Author's Note: I've come to the conclusion that I really ought to outline my stories before I write them instead of making them up as I go along. I'm afraid this one has gotten way too complicated. Oh well, I've often said I'm not known for going things the easy way. I just hope I've managed a reasonable and satisfying way out of the mess.
CHAPTER 10
Gibbs stared at the envelope in his hand. A feeling of dread took root in his gut. Taking a deep breath, he broke the seal on the envelope and pulled out the papers contained inside. Gibbs didn't need to look at the signature line to know who the hand written letter was from. The first thing Gibbs noticed was that the letter was dated prior to his meeting with Peter.
He didn't get any further than that before he was distracted by a commotion at the elevators. Gibbs looked over to see DiNozzo manhandling Ivan Carter out of the car, while Ziva was doing the same with Amy Dawson. It didn't escape the senior agent's notice that all four people looked a little worse for wear. Their clothing was dirty and torn in places, and Ziva's hair, which had been neatly pulled back into a ponytail, was in disarray. The two agents who had gone along as back up weren't in much better shape. "Thanks for your help, guys," he said as they passed by him on the way to their desks on the other side of the room.
Gibbs stood, and as he pulled out his cell phone, intending to call Fornell he said, "take them down to Interrogation." He knew the FBI agent would want to observe, if not participate in, his interrogation of Amy Dawson. Although, Gibbs was of half a mind to let Ziva have the first crack at the woman. There were times when the former Mossad could be even more intimidating then he was. Plus, he had noticed that Ziva had never truly trusted the FBI agent and knew she would be able to use that to her advantage.
Gibbs glanced down at the papers in his hand. He silently cursed Peter. The letter was written in Russia. While he spoke the language fluently, he was less skilled in reading it. It was going to take him time to make his way through the document – time that was going to be better spent obtaining information to bring this whole fiasco to a close. Gibbs slid the letter back in the envelope and tossed it on his desk.
"McGee," he turned to his junior agent.
"Yeah, boss?" the computer looked up from the monitor he was studying.
"You find any connection between Dawson and Carter, or between those two and Peter?"
"I've pulled Dawson's and Carter's cell phone records. In the last month there have been over fifty calls between them. I e-mailed the list of dates and times to you."
"You couldn't just print it out and hand it to me?" Gibbs asked. With a glare in McGee's direction, he turned to his computer to pull up his e-mail to check the document. He hated using the computer and had been pulled into the electronic age kicking and screaming.
McGee swallowed hard. He started to apologize, but remembered Gibbs's rule before the words were spoken. Instead he continued with his report. "There was a number that both Dawson and Carter called frequently, with the number of calls increasing over the last week." McGee paused when his computer dinged. The information he had been waiting for had arrived. "I've traced the number," he stated as his glanced at the information displayed on the monitor. "It belongs to Peter Sokolov." To say McGee was surprised at the news would have been an understatement. "But, boss, why would Dawson and Carter be calling Peter?"
Somehow Gibbs wasn't all that surprised at McGee's revelation. He had a bad feeling that he was about to find out that Peter Sokolov was not the man he thought he knew. He grabbed the pages containing the logs of Dawson's and Carter's telephone calls off the printer. "I don't know, McGee, but I'm going to find out."
"That's a good question. One I'd like to hear the answer to myself," Fornell stated as he stepped into the bullpen.
"What are you doing here, Tobias?"
"Seems I heard a rumor about two of your agents getting into a fight with one of my agents and her friend before arresting them and bringing them here. I'd like to hear what that was all about."
Gibbs feigned a look of surprise and turned to McGee. "Something happen that I should know about, McGee?"
McGee just barely managed to maintain a straight face as he answered. "No, it wasn't me boss. It must have been Tony and Ziva."
Gibbs simply turned and looked at Fornell, who returned the glare with one of his own.
Before anything could be said by either man, McGee interrupted. "I've got something, boss."
As one they turned to look at the computer expert. "Well?" Gibbs asked, somewhat impatiently.
