Warning: This chapter contains violence
Chasing Jack
Chapter Nine
The headlights of the Jeep had gone out. As Tony opened his eyes he was met with the dark night. He was fairly confident he hadn't lost consciousness but his head had definitely connected with something hard. Reaching a hand up to his forehead his fingertips came across a tender spot that was already developing into a sizable lump. The rapidly increasing throbbing inside his head was also evidence to a solid knock on the head.
Dropping his hand down away from his head he moved it to the seatbelt buckle. He found himself fumbling to get it undone. But finally it released and he pushed it away off to the side.
Next order of business was getting himself out of the vehicle. The terrain at the bottom of the embankment was uneven and the Jeep had settled with the driver's side tilted towards the ground and the passenger side raised slightly above it. Tony shifted in the seat so he could try the driver's side door. The movement sent a bolt of pain through his left leg. He sucked in a breath and then blew it out as the pain subsided a bit. He tested the leg again and found it was dulled down a little. Tony decided it wasn't broken but certainly banged up. He had probably smashed it into the dashboard or the door during the impact with the tree.
He tried the driver's side door but found it wouldn't budge. It was either damaged or leaned up against something preventing it from opening. Odds were that the Jeep wouldn't turn on so rolling down the window might be out. Unless, of course, he found something in the car to use to break the already cracked glass so he could climb through it.
Repositioning himself in the opposite direction he reached over and tested the passenger side door. Finding it in working order he managed to clamor over the center console and on to the passenger seat. He opened the door and hoisted himself up so he standing with his upper body outside the vehicle.
His gaze scanned over his surroundings using what little light there was available. His eyes were immediately drawn to the cluster of trees near the curve. Here and there in the gaps between trees he spotted the bright beams of headlights on the road beyond. The vehicle was traveling in his direction on the road and would make it around the curve in a matter of seconds.
Realizing it was likely the pickup truck returning he knew he had to get out of there quickly.
It was a bit of a struggle with the bad leg and an arm that was beginning to ache but he managed to get all the way out of the Jeep and down to the ground. His only real option for cover was the woods so he headed off towards the thicker treeline. But the further along Tony moved the more and more he realized his left leg was going to hinder him especially since the ground was not level and littered with rocks.
Glancing over his shoulder back towards the curve he could see the headlights were closer now. He picked up the pace. But by the time he twisted back around to look in front of himself it was too late to avoid tripping over the large rock straight ahead of him. He tried to recover mid fall and managed it somewhat. He landed on his knees in the grass. It was the spike of pain through his left knee that made him topple over the rest of the way to the ground.
"Holy crap!" he ground out under his breath and clamped his hands onto the injured leg. This was not good.
The thought had barely crossed his mind when it got worse.
The rumble of a truck engine and then the sharp screech of brakes sliced through the night. He looked up at the road to find the pickup had parked up above the embankment where the Jeep was located. Forced to push the pain aside Tony was off the ground in an instant and running into the woods the next. The 9mm which had been holstered on his hip was now grasped in his hand.
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St. Clair had barely brought the Chevy Silverado to a jolting halt when three of the doors on its extended cab flew open. Danny St. Clair, Billy Greene, and its third occupant Jay Sutton all jumped out. Danny had angled the truck so the headlight beams shone down the hillside towards the Jeep below. The illumination did not make it the entire way though. Only a portion of the vehicle's bumper was visible. The rest was cloaked in the shadows.
"As discussed in the truck if the crash didn't kill him I would prefer Cutter taken alive," Greene instructed. He was still holding the true identity of their target under wraps. The first objective was to obtain him. The rest could wait.
"Anything else we should know about this guy?" Sutton asked.
"He'll be armed and he's a good shot. That's all you need to know. Get the rifles in case he survived the crash and is on foot," Greene responded. This prompted Sutton, the youngest of the trio, to move to the bed of the truck and retrieve three tactical type rifles and several other items from a large duffle bag. He handed a rifle, a box of ammo, and a flashlight to each of the other men and kept a set for himself. All of them were already armed with handguns.
"Sutton, you're with me. Danny stay with the truck. We don't need anyone passing by on the road to stop thinking they are being helpful," Billy instructed.
"I can solve that easy enough," St. Clair replied.
"How's that?"
"I have a roll of police line tape in the back of the truck. I'll string some up along the side of the road. If a car happens along they won't stop. Trust me."
"I knew there was a reason I liked you Danny. You're prepared."
"I'm hardly a boy scout," the detective refuted.
"Just another reason you are useful. When you're done come join us," Billy stated as he headed down the embankment.
"Alright. Got it. Oh hey!" Danny tossed out. He had moved to the bed of the pickup to get the roll of tape. In his search for it he had come across another helpful item. Greene pivoted around on his heel to face back up towards the detective. Danny tossed him an item across the short distance.
"These might be useful!" St. Clair called out.
"Night vision binoculars. Like I said very prepared," Greene commented before continuing down the steep incline.
Danny turned back to the truck and within a few seconds had found the police line tape. Grabbing it he moved to the front of the Silverado. He laid the rifle on the hood then proceeded to tie one end of the tape around the vehicle's passenger side mirror. It took a little looking but after a moment of searching he located something to tie off the other end around. The old metal post no longer had a sign attached to it but it was still securely anchored in the ground near the edge of the pavement. When he had finished the tape stretched for a fair bit along the side of the road. No one would disturb them.
He jogged back to the pickup and tossed the roll of tape in the bed. After snagging the rifle from the vehicle's hood he headed off down towards the Jeep. It took a few moments to traverse the hillside. The headlight beams threw some light but the terrain was uneven and rocky.
When he arrived at the Jeep Greene and Sutton had already cleared it. Jack Cutter had survived and fled. Based off the looks of the vehicle with its crumbled front end and a windshield that was badly cracked into a spider web design there was a fair chance Cutter had not gotten out completely unscathed. The passenger side door was open and the vehicle was tilted towards the driver's side. This meant Cutter would have to have been still mobile enough to climb out of the Jeep on the passenger side and take off.
"Let's go hunting boys!" Greene announced as he headed off towards the woods on the passenger side of the Jeep. Sutton immediately took up after him.
