Chapter 2

The alley was dark and chilly, but Tony didn't have to wait long to be picked up. An older model Chevy sedan in a deep maroon color drove up. It barely stopped long enough for Tony to get in and was moving before he got his seatbelt on. "Hey, Boss," Tony said in greeting. "Nice cover vehicle."

"Loaner from Tobias. And don't call me Boss," Gibbs warned.

Gibbs was right; when you're undercover you have to stick to it 24/7. Tony couldn't resist saying, "Oh yeah, thanks for the ride, Leland."

Somehow, Gibbs managed to glare at him out of the corner of his eye while driving at his usual break-neck speed, screeching around corners in order to lose anyone following them. Not that anyone was, though.

They slowed down to a normal speed, and Tony took a deep breath. "Wow. If anyone had been following us, they'd be sucking fumes about a mile back." He sniffed the air and twisted to look in the back seat. "Is that… pizza? From Jerry's Pizzeria? How'd you know I've been dreaming of their pizza for the past two weeks?"

"It probably got scrambled," Gibbs said with a slight shrug of apology.

Tony reached over and pulled the pizza box into his lap. Even if the cheese had sort of slid off, he didn't care. "Mmmm. Wanna a slice?" he asked as he bit into one. He couldn't help moaning, it was so good. "Oh, this is great. Love ya, Leland."

Gibbs sent him a sideways glance. "Save some for when we get there."

Licking his fingers, Tony asked, "Where're we going?"

"My house. We need to talk and you sure as hell can't walk into NCIS like that."

"What's wrong with me?" Tony glanced down at his clothing: a once-white tee under a khaki wool sweater he'd found in a second-hand store, and baggy cargo pants tucked into his borrowed boots. "I'm going for urban storm trooper," he said with a grin.

Gibbs examined Tony before turning his attention back to the road. "The whole thing: the hair, the scruff, the khakis. You'd attract attention and we can't risk you being seen by the wrong people."

Okay, so Gibbs had a point, but even though he'd been separated from the team for a mere couple of weeks, he was lonely and wanted someone familiar to talk to. Tony ran a hand over his jaw. "The beard is just starting to grow out. I mean, I know I look shady but that's the point. The boots are great, by the way. Nice and toasty. I'm a fashion plate compared to some of the guys I've been hanging out with."

Gibbs snorted and said, "We'll eat first, then you can brief me."

It was nice walking into Gibbs' home, even if he'd only been undercover for a short time. This was their first in-the-flesh contact and he hadn't realized how much he'd missed seeing a familiar face. Okay, he missed seeing Gibbs; he could admit that to himself. They'd had brief relays of pertinent information over a burn phone but that was about it. Being out there alone got tired pretty fast, and being in Gibbs' house was like coming home after a long trip away.

Gibbs pulled down all the blinds, and told Tony to make himself comfortable at the dining room table. He brought in some bottles of cold beer and placed a couple of bowls of salad on the table, simply saying, "Ducky." Tony understood. As they ate, he asked how everyone was doing, and if they'd caught any interesting cases. Gibbs was his usual curt self, replying, "Fine. And no."

After the pizza was gone, Gibbs dished up helpings of pecan pie with praline, and fetched a large tub of coffee ice cream. "Abby baked it. Once she knew I'd be meeting you…" Gibbs explained.

Tony looked around, half-expecting Abby to jump out from behind the couch or curtains. "And where is she hiding?"

With a smile, Gibbs said, "I convinced her not to come. I had to remind her not to jeopardize your undercover mission. It's risky enough we're meeting like this." He scooped a generous serving of ice cream on top of each slice of pie and pushed one bowl towards Tony.

Tony was disappointed Abby wasn't going to join them, but he did like having Gibbs to himself. The pie proved to be delicious, and Tony made a lot of noise as he ate, acting as if he hadn't had a decent meal since he'd been under. "Mmmm. Everything tastes so much better…," he said with an unapologetic grin. Gibbs, who was digging into his own dessert, just grunted.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~

Gibbs carried a couple of mugs of fresh coffee into the dining room, set them down, and pushed a bowl of sugar and the hazelnut creamer Tony's way. He sat across from Tony but didn't say anything. Tony sipped his coffee and nodded his thanks, and eventually said, "My dad called me just before I took this assignment. He wanted me to meet him for dinner, and I couldn't explain why I had to say no. He took it personally, so I said it was work-related. Then he said that you were too controlling, and that I could do better for myself."

Gibbs made a non-committal sound.

"I told him, again, that I love my job. I love working for you." Tony groaned. "I feel like I can never do anything to please him. Why do I let him get to me?"

