he didn't try, but while he could reach the towel with the toothbrush, all he could do was hit it.

He hunched down, trying to conserve his heat. How long did he have to wait? All the benefit he'd derived from the steam was being undone by the damp cold. He realized now that he should have skipped the shower, but the idea of getting clean after all that had happened had made it irresistible. He sat on the edge of the tub and stared at the opposite side of the tub, trying not to feel the catch in his breathing and the ache in his lungs. He had to get out of here. He had to get away from Peter, but he was pretty well convinced that Lola didn't give a damn what happened to him, and Butch actively wanted him dead. Another coughing fit tore through him, and he wondered if he was actually getting sick. That would make his week perfect.

He needed to get to a phone.

By the time the door opened again, Tony had started to feel the congestion in his head, and he knew he was getting officially sick. Now he wasn't sure if he was cold because of the temperature in the room or if it was because he had a fever. Peter came in and in a chipper voice, said, "Tony dear, how are you doing?"

He looked over his shoulder at Peter. "Peachy," he said hoarsely, and his teeth chattered as he spoke.

"Oh dear," Peter said. He disappeared and returned with a big, thick terry cloth robe. He draped the robe around Tony's shoulders and leaned across him to unhook the cuff. "Now, put your arms through, Tony, and I'll just . . ."

Tony put his arms through the sleeves and Peter cuffed his wrists together again. He felt ridiculously pathetic because he didn't even try to resist. He just wrapped the robe around himself and clutched it close.

"Now, Tony, get up." Peter chivvied him into getting to his feet and tugged the damp towels from his body, encouraging Tony to pull the robe closed again.

"What now?" Tony asked.

"Your room is ready," Peter said. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize how long you'd been in here."

Tony wasn't sure what to say to that, so he just let Peter guide him through the house. They went up another flight of stairs and through an open doorway into a room that had no windows. The walls were white and slightly shiny. There was a large bed, a bedside table with two shelves and a couple of comfortable chairs. There were a few books on the bottom shelf of the bedside table. It was also extremely warm. A door on the other side of the room could have led to a closet, but Tony suspected that it didn't. He thought it probably led to a bathroom.

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"This is your room, Tony," Peter said. He pressed a button by the archway that led into the room and a door slid shut with a metallic clang that made Tony flinch. "Whoever built this house had a paranoid streak, I do believe. It seems odd to have this kind of panic room out in the middle of the country, but it suits my purposes admirably."

Tony stared at the shut door and shuddered slightly. A panic room? If they had a way of keeping it closed from the outside, he was in trouble. There wouldn't be any real need to keep him cuffed. He'd be completely trapped.

"Sit down. Warm yourself." Tony sat. He was exhausted and he felt like falling down on the bed and going to sleep. Instead, he sank down in a chair, leaned his head against the back and closed his eyes.

After a moment or so, Tony heard a strange clinking sound that snapped his eyes open and made him sit straight up. Peter had gone to the head of the bed and picked up a shiny silver chain. He came towards Tony with it. Tony got to his feet and backed away. "What's that?"

"Hold still, Tony," Peter said. "This is for your own protection."

"You're going to chain me to the wall for my own protection?"

"It will cut down on your temptation to behave foolishly," Peter replied. "Tony, it won't hurt you."

"You're nuts!" Tony exclaimed. His back hit the wall. "I won't let you do that!"

Peter paused, giving him a sympathetic smile. "Come now, Tony, you really have no choice."

"I will not," Tony snarled. "This is crazy." The door slid open to reveal Lola with her pretty pink stun gun. "I won't," Tony said.

"Very well. Lola?"

Tony fell to his knees when the jolt of electricity hit him, and then he felt Peter unlocking one of the cuffs, pulling that arm out of the sleeve of the robe and hooking the cuff onto the end of the chain. Peter and Lola helped him to his feet and got him over to the bed where they stripped him of the robe, covered him up, and left him alone. Tony lay still for a long time, his body zinging from the volts that had been run through it.

Finally he lifted his right arm and looked at the cuff that ringed it, listened to the rattle of the chain, and tried not to remember the woman who'd brained him in the ammo locker and her predecessors who'd died chained to walls in bridal gowns. He wasn't going to learn to be a good wife any more than they had.

If McGee found him in here, he'd never hear the end of it. And he'd be good with that. He'd be great with that. It would be spectacular. McGee could come in right now, in fact, so long as someone had already dealt with Peter and his .44.

He rolled onto his side and started coughing again. His chest ached, and he was afraid he had some kind of respiratory infection. He just hoped it didn't get any worse, because it was pretty damned certain he wasn't getting any treatment for it. At least no more than they could manage here.

