Chapter 5

Caroline had been right. Israel has been quite busy in the meanwhile. She had seen it on the morning news during her flight to San Diego airport on BBC.

Abby, McGee, Gibbs, Ducky and Mr. Palmer have seen the same announcement on CNN at nine thirty as breaking news, stopping the ongoing show 'Quest means business' (yeah, in NCIS it's called ZNN).

Israel had quit any peace treaty with the USA, it had been common in all countries that their relationship has never been the best. Netanyahu, prime minister of Israel, who had been more than only once told his opinion about America (without knowing of a camera, referring to the occurring in 2010), had refused a private talking with Barack Obama,

claiming there was "nothing worse to talk about" and that "everything that had to be said, had been said", after the news-speaker of German ntv and French TV-monde.

"Wow, this was clear," Abby commented when it was read out on CNN that "as things haven't changed and due to the ongoing broke of trust between our two countries, [Israeli] military will go into action soon".

Gibbs threw another paper cup into the dustbin. "Damn, I'm gonna get a new one," he muttered.

"Ah, I'm going," McGee offered. "Who else wants to coffee?"

Both pathologists and the forensic scientist raised their arms. McGee smiled and took his jacket. It was cold out there, it was February. "I'm back in five minutes," he said but they had all turned back to the big plasma screen in front of them.

Current murders were uninteresting in comparison to that and they had solved the last case within two hours because they had been so worried about Tony and the murder had been very easy, interrogation with Gibbs in record time, the marine confessed within three minutes being barked and shouted at, to have killed his partner.

McGee took the elevator and put on his jacket. He left the NCIS headquarters and the first thing he did when sitting in his car was putting the heating on. He drove toward downtown where he saw that most cafés were fully crowded, especially those with TV screens, all showing the same news.

That was bad for America, all their soldiers were still in Afghanistan or somewhere else in that region and they haven't had time to get prepared for whatever the Israeli planned. So McGee drove on through downtown and didn't know himself how he landed at the harbor. Perhaps because he had drunk a very good coffee once here, together with Kate, also on a very cold day, after having investigate a suspect.

He felt something chilling and very uncomfortable inside his stomach when he closed the door of his car and entered the café right next to the Navy base. He looked around, stared for a few seconds on the table where once he and Kate had sit, talking about Gibbs' haircut. He liked to run out and cry, something he had always wanted, never he wanted to admit to Tony how much he had actually felt for dear Caitlin.

He sighed and walk over to the bar. "Five coffees, please."

"All black?"

"One with extra—" he didn't manage to finish his sentence.

The first thing he noticed were people standing, jumping up from their chairs, their open mouths, the expression on their faces, all filled with fear and incredulousness.

Then he heard their screams, getting louder and very high, pitchy voices.

He wanted to turn around but before he could, he heard what he had to hear first.

It was indescribable, loud, something he could not order in his mind, it sounded as if a gun had been fired right next to his head, it was an explosion but with a dimension that was incredible.

He walked toward the window, it felt as if everything was in slow motion, then he saw the yellow-orange-red fireball rising over the naval base, dark grey and black fume was mixing with the fire, in a shadow dance of death.

He saw the horror mirroring in the window glasses and in the faces of the other people in the café and around.

The fire-fungus had risen to its highest point, already being shadowed by dangerous smoke, now it seemed to expand, pressing away and heating up the air which started to flicker, the heat spreading out, the extent of the explosion erased everything, McGee saw the leaves shooting through the streets as having been shot by a rifle, chairs were flying and cars were partly lifted up, being thrown around like toys.

McGee saw that it was coming as it already was too late. The extent of the shock wave has arrived at the café and with one big blast the whole glass window was thrown inside, splittering into a thousand-pieces-puzzle, waiting for someone to pick it up, and put it together.

McGee felt himself being grabbed by an invisible force, throwing him backward, like the glass, he flew over the bar, landed on his back and instinctively turned around, feeling the bloody shower of glass pieces hitting down on his body and cutting his clothes and skin.

He heard again the screams of pain, the screams of solace, the screams of people in panic and without hope. He stayed where he was, expecting more to come, expecting death. But nothing similar happened.

It was quiet. Far too quiet for him.

He started to open his eyes again and moved. Every single part of his body hurt. He tried to sit up and shrieked when he saw a baseball sized piece of glass sticking in his arm. He grabbed it and tore it off. He yelled loudly and threw the tansparent-red piece away.

He felt the hot, chilling blood running down his jacket and inside on his skin. He put of the jacket and looked at the back of it. The leather has protected him from several, evil little pieces of the window.

He sighed and was glad that the only pain he had was cursed by a lot of cuts, filling his surrounded with reddish liquid. He stood up, slowly and started to walk.

The barkeeper was dead, no pulse and no belly breathe. McGee stumbled further, there was a woman lying a few meters from him, her head was moving.

"Can you hear me? Miss, are you okay?" McGee screamed. He shook her a bit, slowly she opened her eyes.

"What…what happened?" she stammered, barely able to pronounce the three words. McGee noticed a big glass in her leg. "This is going to hurt, please hold my hand," he instructed and tore out this piece as well.

The woman screamed and McGee took her jeans jacket and pressed it deeply on the wound. "Push it hard, okay?" he said and she nodded so that he could go on and have a look for more injured.

He had just fallen down next to an elderly man who seemed to have lost consciousness, when he heard the loving sound of ambulance sirens. "Fucking god," he muttered when he felt the man's pulse and happily noticed one.

He put him into recovery position, the upper leg bent, as well as the arm, the other hand under his head. It took a few seconds but then the paramedic stormed into the window-less building, pulling McGee away from the man, telling him to go to the ambulance car.

McGee explained that he wasn't hurt deeply and that they should care for the more injured first until one of the female medics pushed him on the floor, throwing the first-aid kit next to him, opening it and started to cut open McGee's pullover.

Bare, he felt how cold tissues were pressed on his wounds, to disinfect it and then he noticed how he was suddenly lying on the floor, someone trying with forceps to pick the shivers sticking in his flesh.

"The Israeli," McGee muttered.

"It is not sure who made these attacks," the female doctor said, concentrating on the glass shivers.

"Tony…the Israeli," McGee murmured and felt himself becoming weaker.

He tried to fight against this, but his force was leaving the body and soon he wasn't able to move anymore. So he let the darkness come and enter his body.

He finally fainted.

Thanks for reading up to here, I hope for some comments ;)