Chasing Jack

by TC1097

The NCIS team believes Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo to be deceased. But a new lead they uncover on a case may be all it takes to open the door for them to learn the truth about what really happened.

11. Chapter 11

Chasing Jack

Chapter Eleven

"I do so appreciate you allowing me to join you. I thought perhaps I might discover something of a psychological nature which may be useful. Even though I have been unsuccessful in that undertaking thus far," Ducky stated while taking in his surroundings.

"I was of the same mindset so your offer was more of an opportunity than any sort of inconvenience. We're not done yet so don't give up hope. We may very well find something still," Leon Vance replied.

They, along with Vance's protection detail, were revisiting the Devon Davis crime scene. The idea had come out of the phone conversation between the Director and McGee. The local LEOs had been the ones to collect evidence and while their work seemed to be adequate they had likely been unaware of Davis' connection to The Wheel. So it had been concluded that it was worth a second look on the chance the locals had missed something.

After clearing the apartment the director's detail with the exception of one of the agents had been stationed around the building and grounds. The last agent had been posted inside the apartment guarding the doorway.

Vance had begun his search, both visual and physical, near the door. From there he had methodically worked his way along the wall to the first corner and onto the next, examining everything he encountered. It was slow work and more hands would have been expeditious. But this was The Wheel they were dealing with and it was prudent to limit the number of others involved.

The medical examiner's investigation had not been carried out with the same logic or order. He had tended towards the so called worn areas of the living space. Areas which seemed frequented based off the amount or types of items they contained or other similar cues. He had just finished poking through the drawers in the coffee table and the end tables by the couch where, by the looks of it, Davis had spent many an hour. Based off the pillows and blankets on the couch and the types of items which littered the table Davis had camped out there on his rougher days. The progression of his illness had likely made them more frequent than not in the time directly preceding his murder.

Having come up empty handed in the drawers Ducky looked about for where to explore next. But his attention was snatched from that task by Vance's voice.

"Well, what do we have here?" the director commented.

"Have you found something?" the older man inquired and made his way over to where Vance stood at the bookcase. The director showed him the shelf which had come loose out of the bookcase with only a light touch of the hand.

"Perfect hiding place!" the doctor commented peering down at the hollowed out shelf the other man had turned back side up to show him.

"Yes. Unfortunately, whatever was in it is gone. Probably why it was loose. But it likely is not the only hiding spot."

"On we search then!" Ducky announced and looked about the apartment with its open living room and kitchen layout. Noticing that the breakfast bar area of the kitchen appeared well used with stacks of mail and various items strewn about the counter tops he headed over to the kitchen to take a peek. Meanwhile Vance was working his way there as well now inspecting the entertainment center located at the edge of the living room area.

As he flipped through the impressive stack of mail the doctor noted that Davis had been inundated with medical bills. They made up eighty percent of the envelopes in the most recently dated pile. There were other miscellaneous bills and junk mail but, unfortunately, nothing of a personal nature which would be of assistance. Just as he placed the last stack back on the counter the director had reached the kitchen area.

"Anything?" Vance inquired.

"Unfortunately, no. And you?"

"Nothing yet. Did you want some help here? Always a lot of territory to cover in a kitchen."

"Yes perhaps if we work from the ends inward we can meet in the middle," Ducky proposed.

"Alright. Do not leave anything overlooked."

"Very well."

The pair worked in silence for some time. Although it was only a verbal silence since leaving no stone, or in this case no salt shaker undisturbed, created quite the racket. Ducky was sifting his way through one of the cabinets above the stove when he noted that Vance's side of the noisy racket they had been making had ceased. So the medical examiner aborted his search and turned in the other man's direction.

Vance was standing in front of an open drawer near the sink. Ducky noted the plastic utensil holder which had likely been in the drawer had been removed and now lay on the counter. The director was looking down at the inside of the drawer. With his hand flat in the drawer he was tracing the interior edges of the drawer with his fingertips.

"What is it you have discovered?" Ducky inquired.

"Not sure if anything yet but this drawer appears smaller than it actually is. The utensil tray barely cleared the top and if you look at the side you'll see it is much deeper than the tray.

"False bottom perhaps."

"I've been feeling for the edge of it but it's not clear. I've traced around twice along the edge of the inside of the drawer and pressed down across the center. But no luck so far."

"Perhaps it is far simpler than that."

"What do you suggest Dr. Mallard?"

"Prying has worked beautifully a time or two for me," Ducky replied and picked up one of the butter knives from the utensil tray on the counter.

"I'm not even going to inquire during what escapade of your youth you employed the method," Leon stated as he took the knife offered to him.

"Oh it is certainly best that you do not. It was a rather misguided adventure," Ducky declared with a smile.

"I bet!"

Pressing the tip of the knife downward Vance slid it along the inside walls of the drawer. He had gotten halfway around when there was a soft click sound which the director instantly grimaced at thinking he had triggered something rather unfortunate. But the only thing that happened was that the inside bottom of the drawer popped up slightly.

"What do you think, doctor, has our luck shifted?" Vance asked as he set the knife down on the counter.

"I pray that it has but I'm certainly not holding my breath."

"Well, let's find out shall we?" the director replied and took hold of the edge of the false bottom to the drawer and lifted it out.

"It would appear our fortunes have indeed changed," Ducky commented as they both peered down into the drawer. Hidden away underneath the false bottom to the drawer was a thick leather bound journal. The director was the first to speak.

"One does not go through all the trouble to conceal a journal that holds no well sought after secrets."

"No indeed. I think Mr. Davis has much more to communicate than what he was able to back in autopsy."

"So it would appear," Vance replied and after a quick inspection to ensure the journal itself was not booby trapped he lifted the book out of the drawer. The binding was well broken in and both the back and front covers were worn – clearly it had not spent the majority of its lifetime in the drawer. If it had then its appearance would have been much more preserved.

Vance made a cursory look at its contents by flipping through its many pages.

"Although this piques my curiosity I am going to leave this to you doctor. My time is best spent searching for anything additional."

"Very well. I will see what Mr. Davis has to say for himself."

"Let's just hope that whatever that may be proves useful."

"Agreed," Ducky responded as he grasp onto the journal that Director Vance held out to him. He hoped its many pages would offer up the secrets Devon Davis had tried so diligently to keep hidden.

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The bumpy dirt road came to a dead end at Sam's Salvage Yard. A gray one story rectangular building sorely in need of repairs and many coats of paint stood in the foreground of the large lot. It was dwarfed by mountains of scrap metal, old tires, machinery and crushed car frames.

Ro Moore stopped the car and put it in park near the front of the building's main door which bore a sign with the word Office beside it. After climbing out he walked around to the front bumper and joined Ziva and McGee who had also exited the vehicle.

"Hopefully, someone is here," McGee commented looking around at the parking lot which was empty spare their own rental. He glanced down at his cell phone. The time displayed on the screen confirmed it was well within the business day. Although by the looks of the place he doubted they really kept normal hours.

"For a place that crushes cars it sure is quiet. Kind of creepy actually," Moore commented as his gaze swiftly scanned over the wreckage of what had once been a Ford pickup truck and then on to the next pile which at best guess had been a Chevy Cavalier.

