Chapter 4
At 11 o'clock, a fierce pounding came at Gibbs' door. DiNozzo peeked through the curtains and saw Miss Ziva doing the pounding. He quickly let her in.
She swept inside, gathering her gray skirts and clearly upset. "Gibbs and McGee should have been back at the office two hours ago," she said. "Have you heard from them?"
"No, ma'am," he said. "Do you think they could be in trouble?"
"No, I am certain that they are in trouble," she said with venom. "I must go to their aid, but I need a second person. Doctor Mallard is too old. His assistant is…unpredictable. Can I count on your help?"
DiNozzo gulped. "I don't have many skills, but I am good with my fists. I owe the Sergeant for taking me in. Let's go."
What Gibbs and McGee knew about Miss Ziva that many people did not suspect was that her dresses did not encumber her in a fight. She favored the fuller "walking" skirt style over Miss Abigail's more business-like Gibson girl straight skirt because it allowed her more movement. She could run fast in her boots, kick with them, and carefully-sewn panels in her dresses concealed her gun and knives.
"You can fight dressed like that?" DiNozzo asked as she hurriedly drove the wagon to the docks.
"Of course. I enjoy being a lady, but I was brought up to be a fighter; an assassin."
"An—" DiNozzo choked. She was smiling, though, so he thought maybe she was joking. But he feared that she wasn't.
"Well, this is awkward," said Trent Kort, standing before the two men who were now conscious again. Gibbs and McGee were shackled inside the dockmaster's hut.
"Good to see you, too, Kort," Gibbs said mildly.
"I have a little operation going on here, Sergeant Gibbs," Kort said coldly. "I don't appreciate your interference."
"I don't appreciate being shackled. I didn't move to San Francisco to be shanghaied."
"A regrettable error. Still, I can't just let you go."
"Why not? If you're not breaking any laws, why keep us here?"
The gaunt man pursed his lips. "I have orders from people much higher than you, Gibbs. My mission here is classified."
Gibbs laughed. "How many times have I heard you use that line? And to think, I actually believed it the first time or two." His eyes grew flinty. "Forcing innocent men into conscription is against the law, Kort. I'd heard rumors that the Navy wasn't meeting its recruitment goals in this area, but I didn't believe them…or believe what they might lead to."
"The means really do justify the ends, most of the time, Gibbs. Patriotic Americans should be willing to serve their country."
"Not as slaves," Gibbs said, evenly. "We had a war not too long ago over that."
"You are incapable of understanding, I see. This conversation is at an end." Kort snapped his fingers, and a couple lackeys unfastened the chains of the shackles and led the bound ONI agents onto the waiting US Navy ship.
Miss Ziva parked the wagon at the perimeter of the waterfront. "This is a large area," she sighed. "If they are being held here, they may be difficult to find."
"Maybe I can be of use," said DiNozzo, jumping off the wagon. He strode up to two laborers, and spoke rapidly to them in Italian. The men nodded and gestured as they talked.
DiNozzo then returned to Miss Ziva. "They said they saw the two, the capelli grigi, or grey-haired man, and the giovane, the young man, being knocked out and taken into the dockmaster's hut."
Miss Ziva's eyes grew large and then angry. "And they did not go to the police when they saw this?"
DiNozzo shrugged, and his eyes dragged the ground. "We're Eye-talians, Miss Ziva. Nobody gives a rat's behind about us; 'specially not the police. We stick together, that's all. That's how I've been getting information for the ONI. From fellow Eye-talians. These desperados shanghaied a couple of Eye-talians recently. The Eye-talian community wants it to stop. I said I'd try."
Even though she had long been trained to be objective and analytical, Miss Ziva couldn't help feeling a twinge in her heart. "It is hard for you? Being Italian?"
He looked away, as if embarrassed for having said too much. "I don't have it worse than most folks, I guess."
She changed the subject. "It is good of you to want to help the ONI."
Again an uncomfortable look. "Ahhhhh," was all he said, and that was dismissive.
