Chapter Twelve – Rescue
Brenna's eyes kept shifting from the road to the gun in Adam Franklin's hand. He'd taken her from the lab after knocking poor Tim unconscious, forcing her into the car and making her drive them off the Navy Yard. Now they were quickly making their way out of DC.
"Where are we going?" Brenna asked him.
"Back to Texas."
"Why?"
He raised the gun and told her, "Stop asking questions and drive."
Brenna was silent for several miles before she realized she had her cell phone in her pocket. Hoping it would work, she dared asked one more question, "Will you at least let me go to the bathroom?" Franklin stared at her and she shrugged. "I have to go."
"Pull over at that rest area up ahead," Franklin said. "No… On second thought, pull up to that old gas station. Rest area restrooms have multiple stalls, and I don't trust you not to try to get a message to someone. And Brenna; remember, I don't need you alive for what I have planned."
"Do I look like I got stupid overnight?" she countered, allowing her annoyance with him to shine through. "It's not like you need me to accomplish your goals anyway. You've clearly set me up."
Franklin's responding smile was as calculated and evil as any Brenna had ever seen on any smarmy villain in any film she could recall. She suppressed the chill it gave her, not wanting him to know how frightened she was.
"Nice to see you appreciate my handiwork," he gloated. "You should never have come into that lab; and once you had, you should never have attempted to get the word out. Now, not only will you pay for it, but your sister will as well." Seeing that they were at the gas station, he interrupted himself. "Don't park near anyone either."
"Again; not an idiot," Brenna muttered. She pulled the car into a space far from any others and shut off the engine.
"Now, you're going to walk with me, slightly in front of me. Go in and do your business quickly. Remember, I'm right outside."
"Yeah, yeah…" she said as she opened the bathroom door and stepped inside.
---
Jenna's cell phone started ringing in her hand. Startled, she looked at the display and saw "Brenna calling" flashing on her screen. "It's her," she said, as she answered the phone.
"McGee! Trace the call," Gibbs ordered.
"On it, Boss."
"Jenna don't say a word. I'm in the bathroom in a gas station just across the Virginia border. Franklin took me. I'm leaving this call open; see if they can trace it."
"Brenna? Brenna?" Jenna bit her lip. "She's not answering. She said Franklin took her, they're across the state line already and she was leaving the call open so you could track her."
"Accessing the network now," McGee explained. "Now, locating the towers her call is coming from. They are on the move, the cell towers just switched. Boss, looks like they are headed west."
Jenna's worried eyes met Gibbs'. "He's taking her back to Texas."
"Over my dead body, he is," Gibbs muttered. "Ziva, you're with Abby and Jenna. Do not leave them, do you hear me?"
"Yes, Boss."
"I'm going with you," Jenna said, walking up to Gibbs and looking directly into his eyes.
"No, you're not," he said gruffly.
"She's my sister!"
"I know that!" he said, a bit more loudly than he intended. He took her by the arm and led her slightly away from the others. "Listen to me, Jenna. We don't know what's going on out there. If you tag along, you'll be more of a liability than a help to your sister. Stay here in case she gets a chance to call again. Stay with Abby and Ziva."
Wordlessly, Jenna relented, stepping back to stand with the other ladies.
"What about her," Ziva asked, nodding toward Steph.
Gibbs narrowed his eyes at Steph, who smirked in return. He smiled back and shook his head. "Keep an eye on her, too."
"So let me get this straight," Steph proposed. "You're taking the two injured members of your team with you, and leaving your best to cover three women?"
"Yep," Gibbs said, refusing to explain himself. "Let's roll!"
---
Steph watched with the other three as the men left. "Well, since we've been banned from joining the men's club today, what do you say about building a case against Sterling Lancaster?"
"What will the CIA say about you ending the mission before they okay it?" Jenna asked.
"I couldn't care less. They don't always look out for the best interests of their agents and they have been known to let cases go on past the point of no return. So, who wants to look at my flash drive?" She wagged her eyebrows suggestively.
"Oh me!" Abby said, gaining a chuckle from Ziva. "Let's go to my lab." She turned and led the way, followed closely by Steph, Ziva and finally Jenna.
For the next hour, Steph led them through the information she'd compiled and the photos and documents she'd backed up. Abby had gone through three Caf-Pows, Ziva had questioned every little thing and Jenna kept staring at her cell phone. No other calls had come in. Jenna watched Ziva for a few minutes, noticing that she wasn't paying any attention to anyone other than Steph. Easing back slowly, she waiting for Ziva to ask another question then turned and ran out of the lab.
Slowing to a walk, she rounded a corner and bumped into the man everyone called Ducky. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to run into you."
"Oh my dear, I'm fine. You're not hurt, are you?" he asked.
She blinked, looking down and shook her head. "No, I'm not hurt."
She felt his hand under her chin, raising her face to his. "You have to get out of that room for a while, eh?"
"Yes."
"I understand. Let's have a walk, shall we?"
Jenna sighed in relief at not being chastised for running out. "That would be lovely."
He turned around in the direction she'd been walking and offered her his arm. She smiled at his charming way and linked her arm through his.
"You're very worried about your sister," he stated.
"Yes. I keep waiting for my cell phone to ring or Abby's lab phone and there's just this quiet. I mean, sure they are talking, but I just keep waiting for the phone to ring."
Patting the hand resting on his arm, he told her, "Jethro is the best NCIS has. He'll bring her back and she'll be fine."
"Jethro?" Jenna asked.
Ducky stopped and smiled at her. "No one told you his name?"
Jenna shook her head. "No. He was introduced as Special Agent Gibbs and everyone has called him Gibbs."