He wormed under the covers and fell into a fitful sleep until the door opened again. The sound of the sliding door jerked him awake, and he sat up uneasily. The rattling of the chain irked him, but the smell of food woke his stomach up. He evidently wasn't all that sick if he could smell the food and if he was hungry for it.

Lola walked in the door carrying a microwave dinner on a plate and a can of Sprite. He looked up at her and tilted his head. "What do you get out of this arrangement?" he asked, taking them.

"What do you care?" She turned and went to the door.

Tony shrugged, pretending a nonchalance he didn't feel. "Curiosity."

She snorted, and looked over at him with an unexpected chill in her eyes. "Curiosity killed the cat," she said.

"But satisfaction brought it back," he added, gesturing with the Sprite can.

"I wouldn't count on that if I were you, Agent DiNozzo," she said. "Peter may forget what you are, but neither Butch nor I will." She smiled. "Enjoy your meal." Punching the button, she left the room without another word.

Tony shivered. Well, that made two people who actively wanted him dead. A tickle in his chest made him cough again, but he controlled the reaction sharply. Illness would make him more of a liability than he already was, and he didn't need to give them ammunition to convince Peter to kill him. Ammunition? He grinned and automatically looked for someone to share the lame joke with, but he was alone. He didn't much like being alone.

He turned to his chicken whatsit and started to eat. Food would help him keep his strength up so he wouldn't get sick.

Gibbs studied the quartet of photographs on the plasma over his desk. All four were of Aaron Thornburg, and he looked different in each one. Armed robbery. No one had ever died, or murder would top his list. However, he'd maimed a couple of people in his day. Assault and battery. Dating this man was not wise for a woman who wanted to remain healthy. Nor was walking by him with a diamond bracelet, from the look of his rap sheet. Extortion. He'd never been implicated in a kidnapping before, but he'd been involved in a protection racket in Saint Louis, and he'd used a girl he knew to get men into compromising positions so they could get money out of them through blackmail. The list was extensive. Grand theft auto, petty larceny, all of it pointed to a man who should have gone away for life, but all of his felony convictions dated back before the laws got harsher.

"I believe that man might be the one who was beating Anthony," Ducky said from behind him.

"Ya think, Duck?"

DiNozzo senior's cell phone began to ring. McGee had taken pity on the man and reset its ringer to something more innocuous. Now it simply rang instead of playing music. DiNozzo looked at him and swallowed. "Speaker again?" he asked. Gibbs nodded. DiNozzo pressed the appropriate button and said, "Leonard DiNozzo."

"Lenny? I've got –" The speaker phone abruptly cut off as DiNozzo pushed a button and put the phone to his ear.

"Don't call me on this line. I need it to stay open. What number? I don't know . . . I – oh." McGee had handed him a hastily scrawled note and he read the direct number for McGee's desk phone to his caller and hung up. "It's my banker, pulling the money together," he said.

Gibbs nodded as McGee's phone began to ring. McGee answered and handed the phone across to DiNozzo senior. Ziva walked up beside him, and Gibbs spoke without turning. "McGee, get pictures of his known associates."

"Got 'em, boss," McGee said instantly, but before his nimble fingers could pop them onto the screen, DiNozzo's phone began to ring again. DiNozzo hung up on his banker and stared at his cell phone in apparent consternation.

"Answer it," Gibbs said in an urgent undertone.

DiNozzo started and then pushed the button. "Leonard DiNozzo," he said.

"Dad?" It was Tony's voice, but he sounded kind of hoarse. Of course, he might have been doing a lot of yelling.

"Anthony!" DiNozzo senior exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

"Just dandy. Hey boss."

Gibbs almost laughed, but that wasn't the tone DiNozzo needed at the moment. "DiNozzo," he barked. "You're late."

"Trying not to be, boss," DiNozzo snapped back, but the last word dissolved into a cough that sounded like it was coming from deep in his chest. Gibbs ground his teeth. Not a good sign.

"Well, now that you have ample proof that 'young Anthony' is still alive," said the voice of the man who had killed Tom, "I will be expecting my money."

"How do you want it?" DiNozzo asked.

"Wired to a bank in Zurich," he said. "I have e-mailed the information to Agent Gibbs' address. Don't bother trying to trace it, Agent McGee. I took special pains because I knew it would have to withstand your scrutiny and that of Miss Sciuto. Get it to me by Thursday at noon, or Anthony will be even later."