St. Clair took one more hard look at the damaged vehicle in front of him. Just for a split second he wondered what the hell he was doing out here - running people off the road and then setting off to hunt them down in the woods. He wanted some real answers from Greene but he knew he wouldn't get any until they finished this. So he looked down at the rifle in his hand. It was equipped with a night vision scope and already loaded. Greene seemed to have tunnel vision where this Jack Cutter guy was concerned.
Danny suspected that delaying their capture of him by asking a lot of questions or second guessing things would not sit well. That only left one thing to do and that was find Cutter. He turned away from the Jeep and made his way into the darkness of the forest.
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Silently cursing, Gibbs slammed a fist down on the steering wheel in frustration. He was beginning to think the other vehicles had managed to lose him. The rented sedan had shown its age with its lack of power. Gibbs had stuck with the Silverado for some time but a ways back the Chevy had kicked up its speed and the rental had fallen behind. Gibbs had pushed it to its limits but maybe it just hadn't been enough.
Strangely, there was something stronger bothering him than just the frustration that they had managed to lose him. His thoughts had turned to Cutter. Gibbs doubted that the Jeep Grand Cherokee would be much of a match power wise for the pickup. Besides St. Clair there had been two others in the truck and if they caught up to Cutter it would be three against one with Cutter on the losing side.
It wasn't even so much that Gibbs wanted Cutter because he had information on The Wheel. There was something else beyond that which he couldn't quite put his finger on.
After Cutter had injured McGee Gibbs had only seen red for the man. But as they had gone along and learned more Jack somehow had begun to intrigue him.
The man had an apartment filled with weapons – all of which were unregistered. Yet at the same time he was looking out for the waitresses at Traveler's in a very decent way. Gibbs wasn't really sure anymore if he wanted to shoot the guy dead or find out more about him over a couple mason jars of bourbon in his basement. Of course, he would never admit that to anyone. He could barely admit it to himself. But what he had said to the waitress back at the pub had been the truth. He would protect Jack if he truly needed it. It was also true that he would put a bullet in him if he earned it.
As that thought settled in his mind Gibbs spotted the glow of headlights up ahead. He let up on the gas pedal slightly as he got closer. The bright yellow police tape that was stretched along the side of road a few feet off the right hand lane immediately caught his attention. The other thing he quickly spotted was the familiar looking green Chevy Silverado. It was parked on the side of the road. The end of the yellow tape was tied to its passenger side mirror. That made sense since St. Clair was a cop. He probably had a roll tucked away in his truck.
So far there was no one in sight so Gibbs slowed his vehicle even more. As he rolled by the pickup his gaze followed the direction of its headlights. And there at the bottom of the embankment he could see there was a second vehicle. Based off what Gibbs could make out it looked to be Jack Cutter's Jeep. Gibbs had no doubt what had happened. The Silverado had caught up to him and run him off the road.
Gibbs swallowed down hard against his temper. He needed to stay calm and level headed. But he well knew there was a fair chance that he was too late and Jack Cutter was already dead.
He continued to drive slowly by the scene. Not wanting to attract any attention to himself he continued along the road and around the tight bend of the curve. Once on the other side of it he found a place just off the road where he could hide the vehicle in amongst some brush and trees.
Exiting the sedan he decided he wasn't particularly keen on this situation. All he had with him was the 9mm handgun on his hip, a smaller caliber weapon in an ankle holster, and the knife in his belt. The night was dark and he was confident St. Clair and the others were more prepared than he was presently.
But what other options did he have available. His phone was out of commission and he couldn't simply drive away. He would just have to utilize his one big advantage. As far as he could tell the fact he had been tailing the Jeep and the Silverado had gone unnoticed. And he was fairly confident no one had been around to see him drive passed. If he could manage to keep his presence undetected it could play out in his favor.
After pulling some extra ammo and a small flashlight out of the glove box and tucking them away in a pocket he locked the vehicle. He headed towards the woods with the intent to cut diagonally across to the other side of the curve back to the area where the Jeep was at the bottom of the hill. This approach would hopefully keep his presence hidden.
Once he arrived inside the treeline he stopped. While waiting for his eyes to adjust further to the darkness he listened for anything that would provide further information about the situation. Unfortunately, the night air offered nothing of use. His vision now more adapted to the dimness he moved forward making his way deeper amongst the trees.
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The spot where the Jeep had been parked was empty. Fornell looked up and down along Pine Street. A few other vehicles took up spaces here and there. However, there was no sign of the tow truck or the street sweeper which the signs had promised. More than likely they just hadn't reached this particular street yet. The important thing was that the Jeep was gone which meant Tony had gotten to it and fled the city.
Despite how grateful he was for that he wished he could have been of more use to the younger man. But with Gibbs and The Wheel, local cop included, close on his tail the former NCIS agent had truly been between a rock and a hard place. And Tobias' exit strategies needed serious modifying to stand a chance against that combination.
He shook his head. DiNozzo was clear. That's what mattered. He was glad he had returned to check on it. When he had come around the corner onto Pine Street from the side street where he had parked and found the vehicle gone relief had washed over him. The vacant spot meant more than anyone else would ever know.
With that thought the FBI agent walked up along the sidewalk to the corner where he would turn down a side street. Then it would be only another half block until he would climb back in that miserable little Honda. Fornell was turning the corner when something snagged his attention further up on Pine. He stopped walking and watched for a moment.
A Toyota with rental plates had turned onto Pine and had pulled into a parallel spot at the top of the street. Both of the front doors opened as well as a rear one. As soon as the car's occupants exited the vehicle Tobias ducked around the corner onto the side street. He crossed over to the opposite sidewalk and made his way along the wall of the office building there until he came to the corner. He peeked around the edge of the building and watched as Tim McGee, Ziva David, and Ro Moore made their way up onto the sidewalk. They were all scanning their surroundings in search of something. But it didn't appear to be him though. He must have escaped their notice.
He noted that McGee had been driving which meant that it was as it appeared. Gibbs was not with them. He had probably sent the team to check on a lead. Or very possibly Gibbs was busy hunting him down.
Then he realized what they must be looking for on the street. And that was Jack Cutter's Jeep. Somehow they had come to find out what type of car he had and where it had been parked. Little did they know they would not find it.
