Happy Flag Day! Long may it wave!


Chapter 12

They got back into the limo and Tony was almost glad to settle into the seat opposite Sullivan. Gibbs was in an entirely different direction, so Sullivan would have to turn his head to look at him. He couldn't simply allow his eyes to drift away from the man he was talking to.

"Are all of your colleagues players?" Gibbs asked suddenly, and Tony looked up, all ears.

Sullivan shrugged. "I warned you that you'd be letting your catch be seen. I wouldn't have said that about men who wouldn't be interested."

"Then maybe it's just as well they see him now and understand that he's mine," Gibbs said with deceptive mildness. Tony could tell that Sullivan got the not so subtle jab at himself. "I wouldn't want anyone to be confused."

"Of course not," Sullivan said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. They didn't have nearly as far to go this time, but Tony's stomach was informing him that lunch time was fast approaching. Fortunately, their next stop was a restaurant where they met with Eli George, a tall thin fellow with thinning dark hair and piercing green eyes.

George didn't look twice at Tony. Sullivan introduced Gibbs, but he didn't mention Tony's name, and the guy seemed to take him as part of the scenery. He got straight down to business with Gibbs, and his business was apparently weapons. Tony began to pray that this was their traitorous arms smuggling accomplice, but when Gibbs mentioned something diffidently about export, George shook his head. "No exporting, I import only. There's no money in export unless it's in bulk, and I mainly deal in specialty items. Your collectors, they know what they want, they've got the money, and they don't care if it's legal."

After lunch they got back into the limo, and Tony wondered how long this rolling meet and greet was going to last. They'd already have long drive back to the hotel. Their third stop was a factory. The gates rolled open a moment after the chauffeur brought the car to a stop outside them. Once inside, he pulled around to the left and parked.

As he followed Rudy out of the car, Tony became aware suddenly that he was putting his butt on full view for Sullivan every time he climbed out of the car before he did. It made him self-conscious, but there was nothing he could do about it.

"Doug, come in, come in. It's cold out there." The door had opened while they got out, and a man stood there in shirt sleeves. He was a thickset man with reddish hair, solid rather than fat. He didn't stop once they were inside, but led them straight onto the factory floor. It wasn't noticeably warmer in there, but Tony supposed the lack of wind was a bonus. "Now, introductions. My name is Gerry Hogan, and you must be Gibson Howe."

"I must be," Gibbs said and shook the offered hand. Hogan looked over Gibbs' shoulder at Tony and took him in greedily. He could almost feel the man undressing him with his eyes. Then a measure of pain entered Hogan's expression, and his eyes shot to Gibbs' face. "So, what is all this?" Gibbs asked in a pleasant voice.

Hogan rubbed his hand as though it hurt, and Tony bet it did. "I thought you might enjoy a tour," he said.

"A tour, Hogan?" Sullivan said.

"My office isn't free, Doug," Hogan replied in an undertone. "You chose a bad day for this visit."

"A tour sounds fine." Gibbs looked over towards the machine that took up most of the floor. "You make, what here?"

"Chain, chain link, wire of various gauges," Hogan replied. He walked over and patted the machine Gibbs had indicated. "This machine is currently set to make ten gauge chain."

"Interesting," Gibbs said, and Sullivan gave in with poor grace. They walked through the factory, Rudy and Mark staying close by but not riding in Tony's pocket. For the first little while, Tony stayed next to Gibbs, like a shadow. As they got deeper into the factory, Kate and Wallace started to break up a little. Tony wondered how close they were, or if there was some kind of interference from the factory equipment.

Hogan and Gibbs seemed to be hitting it off, at least in part because after his first consuming stare, Hogan didn't look at Tony again. Gibbs didn't try to hurry Hogan along in his long dissertations about his machines and what they could do, which didn't really surprise Tony. A man who was comfortable let facts slip, and Gibbs was making Hogan very comfortable. Sullivan, on the other hand, wasn't enjoying the tour. Tony thought it might have something to do with the fact that his casual slacks didn't provide much protection from the cold in the factory. Even in shirtsleeves, Hogan seemed fine, and Gibbs wouldn't show discomfort in anything short of an avalanche. Tony was a little chill in his jeans and thick socks, but Sullivan was dressed for heated, indoor meetings.

Unfortunately, the constant movement of the tour gave Sullivan plenty of time to stare at Tony, unseen and uninterrupted. Tony couldn't do anything himself, even to call Gibbs' attention to it would be to step out of character.

About a half hour in, Hogan started holding forth on the merits of an almost new machine that made wire. He seemed very excited about it, and it looked to Tony like he was prepared to talk for ten or fifteen minutes, easy. What had seemed at first like a delaying tactic had given way to Hogan's obvious love of his machinery. Sullivan was a good ten feet off, studying his phone. Rudy and Mark had drawn back slightly.

