From Paris, With Love by DD Agent
Enjoy! Parts Three and Four will be up tomorrow!
I do not own NCIS or any of its characters, or its settings - all belongs to the lovely folks at CBS.
Act One
"Got a body in Rock Creek Park," Tony DiNozzo announced to the group, Dispatch not being able to get through to Gibbs. "ID says it's a former Marine. Boss?"
Tony looked over to see that his boss wasn't even paying attention. He was more focused on Director Shepard walking along the catwalk in calf shaping boots and a skirt that other Agency Directors definitelywouldn't be able to pull off. Gibbs' usual gaze on the Director had mostly been concern, sometimes even a playful hint of something long since past. Now it was just plain angst.
"Boss?"
"I heard you the first time, DiNozzo. Grab your gear; we're heading to Rock Creek Park."
Today was going to be one of those days, Jethro had decided. Jenny was looking beautiful, and the fuck me boots he knewcame from Rome [because he had bought them for her and made love to her in them] were making their conversation a few weeks ago replay in his mind like a bad pop song. Normally the prospect of a case would drive all thoughts of Jenny out of his mind, but his gut was telling him this wasn't going to be just any case.
He took his car to Rock Creek Park whilst his team went in the truck - he believed he'd tossed the keys to McGee but he wasn't sure. His mind was trying to play fill in the blank for his conversation with Jenny, and his feet were determined to break his accelerator by the end of the day. Jethro couldn't recall walking to the crime scene, but his brain was definitely jogged by the sight of the marine in front of him with an execution style shot in the middle of his forehead.
"Definitely a gunshot wound to the head," Ducky announced. He peered around the back of the victim's skull. "And there's the exit wound. I would assume we're missing a slug, Jethro."
He hummed. "DiNozzo, David. Go search for the missing bullet. McGee, look around and see if our killer left any trace evidence."
Jethro knelt down beside Ducky. He had been in this mood for weeks, and soon the medical examiner would be asking questions. It wouldn't take him long to connect the dots between his foul attitude and the lack of time Jenny spent involving herself in cases.
"Do you see the powder burns there, Jethro? The slight stippling? This was a point blank shot."
He nodded, and took a few more notes down. "Thanks Ducky. Let me know when you start the autopsy, I want to know why this Marine ended up dead."
X
"Marine's name is Corporal Lance Tracey," McGee started to explain. "He was discharged due to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after his second tour in Iraq - he was one of the first ones out there after 9/11."
Jethro sat listening to information about their victim, trying to focus. Jenny was having a discussion with another team up on the catwalk, and he was finding it hard not to stare at her mouth. She kept licking her lips, and he could feel his hands start to shake.
He wondered when things would reach boiling point between them. They had been on a low simmer for the last year - she had been more focussed on toppling down frogs and he had been working on his own happy ending with Hollis. But even though he had enjoyed being with Holly and had indeed thought of their relationship as more than a quick work fling, he had always known that something would happen with Jenny. The three years they had been entwined in each other's lives would not disappear just because they wished it. It was now more of a question of 'when' then 'if'.
"You find the bullet, DiNozzo?"
Tony nodded from across the bullpen. "Yeah boss, I-we did." He didn't need DiNozzo and David acting up. He needed them focussed. He hoped his glare made that clear. "Simple fifty four slug, Abby's running it now."
Ziva was about to explain more about Tracey's family when there was a shout from McGee's side of the bullpen. Gibbs turned his attention to him. "You got something, McGee?"
Tim stood up from his desk and put something up on the viewer. Gibbs shifted forward to get a better look at the square piece of paper McGee had put up.
"It's a theatre ticket. According to Abby there was five tickets found on Corporal Tracey's person, and around the crime scene I found dozens more, some covered in blood."
Gibbs smiled. That was something. "I take it our Corporal was selling tickets to make some quick cash. What's the play about?"
That's when McGee's smile faded. "The play is called "TueurDansMoi". It's performing at a high end theatre just off Georgetown, The Play house. Haven't managed to find out exactly what the play is about, but I'll get on it, boss."
Jethro heard the click of her boots long before he saw the red hair pulled back into a clip, the slight shift in her gaze - her eyes went to him first. "No need to research, Agent McGee. The play is French; roughly translated the title means 'Killer in me'. It's the story about a hired assassin who is paid to kill everyone he's ever loved."
"Sounds cheery," Tony called from the other side of the bullpen. "Movie release?"
Jethro didn't miss the eye roll from Jenny. She liked this French crap, and the play sounded interesting to him, he'd been in the position the character had been - nothing more than a man with a gun.
"Shall we get tickets for opening night, Director?" Jethro asked, trying to provoke a response in Jenny. He got one, but it wasn't what he was expecting.
Jenny's eyes started to water, and Jethro wondered what button he had pressed. Still, she was a professional and managed to say the next line through the tears in the corners of her eyes. "The theatre company, Deumert Productions, are the only ones who produce the play. It hasn't been performed since '99 in Paris. I'd look into why they are performing it now, and in DC."