Gibbs gave a small shrug and said, "It's normal for a kid to want to please their parents."

"I'm not a kid though," Tony said vehemently.

"And you think I am? Look, my dad always gets me pissed off, and he doesn't do or say anything that bad. It's a knee-jerk reaction."

"Maybe it's some kind of male competition," Tony said with a snort. "You know, young cub has to try to take on the mature lion."

"There's no competition there," Gibbs said.

"You mean I can never win," Tony replied, feeling depressed over that thought. Talking to his dad was like pushing against an impenetrable wall.

"No, I mean you're a good man, Tony, brave and loyal and a damned smart investigator, and he's too much of an arrogant prick to see it!"

Tony stared into Gibbs' eyes, unable to speak, and then a warm feeling came over him, and he felt heat rising to his cheeks. "Um, well, wow. I didn't… thanks, Boss."

"I meant every word of it, but if we don't get to work we're going to be up all night." Gibbs handed Tony a yellow pad and said, "Write down the names of everyone you can think of."

"You want makes and models of their cars?"

"Don't suppose you happened to jot down any of their plates?"

Tony grinned. "Just so happens I did."

"Attaboy," Gibbs said, petting Tony's hair.

They got down to business and Tony related to Gibbs everything he'd observed over the past couple of weeks, and wrote down details on a yellow pad while they drank coffee. Gibbs said that an investigation into Pinnell's recent activities revealed nothing to say he was the one fronting for Huston and the Warheads. "There's no record he has any property other than a house in West Virginia where he lives with his wife, or has rented any kind of property that might be used as the headquarters of this group. Chances are, they don't have a home base."

Tony leaned forward. "Hansen and Green's bodies were found in western Virginia. The report from the police and the FBI says the body parts were found by accident and were pretty well buried in rural locations. Petty Officer Green's head never would have been discovered if that piece of property hadn't been excavated for the construction of a house."

"So the killers didn't expect the bodies to be found," said Gibbs.

"And I think it's likely they were buried close to wherever the killers are living," Tony deduced. "From the parts recovered, it looks like the bodies were dissected into at least six sections. That's a lot of pieces to get rid of."

"McGee plotted the locations where the body parts were found." Gibbs pulled out a map. "East of the Shenandoah River State Park, north of Charlottesville, and south of Leesburg."

"One part was found as far east as the Potomac. That's a big area." They observed that most of the body parts were found relatively close to Shenandoah, so they decided Tony would concentrate on going to bars, meetings, and rallies in that area. "I've already drunk more beer in the past two weeks than I have in the past year," Tony complained good-naturedly.

Gibbs said, "It's possible Hansen and Green were recruited for the Warheads, and something went wrong."

"We're not going to find out what went down until we locate Huston, and question him," Tony said, frustrated.

They talked about the motivations of the groups Tony had encountered, and a strategy for getting closer to the Warheads, and after a couple of hours, Tony was ready for some shut-eye.

Gibbs set him up in the spare bedroom upstairs. The queen bed was comfortable – Tony had stayed over a few times over the years – and the luxurious towels Tony had given his boss a couple of Christmases ago were hanging neatly over the towel rail in their shared bathroom. There were some toiletries and a new toothbrush sitting on the counter near the sink. After using the bathroom, Tony came out into the bedroom, to find Gibbs leaning against the doorjamb in what might be considered a sultry pose.

Tony sat on the bed to remove his boots and tried to ignore the way Gibbs slouched in the doorway like Paul Newman in Hud. It was weird, the way he was watching him. He could feel Gibbs' eyes on him while he stripped down to his briefs, and wondered what was on the man's mind. Tony stood by the bedside wiggling his toes, unsure what was going on. There was a long silence, and the bedroom seemed to be getting smaller by the minute, with the way Gibbs was looking at him. It was almost of predatory, as if he thought Tony was a tasty meal ready for the taking, but that couldn't be right. No way was Gibbs into him, not like that, even if there had been moments over the years – moments that had never developed into anything – because they were both federal agents, straight guys who worked together and… because this was Gibbs.

Gibbs smiled a little, like he knew something Tony didn't, and he took a couple of steps forward until he was an arm's length away.

Tony shifted his weight and scratched his unshaven jaw. "You got anything I can sleep in? It's sort of chilly."

As usual, Gibbs was a step ahead. He opened the top drawer of a dresser and pulled out a long-sleeved tee-shirt and flannel sleep pants, which Tony quickly pulled on.

Gibbs said, his voice low, "It's good to see you."

Tony laughed nervously, not sure what was going on, if this was a test of some kind. "Hey, I missed you, too, Boss."

"You look good, Tony."

