Purgatory

Chapter 17 - Desperation

Although the distance from Rathburn's property to the base was only two miles as the crow flies, it was across the canal and the only way to drive there involved traveling north, crossing the canal on its mile-long floating bridge and then driving down into the peninsula where the farm was located. The drive had taken almost an hour, during which time neither EJ nor McGee spoke to each other, both lost in their thoughts.

EJ's mind raced, thoughts of Gibbs, both alive and dead, playing in her head. Would they get there in time? Could they save him if they did? Or would they perish in their desperate effort? Would she be able to see him before he - before they - were killed? Would she be able to tell him, before the end, that she loved him? Would she have the chance to hear those words from his lips one last time? Her throat tightened while the blood rushing in her ears made them ring.

The car lurched hard over a pothole, jerking her thoughts back to more immediate concerns. They were getting close. She began to wonder how – with just the two of them – they were going to pull this off. It was truly insane! The more she considered their options the more she realized they probably would not survive. She swallowed hard and looked over at McGee.

He caught her glance. "We're about five minutes out," he pressed out, his voice tense. "Weapons check."

She nodded, her face grim. Once again her training took over as she pulled her Sig-Sauer from its holster, checking to make sure a round was chambered. She ejected the magazine, confirming the number of rounds, smacked it against her palm to knock out any slack in the stack of bullets, then slammed it back into the pistol's handle, making sure it was solidly seated. She pulled her spare clip from its belt holder and inspected it the same way. After she checked her other two clips she leaned down and pulled her backup pistol from her ankle holster; a .38 caliber, Smith and Wesson, five-shot, sub-nosed revolver. Confirming it was fully loaded she replaced it in its holster and pulled her pant leg back down.

"Want me to do yours?" she asked.

He nodded and with one hand on the steering wheel he handed her his pistol and spare magazine, then pulled the other two magazines from his pocket.

"They're good," she said, as she handed them back to him, one at a time, while he replaced them on his person.

"Backup?" she asked.

"Glock 26. Right ankle," his reply was terse, his attention obviously on the road.

EJ reached down as he switched his right foot for his left on the gas pedal. She pulled the small, black, semi-automatic pistol from its holster and ran it through the same routine as her Sig. Satisfied it was ready she secured it back in its holster and patted his leg. "Good to go," she said, sitting back up and looking out the windshield.

"We're here," McGee said as he pointed to a mailbox perched on top of a wooden post at the end of a dirt road which turned off from the county road they were currently on.

As they passed by the driveway of the property EJ ran through their tactical options. Rathburn's farmhouse was surrounded by open fields, which in turn, were bordered by thick forests of fir and various deciduous trees. The winding driveway to the house was about two hundred yards long and there was a lot of open ground between the road and the house. Looking at McGee she could tell he was thinking hard about their plan of attack as well. He drove a quarter mile further, over a small hill and out of sight of the driveway, then pulled off to the side of the road.

"Let's get a closer look," he said.

She nodded.

Exiting the car McGee popped open the trunk and dug out the standard, military motor-pool emergency bag. Fishing through it he found a small pair of binoculars. He smiled at EJ as he held them out to her. She took them as he continued to search the bag for anything that might come in handy. A few seconds later he had collected three emergency road flares, a fifty foot length of parachute cord, a partial roll of duct tape and a multi-function utility tool, the type worn on one's hip like a knife.

She smirked at him as he pocketed his new treasures. He looked up and caught her grin. "What?" he whined, his voice slightly defensive.

EJ chuckled, "You're such a Boy Scout."

McGee's frown quickly morphed into a huge grin. "Yep," he said. "Eagle Scout!" His smile lasted only a moment, then his face fell serious again. He nodded toward the road, "Let's go."

Ten minutes later they were lying on their bellies across from the driveway leading to the farm house, concealed by the thick undergrowth on that side of the road. Passing the binoculars back and forth they assessed the layout of the property and the pattern of the guards patrolling the house.

"Two guards outside," McGee said. "Looks like they walk the house perimeter about every five or six minutes. Probably more inside but I can't see any movement through the windows."

"Only two guards – that's our first break today," EJ said. "But there's no cover close to the house. Those fields will be a kill zone if we try to cross. Damn, Rathburn!" she hissed.

"He's no dummy," McGee agreed, then handed her the binoculars. "Take a look past the house toward the back. The tree line looks like it's a lot closer to the house than on the sides or the front. What would you say, about 25 yards?"

"Yeah, give or take a few," she said. "But that's still a long distance to cross quietly without cover, even if we time it perfectly when the guards are at the front of the house."

Silence enveloped them. EJ looked down, not seeing the ground in front of her, concentrating instead on a solution to their problem. She knew McGee's silence meant he was doing the same. Then it came to her. She snapped her head up and turned toward McGee, who was mirroring her movement and heard him speak the same word at the same time as she, "DIVERSION!"

EJ felt a grin explode across her face and watched as McGee's smile grew to match hers.

After a moment she turned, looking back toward the farm house. "But what …, how …?"

"I've got an idea," he said.

Five minutes later McGee had jury-rigged together a strange looking contraption from the materials he had procured from the car's emergency bag. Using the duct tape he taped the three flares together, all three ignition heads next to each other. On the other end of the bundle of flares he tied one end of the parachute cord. EJ watched as he worked, wondering how his invention would create their needed diversion.

Sensing her question, McGee explained. "I'll throw this over that branch," he pointed to a branch about 20 feet above their heads in the fir tree next to them. "It'll hang down to about 10 feet above the ground, easily visible from the house. These flares have a one hour burn time, so they should last long enough and burn bright enough to catch people's attention and bring them down here to check it out."