"Well, then, I believe it's only fair you know his name. Leroy Jethro Gibbs. No one calls him Leroy and hardly anyone other than the director and myself call him Jethro. No one calls him sir."
"Okay. I've got it, I think." Jenna bit her lip. "How long do you think it will take him to bring her back?"
"Let's go back to Abby's lab. We'll see if they've heard anything."
Impulsively, Jenna hugged the older man. "Thank you, Ducky."
---
"I can't believe you let him get her, McGee," Tony chided.
"You have room to talk, DiNozzo," Gibbs said sarcastically.
"No, he's right, Boss," McGee said, still looking half sick with worry. "It is my fault. I'm the special agent. I'm the one who was supposed to guard her. I knew there was danger. And I knew I had locked that stupid door," he continued.
"McGee!" Gibbs barked. "You made a mistake. It won't happen again," his voice was almost as threatening as it was reassuring, "but you have to stop kicking yourself over this or you won't do us any good out here."
"Yes, Boss. It's just that…"
"Whoa!" Tony shouted. "Check this out. Virginia tags, plate number YMX-1109."
"That's the rental car we spotted on the security footage," McGee chimed in.
"Ya think, McGee?" Gibbs said, focusing on the car.
"Looks like them, Boss," Tony said, reaching for his weapon.
"What do you think you're doing," McGee protested.
"I'm going to take out a tire. We'll get him stopped sooner that way."
"What if he decided to just shoot Brenna?" McGee asked. "Really dumb idea, Tony."
"You're both right," Gibbs interjected. "We need to handle this as soon as possible, but we need to wait for the right moment. We can't let Brenna be at risk. I'll follow from a few cars back. We don't want him to know we're on him."
---
"We're running low on gas," Brenna told Franklin.
Franklin looked at the gas gauge and clenched his jaw. He looked around and saw another, older gas station that wasn't very busy. "Pull in there. You pump, but remember I'll be right here watching. No tricks." He aimed the gun toward her and gave her a menacing glare.
Brenna's look told spoke volumes. "I like breathing, okay?"
She pulled up to the pumps and turned the car off. Stepping out, she noticed a sedan pulling into the station and was surprised to see Gibbs in the driver's seat. He saw her looking and motioned for her to continue. She opened the door to the gas tank, removed the gas cap and started to pump the gas. She noticed that Franklin still had the gun trained on her, lest she be tempted to make a false move.
While keeping the weapon carefully aimed at his gas-pumping captive, Franklin watched other cars arrive and depart out of the corner of his eye. He had been trained to be observant, and the last thing he needed was to catch the eye of a police officer with his weapon in hand. Of course, he had a Texas permit for carrying the weapon, and he knew Virginia honored that permit; and openly carrying a weapon in the state of Virginia is legal by anyone, as long as the gun is completely visible. However, he sincerely doubted that having it pointed in someone else's direction was what was the law had in mind. He also knew that despite the state's weapons carry laws, having a weapon out is the best way to catch the attention of an alert police officer, or even a nosy do-gooder.
"What do you mean, you don't take checks?" Franklin's attention was drawn toward a man who was arguing loudly with a gas station employee regarding his chosen method of payment. He narrowed his eyes. 'Who still uses checks, anyway? It's the electronic age, moron,' he thought with derision. "But I'll just… if you could just…" the man continued trying to work the employee. Franklin began to admire the man's technique. He was almost certain this guy was about to drive away with free gas.
Noticing that Franklin's attention was now solely focused on DiNozzo, Brenna propped the pump in place, setting it to auto pump on the lowest setting. She then began to inch her way toward McGee, who was slowly ambling across the parking lot, not drawing attention to himself. Not knowing for how long Agent DiNozzo would able to hold his attention, she made eye contact with McGee and at his nod, took off at full speed toward him. He allowed her to run past him, and then followed, keeping himself between her and Franklin's vehicle.
Catching the blur of Brenna's movement in the edge of his peripheral vision, Franklin swore under his breath. He started for the door, determined to bring her back, when he noticed she had backup, and was climbing into the back of a Government Issue sedan. He had to get out of there, and fast. As he climbed into the driver's seat, he realized the gas pump was still attached to his vehicle via the nozzle, which was still dispensing gasoline. He swore again. He looked up and saw the man who had been arguing with the station employee approaching his car, badge in hand. Knowing he couldn't afford to be detained, he slammed the car into gear and hit the accelerator, tearing the nozzle from the pump and spewing gasoline across the lot of the station.
Tony slid into the already moving sedan and secured the door, as Gibbs screeched out of the lot to follow Franklin. Unfortunately, the man already had a lead on them, and apparently Franklin was a skilled driver. After a few minutes, it was obvious they had lost him. Gibbs swore softly under his breath as he slammed both hands into the steering wheel.
"Are you okay?" McGee asked Brenna, his eyes full of concern.
"He didn't hurt me, the miserable jerk. But he did admit to being behind the set up. He may be good, but this isn't what he does for a living. Maybe we can find an error or some other way to prove my innocence, or maybe…"
"You're rambling," Tony said. "Do you always ramble when you're nervous?"
"Oh, I'm not nervous. I just talk all the time. Sorry. Now Jenna, on the other hand, she ramb… Jenna! Oh my gosh! I almost forgot. I have to call and tell her I'm okay."
---
Sterling's fingers drummed a staccato on the desk in his hotel room. He knew Steph wasn't to check in with him until eight o'clock, but normally she'd have the job done several hours early. He wasn't taking a chance that the only lead to his son's early death would get away. He picked up the phone and called in his back-up.