Hogan put a hand on Gibbs' shoulder and turned him towards the equipment, pointing. "You know he wants your boy, don't you?" he said in a conversational tone that sounded perfectly natural and wouldn't be noticed like whispering would.

"What of it?" Gibbs asked. "So do you. So have others. Vellucci is mine, he knows that, I know that and Doug knows that."

"Doug is known for poaching."

"Poaching takes two," Gibbs said. "And Tony's not interested."

Hogan glanced at Tony, his look still hungry. "You're lucky. My boy wasn't so loyal, and Doug ruined him."

Tony and Gibbs became aware of Sullivan's approach at roughly the same moment, Tony guessed by Gibbs' slight tilt of the head. Hogan wasn't quite as perceptive. When Sullivan put a hand on each man's shoulder, Hogan jumped.

"Are you still harping about Matthew, Gerry?" Sullivan said, and Tony saw Gerry's expression go from calm to fury to fearful in the space of about a second.

"Of course not."

"That wasn't poaching. If you can't keep your boy satisfied and he looks elsewhere, that's not poaching."

"Where is Matthew now?" Gibbs asked.

He shrugged and dropped his hands. "I gave him to a friend. He wasn't up to my level of play. It was a shame. He had such promise." Stepping back, he looked around at the machinery and high windows. "Now, I'm afraid I'm really not dressed for this environment, so fascinating as this all is, I think it's time we moved on to our next stop."

"Perhaps another time, then, Gibson," Hogan said.

"Perhaps," Sullivan said, his tone a little forbidding. Hogan turned and guided them back out of the factory. Tony wasn't sure of all the subtext, but he kept his eyes and ears open. The trip out was faster than the trip in had been, and they moved largely without talking. When they reached the car, Rudy and Mark started edging Tony towards it and away from Gibbs and Sullivan.

"If everything's okay, Tony," Kate said, "cough twice. We haven't heard anything for fifteen minutes."

Tony hated these contrived signals, but he coughed twice into his hand. Sullivan turned towards him with raised eyebrows. "Are you feeling quite all right, Vellucci?" he asked. "The cold of the factory doesn't appear to have been good for him. Perhaps we should have Rudy and Mark take him back to the hotel."

Gibbs, who knew perfectly well what Tony was doing, turned an amused look his way. "I don't think it's that serious. Tony?"

"Frog in my throat, Boss," Tony said.

"Well, at least have him get in the car."

Gibbs nodded at Tony, so he let Rudy and Mark guide him into the car. He climbed into the seat he'd been occupying off and on all day. Rudy joined him and Mark waited to open the door for Gibbs and Sullivan. Tony looked over to see Sullivan speaking vehemently to Hogan. Gibbs stood a little way away from them, pretending that he couldn't hear them talking.

"What's the story with those two?" Tony asked.

Rudy turned to look at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"There's clearly a history. What is it?"

"That's none of your business," Rudy said.

"Mr. Hogan seems to think it's my business."

"Mr. Hogan thinks it's your master's business," Rudy replied. "Now keep quiet before you get yourself into trouble," Rudy replied.

"I thought you liked me getting into trouble."

"Only if I get to watch the punishment, and your master isn't one for public display."

The door opened and Tony sat back in the chair, no little perturbed by the fact that Rudy hadn't been kidding when he'd said he wanted to watch Gibbs spank him. Sullivan appeared to have surrounded himself with like-minded people. It made Tony wonder how he managed to seem so straight-laced during his Monday through Friday, eight to four-thirty logistics job. A team had interviewed him and his co-workers on the pretext of a security check up, and no red flags had come up.

"Pay no attention to him, Gibson," Sullivan said. "Matthew came to me, and Gerry just hates to admit that he couldn't keep the boy happy."

"Not my problem," Gibbs said. "And I'm not particularly interested."

"Good," Sullivan replied. "Our last stop is Jacob. He's considerably less maudlin."

"And these are your primary business associates?" Gibbs asked.

"They're the ones I want you to work with initially," Sullivan corrected. He glanced at Tony. "Now, if your boy is feeling fragile, I suggest we send him back to the hotel. Jacob can be difficult at the best of times."

"Tony, are you feeling fragile?" Gibbs asked, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"No, Boss, I'm not,"

"Of course he'd say that. It's abundantly clear he'd do anything you asked of him."

"He knows better than to tell me he's well when he's not," Gibbs said. "He's tried that and knows what it leads to."

"Really?"

Gibbs shrugged, giving Tony a narrow look. Tony knew he was thinking of all the times he'd come back from sick leave too early. Not that Gibbs didn't do exactly the same thing, but there were different rules for Gibbs. "He's fine. I can tell."

"I'll take your word for it," Sullivan said, gazing thoughtfully at Tony.

