Chapter 5
"What's this all about?" demanded the startled captain. "Who are these people? And what's this talk about shanghais?"
DiNozzo let the gun he carried droop a little. "You're…not working with Trent Kort to kidnap men off the docks?"
"Trent Kort!" The captain spat. "Is that slimy toad here? I've testified against him before, and had the pleasure of seeing him go to jail. Is this a plan of his to get back at me, through illegal use of my ship?"
"Captain, if I had to place a bet on it, I'd say those answers were 'yes'," Gibbs said mildly. He pulled out his badge. "Gibbs. Federal agent."
"Are you all federal agents?" the captain gaped.
"I'm with the Federal Agents' Geezer Squad," Mallard snorted. "My question, Mr. DiNozzo, is whose side are you really on?"
"I'm…with…Trent Kort, of course…" DiNozzo said, trying to look more certain than he sounded. He then raised and waved the gun again. "If you're not on his side, then I have to take you prisoner, too, Captain. Sorry. Get in there with them."
More quickly than anyone could say it, Miss Ziva was at DiNozzo's side and had a knife to his throat. "I think not," she said. "Now tell me why I should spare your miserable height."
"You mean 'hide', ma'am," he gasped.
" 'Height.' 'Hide.' Do not try to confuse me; I believe I am the one in control here. Now drop that gun."
DiNozzo did so, but it didn't make the expected clang when it hit the deck. McGee dived for it, and his eyes popped when he felt it. "It's a toy gun! Carved wood; painted black!"
"I brought it with me from Baltimore, as a cover, for protection," DiNozzo said sheepishly. "I've never held a real gun."
"You're not really working for Kort, are you?" asked Gibbs.
"Well…no, Sergeant; I'm not. Like I told Miss Ziva, some of my Eye-talian countrymen have been shanghaied, and I was determined to put a stop to it."
"All by yourself."
"Yes, sir. When I put my mind to something, I do it. And since I don't know how you all work, I figured it would be easiest if you all were out of the way while I went after Kort."
Gibbs smiled briefly. "And you were going to go after Kort with a toy gun?"
"I'm not afraid of him."
"You should be. Captain, if Kort is on this ship now, where would he likely be?"
The captain thought. "I've been a little suspicious of my first mate for awhile. He's run up gambling debts and has seemed nervous."
"If the first mate needs money, he could earn it by taking on shanghaied men, to be sold in some port or plied into service on a Navy ship," Mallard said.
"And Kort would get a good percentage of the sale. Maybe 50 per cent," said Gibbs. "That's your money trail, Doc."
"It is time to pay a visit to your first mate, then, Captain," said Miss Ziva. "Your ship leaves port soon, yes?"
"What's the meaning of this, Mr. Hawley?" said the captain as he burst into the first mate's quarters. There the mate was being handed a wad of dollars by Trent Kort. "Confess, son. It'll go easier on you."
The nervous young officer trembled. "I—had no other way, Captain. I owed money, and…"
"You're not getting in our way, Captain," Kort snarled, drawing a gun. "I have two people in the hold for shanghaiing purposes. I can always add you to them."
Gibbs stepped around the corner, into the small stateroom, his gun likewise drawn. "Nope. It ends here, Kort."
"Dear me," Kort chuckled. "How did you get out of your hole, Sergeant? And is your baby-faced assistant with you? He must be. Come out, McGee."
McGee stepped into the room, despite Gibbs' glare. McGee was not armed. "You're a skunk, Kort. Your days are numbered. Give up now."
"Bravado. How charming. And utterly pointless. Why should I bother shanghaiing you two, when killing you would give me greater pleasure? Aside from the money, that is. The only question is, which one of you should I shoot first?" His pointed gun swung from one to the other. "Gibbs? We go back a long way. I'm eager to watch you die. On the other hand, having you see me gun down your man here…that would be a tender moment," he laughed cruelly.
"NO!" Like a cannonball, DiNozzo burst in, tackling Kort and bowling him over.
Quickly Gibbs, McGee and Miss Ziva had Kort disarmed and handcuffed. "This time, you're going to prison for a long, long time," Gibbs snarled.
"I'll see you in hell, Gibbs," Kort snapped.
"I don't plan on stopping over there, but thanks for the offer," said Gibbs, straightening up. "DiNozzo; I told you to stay back! You could have been killed!"