The phone cut off, and there were several moments of silence. A moment later, DiNozzo senior turned on Gibbs. "How dare you address my son in that tone?" he demanded angrily.

Gibbs turned back to the plasma. "McGee, those pictures. Now."

"Right, boss."

DiNozzo senior started to pursue the point, but Gibbs heard Ziva speaking to him and nodded. She would get the bastard out of his hair, so he could do his job. Six pictures appeared on the screen, all of them booking photos. Two women, four men. McGee got up. "These three are currently in prison," he said, pointing to three of the men. "This woman, Denise Rimbauer, was last seen in Norfolk, rolling sailors for their ready cash while they were on leave. That was six months ago, and she wasn't caught. I've got no information on the present whereabouts of the other two, but I'm still looking."

"Good. And get the recording of that call down to Ducky. I want to know his take on that cough. It didn't sound good."

"So he's coughing," DiNozzo senior said. "What does that matter? He's alive, and you had no right to yell at him like that."

"He called?" Joyce said, and Gibbs turned. Fornell was right. She did seem to give more of a damn about Tony than his father did.

"Yes, Joyce, he did," DiNozzo senior replied, "and Agent Gibbs here seemed to –"

"What do you mean about coughing?" Joyce asked anxiously, taking a step towards Gibbs.

"He sounds like he picked up a cold or something," DiNozzo senior said. "What's all this concern about whether he's coughing or not? Surely there are more important things to worry about than that."

"Not when a cough could kill him if not treated appropriately," Ducky said, and DiNozzo turned to him in surprise. "I sincerely doubt that his captors realize that his lungs are compromised. What sort of coughing was it, Jethro?"

"Deep," Gibbs said.

"That's not good," Ducky replied. McGee tapped a couple of keys and suddenly Tony's voice played over his computer speakers. They listened to him speaking and to the cough again, Gibbs keeping a tight leash on his temper. "Very not good," Ducky said, his eyes wide.

"Do we need to call Dr. Pitt and let him know we could need him on a moment's notice?" Gibbs asked.

"It wouldn't hurt anything. I'll take care of it, Jethro."

"Who is Dr. Pitt?" DiNozzo senior asked. "His doctor will certainly be available at a moment's notice, surely."

Ducky hadn't gone far, and at this question, he turned back. "I am his doctor of record," he said. "Dr. Pitt is his pulmonary specialist, the man who cared for him during his bout with pneumonic plague."

"At Bethesda?" DiNozzo senior asked, and Ducky nodded. "Forgive me, but I'm sure I can find more qualified physicians than a medical examiner and a government quack."

"You are welcome to try," Ducky said. "Whether Anthony will consent to being treated by them is another story." He gave Gibbs a dark look and left the bullpen.

Sacks had been sitting at DiNozzo's desk all this time, working and keeping quiet. Gibbs turned to him. "Maybe you could take the DiNozzos up to the conference room and keep an eye on them there," he suggested. The FBI agent nodded and rose.

"Why are you trying to get rid of us?" DiNozzo senior demanded.

Gibbs didn't even grace him with a look. "Ziva, do you have an address for Thornburg yet?" he asked.

"Working on it, Gibbs," she said.

"Work harder. We have exactly no time."

"Agent Gibbs?"

He turned in surprise. Last he'd heard Jenny was still in San Antonio. Her appearance now might just keep him from killing someone. DiNozzo senior was the type who would regard being pawned off on the director as his due. "Director Shepard," he said. "This is Tony's father, Leonard DiNozzo, and his wife Joyce. Mr. and Mrs. DiNozzo, this is Director Jenny Shepard."

Jenny made meaningless noises to greet the DiNozzos and shook their hands, then she turned to Gibbs. "Status report?"

"We got a call from the kidnappers about fifteen minutes ago, and they let DiNozzo talk to us."

"So we know he's alive?"

"His responses weren't canned," Gibbs said. "And he sounds sick."

"Sick how?" she asked, her voice growing concerned.

"Deep coughs," he said, and her eyes widened. "We've got it covered. Ducky's calling Dr. Pitt in case he's needed and I couldn't step up our efforts any if I tried."

"Director, I'd like to register a complaint," DiNozzo said suddenly, and Gibbs' jaw clenched. "Agent Gibbs was actually nearly abusive on the phone when my son called, and he refuses to answer perfectly reasonable questions."

Gibbs gave her a look of near pleading, and she took pity on him. "Please come with me to my office and we can talk about your concerns in more detail," she said. Agent Sacks trailed them and Jenny didn't seem to object. Gibbs turned back to his team and got them working again.