"Yes far too quiet for my liking as well," Ziva responded. Her own gaze scouring every shadowed nook and crannie – ever searching for any threat which might be concealed within.

"These car graveyards give me the jitters," Ro stated still warily shifting his gaze from one junk pile to the next.

"Oh yeah. Why's that?" McGee asked.

"Got shot during a foot chase in one once. Too many hiding places. Couldn't see the shooter in time. Now every time I walk in one of these places I get jumpy."

"I'd say that's understandable. Kind of like me and impound lots."

"You got shot in a impound lot?" Moore tossed back.

"Nope. Had a run in with a psycho killer dog in one. I would have reacted more quickly if Tony hadn't..." McGee explained before trailing off as he realized he had been about to complain about Tony. When Tim didn't pick back up talking Moore spoke again but now in a quieter tone.

"I'm sorry about your partner. From the stories I've heard he sounds like he was one of a kind."

"That he was. That he was Moore," McGee responded. The pause in Ziva's visual searching as she dipped her gaze towards the ground for a breath at the mention of Tony did not go unnoticed by the other two agents.

"We should get on with it, yes?" she questioned and lifted her gaze. Any hint of emotion had been tucked away and only determination shone brightly in her eyes.

"I suppose that, yes, it's time to find out if this is a viable lead or another dead end to add to the pile," McGee replied.

As decided during the drive Ziva and Ro headed off towards the salvage yard to take a discreet look around. Tim walked in the opposite direction towards the entrance to the building. Arriving at the doorway he tried the handle and was grateful to find it unlocked.

"Hello. Anyone here?" McGee called out as he entered and found that the front desk which stood just inside was unattended. He barely had time to glance around at the stark florescently lit white interior of the office before a door behind the counter opened. A rather petite yet somewhat rough around the edges looking woman appeared. Tim would have guessed her age at late fifties. The years had not been all that kind.

"What can I do for ya?" she asked in a fairly husky voice. Tim noted the half smoked cigarette held between her fingers.

"I'm a federal agent, Naval Criminal Investigative Service. I am tracking two vehicles and I believe they may be here," he informed her and held up his credentials for her to see.

"That sounds like something I need to see some official paperwork on," she stated then took a long drag off the cigarette.

"Ask and you shall receive," Tim responded pulling a set of folded papers from his jacket. He then handed the warrant to the woman. While she flipped through the papers McGee spoke back up.

"Jeep Grand Cherokee Maine plate RT423 and a Nissan Maxima New Hampshire plate 835DY."

"Yeah. What about them?" she asked and discarded the papers Tim had given her onto the counter.

"I have information that they were towed here."

"You do, do ya?" she said flicking her cigarette with her finger. A few stray embers floated into the air and landed on the counter. The woman ground them out with the bare heel of her hand. It left a silent tense beat in the conversation. When she looked up from her task Tim responded.

"Yes. I do."

"Well, federal agent boy, you should check your information better because these cars ain't here," she answered pressing the tip of her index finger into the warrant papers which lay on the counter.

"Perhaps the owner, uh, Sam Renner, might know," McGee responded while looking at his notes for the owner's name.

"Nope."

"I need to at least speak with the owner."

"Again you to need to work on your information sources."

"You're the owner, aren't you?" Tim concluded reluctantly.

"Give that boy a prize."

"Ms. Renner the warrant gives me the right to search the premises for the vehicles. Any refusal or delay you cause in carrying out that search would be considered interference in a federal investigation."

"Who said I was interfering. And I didn't refuse nothin'. I was actually trying to save you a shitload of time looking. Those vehicles ain't here."

"I will need to see for myself. It's not negotiable."

"You calling me a liar, agent boy."

"It's Agent McGee and I'm carrying out my duty."

"I hear you federal types don't get paid much. Why bother spendin' all that time looking – it's a real big place - when I can tell you they're not here, you note it down on your notepad there and then you take the rest of the day off – maybe go enjoy a nice expensive dinner. One you couldn't normally afford on your salary."

Tim was about to reply with something along the lines that it was not wise to try to bribe a federal agent and that he could charge her with that right after he slapped her with the interfering charge. But before he could open his mouth to speak his cell chimed indicating he had an incoming text. He pulled out the phone and checked the message sent by Ziva. Found the Jeep.

"I need to get to work. That is your copy of the warrant. You may observe if you wish. But do not interfere in any way. And if you suggest bribing me again the list of charges will only get longer."

With that Tim headed back through the doorway and outside. Part of him was angered by the owner's attempts to deter him and her insinuation he would take money to get back in his car and just drive away.

But another part of him had filled with something else. He smiled faintly at the imagined clap on the shoulder Tony would have given him for standing up to her and telling her how it was going to be without hesitation – without taking any crap. He was surprised to find how much the idea of that injected him with confidence and resolve.

As he made his way to their rental vehicle to retrieve his gear he glanced back down at the phone in his hand. Giving the screen a tap to awaken it he read the text again.

Found the Jeep

Those three little words sunk into his mind. They had Jack Cutter's vehicle. It somehow felt like they had finally found the bridge they had to cross in order to move forward. He prayed that at the very least that whatever lay on the other side of that bridge brought two things in particular. First, that it found Leroy Jethro Gibbs safe and sound. And, second, that it helped to find a modicum of justice for Anthony DiNozzo Jr.

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Danny walked down the narrow corridor towards the boat's kitchen area. He was so exhausted that his only goal at the moment was a nice cold beer. Arriving and taking the left turn into the galley he was surprised to find Billy Greene there. Last he knew Greene was hunkered down in front of the monitor that fed from the camera in the cabin where Gibbs was being held.

"Just the man I wanted to see!" the older man greeted him.

"Something you need me to do for you, Billy?" St. Clair asked all the while hoping whatever it was could wait just long along for the beer.

"Yes there is a task I have for you. But it can wait a few minutes. Grab yourself something to drink if you like and then sit for a moment."

Danny nodded and went over to the refrigerator intent on retrieving that beer he had been after – or maybe several. The fridge was well stocked with every beverage imaginable and he had to visually search for a moment for what he was looking for.

The boat pretty much had all the comforts of home. Greene was affluent enough for it to be his but Danny suspected it belonged to another Wheel member or leader. After they had emerged from those woods Billy had stepped away and made several calls. Then they had headed directly to the marina where the sizable boat had been moored. St. Clair had seen another man who had met Greene when they arrived at the harbor. He had come abroad with them and was the one piloting the boat.

Finally finding a wide selection of beer he retrieved one and then glanced over to Greene who had taken a seat at the table. He was about ask if the other man wanted something but noticed Greene already had a drink set in front of him on the table.

"I understand you wanted to speak with me about something. What's on your mind?" Billy asked him as Danny closed the refrigerator and moved to take a seat on the opposite side of the table.

"It was nothing really. With everything that's going on it can wait."

"If we don't have time for our friends – our brothers – then we are wasting our time in the worst of ways. We can speak openly here Danny. Tell me what is on your mind."

"I get that – well - I get that I only need to know what I need to know. I don't mean to overstep my bounds or anything. So if you can't tell me then I'll understand – scratch that I'll forget I even asked."