Fornell watched them for another moment then slipped away down the side street to his car. He would stay in the city overnight then go pay Leroy Jethro Gibbs a visit the next day.
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"He does not appear to be here, McGee," Ziva stated. The trio had split up and searched the street for several minutes. They had all met back up a short distance from their rental car.
"Corner of Pine Street and Cross Court is the location he gave me and it's the last trace of the GPS from his cell to a tower. He said he found something. He didn't return to the hotel and hasn't contacted us. He said he would be back in a few minutes," McGee replied. His voice was strained. Moore backed him up.
"It has been a long time since the call Ziva. Way longer than it should have been for him to either return or call. McGee might have a point," Ro stated.
"Alright. Alright fine. I will concede it has been some time since he last contacted us. But his cell was not charged. He could not contact us. Perhaps he caught a lead that needed to be acted upon immediately and simply decided to check it out before going back to the hotel," she said. A mixture of concern and frustration filled her tone.
"Maybe McGee can do that thing he does," Moore suggested.
"Which thing would that be? He is capable of many different things," Ziva responded.
"With the traffic cams. Maybe find Gibbs on the cameras and see where he went. At least a direction."
"Maybe a BOLO on the car too," Tim added offhandedly.
"Should we call that FBI agent? What's his name? Ford? Fondell?" Moore questioned.
"Fornell," McGee answered him.
"Right Fornell. Maybe he's seen Gibbs?"
"That explains it. Gibbs ran into Fornell again and is now on the run for his murder," Ziva suggested trying to lighten the mood a little. But mostly she was doing it try to convince herself that McGee and Moore were wrong. She didn't want to believe that something had happened to Gibbs. But she was simply running out of ways to excuse his absence away.
"We'll try the traffic cams first. We're hardly desperate enough for Fornell yet. So back to the hotel!" Tim announced and headed hurriedly back towards their car. The other two agents trailed behind him. He had passed by a storefront window and traveled a few more feet beyond when he came to a abrupt halt. His peripheral vision had spotted something brightly colored against the darkened window he had just walked by. Tim turned and went back to look at the storefront. Immediately he saw the tall white coffee cup which stood on the ledge in front of the window. Being perhaps overly cautious he pulled a glove from his pocket and used it to pick up the cup.
"Whatcha ya got?" Moore inquired as he and Ziva arrived in front of the closed store as well. Tim did not reply verbally. He simply turned the cup around to show them what he had discovered. The other two agents looked at the blue colored logo printed on the coffee cup. It had come from Java Jim's.
"Gibbs left this for us," Tim finally stated.
"How do you know? I am sure other people get coffee there," Ziva questioned.
"Because I recognize the handwriting," the senior field agent replied and twisted the cup a little further to show them the message written out in black ink on the cup's side.
St. Clair = The Wheel
Jeep RT423
Chevy Silverado 8256P
St. Clair +2
Right on Cross Court
Chasing Jack
"Who is St. Clair?" Moore questioned.
"Daniel St. Clair. He's a detective with the local PD. When I spoke to Gibbs on the phone he had me look up St. Clair and send a picture to him. He never said how he got the name though."
"So this is where Gibbs has gone. Following after Jack Cutter and this St. Clair person?" Ziva suggested.
"We've got to find him. Quickly," Tim stated firmly as he turned to rush towards their car with coffee cup in hand. David and Moore hurried after him. All three knew the clock had started ticking and they were already racing to catch up.
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If his injured leg didn't foil his escape then Tony had decided that it would be the leaves. It was rather difficult to walk or in this case hobble through the woods in October in Maine without making a complete racket. All the dead leaves blanketing the ground were impossible to avoid stepping on and the rustling sound they made could quite possibly give away his location. Not to mention all the twigs and and other debris underfoot that would could snap even with the lightest of steps onto them. He was doing the best he could while still making steady progress away from the Jeep. But his injured leg was paying heavily for it.
His chest had tightened up and his breathing came in near gasps now. Tony knew he had to get it settled down and in turn his heart rate slowed so that he would be able to hear his surroundings better. And at the same time not be noticed for the noise he was undoubtedly making.
His eyes had adjusted fully to the darkness now. It was the one thing he had working in his favor. Coming upon a tree with a rather wide trunk he stopped and rested his back up against its rough bark for support.
Tony knew that the reprieve for his now aching body could not last long. He had seen the pickup truck returning to where his vehicle had gone down the embankment. He had also heard distant voices up on the road. There had been at least two men maybe three. At a distance it had been difficult to tell and he hadn't been able to make out anything that they said. It was nothing good. Of that he was certain.
He also knew without a doubt that The Wheel had found him. He wondered how they had come upon locating him. Had they finally figured out Fornell's involvement, unbeknownst to the FBI agent? Tony prayed that wasn't the case and that Fornell was safely on his way back home.
Tony leaned his head back against the tree and looked up at the night sky through the tops of the trees. Many of them had lost all of their leaves and their branches stood bare. It was fortunate since in spots it meant there were less shadows due to the added light that it allowed to filter through.
For some reason the expanse of the sky and the collection of stars that shone in it had a calming effect on him. His body was finally able to take in some deep breaths and release them fully. His chest loosened up and his heart settled. Even though he still had a pulsing headache he could think more clearly.
Tony was about to start back out again through the woods but something stopped him. His gut maybe? Or had there been a sound? He froze with his body pressed up against the large tree. His fingers gripped his gun more tightly. He quieted his breathing as much as possible.
And then he listened to the dark woods surrounding him as the minutes slowly ticked by. Until finally he heard it. Footfalls in the dead leaves. One set. Coming his way from the opposite side of the tree.
Then they stopped again perhaps three to four yards from where he stood behind the tree. The soft rustling of leaves broke the silence after a few heartbeats. The rustling started and stopped two more times but didn't sound to be getting any closer. The person seemed to be standing in one spot and turning around perhaps searching or deciding which direction to head in.
Tony had noticed earlier when he had passed by the area where the person was now positioned that the trees were a little more spread out there. That meant whoever this was had to be standing out in the open. This likely meant that Tony's presence behind the tree was undetected. Or this person was either really inexperienced or not very bright. He really preferred the first choice but the other two could be to his advantage if it came down to it.
