Ziva stares contemplatively at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, wondering how best to approach the flour situation. Tony really got it all over her, but she's consoled by the fact that he's equally covered.

She decides that there's no way that she can really get clean without a full shower, so she jumps in. She has half a thought to invite Tony to join her—that is, if what she thinks based on what she heard is right and his relationship is totally fake—but there probably isn't much that's sexy about scrubbing congealing flour out of one's crevices. Better pass on shared bathing this time.

It takes her a while to get all of the flour out of her hair, so it's nearly twenty minutes before she's out and drying off. She goes straight to her bedroom to find something cleaner to wear and decides after a moment to put on pajamas. She's unlikely to go anywhere else for the night, after all—she and Tony will likely order in and watch a movie when they finish baking. They seem to end all of their nights that way these days.

Once she's done, she ventures back out in search of her friend, hoping he's put the pies in the oven. He hasn't—they're still sitting on the kitchen counter, though the oven says it's already at the necessary temperature. Tony himself is nowhere in sight; she glances around and wonders if he went into the bathroom while she was in her bedroom. She pops the pies in the oven herself.

She's about to go to the couch to wait for Tony when she realizes that the front door is just slightly ajar. Instantly suspicious, she retrieves the gun she keeps hidden in her couch and, moving as quietly as possible, she approaches the door. She listens for movement in the hallway and hears nothing, so she pulls it open and goes out into the hall, gun pointed ahead of her.

There's no one in the hall and her neighbors' doors are closed as usual. Hoping she's just being paranoid but keeping her gun drawn in case she's not, she goes back into the apartment to see if Tony's in the bathroom as she first thought.

He's not.

It's entirely possible that he's gone down to the car to fetch something or he's stepped out momentarily to do something equally mundane, but her gut is telling her that something is wrong… and that's something she's learned to put a lot more stock in since she started on Gibbs' team. She hurries to the window and looks down. She can see her car and Tony's, too, and no one is anywhere near either of them.

Grabbing her cell phone, she dials Tony's number, and she's finally convinced that something has happened to him when it rings from her coffee table. Wherever he went, he didn't take his phone with him. She finds his wallet and keys sitting near the baking supplies on the counter, too, and she can't think of a single place he'd go without taking any of those belongings.

Ziva does the only thing she can think to do in this situation—she calls Gibbs.

He picks up after two rings. "Yeah, Ziver?"

"Gibbs, I think that something has happened to Tony," Ziva tells him immediately.

"Tell me everything," he says, and she can hear in his voice that he's taking her seriously without question. She appreciates it immensely.

"He was at my apartment this evening, and when I took a shower, he left. I found his phone and his wallet still inside, and his car and his keys are also here. The front door was left open. I do not believe he left of his own volition."

"How long has he been gone?"

"I went to shower perhaps a half hour ago. That is the last time I saw him."

"Did you hear anything?"

"No, but the shower was running for at least fifteen minutes and that might have masked many noises."

"Who knew he was there?"

"I do not know. I did not tell anyone, but Tony could have talked to any number of people. Also, we were at an orchard earlier in the day, so someone there could have seen us leave together. I do not believe that anyone followed us."

"Didn't see anything unusual before you went to shower?"

"No."

"Any signs of a struggle?"

"No."

"Okay. Stay there and stay alert. I'm on my way. Call McGee and fill him in, too. Tell him to go to the office. I'll be at your apartment in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Gibbs."

He hangs up and Ziva wastes no time in calling McGee. "Hey, Ziva," her coworker answers.

"McGee, we need you in the office. Tony is gone."

"Gone?" Tim instantly sounds much more alert and much less relaxed. "What happened?"

Ziva fills him in on what she just told Gibbs and she can hear him starting his car in the background by the time she's done. "Are you okay?" he asks her, worried.

"I am fine," she tells him shortly. She has to be, because for all they know, Tony's life could be hanging in the balance. She doesn't have time to allow her emotions to be felt.

"Are you sure? 'Cause I know you and Tony are—"

"I am fine," she insists, angry. She doesn't want to talk about it and they don't have any time to waste.

Tim pauses for a second, and when he speaks again, it's in the same patient, concerned tone he was using before. "Okay," he agrees. "Well, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to access your building's security system and look at the surveillance footage. We'll find out where Tony went and who he was with."

"Thank you, McGee."

"Of course. I'll call you and Gibbs as soon as I'm in."

"Okay."