"Agreed. What is it you wish to know? I will do my best to answer your questions."

"Before you came up to Portland. Ya know when we were on the phone you said you would give me details about what was going on and who this Jack Cutter is when you arrived. I was just wondering if there is anything you can tell me. I might be of more use to you if I had a little more information on the situation."

"You have done everything I have asked of you. And I am a man who believes in reciprocity. I am confident that what I am about to tell you will go no further than our conversation here."

"We have an understanding, yes."

"Very well then. The man we located in the woods is the man described in that Scout Order that went out a while back. You know him as Jack Cutter. But that is an alias. His real name is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Although I suppose now he holds no such title seeing as he has likely been declared legally deceased. Four years ago he infiltrated our organization. Pretending to be one of us. But he was not. He was a traitor. We brought him inside our fold and he betrayed us by passing along intel about our operations – our people – to those looking to take us down and dismantle everything we worked and sacrificed for."

"So he's a federal agent like the other one – uh - Gibbs?"

"Yes. Agent Gibbs was his superior at NCIS."

"He strikes me as military."

"Very observant. A Marine."

"You said this all went down four years ago. So what happened? Why so long until all this?" St. Clair inquired while continuing to work on his beer.

"Yes, well, we discovered Agent DiNozzo's treachery and gave him the opportunity to correct his egregious error. A chance to prove his allegiance – his loyalty to the organization. He refused to do so. Since we could not allow the organization to be compromised in this manner action was necessary. We believed we had eliminated the threat until a few months ago when it came to light that Agent DiNozzo had deceived us and like the coward he is had gone into hiding. Running as cowards tend to do. He is going to be dealt the punishment he has earned for his crimes. And this time there will be nowhere for him to run."

"And Agent Gibbs?"

"At the time Gibbs was not aware of his agent's activities. He did not learn of it until such time as we believed Agent DiNozzo had been permanently dealt with. Nonetheless he has since involved himself in these matters so there will be necessary and unavoidable consequences for him as well."

"Everything in life has consequences, right?" Danny replied matter of factly.

"So very true. We can speak more on this at a later time if you wish. For now on to other matters. We will be moving Agent Gibbs down below. He is to be placed in the aft storage area. It's a small space but it is empty and suits my purposes. I will give the following instructions to Sutton as well. Agent Gibbs is not to be provided any sort of comfort level. He is only to be given what I specifically instruct he be given. And only when and to what level I say he gets it. As for Agent DiNozzo he receives nothing. You are not to give him so much as a sip of water. To some it may seem excessive but you must trust in me that it is necessary. Are we clear Danny?

"Absolutely."

"Good then. On to that task I mentioned earlier. I am providing you with a course of antibiotics for Agent Gibbs. Make sure they are administered to him per the written schedule on the paper. Try the pill form first but if that fails do not bother to deal with his uncooperativeness simply restrain him as necessary and administer them with the syringe. I know you've had a bit of paramedic level training which you obtained outside of your regular line of work so I trust that is something you can handle?"

"I've got it covered."

"Very well. Also make sure the dressing on his wound is changed regularly," Greene stated as he retrieved a small travel case the size of a shaving kit from the empty seat beside him and set it down on the table. Danny glanced down at it and then up at Greene before he responded.

"I admit I'm a bit confused. I thought you just told me he was not to have - how did you put it - any sort of comfort level."

"There is a difference between being in discomfort and being aware of it and being in discomfort and being absence of your senses thoroughly enough that the reality of your situation eludes you. We wouldn't want that wound of his getting infected and causing fever. Then he would miss out on the experience – the acute reality - of his new accommodations."

"I'll see that he gets them. And that the bandage is changed. Also I wanted to ask you if I could use the radio or something to call into headquarters. Been a while since I checked in and I don't want them to get antsy."

"There is a satellite phone up on the bridge you may use."

"Thanks. Wouldn't want them sending a search party out after me."

"No. We certainly would not. The Wheel appreciates your contribution Danny. You have proven yourself an asset."

"You have done a lot for me and my brother so I'm in your debt."

"You finish your beer. You've earned it. Have something a bit stronger if you like. I will find you when I am ready to move Agent Gibbs," Greene stated. Standing he took the final sip from his glass and set the empty down on the table. A breath later he slipped out through the doorway and disappeared down the corridor.

Danny swallowed down the last of his beer and tossed the can into the air with directed aim. It hit its mark and landed with a clink sound in the plastic bin which stood at the end of the counter. Then he turned his attention back to the table.

He picked up the travel case and unzipped it. Inside there was a collection of items including a slip of paper, a syringe, a plastic bottle of pills and a glass bottle filled with liquid antibiotic. Danny shook his head. Greene wanted Agent Gibbs to not get an infection so he would be clear headed enough to realize he was uncomfortable. There was some sort of ass backwards logic in that he supposed. The conditions of the aft storage were certainly not comfortable or conducive to wound healing.

After zipping the case back up he stood and headed back over to the refrigerator. A second beer was definitely in order. He had a feeling that verbal bouts with Agent Gibbs and physical wrestling matches with Jack Cutter – scratch that – Agent DiNozzo were far from over.

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Tony tucked his head down towards his handcuffed hands and strained to rub at his right eye with his fingertips. The blue contact lens there had become bothersome and he hoped maybe he could dislodge it enough to get it out. But with his movements limited it was proving more difficult than anticipated.

"What's going on Tony?" Gibbs asked quietly. Tony caught that he worded it carefully as not to display too much concern. While still working on the lens he responded.

"Just trying to get this contact out. It's driving me nuts."

"I guess that explains one blue eye and one green eye."

"Must have lost the other one along the way somewhere. Had a few things going on. There was that foot chase in the alley outside Travelers. Then my supposed getaway which ended in being run off the road and crashing. Another foot chase through the woods. Falling down an embankment and landing in a really cold stream. A fight with that cop, St. Clair, for his gun. Then Greene decided to take a flashlight to me. What else? Oh yeah. Being dragged through the aforementioned woods and then being tossed into the back of a pickup. Being shackled. Then Greene just about noosed me earlier. Aha got it!" Tony explained until he was finally successful at removing the contact lens from his eye. He swiped his fingertip against his sleeve and the lens came off his finger and fell to the floor.

"Can't say as I'll miss them. Or the brown ones before them," Tony added looking at the lens on the floor. He blinked his eye several times and lifted his head.

"That mean you won't miss Jack Cutter either?" Gibbs asked him with a bit of bite to his tone. Tony could tell there was some true irritation there. Gibbs did not like being left outside the loop and all of this had to be ticking him off on some level. But it would have to wait until later so Tony's response was feigned and casual.

"Oh I don't know. He was kind of a fun guy. Jack of all trades. Popular with the ladies."

"Bit of a troublemaker if you ask me."

"Well I guess everyone has their lesser qualities. Even Jack. You knew, didn't you? You know before Greene had me hauled in here."

"Had an idea. Not confirmed until now."

"That really shouldn't surprise me. You always know."

"Devon Davis was murdered. Investigation led to Portland and Jack Cutter."

"I heard about that. Jack was a little shady. Can see how you thought he'd be a murder suspect."