A few seconds later the person was on the move again. Tony focused on the sound of the movements to determine where the person was headed. If they stayed on their current trajectory the person would pass by the side of the tree where Tony was hidden.
He had to make a quick decision. Either move around to the other side of the tree as the person passed by while hoping to be able to do it silently. Or attempt to take them out. Since he had heard multiple voices it meant there was at least one other man possibly two still out in the woods somewhere. Firing his weapon would have to be a last resort since it would give away his location to anyone else out here. That left trying to continue to conceal his presence or a physical altercation.
Tony clenched his free hand into a frustrated fist as he realized that given the condition he was in and the debris underfoot being able to move silently enough to remain unnoticed was unlikely. He would have to use the element of surprise and take the person down. He bent down and gingerly probed the ground for a small stone or stick. He found none right at that spot but did come up with an acorn which he picked up and held in his hand. He straightened up and waited for the precise moment the person would clear the tree and be right by his left shoulder.
When it arrived Tony tossed the acorn aiming it at the tree across from the one he hid behind. The noise of the acorn impacting the bark of the tree and then dropping onto the dried leaves on the ground was enough to make the person turn their attention fully away from him. And as soon as the person turned away Tony jumped him from behind and swiftly had the man in a choke hold. Unfortunately, the action caused the man to step backwards awkwardly and in an attempt to compensate and balance himself Tony's left leg twisted and pain shot through his body. This meant he was unable get in the few seconds of the hold it would take for the man to pass out.
Recovering from the burst of pain in his leg Tony struggled to regain a tight enough hold on the man's head and neck. Panicking from lack of oxygen the man struggled desperately inside Tony's grasp. The slightly shorter man had been carrying a rifle and now swung it up over his shoulder like a bat in an attempt to catch his attacker in the head with it but Tony ducked and yanked the man's body to the left which resulted in his head being slammed solidly into the tree. The man's body went slack in Tony's arms and the rifle he had been holding dropped from his grasp. It fell to the forest floor beside the tree. Its impact with the ground jarred the weapon harshly. The rifle discharged and Tony dropped to the ground.
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Gibbs halted dead in his tracks as the sharp sound of a rifle firing echoed throughout the woods around him. It had been close. He had heard enough rifle shots over the years to estimate their distance away. And this one was not far off from his present location.
Once again he cursed the situation. The shot had distinctly come from a rifle and not a handgun. And he had to wonder whether these guys also had night vision scopes. If so, it would make keeping his presence a surprise incredibly difficult. That didn't mean it wasn't possible. It also didn't mean he wasn't going to do his damnedest to make it happen.
Gibbs caught himself slipping out of gear in his objective. Somehow he had started thinking that it was St. Clair and his men against himself and Cutter. He mentally kicked himself to remember that it very well could be that Cutter was the opposition as well. But something told him that Jack needed that protection he had promised the waitress back at Traveler's.
Using tree trunks as cover Gibbs started out again. As he headed in the direction which the shot had originated from he moved swiftly but silently as possible. The element of surprise might just be his greatest weapon.
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Dropping to the ground as the rifle accidentally discharged had been a reflex. Something so engrained in Tony that he had not taken into account what the impact into the earth would bring to his already battered body.
The echo of the shot had dissipated and an eerie stillness had fallen over the woods surrounding him. And unless he was in shock it was clear the bullet had not hit him.
Tony moved his arms away from where they were protectively crossed over his head. Lifting his gaze he scanned the area around his location. Finding nothing he turned his attention to the man sprawled out beside him on the ground. Once he confirmed the other man was still unconscious Tony could finally attend to the pain radiating through his body.
Sitting up resulted in a sharp intake of breath. Pain shot through him like electricity. His left leg especially his knee now felt like it was on fire. But what was worse was that it hurt to simply breath. He clamped a hand onto his chest and tried to ride out the wave of agony which moving abruptly had brought. He had at the very least bruised his ribs in the crash but they had been tolerable before. His recent drop to the ground had ignited the soreness into downright pain.
After a few seconds the jolt of pain subsided slightly and Tony moved his hand from his chest to his face. He could feel the blood running down his right cheek. His fingertips easily found the large gash on his cheek just below his eye. He wiped away some of the blood and dirt and then swiped his hand on his pant leg to clear it away. His face must have struck something on the ground.
It was then that the daze he had been knocked into began to clear away from his mind. Inside his haziness he had remained at the tree. As quickly as the realization had dawned on him he had pushed down the pain and spurred himself into motion again.
The man on the ground beside him might be unconscious but there was still at the least one other out there. Possibly two. The shot would have given away his location. He should have already been on the move again.
He struggled to his feet and was about to retrieve the other man's rifle from where it had landed when the forest was no longer still and quiet. The sound of someone running through the dead leaves which blanketed the ground was distinct and getting louder.
Then in the next instant Tony realized it wasn't just one person because the sound was coming from two separate directions and it wasn't an echo. There was no time to retrieve the rifle or search the man on the ground. He had to leave immediately.
Tony took off in a direction that would carry him away from both pursuers. He could not afford to be as mindful of the noise he was making as he had before. The other two men had been closing in on his location back at the tree and he simply needed to put as much distance between himself and them as fast as possible.
He silently cursed his left leg and commanded it to continue to allow him to move quickly. And pushing through the pain it was giving him he managed to run at a fairly good clip through the woods for some distance. But it did not last.
Tony came to an abrupt stop at the top of a hill. The incline of the hillside lead down into a stream bed. Straining to see in the darkness he tried to make out the water's edges. It was difficult to discern much detail at a distance but it appeared the stream was narrow enough so he would be able to cross easily.
Tony began to make his way down the embankment at a steady but mindful pace. He had made it a quarter of the way down when his left foot landed on a loose rock concealed in the leaves. His knee buckled and the leg went out from under him. With the injured state of the leg his attempt to recover his balance failed. The leaves on the hillside were slick and his good leg was quickly out from under him as well.
In the next heartbeat he found himself flat on his back and sliding down the embankment at a terrifying pace. Tony frantically scrambled to find something to grab onto to halt his body from careening further down the steep incline but found nothing. He continued to be tossed along down the hillside now tumbling side over side through the slippery leaves and over roots and rocks.