"Ziva, he's going to be fine."

"I know."

McGee seems to want to say more, but he knows her well enough to know not to push. "Talk soon," he says after a moment, and Ziva hangs up.

She spends the minutes before Gibbs arrives searching her apartment for clues and hoping against hope that Tony will walk in the door with a reasonable explanation for his absence. Besides the complete lack of Tony, she can't find anything wrong. Everything is in its place. She notices something that she didn't notice earlier, though—there are little indentations running down one side of one of the pies that she just put in the oven… Tony was trying to flute the pies when whatever happened went down. Picturing him working on it pulls the tiniest shaky smile to her face and bolsters her. She'll find him—it's not a question of if. He'll be fine because he has to be.

He's her Tony.

When Gibbs shows up, she's stoic and calm again, waiting for him by the door. She lets him in without comment and he looks the room over with a practiced eye. "That his phone?" he asks, gesturing to the cell sitting on the coffee table.

"Yes," Ziva answers.

Gibbs pulls out the crime scene camera and takes a quick photo of it before donning a pair of gloves and picking it up to inspect it. It's still functional as normal and there's a notification for a missed call from Ziva. Gibbs goes through the recent calls and nothing flags as unusual. Giving Tony's wallet and keys the same treatment yields no new information.

Gibbs puts the phone back down and pulls out a jar of powder and a brush. These get tossed to Ziva. "Check for prints," Gibbs orders. "Focus on the door."

Happy to have something to do, Ziva immediately gets to work. She finds a number of prints on both the inside and the outside of the door and on both handles, but she has a sinking feeling that most of them will belong to her or Tony.

Gibbs takes measured strides to slowly check the perimeter of the room before going back to the window. "You said you can see his car?"

"Yes." Ziva joins him and points it out.

"Did you see anyone in the parking lot once you noticed he was gone?"

"No."

"Okay." He puts a gentle hand on her shoulder and speaks to her firmly. "I need you to sit down and breathe for a minute."

"Breathing will not help us find Tony, Gibbs!" Her voice has a frustrated tone that she hasn't used with him in a long time; he cannot expect her to sit herself out for this one.

"Ziva, you're no good to me and you're no good to Tony if you panic. You've barely blinked since I walked in and I need you at the top of your game."

Ziva bristles at this. She's a highly trained Mossad officer, able to withstand interrogation, torture, or worse, and she does not panic. Gibbs is right about needing her at her best, though, and she quickly reminds herself that he's coming from a place of sincerity. He's not going to cut her out of this investigation, but she needs to play by his rules and listen to him.

She nods once, curt, and sits down robotically. Gibbs seems satisfied enough by that. "I need to search the rest of the apartment. Do I have your permission?" He can't imagine her saying no and if it was anyone else, he wouldn't even ask, but she's important enough to him for him to place a high value on keeping her trust.

"Do what you must," she says immediately.

He nods back and then he's off. The apartment isn't large, only a one-bedroom, and Ziva's right in that nothing looks out of place. There's nothing broken or clearly moved, no windows damaged or opened. His gut tells him that Ziva's right on this, too—something definitely happened to Tony, but whatever is happening now, it's happening somewhere far away from this clean apartment.

Gibbs is inspecting the kitchen, observing the way it's liberally sprinkled with flour, when Ziva's phone rings. He strides to her side as she leaps up to answer it. "McGee?"

"Ziva, I got into the security videos for your apartment building," he answers immediately. "Did Gibbs get there already?"

She puts the phone on speaker so Gibbs can hear, too. "Yes, he is listening."

"Good. Boss, I found footage of Tony leaving, and Ziva's right—it wasn't by choice. He was walking on his own two feet, but it was with a gun trained on him."

"Who was pointing the gun at him?" Gibbs asks quickly.

"He kept his face turned away from most of the cameras, but he took Tony out the back exit to the building. There was an extra camera on that exit that it looks like he didn't know about, because I was able to get a clear photo of his face. The camera isn't state-of-the-art, but I've enhanced the image and I'm running it through facial recognition as we speak."

"Any hits?"

"No, not yet," Tim answers grimly.

"How did they leave the premises?"

"The guy got him in a van, boss. I'm trying to find a good angle of the license plate now."

"Was there another driver, or did the abductor drive away himself?" Ziva asks urgently.

"I can't tell from the parking lot cameras but I'm hoping there are more cameras nearby."