"Not too scruffy?"

Gibbs gave him a crooked smile. "Like the haircut."

"Glad you approve." Tony sat on the bed and removed his watch. He yawned and ran a hand over his face. "Don't know why I'm so tired," he said nervously. Maybe it had to do with being in Gibbs' house, one of the few places he could really relax. Or, he would be able to unwind a bit if Gibbs stopped looking at him like that.

"I'll get you an extra blanket," Gibbs said, apparently amused. He reached past Tony and pulled the covers down, brushing against him even though there was plenty of room.

Deciding he was too tired to figure out what the hell was going on, Tony climbed in and collapsed onto the pillows with a deep sigh, closing his eyes. He felt another blanket being laid upon him and a big hand stroked his hair ever so gently. He smiled sleepily and mumbled, "Mmmm. Nice," and a few seconds later was out like a light.

The next morning, it was all business. Gibbs fed Tony a good breakfast, gave him some last minute instructions, and then dropped him off a block from his new apartment. "Be careful, DiMaio," he said in parting.

Tony gave his boss a mock salute and said, "Always am, Leland," before sauntering off.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~

Tony spent most of his time over the next couple of weeks going to bars, free-speech rallies, and gun swaps out in the middle of nowhere, in search of anyone even remotely connected to the Warheads. He heard talk of them, and how they were recruiting people, but when Tony asked how he could get into the action, who to speak to, the answer was always a shrug and a "Don't know. They'll find you."

He slowly but surely insinuated himself into several quasi-military anti-government groups, listened to extremists and militia members talking conspiracy theories and proselytizing how the government was taking their rights away and killing them with crushing taxes and inadequate medical care. Tony spent way too much time in dark bars sipping cheap beer while listening to anyone and everyone who had a beef with someone. He did his own share of griping, and let everyone know he was a former Navy lieutenant looking for payback, and if that meant taking up arms against their oppressors, then damn it, that's what he would do. He was about to give up when he had a break.

It was at an invitation-only automatic rifle demo that a slight man of about forty with wire-rim glasses and a receding hairline struck up a conversation with him. Looking at Tony with a mild expression, the man introduced himself as Bob Woods. They talked guns for a bit, and then the conversation turned to the usual, about how the government was failing the people, and the poor state of things for the working man, and how returning vets were getting the shaft. They went to get a burger at a nearby eatery, and talked some more. After a few beers, Tony got morose and groused that 'they kicked me out of the Navy for nothing, made me do time, put me through hell, so fuck them all.'

Bob seemed interested and proceeded to tell Tony, in hushed tones, that he was looking for the right kind of men to join a group he belonged to.

"What kind of men?" Tony asked.

"Guys who know what's really going on and want to do something about it. The right kinda guys, ya know what I mean?" Bob leaned towards Tony and said, "Military experience is a plus."

"Sounds like something I might be interested in," Tony replied cautiously. "Depends what your group is about."

"We just want to set things right," Bob said. He talked for a while, making the group he was touting sound like it was as innocuous as a poker club in some guy's basement. But as the evening progressed his anti-government views became stronger, and when Tony pressured him for more details, Bob revealed the group's name: the Warheads.

Tony took a moment to hail the server and order a couple of beers before facing Bob with an interested expression. "Look, I've had enough of sitting in the wings. Time for some action," he said, keeping his voice low.

Bob nodded. "We're getting some like-minded men together. Good people, you know? Solid. Next week, if you're interested. You'd come out to the farm, stay a few days. Shoot off some steam. You understand we gotta check you out, but I know this will be good."

"This sounds like a lot of trouble to go to, just to sit around trading war stories," Tony said, sounding skeptical.

"It's more than that, a lot more."

"On a farm?"

Bob hesitated before saying, "It's our compound. Main house, barracks, weapons shed. Well, the barracks is really a barn."

This sounded like they meant business, but even though Tony's aim was to get close to the Warheads, he was wary. Sure, he'd been out here trying to hook up with anyone with a connection to the Warheads, but to be invited into their fold, right out of the blue? He wondered if they were desperate for recruits or something. So far there had been no mention of who was leading this group of weekend warriors, and he decided that he may as well ask straight-out. "Who's running this group? You?"

That made Bob laugh. "Me? No, no. I'm not… Let's just say the man running the ship knows what he's doing. Real smart."

"This smart guy got a name?"

"He goes by JT."

Tony raised an eyebrow.

Bob huffed a sigh and said, "His name's Huston. Just… don't go spreading that around, okay?"

Tony gave a derisive laugh. "Oh yeah, like I have anyone to tell."