"Speaking of shady do you remember that first Baltimore case?" Gibbs asked. He had stopped looking Tony straight in the eye and instead his gaze drifted around the room. This meant that their visual conversation was no longer their way of communicating. He would instead say it without saying it – speaking in the code of things only the two of them could make heads or tails of.

"Of course I do Boss! That's how we met. Foot chase. I won. I tackled you to the ground. You punched me. And I stuck my gun in your face. Good times."

"Only won because I let you. But the outcome – the revelations – of that case were memorable huh? Inside and out," Gibbs replied. Tony swallowed down hard on the translation. The revelation had been that his partner had turned out to be a dirty cop.

"Sure were. And that's not the only reason I won that foot chase."

"How about that squirrely guy with the money from that case? What was his name? Something about nuts."

"Peanuts," Tony answered. Joey Peanuts, courier for a navy lieutenant laundering money. Tony thought on what was most memorable about him. It came to him quickly. They had turned Joey Peanuts and got him to cooperate so they could set up his boss. Before Tony could reflect on it any longer Gibbs spoke up.

"Yeah. Yeah that was it. He sure cooperated easy."

Tony thought on the words for a long beat. But found the key in them. The new information was that Joey had been turned without applying too much pressure. He pieced it together with the other key points in what Gibbs had said. Dirty cop must translate to St. Clair since he was the only cop in the group. The mention of turning someone meant that was the plan. The mention of it not taking a lot of force translated into that there was something Gibbs had seen in St. Clair which lead him to believe that there was potential to get him to change sides. Tony hadn't seen it but these days he was suspicious of just about everyone – a consequence of being on the run for so long he supposed – but they had so little to work with that it was worth a try.

"You might say he wasn't a hard nut to crack. See what I did there Boss? With the pea-nuts," he commented.

"You've been saving that one all these years haven't you, DiNozzo?"

"A fine joke gets better as it ages," Tony stated in rebuttal. But Gibbs had already moved on to another topic when he replied.

"There was another case – the other guy with a funny name. What was that? Some kind of animal."

"You talking about Turtle?" Tony questioned hoping that was the one because he was at a loss to think of another one.

"That's the one."

"Yeah that guy. He was a piece of work," Tony said inside a faint chuckle.

"Yep he sure was. It was close on that one."

"Real close. But we pulled it out in the end."

"Wouldn't have without your little chat with the guy."

"Well I can be very persuasive Boss."

"Something like that," Gibbs responded with a bit of a smirk.

Tony remembered Turtle. He was an MP who was on the take. They had eventually managed to get him to cooperate to take down a pay for protection type ring. Turtle was not someone who responded to being sweet talked into coming around. They had needed to get him riled for the reality of his situation to finally strike him.

"Didn't really have it planned when I went in. Just sort of read the guy's triggers," Tony commented. But it was really a question. In code he had asked Gibbs if he had translated it correctly. Was Gibbs saying that St. Clair wouldn't be calmly sweet talked into coming around?

"Just like flipping a switch. Reminds me of you in that assembly room on our little forced Middle East visit," Gibbs replied and provided the confirmation that Tony had translated correctly. After noting that tidbit he pondered on Gibbs' reference to his little chat with Eli David. Now there was a guy you had to get agitated to get the truth out of him. Tony didn't want to reflect on that whole incident for too long so he spoke up with the truth.

"Rather forget that one."

"That was like with Turtle though. Polite and complimentary was not going to have an effect," Gibbs stated with a little force to his voice. Tony got the message loud and clear. They wouldn't be able to turn St. Clair with calm reasoning so don't bother - go straight in on the other route.

"We would still be there if I had gone that route," Tony replied while letting Gibbs know he understood what they needed do.

"Probably," Gibbs stated. Before Tony could respond the sound of the door to the room being unlocked filled the air. It was followed by a still and quiet beat. Then the door opened and Greene entered in. He shut the door and turned to face where Tony and Gibbs sat on the floor beside the bed. Neither of them offered anything verbal so Greene spoke first.

"My apologies for breaking up this little trip down memory lane. I am pleased to see that you are re-acquainted with one another and that you are both clear on where your situation stands. All things must come to an end however. And that time has come. Agent DiNozzo, I trust you have used this time productively towards making wiser choices."

"That's kind of a matter of opinion don't you think? Wiser for you or wiser for me? Because I gotta tell ya when it comes to your choices you've made some seriously stupid ones."

"Are you trying to get the guy to shoot you, DiNozzo? Geez!" Gibbs grumbled. But Tony knew it was for show – mostly anyway.

"He wouldn't shoot me. We have A Knotting to attend. Don't we Greene?"

"You're going to die Agent DiNozzo. But a bullet is far too merciful for you. Clearly you have made your final decision regarding how this is going to go. One you will regret I assure you."

"Regret? Not a chance in hell. You're truly delusional and stupid if you think I'd cooperate with you. I told you earlier. I haven't seen this bastard in four years. Got along just fine without him," Tony responded. His voice was hard and filled with annoyance. Greene glared at him for a moment before shifting his gaze.

"Agent Gibbs perhaps you would like to chime in here and offer your subordinate some words of wisdom. All he has to do is provide me with the information I requested of him and this will go significantly easier and swifter for the both of you."

"My opinion? I second his. Your delusional if you think I'd tell him to cooperate with a son of a bitch like you, Greene," Gibbs snapped at him.

"Interesting my research on you showed a man who held moving from point A to point B using the most direct of routes in high regard. No room for the unnecessary or drawn out way to things. This leads me to believe that despite your interaction just now that a strong connection still exists between the two of you."

"Said I agreed with him that you were delusional and a moron. Never said I agreed because I valued his opinion. It was just that it was the truth."

"That's the second time you have spoken ill of your agent. What was it again you said earlier? Oh yes I do believe you called him a coward. And now you don't value his opinion. It's amazing you kept him around as long as you did," Greene tossed back. Tony looked from him over at Gibbs. But couldn't get a good read. Tony hoped Greene's mention about what Gibbs had said about him had simply been for show or that it was Greene twisting Gibbs' words.

"I already had him broken in. Didn't feel like training a newbie."

"You have to work with what you've got, right, Agent Gibbs? This is where I find myself as well. And I too will work with what I've got seeing as Agent DiNozzo has made a rather unwise choice," Greene stated.

Moving to the door he opened it a crack and leaned out into the corridor. He spoke with someone there for a few seconds. But his voice was too quiet to hear what he said to them. Tony guessed it was likely one of his henchmen he had given instructions to. Finishing the conversation Greene closed the door and sat down on the edge of the desk.

Tony glanced over to Gibbs and caught his gaze. He instantly knew that the other man was thinking the same thing that was going through his own mind.

They had to make this plan work.

And fast!

Because they were running out time.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

The bridge of the boat only had one occupant. And they immediately spun around upon hearing movement behind them.

"Hey man! Sorry didn't mean to surprise ya. I'm Danny. Danny St. Clair!" the detective offered as he stepped all the way into the cabin.

"Oh yeah of course. Your Greene's man, right? Saw you back at the marina. I'm Marcus."

"Good to meet you Marcus."

"Something you need help with?"