"I've been digging through Amy Dawson's records. The warrant we obtained allowed me to access her online computer records. Something didn't feel right, but I couldn't put my figure on exactly what it was. Finally, while going through her personal e-mail account, I stumbled across something that helped me track it down." McGee glanced up to see that both agents were glaring at him impatiently.
"Right," he stated. He put a picture of Agent Dawson on the plasma screen. "Turns out Amy Dawson's grandmother was Russian. She immigrated to the United States as a child shortly after the Russian Revolution in 1917."
"This is relevant how?" asked Gibbs.
"Her grandmother's maiden name was Lubivich. Amy Dawson and Vladimir Lubivich were cousins."
Gibbs cocked an eyebrow in Fornell's direction. The silent question was clear in his face – how did the FBI miss that on a background check? "And people wonder why I don't trust the FBI."
Fornell cursed. "Damn stupid pencil pushers, can't do a thorough background check. We've got a family member of a Russian mobster working right under our noses. How the hell did they miss that?"
"In all fairness, it was buried pretty deep," McGee stated, trying to play devil's advocate. His comment was met with another round of cold stares.
"Let's get down to Interrogation to find out what our guests know."
Down in Interrogation, the show was starting to get very interesting. Rather than separate Dawson and Carter, as they normally would have, Tony and Ziva decided to take a chance and put them in the same room. They figured it would be interesting to observe the two suspects and see what they would talk about.
"You would have thought she would know better," commented Ziva as she stood in the observation room, watching Amy Dawson argue with Ivan Carter. She was ranting at him for being careless in going after Anya on his own.
"Well," Tony commented, "at least we know that the attempt on Anya wasn't necessarily sanctioned by anyone."
"What makes you say that," asked Gibbs. He and Fornell had entered the room so quietly that Tony hadn't realized they were even there.
"Boss, Dawson is going on about the fact that Carter acted on his own."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, either she's been calling the shots all along or she's been working for the person who has."
Gibbs nodded. He'd come to that conclusion already, but didn't have anything to prove it. Turning to his agents, he stated, "Tony, take Carter into Interrogation 2. Find out what he knows." Gibbs handed him a copy of the information McGee had been able to gather. "Focus on any connections Carter may have with the Russian community, Dawson, Lubivich, and Peter Sokolov. Ziva, you do the same with Dawson." He handed her a copy of the same information he'd given Tony.
Gibbs then turned to Fornell. "I assume you're okay with observing for now."
Fornell nodded. "But I want a crack at Dawson when Ziva is done."
Gibbs shrugged as if to say he didn't care what the FBI agent did. He turned to his team members. "Well, what are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?"
A few hours later, Tony and Ziva were finishing up their paper work from the interrogation and arrest of Amy Dawson and Ivan Carter on charges of attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and numerous other drug and racketeering charges. Gibbs had been all to happy to allow Fornell and his men to take charge of the prisoners, after all NCIS really had no jurisdiction in the matter.
Gibbs sighed as he sat at his desk, contemplating the envelope containing Peter Sokolov's letter. He was procrastinating going down to the lab to retrieve Anya. They needed to go home so that he could explain to her exactly what had happened along with the role her father had played in this entire fiasco. Supposing it was a good a time as any to read the letter, he picked up the letter, slid the pages out and began reading:
My dear friend, if you are reading this, then I am dead. Whether my death will be at someone else's hands or my own, I have not yet determined. But I do know my time is near. I cannot beat the cancer that is eating away at my body, and I do not want to suffer through the final battle. If fate does not intervene, I intend to leave this world on my own terms. Of all the many things I will regret, the most important is leaving my darling Anya behind. I know you will watch over her and care for her as if she were your own.
It is not by accident that you have been pulled into this matter. If I know you, my friend, you will not have been satisfied with simply playing the role of body guard to my daughter. Instead, you will have taken it upon yourself to investigate Vladimir Lubivich and determine his whereabouts so that you could neutralize the threat to Anya. In your investigation, you will most likely uncover the secret I have hidden from you all these years.
Despite all appearances, I did not break all of my ties with Mother Russian when I defected to America. I maintained my ties to the Bratva. My father was a member, as was his father before him. I became a member at a very young age. They took advantage of my intelligence and my education. While I maintained the image of a beleaguered research scientist, in the background I was becoming more and more powerful. I do not tell you this to brag, but to explain the decisions that have been made.
