DiNozzo sighed softly, so as not to awake Mossad Officer Ziva David; the raven-haired beauty who sat in the seat next to him, her head nestled on his shoulder as she snored so softly he had to strain his ears just to hear her. He had to admit; he was rather impressed with Qantas Airways. Just hours after receiving the news of the attacks, Qantas had immediately offered anyone with relatives affected by the blasts free flights back to Australia and had flown a number of spare aircraft across to the United States and various other countries to assist not only in transporting these people back home, but also to aid in bringing foreign aid to the city of Brisbane.
Around him the mood was somber as people softly whispered among themselves; women and men occasionally wept as they contemplated the news that their loved ones had died or were grievously wounded in the cowardly attacks. DiNozzo's hatred for the terrorists grew with every passing moment as he glanced around, knowing that the Australians were known for their easy-going attitude and their kindness and acceptance towards strangers and people of other cultures. No one deserved to be the victim of these vicious attacks, but the Australians deserved this the least of anybody. By the time the heavily laden Boeing 747-400 commenced its descent towards Brisbane International Airport, DiNozzo was furious.
Few things escaped Leroy Jethro Gibbs' notice. Whether it was the fact that two of the female passengers behind him were undoubtedly not Australian, and merely using the disaster and Qantas' subsequent generosity as a means of acquiring a free ride to Australia, or the fact that for the last eight hours, his female agent's head had been nuzzled against the shoulder of his senior field agent, Gibbs noticed everything. But Gibbs was not concerned with either of these things at the present moment. Instead his head was bent over the documents in his hands as he read the initial police reports on the bombing for the eightieth time, and when he had finished with that, he reviewed the first photos of the crime scene for the hundredth time.
Beside him, Timothy McGee shifted in his sleep as he unconsciously readjusted his body in reply to the downward tilt of the aircraft's nose as the Qantas jet began its descent into Brisbane.
Gibbs lightly thunked his head against the window and stared out as the city of Brisbane came into view. The sun was just beginning to set on the city – a whole 15 hours had passed since the explosion and yet smoke still hung in the air – an ominous reminder of the deaths that had occurred in the early hours of the morning. Even from the altitude the jet flew over the city at, Gibbs could see the flashes of blue and red lights as Police, Fire and Ambulance crews continued their work into what would no doubt be a sleepless night for the dedicated Australian emergency services.
Were it not for the fact that a potential few hundred US sailors were dead or missing, and countless more Australians dead or injured, Gibbs might have worried about the close proximity of Ziva and DiNozzo, or the long strand of drool coming from McGee's mouth that threatened to drop on his pants. Instead Gibbs returned to his documents to re-read and re-read, determined that by the time he got on scene, he would have memorized every detail in the photographs, be able to call every attending policeman by his first name and registration number and be able to run the best damn investigation he had in his entire life. No terrorist would pull off an act such as this and escape; of that Leroy Jethro Gibbs was sure.
Federal Agent Roland Dunn strode rapidly through the airport, the pursed lips, dark sunglasses and his jacket billowing open to show the large Glock pistol and silver badge on his waist ensured he was given a wide berth by the passengers milling around in the International Airport. If the man himself wasn't intimidating enough, the six men following him, attired similarly down to the pistols and furious looks ensured that no one stayed in the way of the pissed-off Federal Agent for very long at all.
The Australian Fed arrived with his team at the passenger lounge just as Gibbs emerged from the aerobridge into the lounge himself. Without needing to look at the photo in the file he clutched in his hand, Dunn didn't pause, continuing to walk right up until he reached the silver-haired American Agent. Stopping before him, Dunn said, "Special Agent Gibbs?"
When Gibbs nodded in the affirmative, Dunn said, "My team will collect your luggage, you and your team are to accompany me now."
Gibbs had just enough time to shoot a look at DiNozzo, who returned a confused expression at the way the Australian Agent was speaking so tersely before Dunn began to stride away, heading for the exit. Even DiNozzo with his long legs had to struggle to keep up with Roland.
As Gibbs and his team arrived outside the airport, they were greeted with a convoy of anonymous black saloons, each one with flashing red and blue dashboard and grille lights. A veritable army of black-clad policemen and women stood around the cars, each one with one hand on a car door, ready to open it, and the other hand rested on the pistols on their belts.
Passers-by and other passengers stood at the far end of the airport, held back by uniformed police, regarding the scene with a mixture of fear of awe as the armored police all opened the car doors at once, waving the NCIS team inside the first two cars of the convoy.
Gibbs was the last to enter the car, and he stood back for a brief second to address Roland Dunn, "You had better fill me in on what's going on." Gibbs said, his tone clear that he wanted answers, and now.
Dunn acknowledged the man and lowered his sunglasses. For the first time Gibbs saw the man's eyes and was shocked at what he saw. Despite the man's strong presence and formidable posture, his eyes were bloodshot and watering. Black bags under his eyes betrayed a lack of sleep and the man's jaw no longer looked strongly set, but rather his face looked gaunt, as though in the past few hours he had aged decades.
"Agent Gibbs, I will explain everything, but right now I need you to get inside the car."
Gibbs stood still for a second, before nodding and easing himself into the saloon. Dunn closed the door and entered the front passenger seat of the lead vehicle. Not a second later, it pulled away, followed by Gibbs' car and the rest of the convoy as they all accelerated rapidly, lights flashing and sirens blaring, through the traffic and towards the city centre.