"Greene said there was a sat phone up here I could use. I need to call in to work."

"Ah! Which excuse you gonna use? The old caught a stomach bug or the very classic sick relative maybe?"

"Something like that!" Danny replied.

"The satellite phone is over there. PIN code is on the list up there on the wall. Good luck with the excuse."

"Trust me I need it. I'll just be right outside. That okay?"

"Yeah. Just bring it back in when you are done, man," Marcus stated and turned back to looking out over the bow of the boat.

"Thanks!" Danny offered and headed over to retrieve the phone.

"No problem," Marcus replied without turned around.

Leaving the bridge Danny made his way out onto the deck. Rain sprinkled down and the wind made the October day raw. After zipping up his leather jacket against the chill the detective punched in the appropriate codes and then a cell number all to familiar to him. Danny put the phone to his ear and ran his free hand through his hair while he awaited an answer.

He had just about given up hope when the call was finally picked up.

"Nickerson!" his partner's voice came over the line. He likely had debated whether to even answer considering the caller's information would have been masked. It also explained the formal greeting.

"Ethan, it's me."

"Danny! Where in the hell are you?"

"Things got a little more complicated than I thought they would."

"Cut the bullshit Danny. When you didn't show and I couldn't get a hold of you and I was running out of excuses with the Sarge I called Drew. Ya know the brother you said you had to bail on our case to go help. Imagine my surprise when he said he hadn't seen you in two days! So stop lying to me. If you are in some kind of trouble tell me so I can help. But don't shut me out, St. Clair. I'm your partner for crying out loud."

"I'm sorry Ethan. I didn't have a choice."

"Like hell you didn't."

"Alright fine. I had a choice. And I choose to protect my partner. It'll have to stay at that. I'm begging you Nickerson don't question it anymore," St. Clair stated firmly. For a long tense moment only a bit of static came over the line. But he could tell his partner was still there. He was more than likely just silently fuming on the other side of the call. He waited him out and as per usual Nickerson finally broke.

"I trust you Danny. But that doesn't mean I'm not pissed all to hell at you."

"Thanks Ethan."

"Yeah. Yeah. Can you at least tell me when you are going to get your sorry butt back here? Because Sarge is all over mine."

"No way to tell just yet. The Bennett case is a jumper. You got it covered with your hands handcuffed behind your back no problem. Sarge is just being neurotic because the mayor is hovering over him," Danny replied. More lies he had thought as he had spoken the words. Bennett was a jumper when pigs fly.

"You had better hope so. Otherwise the chewing out he gives me will be nothing compared to the choice words I'll have for you. And you know how the redder Sarge's face gets the more sewer like his language becomes."

"Trust me I recall it all too well from a time or two," Danny replied.

"Well, if this morning when he was all over Thompson is anything to go by he has learned a few new words. And they ain't pretty. I'm beginning to think he spends his off time hanging with biker gangs."

"I owe ya Ethan. And I need a favor so I am going to owe you even more? Are you at headquarters?"

"You're joking, right?"

"Afraid not partner."

"I'm in the parking lot."

"You were out there smoking, weren't you?"

"It was only one."

"I'm going to kick your ass you know that."

"Yeah right. Now what did you want?"

"I need you to go in and look up something for me."

"Is that what this is? Are you working on something without me? A lead on one of our cases. Son of a bitch."

"I wouldn't do that you know that."

"I did. I'm beginning to wonder though."

"I'll swear I'll pay back the favor."

"Favors."

"Right favors. Now can you just go back inside for me and get to a computer."

"I'm sitting down now."

"I knew you wouldn't let me down Ethan."

"Yeah that's good old predictable me. Or idiotic me. I haven't decided which quite yet. So what is it I'm doing?"

"I need you to look up an Anthony DiNozzo."

''Who has a last name like that? An alias huh?"

"Well, that's kind of the point of looking him up."

"Gotcha. Looking to see if he's legit."

'So whatcha ya got?"

"You just gave me the name. Nothing. What the eff did you expect?"

"You're right I have to account for your pathetic typing."

"Hey! Watch it buddy. My typing gets the job done."

"Maybe by next decade."

"For a guy who is already knee deep in crap with me you sure are pushing it."

"Think of it as a challenge."

"The only challenge I have right now is restraining myself from finding a way to reach through this phone so I can punch your lights out."

"Whatever makes you type faster," Danny retorted.

"Alright DiNozzo, Anthony D.. Well first thing jumps right out at me is that he's dead. That kinds of sums it up don't you think?"

"Go back before he was dead Ethan."

"Geez! Cranky much?"

"Just read man."

"He was an agent with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service for quite some time before his death during an undercover op. He was on their Major Case Response Team under an Agent Gibbs. Gibbs looks like he's kind of rough and tumble. And he was a Marine. Bet he could take down our Sarge without breaking a sweat. Prior to that DiNozzo was with Baltimore PD first as a uniform then as a detective. Before that he was with two other local forces. By the looks of it he was good at what he did. Records show a cop you would want watching your back when the shit hits the fan."

"You find anything on his personal life?"

"By the looks of it he was kind of a workaholic. Single. No children. Didn't have much in the way of family. Mother died when he was a child. Dad's alive but looks a little shady from what I can tell. He had no siblings. From what little social media I can find he seemed to like to be entertaining. And he wasn't shy with the ladies. Prior to getting into law enforcement he was into sports. Played college ball - football and basketball."

"That's it. There's nothing that shows maybe he followed in his father's footsteps or anything like that?"

"So far nothing. Everything I'm finding says he's straight up. But you know how that is though. Sometimes the surface is just that."

"Yeah. I do."

"I can reach out to a contact I have down Philly way. That was one of local forces he was with."

"Hold off on that. But I appreciate it," Danny responded.

"Trust me. I will be cashing in my IOUs – that is just as soon as you decide to freaking show up. Is that everything because I can see Sarge coming down the hallway and I'd rather be absent when he gets down here."

"Yep. Thanks again man."

"Whoever invented this idea of partners sure didn't understand what a pain in the butt they can be. Anyway, I gotta go."

"Hey Ethan."

"Yeah."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"A favor? You've lost your marbles haven't you? Now you want another favor!"

"Come on Ethan."

"Uh fine! What?"

"Can you check in on Drew again for me? See if he needs anything."

"Okay. I will check in on him. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"You get your ass back here double time. And you answer your damn phone!"

"Ah! That's sweet! You worry about me."

"Care about you? More like self preservation."

"You watch your back partner. I want it bullet hole free when I get there."

"Just get your ass back here!"

"Working on it. Now get out of the squad room before Sarge spots you."

"Roger that. Catch ya on the flip side."

"Later man," Danny replied and then disconnected the call. He looked out at the water and sighed. He hadn't really understood why but he had felt the need to verify what Greene had told him about Agent DiNozzo. It wasn't that he thought Billy was lying. It was more just an unsettled feeling that had kicked up in him. But it had checked out. Maybe it was just his exhaustion or his guilt over leaving both his partner and his brother high and dry. If so there wasn't much he could do about either at the moment.

When this was finally over he would have to find a way to make it up to his partner and his brother.

