It wasn't fair, McGee knew. It simply wasn't fair. Tony drank a bottle of raki and was absolutely fine, while he had a couple of beers and one or two shots and had a pounding headache. And he had to spend the day with Gibbs. It really wasn't fair. Gibbs – naturally – was his usual self, in that he managed to be civil after two cups of coffee. They had been provided with a battered, old Jeep and headed off early into the mountains to visit the Marine base near Prizren.
Gibbs had taken to the Kosovan way of driving like a duck to water, as he battled his way out of the busy Pristina streets. McGee fought down a wave of nausea as taking a corner on two wheels coincided with him looking at the directions they had been given. They made no sense whatsoever. "Uh boss…"
"Yeah McGee?"
"I think they gave us the wrong directions." McGee winced as he imagined the impending explosion.
"Well what do they say?" Gibbs snapped impatiently.
"Take the main road out of Pristina, the lion, elephant, snake. It's nonsense boss."
Gibbs grinned to himself. It was moments like these that made the job so much fun. He sighed, a little theatrically, but it was so easy to scare McGee. "The UN designated roads with animals so that every nation can understand directions. You'll see the signposts when we turn off this main road." McGee looked uncomfortable and Gibbs hid another smile. It was almost too easy to scare McGee. At least with Kate and Tony he had to put a little effort in.
The lion-marked road led them up into the mountains, on roads that deteriorated rapidly. The roads in Pristina had been bad enough – it seemed as though if Kosovans got bored, they dug a hole in the road. And then forgot to fill them back in. But the mountain roads were worse. Considerably so. McGee was deeply relieved to be in a 4x4, and wondered how on earth the locals coped in their battered cars.
The scenery made up for the state of the roads though. The mountains were beautiful, the trees just beginning to turn into their autumn colours, so everywhere they looked was a riot of reds, oranges and yellows. Small streams burbled happily alongside the road, which led them over stone bridges and past old villages.
The occasional village that they did pass through presented sobering images. They were half-abandoned, and those who had stayed looked as though they wished they had not. Houses were dilapidated and some still bore marks from the war several years ago. Bullet holes and bomb damage were prominent. Men and women who had seen too much stared at them as they drove past, eyes blank and uncaring. Only the children seemed unaffected, still playing as normal.
There had been three road blocks on the mountain road, but the first two they had encountered had simply waved them through, leaving McGee wondering what they were guarding against, if not two strange men in an unmarked Jeep. The third road block, however, was a different matter. Manned by the Ukrainian army, they had already pulled over another van, so Gibbs slowed to a crawl and pulled over. The captain, judging by his insignia, motioned for them to roll down their window and then said something incomprehensible.
Gibbs frowned and then said, "We're American. Speak English?" The Ukrainian jabbered something back and seemed to be pointing at the road. "Get the papers out McGee," Gibbs muttered, before handing the soldier their vehicle licence papers, and their passports.
In the end, after much gesticulating on both parts, McGee fighting to keep a straight face at Gibbs miming that he was a federal agent (it looked more like he was pretending to be a cowboy), the Ukrainian called over another soldier.
"I speak little English," he offered.
Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Well, couldn't you have come over a little sooner? Never mind," he added, as the soldier frowned in concentration. "We're federal agents. Investigating a crime. We need to get to Prizren." Slowly and loudly, Gibbs went through it all again, minus the hand movements this time.
"You are FBI?" The soldier had a wide grin on his face. "Like on movies?"
Gibbs heaved a pained sigh. "Yeah, I'm FBI."
They were waved through quickly after that, the Ukrainians shouting that they loved the Tommy Lee Jones and Clint Eastwood. Gibbs drove off quickly, and glared at McGee. "One word to DiNozzo about this, McGee…." He didn't need to finish the threat.
Prizren turned out to be a pretty little town surrounded on three sides by the mountain range. Overlooking the town, a monastery perched on the side of one the mountains, while just below it was the German army base. The Marine base was out the other side of the town. Gibbs quickly navigated the one-way system and they soon found themselves at the gates of the Marine base.
Unlike several of the other bases they had driven past, the gate here was at least guarded, with people who looked alert as well. Showing their ID, they were waved through and met by Captain Barrett, accompanied by another man.
"This is Colonel Hunter, Special Agent Gibbs and Special Agent McGee." Barrett made the introductions and then stepped back. Hunter was a short, almost square man, with dark hair and startling blue eyes. Those eyes seemed incongruous in the tanned, Latino face, and stared sharply at the NCIS agents.
"Glad you could make it Agent Gibbs," Hunter's voice was deep, with a hint of a Southern accent. "Shall we use my office?"
His office was sparsely decorated, but Gibbs barely noticed. "I need to know everything about Smithson and Franklin, and I'm gonna need their service files."
"They warned me about you," Hunter said, rolling his eyes. "Special Agent Jethro Gibbs: always impatient and rarely polite." Gibbs stared blankly at the man, and Hunter smiled, a sudden flash of white teeth in the tanned face. "I said, sounds like a good Marine. I had those files dug out for you this morning, and I've ordered everyone to make time to speak to you."
"Thank you Colonel. McGee, take the captain with you and see what you can find out from his friends." The door had barely shut behind McGee before Gibbs grinned and leaned forward to shake the other man's hand. "Good to see you again sir."
"And you Gunny. Thought you'd be dead by now," Hunter smiled back.
"Nearly. A couple of times over. But I keep going. So what's this really about sir? NCIS does not send out their best team just because two Marines got killed in what sounds like a bar-room brawl."
"Ah, Gunny, still as straight-forward and modest as always…" Hunter sighed and stood to look out of the window. "I don't think you're going to like this."