Disclaimer: Jeanne, gone? No, damn, my dreams haven't come true. Sigh, NCIS is not mine.
A/N I know it seems like I've dragged this out for a few chapters, but honestly, it was fun to write :) I wanted to do this particular event justice so I developed it more. I know it's longer that what I normally do, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. As always, thanks to my beta, Kandon Kuuson. You're the best :D
"A good friend is hard to find, hard to lose, and impossible to forget..." - Unknown
Chapter Eleven: Bringing Her Home
Central Point Hospital, Cairo, Egypt, October 2003
Ziva was laying in her bed; she had just asked her doctor when her next check-up would be. Thinking that Ziva wanted to get some sleep, the doctor had assured her that she would be undisturbed for the next few hours. However, Ziva had no intention of doing so. It was possibly the furthest thing from her mind. Right now, Jenny Shepard was her only concern.
After she had disconnected the call with Adena, Ziva had checked her clothes, looking to see if anything was still usable. She discovered that her gun and her back up were gone, but was relieved to find her knife lying underneath her shirt. Taking the knife and her cell phone with her, Ziva clambered back into bed, just as the doctor had entered the room. Now she was waiting for Adena to arrive and was hoping that she had enough sense to bring a change of clothes.
"Ziva," came a hushed whisper. A hand carefully and quietly pushed open the door and Adena Harel slid effortlessly into the room.
"Addy," Ziva acknowledged. "Hirsch . . .?"
Adena offered a three-worded answer with a sly grin. "Not a problem."
"Whaa . . ." Ziva started, but Adena cut her off with a wave of her hand.
"The less people that know, the better," she muttered. Ziva looked at her curiously and Adena sighed. "I didn't kill him. He'll be fine in a few hours."
Ziva nodded in understanding. "Did you bring . . ."
"One step ahead of you, Zee," Adena replied before Ziva could finish. Offering Ziva her backpack, Adena gestured to the bathroom, indicating that Ziva should change into the outfit she had brought.
"Toda," Ziva replied before exiting the room. As soon as she had disappeared, Adena's cell phone rang. She picked it up.
"You got it?" Adena asked, without greeting the person on the other end.
"Not even a shalom for an old friend?" the person on the other end mocked. "How impolite, Adena."
"I don't have time for this, Ari," Adena hissed. "I didn't want to call you in the first place, but you're the only one that can get me what I want . . . and fast."
"How you flatter me," Ari replied happily from the other end of the phone.
"Just . . . tell . . . me," Adena muttered through clenched teeth. She had come along since her schoolgirl crush on Ari Haswari.
"Why is this . . . Agent Shepard . . ." Ari seemed uninterested in who the information was benefiting. "Why is she so important?"
"You'll have to ask you sister," Adena replied curtly. "Look, do you have it or not?"
Ari exhaled heavily on the other end. "Patience is a virtue, Adena."
"Ari," Adena said angrily, "stop messing around! Do you have Ahmed's location?"
Ari sighed on the other end of the phone. "He's in a house, west side."
"Is that all?" Adena knew that it was still a lot of houses to get through.
"Patience, Adena." There was boyish humour in his voice
Adena flexed her hand angrily. Ari was seriously getting on her nerves. "If you don't give the location now . . ."
"No need to get so violent, Adena," was Ari's smooth reply. "Here's the address." Ari rattled off the address of a house in what Adena knew to be a run down neighbourhood.
"Toda," Adena replied before hanging up the phone.
The door to the bathroom opened and Ziva stepped out wearing fresh clothes. "You ready?"
Adena nodded and sensed what Ziva was about to ask. "They're in the car." Adena was referring to Ziva's choice of weapons. "Too risky."
"Good," Ziva replied, walking over to the door. "Let's do it."
House of Jahan Ahmed, Cairo, Egypt, October 2003
"You sure this is the right address," Ziva asked as Adena pulled up about 200m from the run down house.
"Yes, my contact was very sure." Ziva knew better than to ask who her contact was, it was an unspoken policy not to tread on the toes of another officer's informant.
Ziva nodded affirmatively. "Jen is here?"
"She should be," Adena replied, "at least according to my contact."
Ziva nodded again. "Good. Layout?"
"Not sure, but I think it's typical housing trust house." Adena reached into the back of the car and grabbed a rolled up piece of paper. "Blueprints for a standard housing trust house." Adena spread open the sheet and started to point out various features.
"There will be at least two guards at each door," Adena said as she pointed to the two doors of the house.