"Keep looking, McGee. Ziva and I are coming in. Call Abby and have her meet us there."

"Got it, boss."

Ziva hangs up the phone and heads toward the door to grab her keys.

"Ziver," Gibbs says, stopping her.

"Yes?"

"I know you want to hurry, but take thirty seconds to change first." He gives her a small, reassuring smile. "I'll meet you at the office." Then he goes and Ziva rushes to do as she was told. She hadn't even remembered that she was in her pajamas until Gibbs pointed it out; while she doesn't give a damn what she looks like when Tony's in danger, no one will take her seriously as an acting federal agent in her Star of David pjs. That could get in the way. This is not the day to have to assert her authority to everyone they come across, though she's usually happy to do so.

Before she leaves, she pulls the pies out of the oven. Though it solves nothing, she can't help wishing that this is all an awful dream and that Tony is still here with her. She knows he'd be excited to sample the desserts, and beyond the simple injustice of being abducted, it seems doubly unfair that he should be snatched at this inopportune moment. Tony is nothing if not dedicated to his favorite less-than-healthy foods.

Ziva gets to NCIS very quickly, even by her own standards, and she rushes up the stairs to find Gibbs standing behind McGee's desk, both of them looking intently at the computer screen. "Ziva," Gibbs says, noticing her. "C'mere."

She joins them and looks at the screen, too. It's showing a freeze-frame from the security footage outside of her building—Tony is walking a few feet ahead of a man who has his gun inches from the agent's back. Seeing the grimace on Tony's face sends a pang through Ziva that she wasn't anticipating, and she swallows hard. "Do you recognize this guy?" Gibbs asks her.

"No. I have never seen him," she answers, sure of herself but dejected.

"Still no hits from facial recognition?" Gibbs presses.

"No. Running it again," McGee assures them quickly.

Something that should have occurred to Ziva an hour ago occurs to her now. "Run his face through the Interpol database," she suggests in a hard voice, knowing they will be focused on the American databases with no reason to suspect an international criminal.

They both turn to look at her, trying to scrutinize her expression. Though what she has requested is not unreasonable, something in her tone says that she has a hunch. "Do it, McGee," Gibbs says after a pause, and he looks intently at Ziva. "What are you thinking?"

For a moment, Ziva is torn. This is part of the reason that Mossad officers are trained to keep their emotions tightly under wraps, because what is important for NCIS and what Ziva is feeling are two different things. What she should do is protect the secrecy of the mission that she wasn't supposed to know about in the first place. What she wants to do is immediately give up any and all information that could help save Tony's life, even if it means the mission is shot to hell. Her feelings are not rational here, but the thought of losing Tony when she could possibly do something about it is unthinkable.

"Call Director Shepard," she answers tightly instead of doing what either her duty or her emotions demand of her. She's confirming that she knows something is happening but she's not disloyally divulging the details of what that something is.

Gibbs' face twitches, and Ziva knows he's angry with her for clearly holding back. "Damn it, Ziva, what do you know?" he reiterates, louder and more forcefully.

"Call. Director. Shepard," she growls back, equally loud.

"There's no need to call me. I'm here. What's going on?" They all look up to see Shepard on the catwalk outside of her office.

"Someone has DiNozzo," Gibbs barks up at her. "Ziva seems to think it has something to do with you."

Jenny's eyes immediately flit to the Mossad officer's face. Before she can say anything, though, McGee interrupts.

"Boss, we've got a hit. Tony's kidnapper is Valentin Saunier, French national. He's wanted by Interpol for aggravated assault, smuggling, and…" He looks up to meet Ziva's eye and then looks away just as quickly, full of trepidation.

"And what, McGee?"

"...murder."

Ziva doesn't outwardly react to this, and Gibbs makes a split-second decision. "McGee—find me that license plate and put out a BOLO on the van. Ziva, with me. We're going to go have a talk with Director Shepard."

McGee doesn't even look up to acknowledge his orders: he just nods as he types furiously.

Following Gibbs up the stairs robotically, Ziva wishes that he'd given her a more productive job. She wants to be actively tracking Tony down, not sitting between an angry Gibbs and an angry Jenny as one demands that she say what she knows and the other becomes suspicious of her for knowing anything at all. She has to trust Gibbs, though, knowing that he cares what happens to Tony just as much as she does. He wouldn't have them marching up to the director's office if it was less than vital.

