CHAPTER SIX
It had been two hours since Tony walked into the bank. He'd been standing against the counter the entire time, watching the three gunmen. They were an odd trio. The leader was named Cal, and the youngest of the three was Tyler. Whether that was his first or last name, Tony couldn't tell, but the kid was nervous. Not "I don't want to be here" nervous or "We shouldn't be doing this" nervous. It was more like "I hope I don't mess up and make Cal look bad" nervous. They were brothers, maybe.
The third one – the one with the temper – was named Mick. Cal had already yelled at him three times for what football referees would call 'unnecessary roughness'. Cal had berated him for shoving hostages, breaking a glass table, and screaming so violently at an older woman to sit that she nearly had a heart attack. Mick was the one who was pumped and pissed and ready to snap. Tony had seen cops like that, and he didn't envy anyone who had to try to keep a guy like that in line.
Cal, so far, had seemed pretty level-headed and accommodating. He was patient. He didn't care that Tony's cellphone kept ringing – he didn't seem to be in any particular hurry to start negotiating or demanding action. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, which made him dangerous in a different way than Mick was dangerous. Cal had come here for a reason and wasn't leaving until he'd taken care of everything on his agenda. Unfortunately Tony didn't know what that agenda was.
Cal saw Tony intently watching the three men, and he walked over to the agent to have a little chat. It occurred to both Cal and Tony that under different circumstances the men could probably have been friends. They both had the same intensity about their jobs, but they also laced that intensity with a sense of humor and an overall calm demeanor. Neither one wanted anyone to get hurt here, but both of them wanted the outcome to go their way. 'He'd be an interesting chess partner', Cal thought as he approached Tony at the counter.
"You're awfully quiet," Cal said with a half-grin, gun hanging lazily at his side.
"You're not exactly a Chatty Cathy yourself," Tony replied.
Cal cocked his head to the side to acknowledge the comment. "Quiet Feds worry me."
"As do quiet bank robbers," Tony said.
The two men looked at each other, playing a mental game of 'chicken' to see who's curiosity would break first. If this were an interrogation scenario, Tony would have stared Cal down easily, but right now it was Cal with the gun and Tony without, and frankly, Tony was getting a little tired of this quiet little standoff. He was all for non-violence, but if you're going to hold a bunch of people hostage, at least follow the rules.
"So …" Tony said, in a conversational tone that nearly threw Cal off with its casualness. "What's the deal? Please tell me we're not all here just because you wanted to fulfill some cops and robbers fantasy from childhood."
Cal's face grew more serious; his grip on his gun tightened. Tony slightly cleared his throat, realizing that he may have just wandered into quicksand.
"This is not a game," Cal said. "It doesn't have to be violent, and it doesn't have to be unpleasant. But it is not a game."
Tony put his hands up in a calming gesture. "OK … Sorry," he said. "Just a little skittish here. I revert to humor in tense situations." Cal softened slightly. "So," Tony continued carefully. "Why the standoff? Why …" he gestured to the group of hostages, the bank, the other men, "… this?"
"Attention," said Cal simply. "We needed the attention."
Tony's eyebrows went up as he gave Cal a questioning look.
"People pay attention when you rob a bank, close a business, take hostages, and have guns." Cal looked around the room. "People who wouldn't listen to us before will listen to us now."
Tony smiled. "I should have thought of that when I was nine," he said. "Would have been way more fun than holding my breath."
Tony's phone rang again. He could see it in the pile of phones that had been kicked into the corner. He had to get these guys talking.
"Look," Tony said. "That's going to be the FBI … again … trying to set up communications. Let me answer it and let's get this ball rolling."
Mick walked over to the conversation, angry that the two men seemed to have established a rapport.
"What's the rush, pretty boy?" he said with a little more bite to his voice than was probably necessary.
Tony smiled and shrugged. "I have a date tonight."
Mick pulled back as if to hit Tony, but Cal stopped him, considering Tony's request. He looked at his watch. "OK … Answer your phone," Cal said calmly. Cal motioned to Tyler, who hovered close by. Tony walked to the corner, picked up his phone and flipped it open.
