I'm sorry! My internet connection went out on Saturday, and the company wouldn't fix it until yesterday...and then I got sick. The good news is that I'll have another chapter posted by Sunday, so you won't have to wait too long. Enjoy:-)

Chapter Eight: A Little Knowledge

On the video, one of the men turned around. Then the screen went black.

Ziva, Nigel, and Woody continued to stare at it, as if simply watching the plasma screen could bring Jordan back to them.

Woody slowly turned towards Gibbs, and then started yelling. "Where is she? You have to find her! You have to find her now! You can't just leave her there! Come on, do someth—"

"Sit down, son," Gibbs commanded. When Woody made no move to do so, Gibbs took him by the shoulders and gently forced him into a chair. "Listen to me." Gibbs waited until Woody calmed and looked him in the face. "We will find Jordan. I promise you that," Gibbs started. "But she does not need you panicking. You're no help to her if you do that. We'll find her, but you have to stay calm."

The two men stared at each other until Woody nodded. He took a few deep breaths. "Okay…," he said. "What do we do?"

Gibbs turned around. "McGee!"

"Yeah, Boss."

"Trace that video!"

"On it, Boss. It won't be easy, though. There a bunch of firewalls and re-routing objects to pass through, and…," McGee trailed off under Gibbs's stare.

Nigel walked swiftly over to McGee's desk. "I'll help. With both of us, we should have it in no time. Where's Abby? Can she help?"

"Abby went home already," Tony replied. "I'll see if I can get her on her cell."

Gibbs shook his head. "See what those two come up with first. I need you to start going through all of Ziva's files…call Mossad if you have to."

Tony dropped his phone. "Okay, but shouldn't Ziva?"

Gibbs was already halfway down the hall. "Hoyt, help DiNozzo. Ziva! With me!"

Ziva snapped out of her trance and quickly followed Gibbs into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, Gibbs threw the emergency switch. The lights dimmed as the elevator came to an abrupt halt.

"Gibbs," Ziva started.

"Don't apologize…sign of weakness," he said before she could get any further. "What do you know about these men?"

The woman shook her head and through up her hands. "I didn't recognize either of them, but they are definitely Hammas. They wanted information about one of my missions back before I came to NCIS. I…eliminated…a certain Hammas member…not that that was unusual…but he was one of the…uh…someone who was supposed to become one of the top officials soon."

"Your cover get blown?" Gibbs asked.

"No!" she said. "I made sure that I got out clean. But I wasn't the only one on that mission…if they found someone else…those terrorists want to know what my involvement was and what other missions are planned by Mossad."

Gibbs looked at her hard. "Do you know about current missions?"

Ziva dismissed the question. "Only vaguely, nothing classified…but the terrorists don't know that."

"Okay, go back and get every detail you can about that mission. Also, have McGee or Tony start running a facial recognition search on the terrorist database."

Gibbs flipped the emergency switch back. Ziva grabbed his arm.

"Gibbs," she said. "If they figure out that she's not me…." Ziva looked grave.

Gibbs looked back at her. "I know."

Jordan sat shivering, still tied to the chair. The room seemed much colder than it had before, though Jordan wasn't sure whether that was real or if it was just her mind's perception.

Once the man had turned off the camera, the beating had thankfully stopped. The two men hadn't said another word…just packed up the camera and left. Jordan still had no idea what they wanted, and she was not eager for them to return.

Her wish didn't come true. After what seemed like mere minutes, but was probably much longer, the door opened again. This time there was only one man, the taller one, and no video camera.

He bent down so that he was eye-level with Jordan. He reached out his hand and cupped her chin. Jordan pulled away.

Giving him the hardest stare she could muster, Jordan questioned him. "What do you want?"

The man chuckled. "Still defiant, I see," he said. It took Jordan a moment to realize that she could understand him, but then she asked again. "What do you want?"

"You cannot pretend that you do not know," he answered. "You heard it from us earlier. This act of yours—that you do not understand my language…well, I know you better than that."

Jordan shook her head, but stopped at the pain that shot through. "I don't speak…Arabic…or Hebrew…or whatever language you were using."

Her reward was a slap across the face. "Do not lie to me! Ms. David, I have known of you for years…you do not grow up in Israel and not speak Arabic!" the man yelled. "Now, tell me what Mossad is planning! Who does Operation Zodiac target?"

"Mossad?...David?...but I…." Jordan's brain was having a hard time keeping up with this man. Finally, everything slid into place. "No…you've got the wrong person…my name is Jordan!"

Another slap. "I said not to lie!" he said.

"I'm not lying!" Jordan said desperately. "I'm not Ziva…I was just working with her on a case! I swear!"

He laughed…a cold, harsh sound. "Do you really think I am that stupid?"

Jordan didn't answer, too afraid he might hit her again.

"You will tell me, in the end," he said. "You lie now, but you will tell me the truth."

"I can't tell you what I don't know!"

"Well, then…I will just have to find a way to…persuade you," he said. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. Jordan's eyes widened as he flicked it open.

He touched the side of her face with the blade. "Something for you to think about," he threatened. "What is it worth to you to keep lying to me?"

Quickly, he snapped the knife shut. Before Jordan could react further, the door was slammed and she heard the lock click. He was gone.