When I came to America, it was with the duel purpose of escaping the oppression and poverty in Russia while working to establish and increase the presence of the Bratva here. I attempted to shield Anya from it, but she managed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and overhear something she should have. Unless she knows more than she has said, and I have no reason to believe she does, she does not realize the full extent of what she overheard that night. Lubivich was discussing a job that was to be performed at my direction.
This happened about the same time I learned of my diagnosis and prognosis. My first concern was for Anya's future. I wasn't the father she needed, and as a result she did not grow into the young woman I had hoped she would be. After spending several days pondering my choices, it finally occurred to me that you would be the perfect solution to my problems. I knew if, given the right circumstances, you were asked to care for Anya you would not refuse.
I knew what had happened to your wife and daughter, so I did not believe you would simply agree to to take Anya into your home. If I misjudged you, I sincerely apologize, my friend. As you know it has been a very long time since we last spoke, and people do tend to change. Regardless, I contacted Amy Dawson to help me arrange things. You have probably discovered by now that we are cousins of a sort. My mother and her grandmother were sisters. When I moved to America, I established and maintained contact with her. I also knew that she was working for the FBI and was also dating a low-level enforcer in my organization. I arranged for them to make it appear that Anya's life was in danger.
All I can do at this point is sincerely apologize for my actions. My only defense is that I was doing what I thought best for my daughter. I continue to hope that you will not hold my actions against her and take her into your home and heart. I will leave it up to your discretion whether you tell her of my actions, but I pray that you will not. I would prefer that my daughter not know of my other life.
I must ask that you do one last thing for me. I have enclosed a letter I wrote to Anya. Please give it to her.
Good bye, my friend.
The letter was simply signed, Peter.
Gibbs tossed the letter on his desk and leaned back in his chair. The letter didn't contain any new information. They had managed to get complete confessions from both Dawson and Carter and knew all about the scheme to make it appear as if Anya were in danger. They had also learned that it had been Ivan Carter, acting on Peter's orders who had killed Vladimir Lubivich and tossed his body in the Potomac. Carter had been acting on his own when he had taken the shot at Anya. He had stated that he'd only intended to scare her.
Making up his mind as to what he was going to do, Gibbs slid the letter back into its envelope and rose from his desk chair. He quickly feed the document, envelope and all into the paper shredder that sat in the corner behind his desk. "I'm going to get Anya and go home. You guys should head out yourselves and get some rest."
Later that evening, Anya and Gibbs sat side by side on the couch. Their feet were propped up on the coffee table and an empty pizza box sat on the cushion between them. Gibbs took a drink of his beer and contemplated the remaining inch of amber liquid before speaking.
"You know, Anya, that you have a home here for as long as you want."
Anya looked up in surprise. She had been staring at her pop can, lost in though, wondering what she was going to do. Now she wondered if Gibbs had just read her mind.
"What do you mean?" She had read the letter that her father had left for her and was still having trouble wrapping her head around the idea that her father would rather die than try to fight for his life; that he'd rather leave her alone than attempt to stay behind for her. Now she couldn't help but wonder what would happen next.
Gibbs sat up and put his now empty beer bottle on the coffee table. "I mean that you can stay here as long as you like. You could go to school, get a job, do whatever it is you want to do with your life. Even take some time to think things through."
Anya nodded. "I'm scared, Gibbs – even more scared than when I thought someone was trying to kill me. My life has been turned upside down, and I don't know which way is up anymore."
Gibbs moved over until he sat right next to Anya. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. "I know, but I'm here to help you figure it out."
THE END
Author's Note: I thought about attempting to write the interrogation scene, but I didn't like anything I came up with. So, I decided to leave that to your imagination and give you the end result. I hope you aren't too disappointed.
I've also decided to end the story here. I may return to Anya and her further adventures one day, but right now my muse won't leave me alone about the Magnificent Seven story that's starting to buzz around in my head. As always, any comments or suggestions you might have are always welcome.