Or maybe a piece of him had hoped there would be something on DiNozzo that would make him feel better about what he was a part of. If DiNozzo had been slime he really wouldn't bat an eyelash at treating him poorly.

But right then there were other duties to attend to. With that thought and the rain picking up Danny headed back inside.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

Ziva used her hand to shield the daylight from obstructing her view. Standing at the passenger side door of the Jeep Grand Cherokee she peered through the glass of the window into its interior.

Wanting to keep everything square McGee had instructed them if they found either of the cars not to begin searching until he let them know he had served the warrant. Despite the intense urge to ignore the instruction the earlier mention of Tony had helped fuel her restraint. If the Jeep lead them to information on those who had taken Tony from them then making sure there was nothing that could get them off on a technicality or that would shine doubt on the team's handling of the case then it was worth her compliance. Although the punishment she would like to inflict upon them did not necessarily involve a court of law.

Her gaze scanned over the passenger seat and the center console and onto the other seat. The driver's side door was dented inward and the window on that side was cracked down the center. It was likely Cutter had not exited the vehicle on that side. The door was damaged badly enough that it was likely jammed shut and it looked as if it would not have taken much to cause the glass in the window to finally give way and rain down from the window's frame onto the seat below.

Other than the damage done by what most likely had been quite a crash the front seats of the Jeep held little of interest. Taking a step sideways Ziva took up position at the passenger side back door. Here she cupped both hands around to frame her face as she leaned in close to the glass of the window to peer inside. Once again her desire to forgo formality spiked in her.

Laid out in the back seat was a large hiking pack and a duffle bag. Cutter had either abandoned the vehicle in a hurry or had not left under his own accord. Otherwise, he would never left these things behind. Not if it was all he had fled with and also based off the manner in which he maintained his apartment to be spare of evidence of himself.

She bit down on her lower lip as a physical manifestation of clamping down on the urge to begin looking through the car before McGee arrived. Managing to quell the desire she moved away from the door and around the back end of the Jeep. She was about to lean forward and peek in through the back window but paused as she caught her own reflection in the glass. In the background the piles of wreckage reflected as well.

She reached out and ran her fingertips over the image on the glass – trailing over the twisted metal laid out behind her and then on to her own features.

Somehow she suddenly felt a lot like how those damaged old shells of cars looked – stripped down bare and mercilessly crushed. She and the team had been in constant motion, barreling forward, since Devon Davis was found dead. She had been so focused on the task at hand she had not let herself just stop and allow what it all meant to sink in.

Somehow closing in on Cutter and The Wheel felt not just like obtaining justice for Tony but like saying goodbye to him. Before this she had known her friend was never coming back but had never let her heart tread into actually letting him go. The loss had been one too many. She had been drained of how to say goodbye to yet another. The vanishing of his light from her life had dimmed her world sharply and accepting that shadow was too excruciating.

Her hand still rested on the glass – the tips of her fingers ghosting the hard set of her jaw and the darkness in her eyes – she realized how much she mirrored the image of the wreckage at her back. Worn and hollowed out. Before she could process the thought any further the reflection in the window changed and her entire body tensed at what she saw.

Behind her, just stepping out from behind a heap of scrap metal, Ro Moore appeared. This was not alarming in and of itself. It was the fact that he had his hands raised up in the air and that the holster on his hip was void of his service weapon which had jolted her. He had a thin stream of blood tricking down from his right temple. Moore had been looking around in the area nearby for the other vehicle as she had guarded the Jeep. Something must had happened that she could not hear from her location.

Ziva drew her weapon as the reflection showed the precise source of Moore's distress. A rather sturdily built and scruffy looking man appeared in the reflection trudging after Moore. He held a shotgun to the agent's back and kept using the barrel of it to shove him in a forward direction. Apparently still unseen Ziva darted back around the passenger side of the Cherokee. She squatted down beside the rear tire for some slight semblance of cover.

She stayed there, still and listening, for a moment to confirm she had not been spotted. When there was no indication her presence had been noticed Ziva moved forward a little and stole a glance passed the Jeep's bumper. Moore was slowly moving forward making sure to keep his gaze straight ahead. He had cleared the pile of junk first and likely had seen her but in the hope the other man had not he was making sure not to draw attention to the area near the Jeep.

"Move faster!" the rugged man demanded gruffly. He jabbed the shotgun into Moore's back as further encouragement. Moore continued to walk but Ziva knew his normal gait and he was being deliberately slow. She took a deep breath and released it. She settled her grip on her gun. Then pivoted around and moved to the front end of the vehicle. Using the engine block as cover for most of her body she stood up and pointed her weapon out across the hood in the direction of the man holding her teammate at gunpoint.

"Federal agent! Put the shotgun down and step away from it!" she called out. Her voice surprised the man but not for long enough he couldn't react effectively. He reached out and grabbed the back of Moore's jacket. He yanked him back towards his own body, essentially using Ro as a shield. He started backing up towards the closest pile of junk in order to cover his back. Once there he wrapped an arm around Moore's neck in a firm hold. Since the man's muscular forearm was practically the width of a tree trunk she knew he wouldn't have to use much effort to choke Moore out if he chose to do so.

She swallowed down hard in preparation for speaking again. As she did so the man quickly dropped the shotgun on the wreck behind him and pulled a handgun from his waistband. In the next instant he had what looked to be Ro's own Sig Sauer pointed at his hostage's head.

"You put that gun down there, missy, or I'll kill him. I just haven't decided if he gets a bullet in the brain or a broken neck!" the man yelled over to her.

"You will do neither of those things! You will drop the weapon. And do not call me Missy. It is not my name!" Ziva yelled back.

"She's not very bright is she? I'm about to drop you – dead – and she thinks she's telling me what to do," he coldly informed his hostage.

"If I were you I'd do as she says. Because the second you drop me you're dead on the ground right next to me," Ro replied.

"Not another word out of you!" the man growled in his ear and then to emphasize the sentiment squeezed his arm in around Moore's neck. Ziva could see the wince Ro made at the sudden pressure. This could not go on much longer. So she yelled out again.

"He's right! You will not get out of this alive. Put down the gun. Let him go. And maybe I will let you live."

"You still don't get it do you missy? I'm the one in control here. You are the one who's gonna put down their weapon and then come out here!"

"That's not gonna happen!" a voice called out. Ziva recognized it instantly as belonging to McGee. Ziva did not see him within the line of sight she maintained on Ro and the other man but knowing he was there somewhere was a relief. The man reacted by stealing a glance to his right. Ziva surmised McGee was over near the heap of junk Ro and the man had walked passed when they appeared in the reflection in the Jeep's window. Ziva was surprised when yet another voice spoke up.

"Let him go Eddie! And put that gun down!"

"They was poking around back here Momma. Trespassing on our property!" the man called back.

"They got a warrant Eddie. And they're the straight up type if you know what I mean. We ain't got much choice."

The man thought on her words for a tense moment before reluctantly placing the Sig down next to the discarded shotgun. He harshly shoved Moore away from him and put his hands out to his sides. Ro landed on his knees in the dirt clearly a bit dazed. But managed to jump up and duck in behind the remains of a pickup truck.