Their next meeting was in a cube farm, but not cubicles like theirs at NCIS. No half height walls here, all the standard six feet. Of course, Tony could see over them without much effort, but they were still maze like. There weren't any items that stuck up above the walls as there were sometimes in offices like this, things that operated as landmarks. No posters on the outer walls, just uniform gray fuzzy walls in straight rows. They made him think of Dilbert.

None of the cubicles appeared to be tenanted but there was no knowing truthfully. The only sound coming from a lone worker would probably be typing, and that would be muffled by the fabric and board walls of the dividers.

Sullivan knew exactly where he was going and led them through the gray hallways without pausing. Classical music reached their ears as they approached what Tony assumed was their destination, a wall of hard wall offices on the opposite end of the cubes.

"Damn!" came a voice from inside one of the rooms. The door was open, and it was where the music was playing. There was a beep like an intercom. "Marco, get Thomas in here. I want an explanation for this mess!"

The answer was inaudible, but Tony assumed it was positive since there was no more yelling. A moment later Sullivan and Gibbs entered the room. He followed and saw Sullivan shaking hands with a man who dwarfed him, and Sullivan was by no means a small man. This guy was tall and fat, though he clearly had an amazing tailor because his suit fit him impeccably.

"Gibson, this is Jacob Steinman. He's a useful man to know. Jacob, this is Gibson Howe. He, too, is a useful man to know."

"Yes, I hear he provided Raul with some much-needed components." He gave Gibbs the once over and then glanced at Tony. His head straightened and he raised his eyebrows. Tony had resolved not to be as obvious as he'd been in Simon's office, but he couldn't help it, he edged towards Gibbs very slightly. Sullivan and Gibbs were both very alpha, considerably more so than either Simon or Hogan, but Steinman could give them both a run for their money. He also reminded Tony of his father, and that just made his expression of desire more disturbing. "You are a remarkable man, Mr. Howe."

This office was a well-used space, without the luxurious opulence of Simon's office. The desk was good quality, like the clothes, but apart from a few tasteful prints and a couple of five-minute chairs, the space was empty of unnecessary clutter. He also kept an orderly desk.

"Thank you," Gibbs said ironically. "Call me Gibson."

"Of course, and you must call me Jacob. Please, have a seat." Gibbs and Sullivan sat down. Tony found a spot against the wall near where Gibbs was sitting. Rudy and Mark clearly felt uncomfortable with that situation. There wasn't really room for them to do their door guarding routine, and Tony wasn't being cooperative. "Why don't you send those two outside?" Steinman said. "What are they here for anyway?"

Tony saw Gibbs turn towards Sullivan to see what he'd say. Sullivan shrugged. "You know how I operate, Jacob."

Steinman made a thoughtful sound as he settled back in his chair. "I do, indeed. Send them out, Doug. They're not needed in here." Sullivan nodded and Tony watched the pair file out with scarcely concealed relief. He'd grown tired of having their eyes on him all the time. When he turned back, he found Steinman's eyes on him, faintly amused and faintly predatory. He turned back to Gibbs and Sullivan smoothly. "So, Gibson, I don't suppose you have any contacts with the requisite skills to break into encrypted files?"

"I might," Gibbs said thoughtfully. "A lot would depend on how much you're willing to pay."

And negotiations commenced. Tony found it fascinating to watch three alphas dancing around each other without fighting. Steinman was a good ten years older than both Gibbs and Sullivan, and Tony got the impression he was viewing their tension with condescending amusement. He wasn't going to get involved except perhaps to keep blood off his carpet.

Rudy and Mark had left the door open, and Steinman had left the music on. The carpeted floors throughout the building deadened footsteps, so when a man entered the room, Tony was unprepared. Most would simply see a man in a suit, but Tony's eyes detected a telltale bulge under his left arm, and his right pants leg was pulled over another lump at his ankle. And he was walking towards Gibbs' unprotected and unsuspecting back. When he reached into his coat with his right hand, Tony burst into action. A quick punch sent him off balance and Tony seized him, turning to slam him face first against the wall, holding him there with a right hand against his left shoulder blade. With his left hand, he twisted the intruder's left arm behind his back. In this position, he couldn't reach either of his weapons and Tony could break his arm with a quick jerk.

The crash of the man's body hitting the wall brought Mark and Rudy inside, and both raised their guns on Tony.

"Gibson, restrain your boy!" Sullivan thundered. "What the hell does he think he's doing?"

"I, too, await an explanation," Steinman said, but his tone was milder and more inquisitive.

"Who is this?" Gibbs asked.

"One of my associates, Nicholas Tate."

"Get this bastard off me!" Tate yelled.

"Tony, I think you can release him," Gibbs said, and Tony did, stepping back.

Tate jerked his clothes straight and turned around. "What the hell was that about?"

"Tony, please explain," Gibbs said mildly.