Shepard, knowing they're coming, opens her office door to let them in and shuts it behind them. No one bothers to sit down—this is much too urgent for pleasantries.

"DiNozzo was abducted by a French national," Gibbs barks at Shepard. "Why?"

"French?" Jenny must not have been able to hear them well from the catwalk or she would have known that from McGee's report. It clearly means something to her, though. "Who?"

"Guy called Valentin Saunier. Wanted by Interpol. Who is he, Shepard?" Gibbs' ability to be polite with his friend, boss, and former partner was lost when his best agent disappeared.

"I don't know," she answers, troubled, and the look on her face tells Gibbs and Ziva both that she's telling the truth. She's hiding something, though, and, knowing that time is of the essence and he might not quickly get something out of her, Gibbs turns to Ziva.

"Why did you tell me to call her?" he demands, jerking his head toward Jenny for emphasis.

Ziva still isn't sure what to say, painfully stretched between duty and love. With no time to think, she decides quickly that having Gibbs mad at her is just the price of saving Tony, and with that in mind, she crosses past him to whisper in Jenny's ear. "I believe the abductor may have something to do with La Grenouille," she breathes. Pulling back, she can see confirmation in Jenny's face and suspicion, too—plainly, the director was also thinking about the Frog in connection with today's events, and just as plainly, she wants to demand answers from Ziva on how she knows about that at all.

The director has an agent in danger, though, and that's what she chooses to focus on. She can deal with the Mossad officer later. "La Grenouille," she says out loud to both of them.

Gibb's head whips from staring hard at Ziva to giving Shepard the same treatment. He obviously recognizes the name. "You think he had a hand in this? Why?"

"Because Tony has been on an undercover assignment for the past six weeks to help me track him."

DiNozzo's secretiveness and his frequent meetings with the director suddenly make sense, and it's all Gibbs can do to focus on the case and not go off on Shepard. If they lose Tony, though. she's going to have hell to pay.

"It's possible that La Grenouille found out and sent someone after Tony," Shepard continues.

"Possible? How many people knew about this assignment that you sent him on alone?"

"None," Jenny answers coldly. She's had it with Gibbs' tone; he's acting like she personally handed Tony a death sentence. In reality, though the assignment has always had the potential to be dangerous, it's something Tony agreed to do. Frankly, it's a danger he accepted when he became an agent years ago.

"You sure about that?" Gibbs is talking to Jenny, but he gives Ziva a hard look, and she meets his eye, stony-faced.

"Tony was made very clear how important secrecy was to this mission, and I didn't tell anyone else," Jenny insists. The question of what Ziva knows and how she knows will have to wait.

"Tell me everything," Gibbs orders, and though Shepard is his boss and not his inferior, she follows immediately.

"La Grenouille's name is René Benoit. He has a French-American daughter in Washington named Jeanne Benoit. She's a doctor at Monroe. We've been trying to track La Grenouille for a long time, and he's slipped through our fingers every time we've gotten close. I sent Tony to get close to his daughter and gain her trust with the aim of learning about her father's whereabouts. He's been dating her for six weeks now and he's been feeding me information the whole time. We were getting close to nailing down the Frog's location—that must be how he found out about Tony."

"You are getting close? Where do you believe him to be?" Ziva interjects.

"We tracked his most recent travels to Afghanistan, moving weapons into war-torn areas to be sold to whoever would pay the most for them."

"Looks like he's in Washington now," Gibbs counters darkly.

Tony comes to slowly, wincing as unconsciousness fades away and his head starts to throb. He's slumped in an awkward and uncomfortable position, so he tries to straighten up—in doing so, he notices that his hands and ankles are bound to the chair underneath him. Forcing his eyes open with some difficulty, he flinches as light hits his eyes, and it takes them a moment to adjust and process what he's seeing.

He's sitting in what appears to be an empty warehouse, and as far as he can tell, he's alone at the moment. There's a bright light on a stand a few feet away, the light pointing directly at his face… not a good sign.

Also not a good sign is the fact that he isn't blindfolded. He can see everything around him and tries to take mental notes on it, but that's little help. It won't matter at all what he noticed if he doesn't make it out of here alive, and him being allowed to see bodes poorly for his lifespan as far as the captors' intentions go. The last thing he can remember before being knocked out is the sharp prick of a needle in his neck.

He strains his ears; while he can't hear any people, he can hear the gentle slapping of waves against waterlogged structural supports—he must be in a warehouse at the docks, and he wonders which ones.