She swept through their group of desks and back up the stairs to her own office. Jethro felt the urge to follow her, to question as to why this play drew such a reaction from her. He had his suspicions, but another argument about Paris while a mystery lingered in DC was not a productive use of both of their times.
"Okay, McGee - see what you can find out about the production company, and what they've been doing for eight years. DiNozzo, David, does Tracey have any family?"
Ziva shook her head. "Only child, parents passed away a few years ago. He has no next of kin."
"Then go to the Play House and see if you can talk to Corporal Tracey's employer. If his death has something to do with the play, then I want you to find out what. If it doesn't, then at least get us a damn lead!"
His team scuttled off, and Jethro guessed it was time to face the music upstairs with Jenny.
X
There was a glass of bourbon waiting for him on the corner of her desk, and Jethro took it as he made his way over to sit on the sofa next to her. Jenny was drinking water - unless she had developed a taste for vodka that he didn't know about. The rain was dribbling down the window pane, the weather reminding him of Paris and the afternoons they had spent like this one, inside and talking for hours.
"We saw the play, didn't we?"
He could see dried track marks on her face. Why were they both so capable of rotting everything they came in contact with? "The last performance. Ducky got us tickets, said he thought we'd enjoy it."
Jethro frowned. "Why can't I-? When was this?"
"About a week before I left you."
He dropped the tumbler of bourbon down his throat, not even wincing at the burning sensation. Jethro had only felt that destroyed once before, and that was when Shannon and Kelly had been taken from him. With Jenny, he'd…he had thought about it all before, every plan, every kiss, every way he could have persuaded her to stay. As he sat forward, the glass tumbler dangling by his knees, he realised that the past didn't matter anymore.
"There's a chance that this may lead to undercover work."
"I have every faith that you can handle it, Jethro," Jenny took another sip of her water. "I won't be watching your back in MTAC; I don't think it'll be helpful."
Jethro nodded, and drained the few drops of bourbon from the glass and left it on the corner of her coffee table. He stood up, straightening his collar before walking through her office, his eyes kept on the floor. As his gaze shifted over her desk, he caught sight of a picture. It was of him and Jenny, in Paris, dressed to the nines. He remembered the bar, a small little place just around the corner from their safe house. He remembered that dress.
It had still been on the floor of their bedroom when he had woken up to find her gone.
He glimpsed back to see that Jenny was still staring at the tumbler of water, her eyes not focussing on anything but memories.
He pocketed the photograph, determined to do the same in his basement that night.
X
"Something weird is going on," Tony stated as they parked his car and headed to the Play House. It was known for its obscure and foreign plays, which the richer residents of Georgetown went to on a regular basis.
Ziva nodded. "I agree. Why stop performing a play for eight years and put on the new performance in Washington? Paris, yes. New York, perhaps. But Washington?"
Tony stopped near the entrance to the theatre. "I was talking about Gibbs and the Director. Something's going on there, and it has to do with this play. Or just in general, I can never be sure with them." Ziva reached forward to open the front door but Tony kept talking. "I've just remembered. You and Jenny were partners. Do you know what happened between her and Gibbs?"
Ziva rolled her eyes and tried not to reach for any of her weapons. "If I said anything it would be betraying Jenny's confidence. She asked me before I took this position that I not divulge anything of a personal nature that she shared when she became my partner."
Tony nodded. "So she and Gibbs had crazy French monkey sex, huh?" Ziva ignored him and walked through the doors to the theatre. Tony just stood outside, grinning. "I knew it!"
He stood there, smiling to himself and trying to stop but altogether enjoying the images of a young Jenny being seduced by a younger Gibbs. That was until Ziva grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him inside.
They showed their badges to the woman on reception, who in turn called someone down to deal with them. Tony and Ziva waited for a moment before a well dressed man came down a staircase in the back and turned to them with a tired smile on his face. He examined their badges to his satisfaction before deciding to address them.
"So, what can I do to assist the American Government this afternoon?" he asked, the French accent coming through in his voice.
Ziva showed the man a picture of Corporal Tracey. Tony just played on his phone. "Do you know this man?"
The Frenchman coughed. "Yes, he's Lance Tracey. He's been hand delivering tickets for us. Our clientele prefer that level of service - they're busy people. They don't have time to wait in line at the post office or come here. I take it he's dead?"
"Good call," Tony smiled, before frowning over his phone.
Ziva rolled her eyes and turned away from him. "Do you know of anybody who would want to kill him? Did he mention anybody who he was having a problem with?"
The Frenchman coughed again. Apparently a little quiche was stuck in his windpipe. "Tracey didn't mention anything that I know of. He just showed up, got his addresses and left. He came back and we paid him at the end of the day when we got confirmation from our clients that they had received their tickets." Two men came up behind him, and Tony still played on his phone. "If you'll please excuse us, its three days until opening night."
