Chapter Four
We wore tank tops, wet with sweat, and prison issue pants. Chains held us, hanging above vats of water. The crowd gathered, cheering as they watched the proceedings.
Gibbs looked at me, daring to be serious for just a moment. "Tango, you got any family?" he asked.
"Yeah, you?"
"Going steady with an alimony check, that's about it," he answered.
A man with an accent stepped closer, and began to address us, as the others watched with delight.
"First, Mr. Cash," he said, his voice sounding like a five-year-old on Christmas morning. Well, with that sort of excitement. No child could come close to sounding so menacing.
I watched as they slowly lowered him into the water. The instant the electrified water touched the chains that bound him, he began to convulse with pain as high voltage ran through his body.
I screamed, "Cash! Cash!"
Before I knew it, it was my turn. All thoughts of how horrified I was at what they had done to Gibbs disappeared as I felt the electricity course through me. Despite the excruciating agony, I could hear Gibbs' voice – not a shout, as mine had been, but heartfelt – ragged and nearly breathless with the pain he had just endured.
"Tango."
"Tony are you okay?" Jimmy asked, as Tony started awake in his makeshift bed in autopsy.
"Just a dream," Tony whispered as he regained knowledge of his whereabouts. "I was with Gibbs. We were Tango and Cash."
"You were what?" Jimmy asked, a mask of confusion clouding his features.
"Tango and Cash," Ducky filled in, "was an action film from the late 1980s in which two cops were imprisoned. They were actually framed and broke out of prison in order to clear their names. Anyway, that's beside the point. They were first tortured by a mob of prisoners they had helped prosecute. Tony, are you saying the people that took you and Gibbs were from a previous case?"
"I don't know, Ducky. It was a dream. I doubt I can put too much stock in it. Yesterday I dreamed I was Luke Skywalker," Tony explained.
"You watch too many movies, Tony," Ducky admonished.
"Probably."
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Fingers danced across keys as Abby input search information into databases, processed samples, enhanced pictures and anything else she could think of to do with the evidence Tim and Ziva had gathered from the scene.
"Something has to work," Abby said, the determination lighting her eyes seeming almost like obsession.
"We will find him," Ziva agreed with a confidence she didn't quite feel. She knew how important finding Gibbs was and didn't want to dash Abby's hopes again.
"We have to get a lead soon," Tim agreed.
"Was Tony wearing cosmetics?" Ziva asked. She had leaned forward to examine the clothes Tony had been wearing when they found him.
"The pink powder? I know," Abby explained. "I have no idea. The major is working overtime. Hopefully we'll have an answer soon."
"Maybe they were being held backstage at a glam concert?" Tim suggested.
"Or maybe they were kidnapped by drag queens?" Abby followed suit.
Ducky's voice sounded over the intercom at Abby's desk, informing them that Tony had awakened. Tim and Ziva headed down to autopsy, leaving Abby to her own musings.
"Killer clowns from outer space?" she asked Bert. She paused long enough for a response. She got none.
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"Tony, how are you feeling?" Ziva asked, as she and Tim joined the others in autopsy.
"Just dandy," he replied sarcastically. "Gibbs is missing, I probably know where he is, but I can't remember anything."
"Can you tell us the last thing you do remember? Just sort of walk us through the sequence of events," Tim prompted.
"We were working the Sullivan case. Gibbs and I were on our way to interview McKinley, but I don't remember getting there. I'm thinking we stopped at the coffee shop, because I can distinctly remember…"
"Coffee shop!" Tim and Ziva said simultaneously.
Watching them leave, Tony hated being injured and left behind. "Terrific," he grumbled.
"Don't worry, Anthony," Ducky consoled him, "Ziva and Tim are quite experienced now. I'm sure they will cover everything you could if you were there."
"I know, Ducky, but I don't have to like it."
"Like it or lump it," Jimmy chimed in. At the astounded expressions he received in response, he quickly jumped to explain himself. "That's what my mom always says."
"I'm sure he knows what the saying means, Jimmy, it was just a bit insensitive to use it now. It's not as if Anthony has worked himself into a no-win situation," Ducky chided.
"No, I wasn't saying it was his fault, but he is here and there's nothing he can do about it. That's all I meant," Jimmy defended.
Tony tried his best to block out the voices as he focused on the fuzzy mess that was his memory. He had to remember. Gibbs was counting on him. He was as certain of that as he was that Gibbs would find him if he were the one in the other situation. He had to remember.
From what felt like a great distance, he heard more conversation between Ducky and Jimmy, but he couldn't seem to focus on what they were saying.
He was staring off into space when his mind presented him with a blurry, fragment of a memory. He and Gibbs were tied up…in a warehouse of some kind. Some men were asking them questions. "Where is she?" "I know you know where she is, and you're going to tell me…or else." When he realized it was an actual memory and not a vision or dream, he looked around, but Ducky and Jimmy had left the room.
Tony began to shift uncomfortably on his bed. He had to get on his feet. He may not be in tip-top shape, but he had to tell someone before he forgot again. Surely Ducky or Vance would be upstairs. Abby! That's where he would go. He made his way slowly and painstakingly toward the elevator.
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Gibbs struggled to hold his head upright. He was now, thankfully, sitting rather than suspended, as he had been earlier. He was strapped to a chair in a seated position, enduring yet another round of interrogation. He knew the torture would be next. They alternated between the two: torture then interrogation then torture then interrogation. He doubted he would survive more torture. A steely disposition, determination and will can only take a man so far.
"She is my wife, Agent Gibbs. Sam is my son. I deserve to know where they are. I know that you know," Saul continued his rant.
Saul Groce was a former marine convicted of attempting to murder his wife and baby boy eleven years ago. Gibbs hadn't been involved in that case, and had nothing to do with Groce's incarceration. He did, however, assist in getting his wife, Tammy, and their son into protective custody for a time three years ago, after a series of threats had them running scared. The boy, Sam, had touched his heart. The pair didn't qualify for witness protection, so Gibbs had helped them relocate and establish new identities. He was one of the few people in the world who knew how to contact them. He would, however, never put them in jeopardy. He'd allow these men to kill him first.
Gibbs was worried about Tony on a primal, almost cellular level. Tony hadn't been targeted by these men; he had simply been with Gibbs when they had apprehended him. Watching him bear the brunt of a psychotic man's torment, knowing Tony was only there because of him, was almost enough to break him. But now Tony was gone. Released? Left to die, more likely.
Gibbs resolved not to give any outward sign or reaction to their interrogation techniques, but the man's next words nearly killed him.
"It really doesn't matter if you talk," Saul taunted. "That's why we let Agent DiNozzo loose. He'll find out. If he doesn't, we'll kill you."
"He…won't…help you," Gibbs whispered raggedly.
"You underestimate how much you mean to him, I think," Saul continued to cut him with his words.
He was right, Gibbs knew. Tony would do anything to free him from these men, up to and including locating information that would be unavailable to anyone else. As much as it made him feel good to know, the last thing he wanted was for Tammy and Sam to pay the price for Tony's loyalty.