One Hour Later
A/N In the last chapter I gave an erroneous name to the pub. I said Monty's and it should have been Willy's. Please forgive me. I also want to explain the delay in getting the rest of the story up. We had a major medical emergency and my husband spent most of the month of August in the hospital. Writing was the least of my worries. Thank you for your patience.
Frankie Rizzoli waited outside the back door of Willy's Pub waiting to see if French made a break for it. It seems he meant to stay and have a few. The detective had just changed positions in the alley when he heard a car pull into the alley. He poked his head around just enough to see it pull in, drop someone and pull back out. From the size and shape it was a man and it headed down the alley towards him. He pulled back and moved to a darker corner of Willy's yard. Frankie turned his face into the dark while hoping that whoever came down that alley was going to work at the pub. A hand clasped his shoulder and the detective turned ready to fight his way out of the grasp. "Jesus, Gibbs, you nearly gave me a heart attack."
Gibbs snorted back a laugh but his smile came through. "Just wanted to tell you reinforcements are here. Jane's in front and I'll be walking the perimeter. Keep in touch."
Frankie nodded in return.
Jane's voice came over the com. "Frankie…you okay?"
Frankie shot a look at Gibb's back as he walked away. "Yeah Jane, I am, no thanks to your buddy."
McGee's voice came over the coms. "Your man French's buddies have just shown up. We should have some names for you soon. Abby says the report from Interpol should be here soon too. She'll get back to you then."
Jethro wasn't pleased with the response time from Interpol. It always took way too long when their involved. "Okay McGee. See what else she gets and let us know."
Inside Willy's, Jereld French greeted his buddies. Abby notice a hesitation when he met a man of middle-eastern extraction. The picture was punched into the facial recognition program and the computer started humming away. As he greeted each of his friends she grabbed a facial shot and fed them to her computer. The initial greeting kept playing over in her mind and kept it busy trying to remember where she'd seen his face.
Gibbs came back to the back door with Frankie. "Maybe you should go in and keep our boy company. He doesn't know you but he'd recognize Jane or I. Just keep him there until Abby and McGee are done."
Frankie thought about it for a second or two and then he removed his hat and coat. Under his coat he wore a shirt and jeans that would be appropriate in a bar or club scene. "I'd hoped you'd ask me to do this." He handed his coat and hat to Gibbs and headed around front to the main entrance.
Jane had heard the conversation on the com unit so she showed not surprise as her brother came around the front of the building. He just flashed her a big smile and walked inside.
Gibbs followed him from behind the building. He put the coat and hat in the car, climbed into the front seat and waited for more information.
Frankie found a booth near the door but close enough to French to keep an eye on him and his friends. He ordered a burger, fries and a diet Coke and waited for the information from McGee and Abby, whoever they are.
The first face, the one French hesitated on, was giving facial recognition fits. It kept chewing on that one face. "Hey Gibbs, we're beginning to get some news here. The second face is Jake Turnstill. He popped up real quick and here's why. He's done time, four years in Walpole State Prison for distribution of small arms. He lives in Boston with his wife and her son from a previous marriage. It says here that he's an implosion expert, how'd he get a demolitions license with a prison record. Whatever…He's kept his record clean since then."
Abby returned her attention to the computer with facial rec working and still no hits on the first face. "The third face belongs to Jeremy Smalls. He's thirty five years old and no family. Parents are both dead in a car crash last year. He lives alone in Plymouth, Massachusetts. Jeremy also holds a license in demolitions. His job at Desjardins is to plan which building will be demolished, how and when it will come down."
She checked the computer again and still nothing. "Gibbs, the first face is getting no hits, but I know I've seen it somewhere before."
Jethro trusted Abby's gut almost as well as his own. "Where Abs?"
Abby stamped her foot. "If I knew that I'd have his name….."
McGee heard Abby take a big slurp of her Caf-Pow. That told him the lack of information on that man frustrated her. He wished he could help her with it.
Frankie heard the door behind him open and close. Quinten Desjardin strode to their table and sat. "Where's O'Rourke?"
Jeremy Smalls shrugged his shoulders. "Pat said the misses needed him home tonight. He'll see us at work tomorrow."
Something about the story bothered Gibbs. There was just enough a ring of truth to be real but also not enough to be true. "McGee, call Patrick O'Rourke's home and see if he's there."
Abby's facial recognition program finally dinged. What was on her screen made her eyes pop. "McGee…are you seeing this?"
McGee didn't have time to respond.
Abby shouted. "Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! The third man is Omar El Shadi. He was born in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia to parents of modest means. He currently lives in Boston with his wife, daughter and his parents. He is fairly traditional in his beliefs but not overly, and definitely not Sharia. He's thirty two years old. He emigrated here in his early twenties with his parents. His wife came later. Oh my here's the interesting part…he used to be a member of Al Qaida. Gibbs, what's he doing living in the United States?"
Gibbs face gave a look of disgust. "That's a damn good question Abby." He was already halfway across the street signaling Rizzoli. "Frankie, we're coming in. Keep your head down and let us handle this. Got it?"
Frankie reached for his burger. "Got it."