"Move away from the weapons!" McGee commanded as he finally walked into Ziva's line of sight. He had his weapon raised and trained on the man as he closed in but made sure to remain near to potential cover. The man did as he was told and stepped away from where he had deposited the two guns.

"On your knees!" Ziva instructed as she too left her cover and closed in on him.

"She said down!" McGee demanded when at first he didn't comply.

"I could shoot him in the knee then he will go down," Ziva stated and shifted the aim of her gun to his legs.

"Or perhaps just a bit above that would be more convincing," she added with a smile.

The man looked from Tim to Ziva and then back again. McGee did not speak up to disagree or in attempt to stop her so finally the man dropped to his knees.

"On your stomach. Hands on the back of your head!" Tim instructed the man as he made it to being only a handful of feet away. This time Eddie went down without needing a repeat of the order. Once the man was all the way down Ziva came the rest of the way. She trained her gun on his upper back and placed her foot lightly on his lower back letting him know he better stay down. McGee spoke up then but not to Eddie – to his mother.

"Ms. Renner if you would sit down over there on the hood of that car for me. Please do not move from that spot and keep your hands where I can see them or I will let Agent David here carry out her earlier suggestion."

Sam Renner surprisingly did as told and took a seat on the hood of the old Caddie McGee had indicated.

"Moore, we're clear!" he then called out. After a long beat Ro came out from around the back of the pickup truck he had taken cover behind.

"You alright?" Tim asked as his gaze inspected the nasty gash on the other agent's temple.

"Nothing an entire bottle of Advil won't take care of. Have I mentioned I hate salvage yards?" he responded as he moved to retrieve his service weapon from where it had been placed beside the abandoned shotgun. He proceeded to check that it was in proper order. Finding it in acceptable condition he gripped in his right hand instead of holstering it.

Once Ro was squared away McGee holstered his own weapon and did a thorough search of the man who had held his colleague captive. At first he only came up with a pocket knife and pack after pack of chewing gum. But as he was nearing the end of places to check he came across a small caliber handgun tucked away in a inside pocket in the man's jacket. Tim held it up and exchanged a look with Ziva. Clearly they were thinking the same thing. The weapon looked a whole lot like the backup Moore kept in an ankle holster.

"This yours?" Tim asked Ro and held out the Beretta in his direction.

"Bastard!" Moore spat out and took the weapon from McGee.

Normally it would be processed as evidence but nothing was normal about the situation. Ziva knew that once they were done their search of the Jeep and hopefully the other vehicle as well they would have to set Renner and her son free. It wasn't like they could call the locals to come pick them up and hold them. They had no way to know if there were other Wheel members amongst the local law enforcement and these two were already doing favors for Detective St. Clair. Who knew who else they were friendly with. She also knew that it was likely that as soon as they left that the woman would be right on a phone alerting St. Clair that they had showed up and searched the place.

After cuffing the man Ziva and Tim got him to his feet. The senior field agent then lead him over to one of the many piles of junk. He rearranged the cuffs so the man was tethered to something solid and very immobile. He then called over to Ro.

"Moore, you guard them. Any trouble and you just go ahead and shoot 'em. I've had enough of these two."

"With pleasure."

To this Ziva looked over at the woman sitting on the hood of a rusted out Cadillac.

"You? Is there anyone else here? Tell us now or believe me you will regret it."

"Just us. I swear."

"You had better be telling the truth or so help me..."

"Ziva, let's just get on with the search okay?" Tim suggested calmly.

"It is certainly more important than these two brick heads," she replied.

"I think you mean blockheads."

"No. I mean I wish I could hit them in the head with a brick."

"Down Ziva. Let's focus on what we came here for."

"Fine!" she stated but it was delivered with a bit of a irritated huff of breath at the end.

With that McGee and Ziva pulled gloves onto their hands and slung cameras around their necks and set out to search Jack Cutter's charcoal gray Jeep Grand Cherokee from tire to roof rack and everywhere in between.

They had been at if for nearly a half an hour when Ziva's voice piped up.

"McGee! I have found something!"

Tim who had been at the open back end of the vehicle abandoned what so far had been a fruitless area to search. He came around to where Ziva stood at the back door on the passenger side. She had spent the majority of their search so far on the duffle bag and hiking pack she had spotted there earlier.

"Whatcha you got?"

"This may explain why we had so much trouble finding him in any systems, yes?" she suggested and showed Tim the large envelope filled with cash and what looked to be at least a dozen fake IDs.

"Guy's prepared. That's for sure. We'll have to run them all. Maybe he has used at least one of them."

"I can do one better," Ziva announced.

"Oh yeah."

"See anything interesting on this ID here?" she asked holding up another ID she had already placed in an evidence bag. Tim took it from her and held it so he could see it more clearly and smiled at what he found.

"I've never been so happy to see a full print in all my life," he commented with a smile.

"It is the best one I have found. There are lot of partials on the outside of the envelope and on a few of the other items in the pack but that one is near perfect."

"Yes it is. And I think that it just might be good enough that we can lift it and then photograph it. Then I can send it to Abby from my phone. It will diminish the quality, especially the edges a little, but she has gotten a hit off much less before. It's the best we can do for now."

"And hard earned I would say," Ziva stated. Tim followed the line of her gaze over to where Moore stood guarding the Renners. He then glanced over at her and she met his eyes. She could tell the same thought occupied his mind as swirled around in her own.

They could very easily have been collecting a very different type of evidence right then instead of just searching a vehicle. One squeeze of a trigger finger or hard precise twist of the neck and they would be looking down at Moore's dead body instead of hiking packs and duffle bags.

"Very hard earned! All this for a single good fingerprint,"McGee stated as he looked down at the evidence bag containing the fake id.

Ziva nodded her head in agreement. Yes all this for a single good fingerprint she thought.

And Gibbs was still missing. Not to mention they were on their own in finding him because they couldn't trust the locals and didn't have time enough to vet other NCIS agents specifically for Wheel involvement so they could have been brought along as backup and extra hands. They had evidence that had been collected from Cutter's apartment and now the Jeep. If they found the the rental as well there would be more evidence from that as well. But they had nowhere to process it. Nor the luxury of time. If they had a way to get it to D.C. then it would mean Abby would find out that Gibbs was missing.

When McGee had spoken with the director Vance had made the decision not to tell the others that Gibbs had disappeared. He wanted Abby, Ducky and Palmer fully focused on their tasks. He would decide when it was the time to tell them. Tim had told her he that prayed Vance wouldn't have to tell them at all. That they would find Gibbs quickly and unharmed.

She wanted to be hopeful about the print but so far the odds had been stacked against them so very steeply. Ziva looked up at Tim who appeared lost in thought of his own.

A raindrop splashing down on Tim's hand seemed to jolt McGee away from whatever he had been reflecting upon. It had started to sprinkle. They both looked up at the clouds and seemingly came to the same realization - the rain would be coming down a lot harder in only a short time.

"Did you find the rental?" Tim asked Ziva.

"Moore went to see if it was nearby while I guarded the Jeep and we waited for you to arrive. I never got the chance to ask him."

"Hey, Ro, did you come across the Nissan before Eddie over there introduced himself to you?" McGee called out.

"Yeah and the state it was in distracted me long enough for Eddie here to get the jump on me."