Before he can think too far into it, though, he starts to hear footsteps, and they're quickly matched to a man striding slowly toward Tony, looking as if he has all the time in the world. Unfortunately, the man looks very familiar to Tony… not because they've met, but because Jenny showed him a number of photos of the man. It's René Benoit, also known as La Grenouille. It's Jeanne's father.

The older man stops in front of Tony with a pleasant smile on his face and Tony smiles blandly back. He'll be damned if he's going to allow this man any satisfaction beyond Tony's initial capture.

"Mr. DiNozzo," Benoit says softly, his French accent soft and sophisticated. "How nice of you to join me this evening."

"Oh, I assure you," Tony replies in the most sarcastic, falsely posh voice he can dredge up, "the pleasure is all mine, Mister…?" He trails off rather than finishing with a name. He isn't sure how much La Grenouille knows that he knows, so he'll keep his cards close for now and not play his hand too early.

"I do not know what name your director knows me as, but we are all friends here. Call me René," the man says smoothly.

"Right. René. If we're all friends here, you mind telling me why I'm duct-taped to a chair?" Tony asks pleasantly.

"I must take precautions, you understand." Benoit is still wearing the smile that makes Tony think of the British monarchs; it's the publicly benevolent smile of someone who is very used to being listened to by those with less power.

"Precautions against…?" Tony fishes.

"I'm sure it will not surprise you if I tell you that I know you're a federal agent, Mr. DiNozzo. I'm afraid it would be something of a mistake to allow you free use of your limbs—I wouldn't want you calling that delightful director of yours, after all."

"How do you know her?"

"Ah, Director Shepard and I go back a very long time," Benoit answers, chuckling indulgently. He reminds Tony a little of an eviller, more French version of Ducky.

"Back to the stone ages, I'm sure," Tony replies, smiling.

Surprised, Benoit laughs. "I can see why Jeanne likes you so much! A man with a sense of humor can be hard to find in this country."

Tony shrugs as much as he can in his bonds. "She's a smart girl."

"That she is," Benoit agrees. "Smart, yes, but innocent, too. She's sweet enough and naive enough not to recognize that she was being manipulated by you."

"I've been manipulating her?" Tony parrots, slightly stung despite himself. "That's funny. If you ask her what her dad does, she'll tell you he's a businessman."

"She would be correct."

"And what business does she think you run?"

"The details matter little, especially to you, Mr. DiNozzo."

"Why 'especially to me'?" Tony asks, only a little afraid to find out the answer.

"Because I'm afraid you've seen my daughter for the last time."

"What, are you going to kill me?" Tony guesses, his voice still full of bravado. It's not like that conclusion was a hard one to reach, even from the beginning.

"Me?" Benoit looks both surprised and mildly offended. "I am not a violent man."

"Sure you're not," Tony says snidely. "Non-violent people kidnap other people at gunpoint all the time?"

"I said that I am not violent. I cannot speak for the enthusiasm of my men. I simply requested that they bring you here to sit and talk with me."

"Great. That makes it all better. Thanks, René."

Benoit smiles in acknowledgment of the facetious praise. "Well, Mr. DiNozzo, how about you make yourself comfortable? I'll be back again to chat soon." He starts to turn to walk away, but Tony interrupts.

"What makes you think I'll tell you anything, now or later?"

Benoit turns back with a distinctly unpleasant smile on his face this time. "You're a smart man, Tony, are you not? I want you to think about where you were when my friends found you. You were at the residence of a charming young woman who—if my information is correct—is named Ziva David." Tony can feel the blood drain from his face and he hates the fact that he knows Benoit has noticed. "I understand that she's one of the Israeli Mossad. I'm sure she excels at hand-to-hand combat and the use of weaponry, but I have never known those skills to protect against a sniper's bullet through the skull."

With that, Benoit turns to leave again, calling out to Tony without turning back as he walks away. "Think on that, Mr. DiNozzo."

He probably makes some signal that Tony can't see, because Tony hears footsteps behind him. There must have been someone back there the whole time and Tony just couldn't turn in his chair enough to see them.

It's a different man from the one who pulled him from Ziva's apartment earlier, but this one looks just as formidable, especially with a nasty smile on his face. He makes a fist and strikes at Tony suddenly enough that the agent doesn't have time to wince before he's knocked unconscious.

His last thought as everything fades to black is a bone-aching fear for Ziva's life.