"It's most likely she's in a basement or such," Ziva added, looking at the blueprint.
"Right," Adena agreed, "and there will be at least two guarding her, not including the interrogators."
"Two, three interrogators," Ziva estimated.
"Yes, plus a couple of runners," Adena added. "All up that makes . . ."
"About eleven of them, give or take," Ziva finished for her. She noticed Adena looked pensive.
"Addy?" she questioned.
"Are you sure we shouldn't get back-up?" Adena asked, after a moment's silence. "I mean in there it'll be five or so to one and you can only shoot with one arm. That's practically suicidal."
"Ad, they've had Jen for . . ." Ziva trailed off. She realised she didn't know how long the terrorists had had Jen or how long she had been out.
"Forty eight hours," Adena answered softly. Ziva closed her eyes. That was forty eight hours to long. Forty eight hours was the longest period of time a good agent could hold up under interrogation. Who knows what they had done to Jenny. A million different interrogation techniques ran through her head, each one worse than the previous.
"Zee," Adena said softly, brining Ziva back into reality. Ziva opened her eyes. "Jen is strong, Zee." Adena reached out and took Ziva's hand. "And she's got you. Mossad has given up on her, but you haven't. You're loyal to your friends, Ziva, you'd never leave any of them behind."
Ziva sighed sadly, but nodded strongly. "Let's do it."
The car doors opened and Ziva and Adena stepped onto the cracked footpath. Popping the trunk of the car, Adena handed Ziva a back-up gun, which she immediately placed in her ankle holster. Taking one for herself, both women screwed silencers to their main side arms. Adena checked to make sure that her side arm was securely in place. It was tactful when taking on eleven men to be as stealthy as possible. Silencers would also give them an element of surprise. She handed Ziva a couple of extra clips, knowing that they would most probably need them.
"You good to go?" Adena asked as she shut the trunk of the car. Ziva nodded in reply. "Good. We will advance from the front, a direct approach."
"You take out front guards," Ziva stated, "silently. Then we surprise the back guards, keeping an eye out for the runners. We cannot let them alert the others."
"Right, and whatever we do, we stay together," Adena mentioned firmly. "We have more chances of taking them out together. One of us goes down; we can back each other up."
"Yes," Ziva nodded, holstering her gun. They had a better plan than just flying blindly and going in guns blazing. "Move out."
Adena and Ziva moved away from the car and carefully inched their way along the cracked footpath, careful to stay in the shadows. Reaching the house, they could see two men sitting on the front porch. Although no weapons were visible, both Ziva and Adena knew where they were packing immediately. Adena pointed to her hip and shoulder, Ziva nodded in agreement.
Adena reached for her hair tie and shook her long brown hair so it cascaded down her back. She unbuttoned her shirt, a little more than what would be considered modest. Clearly showing enough cleavage to get the guards' attention, Adena wiggled her hips and headed towards the guards. Ziva had to stifle a giggle as she watched Adena walk seductively to the guards. Adena was the best honeytrap officer Mossad had, she was a natural. How many subjects she had seduced was unknown.
Ziva was unable to hear what Adena was saying to the guards, but could clearly see that she enthralled both. Almost like they were hypnotised, Adena coxed them away from the door and around the side. Quickly and efficiently, Adena drew her silenced side arm and fired two rounds, both hitting their mark. They fell backwards, never comprehending what had just happened. As Adena gestured to Ziva, indicating that it was clear and it was okay for Ziva to join her, a spasm of pain flew down her shoulder to her arm. Ziva grunted in pain, but ignored it. She knew losing Jenny would hurt a lot more than a superficial injury would.
"It's locked," Adena said as Ziva joined her on the porch. The two guards lay to their right, forgotten.
"No problem." Ziva skilfully picked the lock with one hand, making no sound as she did so.
"Show-off," Adena muttered good naturedly as Ziva quietly pushed open the door.
"What can I say," Ziva smiled and Adena rolled her eyes.
Carefully entering the house, guns at the ready, the two Mossad officers found the hallway empty. Tilting her head to the left, Ziva opened the closest door and was not surprised to find it empty.
"Clear," she whispered.
They checked the rest of the rooms, all were empty, but Ziva and Adena had expected this. As they neared the end of the hallway, two different voices wafted through the wall.
". . . still . . . not broken," one voice said.
"Making . . . hard . . . Boulos," the other replied. "Waste of . . . whatever . . . American whore."