The two men that had joined Frenchie escorted Ziva and Tony out of the doors of the theatre and back into the cold. Tony did not look impressed, while Ziva looked mildly curious. And a little angry that her partner had not been as involved in the interview as normal.
"Do you get the feeling that something is going on in that theatre?"
Tony nodded. "Most definitely. And before you start yapping to Gibbs about how I'm not doing any work?" He showed Ziva the pictures he had taken of the men they had spoken to, and the few walking past in the background. "Let's run these through McGee and hope by the time we get a warrant to search the place they haven't already moved on."
Ziva bobbed her head, but Tony was already moving back to the car. Sometimes, her partner really surprised her.
X
"DiNozzo, what did you find out at the theatre?" Gibbs asked once all the team were assembled back in the bullpen.
Tony sighed before standing up and turning to the monitor. Some pictures sprung up on the screen. "They weren't very happy to be talking to us, and were desperate to get us to leave. Pushed us out the door which I thought was quite rude." He could see the glare starting to form on his boss' face. "Anyway, I managed to get pictures of all the men we were talking to but so far we have no names for them."
"That's not surprising," Gibbs replied, grimacing. His gut had been right at the beginning of the day. This was going to be a messy case.
McGee stood up next, putting his evidence up on the screen. "I couldn't find anything on Deumert Productions. Their website is just a name of a studio in Paris, not even a telephone number. I talked to Ducky and asked him to put the word out through his contacts about why they haven't performed this play in eight years. All he got back was that something had happened in Paris in '99 that shut down their operations, and they're only nowin the position to start performing again."
Gibbs stood up from his desk, his eyes immediately drawn to behind the monitor. He watched as Jenny's legs came down the stairs to join them at their mini briefing. "Something isn't right here. I think the theatre is responsible for Corporal Tracey's death, but I don't know why."
"They could be smuggling all number of things through the theatre. If they bring their own technical equipment and costumes then they could bring guns, drugs…the extra performers could be human trafficking," Jenny chipped in, and for once Gibbs looked grateful.
The briefing turned into a family affair as Abby trudged into the bullpen, her face carved into a frown. Something had upset her. Without a word, she took over McGee's computer and put something up on the big screen.
"I ran Tony's photographs through every database I could think of. I got hits on the main guy you talked to, his name is Pierre Montgomery. French National with links to terrorism and arms dealing. His file says he works for an arms dealer named Cyrano. No one knows his real name, but I think its Jacques Morrell. At least that's the name on the records for Deumert Productions that I managed to hack into."
Jenny and Gibbs both stepped forward and looked at the fuzzy picture of Jacques Morrell that Abby had loaded onto the big screen. They both remembered his photograph, in another place, on another case.
"He's an arms dealer all right. Had links to some of the ones we tracked in Paris. No one could ever find the man behind the code name." Jethro cursed and slammed his hand on his desk. "Damn it, how could we be so close?"
Jenny went to rest an arm on his shoulder in comfort, but thought better of it. Instead she put her hand down on the desk. "We could get a warrant on suspected terrorist activity, but you know these men. They're very good at what they do and there is no waythey are keeping any arms at the theatre. Would be too dangerous for one bumbling idiot to stumble across it."
Jethro looked up and saw the picture of Corporal Tracey back on the screen. "I think someone already did." He ran a hand through his hair and turned to his team. "Okay, the Director's right. The way these men have been taken down before is subterfuge, undercover." He didn't miss Tony's shudder. The Frog case was still fresh in everyone's minds, no one more so than DiNozzo and Jenny. "DiNozzo, David? You up for it?"
Ziva shook her head from her desk. "Gibbs, we can't. They would recognise us as Federal Agents instantly."
"Ziva has a point," Ducky announced, walking from the elevator over to the group with a face that both Jenny and Jethro had seen before. It had usually meant he was meddling. "Jethro, you seem to be missing the perfect solution here."
"And what's that, Duck?"
Ducky reached over and handed Jenny something, and Jethro peered into her outstretched hand to see what he had given her. It was two tickets to opening night of the play, in a box to boot. They must have cost a fortune. It wasn't apparent to Jethro why Ducky was giving them tickets, but Jenny seemed to be further ahead than he was and was vehemently shaking her head.
"The tickets are in the name of John and Jemma Vance. Purchased by Jemma's uncle, David, as an early anniversary present. After all, ten years is quite an occasion."
Jethro looked down at the tickets, then back up at Ducky. Jenny was almost crumpling them in her harsh grip.
"It's been eight years, Duck. I don't think-"
He turned towards Jenny, who looked as devastated as he did. The other team members weren't in their scope; it was only them and Ducky. Like it had been all those years ago. She licked her lips before sighing.
"I don't think we have a choice, Jethro. Looks like we're back together again."