Then suddenly his whole body was airborne. Just before the edge of the stream the ground abruptly dropped off a small stone ledge. Tony's body sailed off the ledge and out over the water. Near the opposite bank of the stream the momentum faded out and Tony felt himself falling towards the ground.
In the next instant his lower body splashed down into the shallow water of the stream. The frigid temperature of the water shot through him. His upper body and head came down hard, slamming into the cluster of rocks along the stream's edge. And then finally Tony's body was motionless.
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Rifle now slung by its strap over his shoulder Danny St. Clair drew his Glock handgun from the holster on his hip. He and Sutton and Greene had split up, fanning out to cover more territory. While he had been combing the woods in a westerly direction a rifle shot had rung out close by. He had broken into a run and crossed the distance to the area where the shot had originated in a matter of seconds.
Danny had stopped as he neared the location and raised up his rifle so he could peer through the night vision scope and scan the area ahead of time. As he panned from left to right he had spotted someone running amongst the trees a ways straight up ahead of him. By the look of him it had to be Cutter. Unfortunately, the way he came and went out of view as he moved between trees eliminated the possibility of a clear shot. And Greene had said he preferred Cutter to be captured alive. So Danny had taken off in pursuit.
St. Clair had come upon a stream. He had been about to work his way across it using rocks which broke the surface here and there when he heard a sound upstream a short distance. Again using the scope on his rifle he had stopped and checked the area. It had been then that he spotted Jack Cutter halfway in and halfway out of the stream. It looked like he was struggling to stand up and having great difficulty doing so. That had been when St. Clair exchanged the rifle for his handgun and made his way swiftly and silently as possible upstream. As he neared Danny could see that Cutter was certainly injured. The man's movement were sluggish and on each attempt to stand he had faltered and landed back on his knees in the water.
"Do not move! Don't you so much as flinch!" Danny called out when he reached the edge of the stream where Cutter was in mid attempt at climbing out of the water. The detective trained his gun so it was aimed downward at the man. Cutter's body tensed upon hearing the voice and realizing he was not alone any longer.
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Disorientation still had a strong hold on Tony when he heard the voice call out to him instructing him not to move. Every muscle in his body tensed up at the realization that they had found him. His head was spinning and everything around him was off kilter. He struggled to think straight and get a handle on some semblance of a plan. But anything of use seemed to elude his sluggish mind.
The one thing he was acutely aware of was that somewhere along the way his gun had been knocked out of his hand. He had either lost it in the high speed slide down the hill or during his spectacular crash landing in the stream where he was now knelt down in water nearly up to his waist.
"Hey man! How about everybody just stays calm here!" Tony said and looked up towards the bank of the stream where the voice had come from. He noted the gun pointed at him before glaring up at the man who held it.
"I amend my earlier instructions. Don't move and keep your damn mouth shut!" the man snapped at him. Tony pondered that. He had to come up with something quick. He could feign compliance by staying silent to lull the man into thinking he was cooperating. Or option number two would be trying to use some slick talking to confuse or distract the man and hope for an opportunity to turn the tables. However, he never had to choose because what the man did next gave him the one and only opening he knew may very well get.
The man had taken one hand away from his grasp on the handgun and had retrieved something from his jacket pocket. When Tony saw that it was a cell phone he immediately knew that if he allowed the man to use it they would soon have more company and any hope of escape would certainly vanish. Tony knew there were at least one or two others out here in the woods. The man's call would undoubtedly beckon them.
Tony considered the gun holstered on his ankle as a possibility. The first problem would be getting to it before the man put a bullet in him. He was on his knees in the stream and grabbing the weapon in one swift motion would be next to impossible. The other huge issue was whether he could trust the weapon. So far it had gone through a car crash, an abrupt drop to the ground, a tumble down a rocky hillside, a crash landing, and finally an extended dip in a stream. He had seen guns fire just fine after submersion but it was the ones he had seen which wouldn't that concerned him. The gun had definitely been banged around then submerged for some time. He didn't truly trust it. It would have to be a last resort.
Just for an instant the man took part of his gaze away from Tony to glance down at the phone in his hand. And the inattentiveness resulted in the weapon in his hand tilting downward slightly.
Tony knew that it was now or never. He prayed that his body was up for what he was about to undertake. He knew better than to ponder on that too long since he probably wouldn't like the answer he would end up with.
With every ounce of fight he had in him Tony sprang to his feet and charged up the bank straight at the man. The collision of their bodies sent pain exploding through every fiber of Tony's body and sent them both crashing to the ground in a tangled heap. Only one thought consumed Tony though. Get the gun.
The tackle ended with Tony on the top side of the heap they landed in and in scarcely a heartbeat he had the man's right hand with the gun still in it pinned to the earth. Clearly the other man was not going to surrender it that easily though. He struggled underneath Tony in an attempt to get their positions reversed so he was on top of the wrestling match while at the same time trying to free the hand with the weapon in it. Tony had already set his mind on the idea that the weapon was his and using his body weight on top of the man he held him down in the dead leaves and dirt. With his left hand Tony held the weapon hand down and with his right he went for the gun.
For a long terrifying moment their battle became solely focused on who, ultimately, was going to possess the handgun. Even with his arm pinned down to the ground the other man still had enough strength to try to force the gun to point at Tony. And Tony fought to keep the muzzle end pointed away from him and to pry the firearm out of the other man's grip.
The man once again made an attempt to break his arm free from Tony's grasp on it. And, frighteningly, he was gaining ground towards accomplishing it. Tony could feel the man's strength taking over his own. Tony realized his body was weakened more than he first realized by the recent abuse it had taken. But he simply couldn't let the man end up with control of the gun. If he did he was signing his own death warrant.
Still struggling to keep the man's arm pinned down Tony shifted his body quickly and ground his kneecap into the man's side near his kidneys. The man yelped out in pain. As he did so Tony made a go at getting the firearm. His hopes that the pain he had delivered to the other man would provide either distraction or a momentary strength advantage were dashed in the next instant.
The sensation of a gun muzzle being pressed up against the back of his head froze Tony in place.
"You lose," a voice stated calmly from above.
"Would you get this crazy bastard off me already? Son of a bitch ain't exactly light," the man pinned to the ground below Tony snapped out.