"OK," EJ said, with some idea of where this was going. "Then what?"

I'll sneak through the woods to the back of the house. You'll light the flares and that will give me the diversion I need to get into the house undetected. You come around to the back of the house to give me cover if I ... when I bring Gibbs out. They'll never know what hit them." Although there was a smile on his face she could hear the desperation in his voice.

"OK," she said. "I'm good with this, except we're gonna reverse roles. You'll light the flares and I'll slip into the house to find Gibbs."

McGee started to protest but EJ cut him off.

"Tim, I told Bishop and now I'm telling you. Gibbs is my responsibility. This isn't an NCIS operation any longer. He's not NCIS any more … and for that matter, neither are we! There isn't a power on earth that will keep me from going in that house and finding him. Do you understand?" she finished, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it.

McGee swallowed and nodded, looking down at her hand over his.

"Good," she said as she brought the binoculars back to her eyes. "See that old fir stump along the back side of the property at the tree-line?" she asked, handing the binoculars to McGee and pointing at her target.

"Yeah," he said.

"I'll station myself there," she explained. "As soon as you see me next to that stump, light the flares. Then circle around through the forest and I'll meet you there when I come out of the house. Be ready, Tim. This may get ugly."

"I've got your back, EJ!"

She turned and looked at him for a few quiet seconds, her smile expressing the gratitude she didn't know how to put into words.

"I know you do, Tim," she said, "And I trust you, completely. I think you're probably the best partner I've ever had."

She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, watching as a scarlet blush ran from his face down to his neck.

She rose and brushed herself off. "Give me ten minutes to circle around through the woods. Watch for me at the stump and when you light the flares … then we'll kick some ass and take some names," she said, grinning down at him.

McGee smiled and nodded and EJ turned and sprinted away through the forest.

The circuitous route through the forest took a little longer than she had anticipated, but her innate sense of direction served her well and she arrived at the back side of the property and crawled up to the side of the stump with a clear view of the back of the house. She looked past the house and the field all the way to the county road and across it to their secret observation point. A few seconds later she saw the road flares flash to life, giving off an eerie red glare, even in the mid-afternoon sunlight.

A shout came from the front of the house. The perimeter guard walking past the back of the house sprinted around the side and disappeared running toward the front. She scanned the windows at the back of the house for movement inside, but saw nothing. This was it. It was now or never.

Fear gnawed at her stomach, a slight hint of nausea and the acrid taste of bile in the back of her throat. She looked down at her hands which trembled slightly. In the next sixty seconds she would be completely vulnerable, a sitting duck as she crossed the distance from the trees to the back of the house. No backup. No cover fire. Only McGee's simple diversion.

Come on girl, get going. This is gonna work. It's too crazy not to. Gibbs is in there, I know he is. Now, let's go and get him out!

At the thought of Gibbs she felt her fear turn into a deep, scalding anger. Anger at the men standing in her way. Anger at Rathburn for taking Gibbs from her. Anger that she had suffered so long thinking he was dead, when he was really alive. The anger shifted her focus and steadied her nerve, her determination becoming concrete.

Taking a deep breath she drew her pistol and moved forward quickly in an awkward crouching jog, trying to present as small a target as possible to anyone that might observe her approach. Crossing the open space in front of her seemed to take forever as her movements dropped into slow-motion. With each labored breath she tightened her muscles, anticipating the piercing pain of a bullet slamming into her. But no shots came her way and she dropped to her knees against the side of the house as she reached her goal, struggling to control her breathing and keep silent.

She crawled up onto the back porch from its side rather than walking up the steps, keeping her body out of sight from the door. Squatting on her heels she leaned her back up against the wall. Tilting her head she listened intently for any sound inside. Hearing nothing she slowly stood up, her back sliding against the wall, her Sig ready. She peeked around to look through the window of the door into what she recognized was the kitchen. It was empty. She slowly tried the door knob and it turned easily, unlocked. Gently pushing the door open she breathed a sigh of relief when no squeak or other telltale sound escaped from it. When the door opened wide enough she ducked inside, closed it quickly and crouched down behind the large countertop island to the side of the large kitchen.

Toward the front of the house, probably outside on the porch, she could hear voices. Some normal, some louder and clearly agitated, but she couldn't make out the words. Looking around the spacious kitchen it dawned on her how big the entire house actually was and that Gibbs, if here, could be anywhere. She rolled her eyes and scowled at herself. This was going to take time; time she didn't have. She rose and moved softly toward the hallway at the other end of the kitchen.

McGee had spied EJ through the binoculars as she arrived at the stump at the back of the house. He immediately lit the flares and watched as EJ made her way across the small, open field. He lost sight of her as she approached and the house obstructed his view. Hearing no gunshots he let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, hoping that she had arrived safely.

Looking back toward the front of the farm house he was surprised to see three men already halfway down the driveway, obviously coming to check-out the ominous glow in the trees across the road. He turned and ran off into the forest, planning his route to bring him to the back of the house to wait for EJ.

A while later McGee arrived at the tree stump. He had made good time, but his haste had made it a difficult journey when he tripped and fell into a bramble of blackberries; the stickers bloodying his face and hands while tearing away at his pants and jacket. He was still cursing under his breath when he saw a man armed with an AK-47 assault rifle come around the corner of the house walking toward the back porch. His breath caught in his throat, effectively stopping his cursing. He froze, his gaze riveted on this new threat.

As he watched the man move closer to the porch he could still hear shouting from the front of the house. But this man had obviously not gone to investigate the bright light across the road and he was moving up to EJ's last known position. This was not good. This was definitely not good! The thug took each step slowly as he climbed to the back porch. As he reached out and opened the door McGee's heart stopped.

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