Adena felt Ziva tense up at their words. She put a reassuring hand on her shoulder; this was no time to get angry.
". . . Boulos . . . said . . . not working . . ." the first one continued to say.
"Violated . . . no . . . still . . . not work," the second voice said.
Adena could feel the anger radiating off Ziva, and she knew the look on Ziva's face.
"No, Ziva," she said firmly, gripping Ziva's wrist. "Do not get overzealous."
"I'm . . ." Adena's hard stare cut her off.
"Don't," Adena snapped. "This is what we're doing. Judging from their voices, they are probably on the opposite side of the room. We will enter swiftly and silently and take them out, yes?"
Ziva nodded in response. They stepped over to the door and with a nod of her head, Adena pushed open the door and the two officers entered the room.
The two young terrorists only had time to open their mouths before bullets slammed into both of their heads. Like the two guards outside, they slid to the ground . . . dead. Walking over to one of the terrorists, the one Ziva believed had bad mouthed Jenny, Ziva aimed her gun and fired between his legs.
"That is for Jenny," Ziva muttered harshly and re-aimed her gun at another part of his body.
"Ziva, no." Adena gently placed her hand on Ziva's gun and manoeuvred it away from the bodies. "It's not worth it."
"But . . ." Ziva trailed off helplessly. Adena could see her eyes were watery.
"Ziva, look at me." Adena lifted Ziva's chin up so their eyes met. "Let's go get our girl, but going off half locked is not the way to do it."
Ziva offered a small smile. "That doesn't sound right."
Adena sighed. "Stupid American idioms, what's the point? I should've spent more time in America."
After silencing the two rear guards by snapping their necks, a technique Ziva was particularly good at, Adena found stairs, which she assumed led to the basement. Putting her ear to the door, she was unable to hear any sounds coming from it.
"It sounds empty," Adena stated, "which can be a good thing or a bad thing."
"Yeah," Ziva agreed. "At least we know Jenny is alone and we won't be outnumbered . . ."
"But they could also come back at anytime and take us be surprise," Adena finished, "and it will be harder to defend ourselves once we have Jenny also."
"We'll worry about that when we come to it," Ziva said firmly. "Our main priority is Jen."
"Yes, as it should be," Adena agreed and started to descend the stairs carefully. Ziva followed.
Coming to yet another locked door, Ziva used her one handed lock picking skills to successfully unlock the door. Taking a deep breath and gripping her gun tighter, Ziva hesitantly pushed open the door.
"Oh, Jen," was the first thing out of Ziva's mouth. Slumped over in the middle of the room was Agent Jennifer Shepard. Her wrists were tied together behind the chair and she was unmoving. As Ziva got closer to the chair, she noticed that Jenny was half-naked. A terrifying thought entered her mind, which she immediately hoped was untrue. Adena wisely kept her distance from Ziva and Jenny, knowing that they had to do it their way. Plus, they needed someone to keep an eye out for trouble.
"Jen," Ziva said very softly, carefully placing a hand on the older woman's shoulder. Then she moved to her neck, searching for a pulse. The body under Ziva's hand jerked away, flinching at her touch.
"No . . ." she breathed, shying away from Ziva. "Please . . ."
"Jen, Jen," Ziva repeated softly. She pulled her knife out and began to cut through the ropes on Jenny's wrist. "It's okay, it's okay. It's Ziva. It's all right."
"Ziva . . ." Jenny muttered weakly. ". . . No . . . Ziva . . . dead."
Ziva blanched at what the terrorists must have told her. "Jen, it's okay. I'm not dead. I'm okay. I'm not dead." Ziva repeated herself desperately, finally cutting Jenny's restraints. "Jen . . ."
"Dead . . ." Jenny said again.
"No, not dead," Ziva replied firmly, stepping around the woman so that she was standing in front of her. "Look at me, Jen." Mirroring Adena's earlier actions, Ziva lifted Jenny's chin so that she could see her face. "I'm here, Jen, it's okay." Ziva gently pushed Jenny's fringe out of her face.
"Mmmm . . . Ziva," Jenny mumbled weakly, falling forward. Quick reflexes meant Ziva caught Jenny in her arms. Pain shot through her shoulder, Ziva grimaced slightly.
"Addy," Ziva asked weakly, trying to support Jenny's weight. Without saying a word, Adena slipped her arm around Jenny's other side. Making sure that they could still shoot if they needed to, Ziva and Adena guided a barely conscious Jenny towards to the stairs.
"Let's go home."