"I suspect you'd like to do that yourself," the second man replied.
"With pleasure."
"Have at it then!" the voice from above offered. The second man removed the muzzle of the gun he had been holding flush against Tony's head. But there was no doubt it wasn't moved far and certainly still pointed at him.
The man underneath Tony roughly knocked Tony's arm away from the hand where he had a hold on the weapon. Tony reflexively ducked to the side when the man swung at his head with the gun as an object of assault. The cold metal of the barrel still caught Tony across the cheekbone with force. He was recovering from the blow when the man reached up with his free hand and grabbed a hold of the collar of Tony's jacket and twisted the material tightly around his neck. Tony struggled to break the man's hold but lack of oxygen made everything fade in and out with lightheadedness.
Finally when Tony was certain he was going to pass out the man used his hold on Tony's jacket to jerk his body off to the side. There was enough strength behind it that Tony fell off the man and onto the ground beside him. Air flow now returned to his lungs Tony coughed and gasped for oxygen. The man had gotten up off the ground and now loomed over where Tony laid on his back in the leaves.
"And this is for earlier!" the man announced and then delivered a solid blow with his boot to Tony's side. Pain shot through Tony's body near the area of his kidneys and caused him to roll onto his side and curl into himself.
"Enough," the second man interjected. Tony noticed that the man's voice was not demanding but calm and cold when he said it. The other thing that he noticed was that the voice was vaguely familiar. But he couldn't quite pinpoint who it belonged to.
"What now?" Tony's former wrestling partner asked the other man.
"We get this son of a bitch up off his ass and marching through these woods. You got cuffs?"
"Just what kind of a cop do you think I am? Of course I've got cuffs," the first man replied with a offended chuckle. As he collected the set of handcuffs from the pouch on his waistband the other man retrieved a flashlight from his pocket and turned it on. He immediately directed the bright beam right into Tony's face. Tony turned his head away from the blinding light and sat up.
His mind was racing through options of what to do. Once he was handcuffed it would hinder his ability to make an escape attempt. But both of the other men still had their weapons trained on him and his body was not exactly in top fighting shape at the moment.
Then he registered what the man who was now behind him and about to cuff him had just said. He was a cop. Tony wondered if it was the man he had seen back the apartment building. But didn't ponder long since he started fighting when the man began to place the first cuff around his right wrist. Tony used their renewed wrestling match as cover and distraction for the opportunity to go for the gun which was strapped to his ankle. He had managed to tug up his wet pant leg and his numbed fingertips now fumbled to try and free the weapon from its holster. His hand had finally gained a solid grasp on the gun when a blow to his temple jarred him.
The whack of the flashlight up side Tony's head smarted but had been controlled. It held just enough force to get his attention but not badly injure him. Stunned, Tony stopped struggling but only for a passing beat. Then he went after his gun again. But it was short lived as the man with the flashlight pressed his gun into the center of Tony's forehead.
"I wouldn't. That is unless you want to bleed to death right here. Because I would be more than happy to shoot you a few times and then leave your body out here for the animals to feed on," he stated. Once again his voice was cold calmness and Tony was certain he had heard it before.
Tony's only reply was to remain stock still while the cop roughly tightened the handcuffs around his wrists. When he was done he reached over and yanked the small caliber firearm from the holster on Tony's leg. He tucked the gun away in his waistband. Then he searched Tony from head to toe rather roughly. The entire time Tony remained still with the other man's weapon rested up against his head. The cop finished frisking him and straightened up.
Tony closed his eyes and savored his last glimmer of hope. The man had not discovered the knife hidden away in his belt. It was of little use at the moment given the handcuffs and the two against one odds but if he could manage to stay alive maybe an opening would present itself.
"Where's our third?" the cop asked his companion. But before the man with the flashlight could answer Tony spoke up.
"Yeah I don't think he's coming. I think that must be the guy whose head I slammed into a tree. Went right down like a sack of potatoes."
"You son of a bitch!" the man with the flashlight growled. His voice was no longer calm. Tony could hear the deep anger in it. So he was not surprised when the man dove at him and the flashlight in his hand struck him hard across the jaw. With his hands now cuffed behind his back the only thing that Tony could do to try and avoid the next blow was to drop over onto his side and get his legs in front of him to kick the man off him. And he managed to get a solid kick in sending the man stumbling back a few feet.
But it only enraged him more and the man was on top of him in the next instant. His knee ground painfully into Tony's abdomen as the man used the leg to hold him down. It also crushed Tony's hands between the ground and his body. The hard metal cuffs dug into his wrists and his back as Tony struggled to get out from under the man. But he could not move enough to escape the blows with the flashlight that the man delivered to his upper body and face.
At some point amidst his fighting and the rapid firing of blows Tony finally caught sight of the man's face more clearly. He instantly recognized the man as William Tucker Greene. He was a high leader in The Wheel and he was known as one of those in the group who was Wheel through and through to the core and bone. In that moment Tony realized that it was likely he was not getting out of this. William Tucker Greene had it in him to beat a man to pulp without one ounce of hesitation. He was going to beat Tony to death. He was sure of it.
So he was taken by surprise when the other man started to try and pull Greene off of him. When just the physical attempt by itself didn't seem to be sufficient he called out to Greene.
"Hey man! Greene! Hey! Greene stop! Didn't you say you wanted him taken alive! If you keep beating on him much longer he won't be! Greene! Stop man!"
And finally the blows slowed in their pace. The other man finally managed to pull him off and the beating ended. But for Tony the adrenaline rush that came with fighting began to wane and be overtaken by sheer pain pulsing through his body. He managed to roll on his side and curl into himself. Not wanting to show any signs of giving up the fight he turned his face toward the ground and buried his face in the dead leaves there. He somehow managed to hold back the sob which the pain begged him to voice but he was failing horribly at keeping the tears from welling up in his eyes.
He was so tired physically and mentally. And for a moment as he lay there he thought maybe he should just go out fighting like he always hoped he would. Maybe he should just provoke the man into continuing to pound on him while he fought back. Until finally it was one blow too many and his body succumb to the damage.
His stumbling point with that plan was that it would mean these bastards would win. The thought of that just made his blood boil with rage.
