CHAPTER EIGHT

It was hour ten. Tony had walked into the bank at 8:52 a.m. and it was now nearly 7 p.m. They had an hour until prime-time began.

The FBI had been stalling since just after one, when Tony had talked Cal into getting food and water for the hostages. A case of bottled water had been delivered, along with two dozen box lunches that had been prepared by the Red Cross. The group ate in silence, and then Cal allowed everyone to go to the bathroom, in pairs and accompanied by Tyler. Tony had made his bathroom trip with the bank exec who hadn't wanted to give up his Blackberry. The guy looked jumpy – as jumpy as Mick, but in a different way.

"You doing okay?" Tony asked him. Tony made a point to talk loudly enough so that Tyler heard him. He didn't want anyone to think that he was trying to hatch a plan or make trouble.

The guy looked like he was going to hyperventilate. "No," he said in a breathy voice. "Not really. I have this … condition. Anxiety."

'Oh great', Tony thought.

The man continued. "I have medication for it. In my desk. I need to get it. Can you help me?" He spoke in short sentences, with a kind of staccato delivery. He was definitely close to losing it.

Tony looked at Tyler. "Can we go to his desk and get this guy his meds?"

Tyler stood silently, with a 'deer in the headlights' look on his face.

"Hello?" Tony said to Tyler. Tyler did not respond. 'Geez', Tony thought. 'This kid is just as scared as the banker'.

"What's the problem?" Cal said, taking a step or two in their direction.

Tony pointed to the banker. "This guy needs to take his medication. Bottle's in his desk. Can he get it?"

Cal sent Mick over to cover the hostages, just in case this was a trick. Then Cal accompanied the banker to his desk to get the pills and sent him back to the bathroom area, where the water fountains were.

"Thank you," Tony said, as Cal settled himself back at the front of the bank. Cal nodded.

As the banker bent over to get a drink of water, Tony 'accidentally' hit the back of the guy's knee, causing the man's leg to buckle. As the banker fell to the floor, Tyler instinctively reached to help him, which took everyone's focus off Tony long enough for him to unlock the lock on the door that led to the exit hall. He still wasn't sure when he'd be able to use the discovered entry / exit route, but he wanted to be ready.

By three o'clock, the group was back in their holding area on the west side of the lobby, some of them dozing, two guys playing some geographical trivia game they found in a magazine, and a group of three women trading scrapbook ideas in the corner. Harry was studying; Eric was regaling the cute safe deposit box clerk with his harrowing ordeal. She was looking up at him in awe, as if he'd just pulled them all out of the bowels of the Poseidon. Tony sighed. He'd have no chance with her now.

Tony had to admit that as far as take-overs went, this one didn't really have the intensity of others he'd been in. Over the past several hours, he had learned the best place in Annapolis to buy scrapbooking supplies, that 'Gibbs' was the name of a town in Missouri, and that the Red Cross made killer oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Not exactly normal intel for a hostage situation. He was still getting tired of it all, though. The waiting and watching and not knowing what was going on outside was making him edgy. It was getting harder and harder for him to keep up the 'calm and cool' façade.

By about 4 p.m., Tony had been on the phone seven or eight times with Fornell, but the FBI was still no closer to setting up the news conference, no escape vehicles had been delivered, and there was no indication that money was being arranged. Tony knew that this was a typical tactic – draw it out, especially if there doesn't appear to be any danger. But man, he hated this part. The whole 'hurry up and wait' thing. Tony thought about asking Cal why they took over the bank so early in the day if what they were wanting was a prime-time press conference, since it would have seemed more logical to wait until, say, mid-afternoon, but he decided he shouldn't push his luck.

It was about 5 p.m. when Cal started to get a little testy. He'd been calm and controlled through the entire day, but as prime-time approached, he got more and more anxious. He finally pulled the bank manager off the couch in the Loan Department waiting area and had him empty all of the teller drawers into one large banker's box. Any loose cash in the front of the bank was added, although he never asked for people's individual purses and wallets. Tony was a little bit impressed by that, and had called Cal 'Robin Hood' at one point. Cal hadn't minded, and it had drawn a smile out of Tyler.

Two of the tellers spent the next 20 minutes counting, stacking and banding the cash, which totaled just under $100,000. Tony relayed this information to Fornell, who promised to have the remainder of the money within the next two hours.

Just before seven o'clock, Cal told Tony to call Fornell again. He was clearly irritated.

"This has all been fun," Cal said in a terse voice, "but your guys aren't keeping up their side of the bargain."

"They're not my guys," Tony snapped. He was tired of the FBI stalling too.

"Whatever," Cal bit back at him. "Call him and tell him. We have been more than patient. If they need bodies to start paying attention, I can give them bodies."

Tony and Cal stared at each other for a few seconds as Mick circled them, ready to pounce. Tyler shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying to use up excess energy. He was nervous and getting antsy. The hostages had stopped what they were doing and were intently watching the unfolding drama. Tony flipped open his phone and made the call.

"Look Tobias," Tony said, stressing Fornell's first name to make sure he listened. "These guys want the rest of their money, their way out, and that press conference. You've had more than enough time to set it up, and yet we see no signs of that. I've got three guns to my head – literally. I'm not having fun here. I need an assurance that this is going to happen, or they're going to start tossing bodies out the door."

"Stupid feebs," Mick yelled in the background. "Can't do anything right!" He aimed his gun at the group of hostages now huddled near the loan department. They flinched almost as one. One of the women gasped audibly. Cal's aim moved quickly and purposely to put his gun barrel directly into Mick's face. "What the …?" Mick said in surprise.

"Back off, Mick," Cal said. His voice was as cold and hard as Gibbs' could be, and Tony had to be just a little bit impressed. "This isn't going to make the FBI work any faster." Mick put his weapon down and stepped back. Cal refocused a steady and steely gaze on Tony.

"You understand where we are here, Tobias?" Tony said into the phone. Fornell had heard the whole exchange.

"I understand," Fornell replied. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Tony said, his voice strangely light. "Tell my girlfriend to go let my dog out." Cal looked at Tony suspiciously. Then Tony snapped the phone shut. "I have a dog," he said to Cal with a shrug. "It's been over ten hours since I've been home. When this is over, I'd like to not walk into an apartment filled with dog crap."

Cal put his gun barrel down and laughed, the tension in the room temporarily broken. "Can't argue with that," he said.

Fornell closed his phone and told the two agents with him that they needed to start setting up for the mock press conference.

"Make it loud and obvious and be sure the guys in the bank know what you're doing," he told them.

They nodded and headed for the news vans. Fornell walked over to where Gibbs was standing.

"Jethro," Fornell began, "is there some reason why DiNozzo would tell me to have his girlfriend let his dog out? Does he even have a dog? For that matter, does he even have a girlfriend?"

Gibbs looked at the other agent for a minute as he tried to figure out what Tony was trying to tell them. Then he turned to where the rest of the team and Jess were standing. He motioned to Jess, who came quickly over to them. "Ask her," he said to Fornell.

Fornell looked at Gibbs, then at Jess. "DiNozzo wants to know if you can go let his dog out."

Jess' face slowly grew into a smile.

"Care to translate, Miss Kennedy?" Gibbs asked.

Jess explained. "Tony and I used to have all sorts of code words and phrases to help us get our stories straight if we were talking to our parents or to sneak each other into or out of places. We must have had dozens."

"And what does it mean to let the dog out?" Fornell asked.

Jess grinned. "It means, 'I'll leave the back door open'."

"McGee!" Gibbs yelled. "I need those bank plans!"