Bob took a swig of his beer and asked Tony if he wanted to be part of something big, he had to trust him. "Look, these people have a clear objective, and are need patriots like you to join in, to get something done."

Tony said aggressively, "I don't do squat without confirmation of a decent payoff. I need some kind of assurance."

"This isn't about money," Bob replied. "This is our chance to do something proactive, instead of sitting around griping about it. But," he said, holding up a hand to prevent Tony from cutting in. "Between you and me, there's some money involved. Can't tell you more than that. If you're not interested, might as well tell me now."

Tony crossed his arms and frowned, as if considering the pros and cons. He nodded sharply. "Yeah. Okay. I'm in. But you'd better not be handing me any bullshit, Bob."

Tony gave the recruiter the number to his burn phone. He left, and for the next few days, was careful to go about his usual routine. He called Gibbs on a different burn phone, from inside a busy mall on the other side of town. He kept the conversation brief, relayed the important parts, and after hanging up, he destroyed the phone. Gibbs had given him the usual lecture on being careful, and ended the call with a gruff, "You're doing good, Tony."

Apparently, Tony DiMaio checked out okay, because a week later Bob called Tony and told him, "You're in. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning…"

"I can meet you there," Tony offered.

"No, man, it doesn't work that way."

~ • ~ • ~ • ~

The night he'd met Bob Woods, Tony had phoned McGee to have him run the guy's name. He'd waited while McGee did his thing and the results were not surprising. Bob had a background in engineering, was married with a couple of teenaged kids, lived in a small town in Virginia, and had a single gun license, for a hunting rifle. McGee reported, "No priors, not much in the way of savings, both kids adopted. Bob was in the system as a teen, in foster care. He works in DC, for the city as a building code inspector. Seems clean." Before they disconnected, McGee said, "Remember rule number three."

"That's why I called you, to double-check," Tony replied.

"No, the other number three. Never be unreachable," Tim insisted.

"I thought that was your department, you know, with the tracker thingie. It is working, isn't it?"

"Oh yes. We've been watching you doing your rounds, Tony. Uh, DiMaio."

"Yeah, well now I'm on their radar, I'm not going to be able to report in like I have been, McMom. All communication from now on is going to be between me and my girlfriend," Tony had confirmed. "Remind her to be careful what she says, okay?"

"You be careful, too."

"I always am."

~ • ~ • ~ • ~

"C'mon, honey, it's only for a few days," Tony said into his phone. He'd found two bugs in his apartment when he'd returned from an outing a few days ago. Both had been placed in well-hidden spots by someone knew what they were doing. He wondered if it was Bob. He left the listening devices alone and went about his business.

"Who are you going with?" Ziva demanded.

Being careful to make this phone call sound like he was talking to a girlfriend, Tony said, "It's just a guy I met."

"One of your gun-happy friends?" Ziva asked, with obvious disapproval.

"I've told you before, these people are fighting for our rights."

"Fighting! Why is it always fighting with you? Can you not forget it and–"

"No I can't forget it! And neither should you. If I hadn't been cheated out of my pension, we'd be married by now," Tony said angrily. He took a deep breath and calmed down. "I'm going to get this wrapped up in a couple of days. Maybe three. And then I'll come visit, okay?"

"You had better. A girl gets lonely," she replied, sounding unhappy. "Oh yes, Uncle Leland wants me to tell you to hold your head low. And phone me as soon as you get back!"

"It's 'keep your head down'," Tony corrected. He ended the call and sighed, wishing he'd been able to speak to Gibbs in person. It wasn't safe though; he knew that. Just the same, he was starting to feel really isolated and was looking forward to this investigation being over.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~

Bob picked Tony up the next morning outside his apartment, before the sun even had a chance to peep over the bare winter trees. It was late March and a cold snap had left frost on the ground. Tony was glad he had put on an extra layer of clothing, as he had been instructed to pack light. Of course he had a knife in his belt as well as another sheathed in his boot, and a few 'might come in handy' items in his jacket pockets: a compass, fire starter, lock picks, a water filtration straw McBoyScout had given him, waterproof tactical gloves, several power bars and a couple of sticks of Gibbs' favorite brand of beef jerky.

Once Tony was in the car, Bob blindfolded him, so he had no clue where he was taken, other than way out in the middle of nowhere. After the paved roads ended, there was more than an hour of driving along minor roads, and then what felt like an endless journey on a bumpy dirt track to reach their destination.

As soon as Tony's blindfold was removed, he got out of the car and looked around to make a quick assessment of his location. Extending in both directions was a sturdy fence that looked about ten feet tall. Someone was serious about the security of the compound and that fence would keep people out, but it also functioned to keep people like him trapped within.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~