So while the two men standing over him debated with one another Tony distracted himself from the pain and his near inability to breath by plotting their downfall.
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Gibbs stopped walking and calmed his breathing. There were voices carried on the night air among the trees. Focusing in on them he was able to discern the direction they were coming from and he made his way towards them.
As he moved along the voices became louder and more distinctive. And finally he spotted the bright beams of flashlights up ahead. He watched for a moment and determined they weren't on the move based upon the fact the lights never got any closer or further away. He would have to approach very carefully from here.
A few moments later he was leaned up against a tree a few yards from a stream at the base of steep hillside. Off to the left side of the tree was overgrowth and a downed tree creating a cluster of protection from which to observe the situation. Peering around the tree and through the brush he could see that there were three people. Two were standing on the bank of the stream and the third was on his side on the ground.
At one point a flashlight beam skimmed over one of the standing men's faces. Gibbs could clearly identify him as St. Clair. He had also gotten a look at the other man when he had moved into the glow of the flashlight held by the police detective. Gibbs did not recognize him at all but he was likely a Wheel member.
The third man on the ground was rolled on his side away from Gibbs. Even though both of the flashlights were trained on the third man most of his body was blocked from Gibbs' view because St. Clair stood partially in his line of sight. But Gibbs had instantly noticed the blonde hair which stood out brightly in the glow from the flashlights. The man on the ground had to be Jack Cutter. The Wheel had caught up to him.
The two men who were standing exchanged a few argumentative words grumbled in low voices. Gibbs couldn't make out what they said. But St. Clair seemed to give in to the other man who was at least ten years his senior by the look of him. The older man spat out his final thought on the matter in a clearly audible voice.
"He's a god damn traitor fed!"
Gibbs inhaled sharply. Had the man just indicated that Jack Cutter was a federal agent? And suddenly it dawned on him. That had been what Fornell was hiding. He had another man undercover in The Wheel now. Most likely an FBI agent. It explained why Fornell had suddenly appeared when they were closing in on Cutter and tried to get Gibbs to leave. Had Fornell not realized The Wheel had discovered Jack wasn't really on their side and were now in pursuit of him too? Or was the FBI agent chasing Jack in an attempt to warn him?
It also explained the near sterilized state of that apartment and the lack of a paper trail on the man. It also resolved the nagging question of why McGee had only received a kick in the face when Cutter had the opportunity to inflict much worse while Tim was out cold in that alleyway. That had been bugging him since it had happened. This was the huge piece his gut had been screaming at him about all along.
Gibbs swallowed down hard. When he still wasn't sure whether Cutter deserved a bourbon in his basement or a bullet in the brain there had been the option that he could walk away. If Cutter had turned out to be the bastard he initially presented himself as and Gibbs had no opportunity to take them all down without risking his own life he would have had no qualms about backing off and going for backup.
But now it was a completely different ballgame. Gibbs could feel in his gut what the man had said was the truth. The man laying on the ground a few yards away was an undercover federal agent in distress and now there was absolutely no walking away.
He felt his heart clench than rise back a little bit. He hadn't been able to save Tony but maybe he could save Jack Cutter or whatever this man's real name happen to be. It wouldn't lessen the loss but perhaps spare another family that kind of torturous grief.
Watching the scene in front of him Gibbs realized if he was going to do something now was the time. There had been three occupants in the pickup truck which had tailed Cutter's Jeep. But there were only two of them here near the stream. That meant the third man was still out in the woods somewhere, likely on his way to join up with the others. But for this moment his absence left the odds at two against two. That was unless Cutter was so badly injured he simply couldn't fight. Gibbs took his back up weapon from the holster on his ankle and tucked it in his waistband so it was quickly accessible. He pulled the flashlight he taken from his glove box earlier and held it in his left hand. His 9mm was already grasped in his right. Then he waited for the best opening.
It came quickly when the two men standing over Cutter both had their backs to him. He darted out from behind the tree and crossed the distance at a dead run. Both men started to turn around, likely in response to the noise he was creating running through the leaves. But Gibbs had already closed the gap and had his weapon trained at St. Clair from his new position only a few feet away from the man. Both had weapons, handguns and rifles, but he knew St. Clair to be a cop and he was the younger of the pair so he would be the first to receive a bullet in him if necessary.
"Federal agent! Drop the weapons!" he commanded loudly. Both men had fully turned now to face Gibbs. But they made no move to put down the handguns in their grasps or relieve themselves of the rifles slung over their shoulders. So they were now at a stand still.
Gibbs had an easy shot at St. Clair but the second man would certainly have a fair chance at shooting him before Gibbs could shift his aim. Many of The Wheel members were military and the other man had that look about him. It was likely he was well trained in aiming at and hitting a target as a kill shot.
Gibbs knew he had to try and see if he could even out the odds so without taking his gaze away from the two men standing in front of him he addressed the man on the ground.
"Cutter! You with me? Can you get up?" he questioned. Cutter let out a sound akin to a groan and began to struggle to get up but it was immediately clear by his sluggishness he was seriously hurt. The verbal answer came from the older of the two men standing in front of him instead.
"I wouldn't count on him to help you considering he just got the smart ass beat out of him."
"Did it seem like I was talking to you, dumbass?" Gibbs snapped at him. He figured if he kept these two engaged long enough in a verbal battle perhaps Cutter might have enough time to recover.
"You can't win this," the police detective stated confidently.
"Is that right Detective St. Clair?" Gibbs retorted. A flash of surprise passed over the man's expression as he realized the federal agent knew his name. But he quickly hid any other reaction away.
"Yes. It is Agent Gibbs," the other man responded in the detective's place.
"You know him?" St. Clair asked without taking his eyes off Gibbs.
"We haven't officially met but we have a mutual acquaintance," the man offered.
"So who is he?"
"I'd like you to meet Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service."
"Wait. NCIS? He the navy cop that chased Cutter off back at the pub?" St. Clair questioned.
"Yes. He is. For what little good it did. We caught up in the end," the other man explained. Gibbs noted the hint of a smile that came over the man's face as he had spoken.