"DiNozzo."
"It's about time you answered, DiNozzo," Fornell said. "I've been calling for over an hour."
"Sorry, Fornell," Tony returned with an edge to his voice. "But we're busy in here. A lot going on. Charades, shadow puppets, baby pictures. Right now, Mick is teaching us all the tango." Cal bit back a laugh. Fornell, who wasn't as used to Tony's personality as was Gibbs, was momentarily taken aback by the humor.
"Fornell," Tony said, in a slightly irritated tone. "You there?"
"I'm here," Fornell replied, recovering quickly. "We've gotten the note. What doesn't it say?"
Tony turned to Cal. "The FBI is asking for subtext. What didn't make it into the note?"
Cal considered the question. "What you see is what you get," he said, simply. "Money, safety, air time – that's pretty much it." Tony turned back to his phone. "Oh …" Cal said, interrupting Tony's response. "One more thing. We're not releasing anyone else as a 'good faith' gesture, none of us have mothers or wives you can bring to talk us into surrender, and we will not hesitate to harm the people in this building if it comes to that. We don't want to, but we will if we have to." He leveled a steely look at Tony, whose face mirrored the other man's intensity.
Tony relayed the information to Fornell, then snapped his phone shut. He really didn't like hanging up on the FBI this early in the game, but Cal had to see that Tony would relay information without trying to sneak in a clue or a plan. That would come later.
Gibbs walked out of the NCIS building and up the street a few more feet to the FBI van that was acting as the command post for Fornell and his team.
"What do we know?" Gibbs asked, as Fornell hung up the phone.
Fornell considered not telling Gibbs anything – this was, after all, an FBI op and those NCIS guys had a tendency to get in the way. But he quickly abandoned that tactic. It was Jethro's man who was in there, after all, and if the situation was reversed, he'd want Jethro to level with him. Fornell looked at Gibbs, accepting the cup of coffee Gibbs had brought him.
"From the bank teller, we know that there are three men, all heavily armed. One is particularly jumpy." Fornell took a sip of the coffee. "From the note, we know that they want safe passage, $1.2 million dollars – unmarked and untraceable, and a live press conference in prime time tonight." Gibbs checked his watch; they had about seven hours. "From the phone call I just finished, we know that they're serious and dangerous." Gibbs frowned a bit. "And from DiNotzo," Fornell continued, "we know that one of the guys is named Mick and that they all apparently share your agent's off-kilter sense of humor."
"How do you know that?" Gibbs asked.
"Because no one has shot him yet."
Gibbs rolled his eyes. "What did you get off the note?"
"Don't ask me," Fornell said, with an annoyed smirk. "Your forensic tech has had it for over an hour. I keep sending guys down there to check, but we haven't heard anything back." Gibbs turned and headed for the lab.
"Meet Calvin Davidson, Tyler Davidson, and Michael O'Hara," Abby said, pointing to the screen as Gibbs walked into the lab. "I was just about to send this upstairs."
"How do we know these are our guys?" Gibbs asked.
"Tyler Davidson's prints were on the note, there was a partial of O'Hara's on Tony's badge."
"And the other Davidson?"
Abby smiled proudly. "Oh …," she said. "THAT one, I got off the teller."
Gibbs looked at her suspiciously.
"Apparently Calvin Davidson is quite the gentleman," Abby said with a pronounced 'high society' accent. Gibbs waved his hand in a 'get on with it' motion. "She said that she'd asked for her purse when he sent her out with the note and Tony's badge. When Davidson handed it to her, he left a big ol' thumbprint right there on the leather." Abby looked very pleased with herself.
"And why doesn't the FBI have this information, Abbs?" Gibbs said, with just enough bite to get her attention.
"I just got the final match," Abby said, disappointed that he wasn't more impressed. "I was about to take it upstairs but you got here first."
Gibbs took the file out of her hands and headed out the door and back up to street level.
"That's good work, Abbs," Abby said to herself in a Gibbs-like voice. "Why thank you, Gibbs," Abby said, answering herself and turning back to her computer.