"Shucks, Sergeant; I couldn't stand by and let him shoot you!"
Gibbs eyed him. "You have so little confidence in me? I was a Marine sniper. I'd say the odds were in my favor. Not that McGee, here, shouldn't have stayed out of the way. He still has a bit of a reckless streak in him," Gibbs sighed.
"But…you only had my toy gun…"DiNozzo looked again. Gibbs held an obviously genuine pistol.
"Loan of Miss Ziva," Gibbs said. "Captain, we'll take this scoundrel off your hands. And your first mate, too." He nodded as Miss Ziva handcuffed the other man.
"I didn't do much!" the first mate protested.
"That's up to the JAG to decide," said Gibbs.
"This isn't over, Gibbs," Kort said menacingly.
"Ah, thank you for being melodramatic, Kort," Mallard remarked. "One truly has arrived when one has an archenemy."
Gibbs and his team, Doc Mallard, and DiNozzo gathered for a late lunch at a nearby hotel dining room. "The telegrams disavow any connection with Kort by any of the agencies," Gibbs said, waving the stack he'd picked up on the way in.
"Do you believe 'em, boss?" asked McGee.
"Most of them," said Gibbs. "But I don't know which. Still, I think we've at least put a dent in the shanghai ring."
"That was a good thing you did back there on the ship, DiNozzo," McGee said.
"Yes, it was," said Miss Ziva.
DiNozzo blushed a little but didn't say anything.
"You don't need to say anything," said Gibbs. "Your deeds count more than your words do. Mind, your plan of taking Kort on all by yourself with a toy gun was a little much, but your heart was in the right place."
"What brings you out here, really?" McGee pressed on. "Seems like a smart fellow like you could find work almost anywhere."
"Maybe," said DiNozzo. "If I wasn't an Eye-talian. No one'll hire us. Except for the most menial jobs no one else wants. Look; I was just two when my family came over. I don't even remember the old country. And I'm an American now. But still, when people hear my name, the job offers dry up. I was hoping it might be different here in the West. But you wouldn't know anything about that."
McGee half rose. "I wouldn't? DiNozzo, I'm Irish! Well, my parents are. They came to America as teenagers, during the great potato famine. I was born here, but to employers, I'm still 'Irish'. You see the signs everywhere back East: No Irish need apply. I've had a very good education, but when it came to getting a teaching job at a college or university, it was the same thing: No Irish need apply. So yes, I do understand." He sat back down, looking stressed. "I could have stayed on my folks' farm, but I wanted to be more. That's why I came West."
Gibbs looked upon him kindly. "And you were just as skittish as DiNozzo, here, when we met, Tim. I remember you being surprised that I'd hire an Irishman."
There was silence for a moment, and then DiNozzo said, "Sorry…Tim."
McGee forced a small smile. "S'okay…Anthony."
"'Tony.'"
"Tony."
"Do you have such small prejudices in the Near East, Miss Ziva?" Mallard asked.
"Oh, yes. They can be found everywhere that I have travelled to." She paused, looking thoughtful. "Why is it that you say my home area is the Near East, when here in San Francisco, China and the Far East are so much nearer?"
"Ow, Miss Ziva," McGee groaned, his head in his hands.
But DiNozzo looked at her kindly. "It's a matter of perspective, Miss Ziva. If you say it while on the East Coast, the Near East is nearer. Here you might as well call them the Near West and the Far West."
She considered. "I like that," she said finally. "I may use that." She smiled at him.
McGee mouthed Thank you! to DiNozzo, suddenly appreciating the man even more.
"Still looking for work, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked. At the man's slight nod, he continued. "I've got authority to hire another person for my team. You interested in joining the ONI?"
DiNozzo looked excited. "Well…well, sure, Sergeant! If you'll have me. But you should know that I don't know how to ride a horse or fire a gun."
"You can learn. Everyone starts somewhere. Welcome to the team."
They all shook DiNozzo's hand. His grin looked likely to split his face.
"We'll teach you all you need to know, Probie," said McGee, smiling.
"Wha—what did you call me?"
"'Probie.' It's short for 'probationer.'"
"So, I guess that's my nickname, then?" DiNozzo was clearly not pleased, but resigned.
"Aw…I guess not. I was never much one for tolerating nicknames," McGee relented. "They're silly. Welcome to the team, DiNozzo."
-END-