It seemed odd placed given the situation and Gibbs got the distinct feeling he was being played somehow. He didn't particularly care for the idea that this man seemed to know who he was but he couldn't say the same. Especially since the man had referred to a mutual acquaintance. There was no doubt in Gibbs' mind he was talking about DiNozzo.
As that sunk in all he wanted to do was beat the man into a bloody pulp and then put a full clip of bullets in him. But right now there were other pressing matters.
As this rather strange stand off had gone on Gibbs had tracked Cutter in his peripheral vision. The man had very unsteadily made it up onto his knees. Gibbs had seen him spit out an alarming amount of blood onto the ground. He had tried to speak a few times but it only resulted in him expelling more blood. It explained why he hadn't been able to get out anything more than a few sounds.
Despite that himself and the other two had flashlights casting a wide glow Gibbs hadn't been able to get a clear view of Cutter's face yet to assess if the man had been beaten about the face and perhaps had a head injury. The man's hair was not close cut and with his head hung down the blonde locks hid his facial features.
"Like the detective here said. You can't win this Gibbs. What's the point in this ridiculous stand off? You can only take out one of us before the other puts a bullet in you," the older of the two men before him stated. As he spoke Gibbs noticed something in his peripheral vision. Cutter had pushed himself up and now sat back on his haunches. His head was still hung rather limply but the man made an attempt at standing up anyway. A serious lack of strength and balance doomed the attempt though. Cutter only made it halfway up before collapsing back down. He started to try again but didn't get far before a coughing fit wracked his body. It sent him back onto his knees, leaned over at the waist spitting out more blood onto the ground.
Gibbs could tell now that Cutter was clearly out of it probably due to a blow to the head or perhaps several. He set his full gaze upon the two men in front of him.
"What's it going to be?" the older of the pair questioned. Gibbs knew it was not a choice. His tone implied that he was confident in Gibbs' surrender. An instant before he said it Gibbs had seen his eyes spark up as if he had just realized something Gibbs hadn't yet. But in the next instant he found out.
A desperate hoarse voice cried out to him in the night.
"On your six!"
The rifle shot rang out right on top of it. And a fraction of a heartbeat later red hot searing pain tore through the back of his shoulder and sent Gibbs down to his knees on the ground. Before he could manage to recover St. Clair had tackled him. Gibbs fought for a hold on the man but the more he exerted himself the dizzier he got. And eventually St. Clair had him pinned on his stomach down in the dead leaves which blanketed the ground. The detective then patted him down and relieved him of both his firearms.
Through the pain and the anger and the defeat crashing in on him Gibbs could hear the other man's voice off in the hazy distance. But the man wasn't addressing him.
"Well, Cutter looks like our third man has a harder head than you anticipated when you slammed him into that tree. He can even still shoot. Didn't even matter that you tried to warn Gibbs. Which by the way you are going to regret."
Gibbs had recovered a bit of ground on the pain from the gunshot wound and took up fighting to get out from under St. Clair who had his knee in his back to hold him down. Gibbs tried to lift his head up to attempt to see Cutter and the other man but St. Clair pushed the muzzle of his gun into his skull forcing it back down.
"Nice timing!" the detective commented. Gibbs could hear crunching footfalls in the dried leaves approaching up the bank of the stream. Their third man had arrived.
"Timing still on target. But Blondie over there is the reason I only planted that bullet in a shoulder. Can hardly see straight. I want just two minutes with him. Me, him, and a nice hard tree trunk."
"Stand down Sutton!" the oldest of the trio instructed. Gibbs could tell by the distance of his voice that he was likely over near where Cutter had been positioned. He hadn't heard Cutter in a few moments other than a cough here and there.
"So what do you want me to do with this one?" St. Clair asked the older man who seemed to be in charge here.
"He's coming with us. I have a feeling he will be useful in getting answers out of Cutter here."
"We're not finishing Cutter off here then?" Sutton questioned. To Gibbs he sounded disappointed at the prospect. But since everything was coming through to him in fuzzy bits and pieces it was hard to tell for sure.
"Oh no. We're taking him on a little trip."
"He's looks half dead. How did you expect us to manage to take his sorry ass with us?" the newest arrival complained.
"I don't give a shit if you have to drag this one out of here by his hair! Just get him back to the truck!" the man in charge yelled back. In the next breath he had stormed over to where Gibbs lay on the ground. He reached down and roughly grabbed the NCIS agent by the back of his jacket and started to haul him up. St. Clair released his knee from Gibbs' back and stood as well.
"Get Cutter!" he commanded of the other two men. Once they had moved away the leader turned his attention back to Gibbs. They were about the same height so now that Gibbs was standing they were eye to eye. The man pressed his gun into Gibbs' chest firmly. But it was not that action that fazed Gibbs. It was what the man growled at him in a low cold voice so only he could hear it.
"You listen to me you son of a bitch. And listen good. You try anything. I mean so much as you glare at one of my men threateningly Cutter pays for it before you do. And it won't be pleasant for him. I will literally tear him apart if you make me. And you will regret having tried anything especially when you get a good look at him! Now walk!
For the moment Gibbs did as instructed and headed in the direction in which the other man shoved him. The man's cold words clung to his thoughts as he walked along. But what haunted him was the look in the man's eyes when he had spoken them.
There had been true belief and merciless intent in them.
Even more Gibbs had also seen in them that his fate and that of Jack Cutter had now been bound together in the mind of this man. They would live or die together.
To Be Continued...
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Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Author's Note: Since this story is all written (but far from over) and I'm just editing/reworking before posting chapters I have started pondering what's next. I need to finish reworking The Ebony Road for one. But had many other ideas on what to write next. I have narrowed it down and the following are in lead for my choice. But thought I would see if they would be of interest to readers. If not I have tons of other ideas.
First Choice:
Title: Stand Under The Big Blue Sky
A Tony/Abby friendship fic
Summary: Tony goes with Abby to track down a biological relative of hers. And they find adventure along the way. And of course a bit of trouble too. Mostly the pair each has something that they are wrestling with along the way. Will they come home empty handed or find what they are looking for even if it wasn't what they originally set out after?
Second Choice:
Title: The Road To Stillwater
A Tony centric fic
Summary: Tony travels to Stillwater to deliver news to Jackson Gibbs about his son. But those miles are only the beginning of his journey.