"Where is the dockmasters' hunch?" she asked.
DiNozzo studied her face for a moment. "I think you mean 'hut', ma'am," he said kindly.
"'Hut.' Yes, that is correct. Thank you."
"It's the building with the old anchor resting beside the wall. Over there."
"Fine. Let us go find what we can. Are you armed?"
"Uh…no, ma'am."
"Never mind. Be ready with your fists."
The hut, however, was empty. "Where could they be?" asked DiNozzo, scratching his head.
Miss Ziva found her balance and once again looked at him through shrewd eyes. Is he really telling me all he knows? Or is he involved in this?
"Is there a way of finding out which ships are due to leave port next?" DiNozzo wondered.
"Yes, there surely are logs…charts…records of that sort of thing. They should be right in this hun…hut. Let us start looking."
"Is that legal, Miss Ziva?"
"We did not break in. The door was not locked. If we happen to see something, well…"
DiNozzo nodded. "I'll look on this side of the room."
After a while, DiNozzo exclaimed, "Found it! The only ship due to leave in the next few days leaves this afternoon at 1:30." He studied the paper he held again. "It's the US Navy ship; the John Adams."
Doc Mallard sighed. "I would hate indeed to think that the Navy is caught up in something so reprehensible." He looked glum as he sat with Miss Ziva and DiNozzo in the ONI office. "This will kill Gibbs; he believes so strongly in the Navy and the Marines."
"Don't think it's the whole Navy that's responsible, Doc," DiNozzo countered mildly. "It only takes a few bad apples, and you can find those anywhere."
"True enough, my boy. Now, Miss Ziva: How might I be of assistance?"
"We are fairly certain that Gibbs and McGee are on board the Navy ship," Miss Ziva said. "To rescue them, we will need to get on board, and create a diversion. Can you make an excuse to get on board as well? And perhaps cover us?"
"Hmmm…how about this: You are the wife of a sailor onboard; DiNozzo is his brother. He has fallen ill and I am accompanying you to see him. I shall place the entire ship under quarantine, immediately."
"Can you do that?" asked DiNozzo, eyes wide.
"My dear fellow, a good doctor is nothing if not a little sneaky at times."
Miss Ziva grabbed the Doc's arm when DiNozzo was out of the room. "Be careful around DiNozzo," she whispered. "I do not entirely trust him."
Gibbs and McGee lay like potato sacks in the hot hold of the John Adams. Neither spoke; there didn't seem to be anything to say. They were in a bad spot, and the entire strength of the US Navy was against them. The best they could hope for would be to work off their "indebtedness" in a couple of years at sea, and then be set free. If they lived that long.
"I tell you, this ship was inspected just a month ago, and she passed with flying colors!" came a rough voice from the other side of the door. The captain's voice. Gibbs perked up.
"Well, obviously that is not the case, man! You have a very, very ill sailor on board, and it's quite likely that it is a food-borne illness."
Doc Mallard! What is he doing here?
"With all respect, Doctor, we have yet to find this ill sailor that you claim is on board. But our stores are in perfect condition. Nothing but the best for my men."
"I would like to see for myself…Do not hesitate too long, Captain; with a word from me the Board of Health will keep your ship in port indefinitely."
"I still have not found my Johnny." A woman's voice; weeping. Miss Ziva! "Perhaps in delirium he crept into the storeroom to…gain comfort."
"We might as well look here. We've looked everywhere else." DiNozzo!
Gibbs nudged McGee awake, but put a finger to his lips.
The storeroom door opened, and Gibbs and McGee squinted against the sudden light. "No one in here," said the captain.
"I beg to differ!" said Miss Ziva, rushing in. "Johnny! Uh, Jethro! Let us get you both out of here. I am taking you home where I can nurse you back to health. Help me, Doctor."
DiNozzo had hung back. "No, you all get in there. Well, except you, captain. Now we've got four shanghais."
The ONI team and Ducky could only gape at DiNozzo, and the gun he had trained on them.