"Why? What state was it in?"

"It's over there in the crusher. Ya know post-crush," Moore responded as gestured with a wave of the hand in the direction of far end of the lot. McGee groaned and turned his attention back to Ziva.

"That's just great! Evidence could have been destroyed. And I don't want to think about how much paperwork a crushed rental is going to result in," he told her.

"There may still be something. And we have the print and Jack Cutter's things."

"Alright finish up with the rest of the Jeep fast as you can. We'll take the hiking pack and duffle with us as well as the contents of the glove box. Then we'll go see if there is anything at all of use at the rental. The rain is picking up so I'm going to work on lifting this print so I can photograph it and get it sent off to Abby. The sooner she has it the sooner we'll know if we have a a fresh lead."

With that Ziva searched the remaining areas of the Jeep's interior. McGee had already inspected the roof and under the hood. So that only left the undercarriage. First she checked the wheel wells and along the outside frame of the car and found nothing. Finally laying down on her back she slid her body underneath the Jeep. Using a flashlight she scanned its beam over the underside of the car on the passenger side. Having found nothing on that side she scooted further under to do the same on the other side. Only a handful of inches off to her right she stopped moving the beam of her light along. Something bright white against the dark undercarriage had caught her eye. She scooted her body to be directly under it and focused the light on the spot.

"McGee are you out there?" she called out upon recognizing what she had found. There was a silent beat then McGee appeared looking in at her from his position knelt down in the dirt at the back end of the Jeep.

"May I have a camera?" she asked.

"Yep. Here you go," he replied and passed her the Nikon which had been hanging around his neck.

"Find something?" he added.

"Do you not think it a little strange that there are pieces of zip ties stuck up in amongst all these parts under here?" she commented and snapped photos of the pieces of white plastic that were sticking out in several separate places.

"I guess," he replied as Ziva passed him the camera and scooted out from under the vehicle. When she stood up Tim was already looking through the photos. He stopped scrolling through and studied the close up of the ends of the zip ties.

"The cuts are clean. Maybe wire cutters or a well sharpened knife," Ziva suggested.

"Looks like. Knife most likely."

"Yes, but what were they there for?" Ziva asked. She did not hide the frustration in her voice. McGee did not respond and hit the button to move on to the next picture. A long moment passed as he studied the image. She looked down at the camera in his hand but apparently was not seeing what he was seeing.

"What is it you find so interesting about this photo McGee?" she finally inquired when he remained silent.

"Notice the length and width of the spacing and how they are tucked away out of easy line of sight?" he replied.

"Yes. What about it?"

"That's how they were able to follow Cutter."

"How what? I do not understand."

"I would bet my paycheck that these zip ties were there to secure a tracking device onto the vehicle."

"This makes sense. That would be the only way to ensure that Cutter did not elude them."

"And when they had him they cut the zips and took the device with them. But maybe they left behind trace or even some prints on the ties."

"I'll will retrieve them," Ziva said as she moved to slide back under the vehicle. Once in position she worked with gloved hands to remove the zip ties from the undercarriage of the vehicle. She smiled faintly as a wave of something uplifting washed through her. For some reason she felt like they had stumbled their way to a gold mine or to a master key. Her heart told her this was not a dead end like so many others they had encountered. Somehow this would lead to answers. Answers about Gibbs' whereabouts. And answers about those responsible for Tony's death.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

Doctor Donald Mallard looked down at the faded brown cover of the journal he held in his hands. The mere sight triggered a strange mixture of emotions to churn up in him. He had begun reading it while still at Davis' apartment and continued on all through the drive back to NCIS headquarters.

Upon their arrival he had settled in at his desk. The dimmed lighting and quiet of the room had made it easy to pick right back up with his exploration of Devon Davis' inner most thoughts. There he had sat, barely shifting in his seat, for quite some time. It was not until Palmer returned from his errand to the Bureau of Motor Vehicles that Ducky had managed to pull himself away from the journal's pages.

Now he sat in the outer office of the director's suite. Vance's assistant typed away on her computer. A few moments earlier she had alerted their boss that the medical examiner was there to see him. He had informed her that it would be a moment while he finished up a phone call.

Ducky was tempted to open the book back up and read on while he waited but decided that perhaps a break was prudent seeing as he had been at it for a while and only made marginal progress through its many pages.

The phone on the assistant's desk buzzed and drew his attention up and away from the journal.

"Yes Director!" the young woman answered the call with and then listened for a handful of seconds.

"I will let him know that he can come in," she stated as her gaze met Ducky's affirming it was okay to enter into the inner office.

"Thank you very much my dear!" the medical examiner offered her as he stood and then proceeded through the doorway.

"Doctor Mallard!"

"Director," he responded flatly.

"Have a seat! You look like you're a little worse for wear!" Vance stated.

"Yes, well, delving into the psyche of someone such as Mr. Davis can take a toll on a man," Ducky replied and took the offered seat across from where the director sat at his desk.

"Apparently. Which leads me to believe that the journal has garnered something of use."

"Without a doubt. However I confess I am still getting a full grasp on all that I have discovered and find myself at a loss of just where to begin."

"I would normally say start at the beginning but based off the size of that journal and your proclivity for rather involved storytelling how about just the highlights. What struck you the most?"

"Several things. However there is one thing which I never in a million years would have imagined I would unearth upon setting out to read the story this journal has to tell," Ducky replied and laid a hand on the leather cover of the book which he had placed on the desk in front of him.

"And what would that be?" Vance inquired. Curiosity laced his tone.

"That Devon Davis shot Anthony," Ducky informed him quietly.

"Wait! You mean as in Anthony DiNozzo?"

"Yes. The one and only."

"By God. Unbelievable. On the Wheel's orders I assume."

"Yes. Although a corpsman while in the Navy Davis had previously been a top ranked sportsman in competitive rifle shooting. I would suppose those skills would have been rather desirable and useful to the leaders of The Wheel."

"Certainly. He confessed in writing to shooting and killing a federal agent. All be!"

"You have to bear in mind that Davis had end stage cancer. The journal is newer than it appears. At least its contents are. He only began writing in it about a year ago. So its worn state is more from constant use than age."

"Clearly he had plenty to say," Vance commented.

"Knowing that he was losing the battle against his disease made him reflect upon his past. As I am sure it would most of us. He wrote of many things but revisited the incident with Anthony on multiple occasions."

"Did he go into any detail?" the director inquired.

"A bit. I am afraid he shot the dear boy at long range with a rifle. He was certain he had hit him. Believed he got him in the chest."

"Believed? He didn't confirm?"

"He couldn't. Upon being shot Anthony fell into the water and did not resurface."

"Son of a bitch. That matches up with what Agent Fornell reported he witnessed. DiNozzo being shot via long range and then going into the water of the bay – not to come back up."

"Yes. And per his report Agent Fornell's vantage point did not allow for line of sight with the shooter. His view was obstructed. He stated he could not move to obtain a better angle because his presence was concealed. If he had repositioned he would have been in the open. Therefore, he could not identify the rifleman."

"And now we know who the shooter was and in his own words no less. Truth really is stranger than fiction," Vance commented.

"That it is. So very tragic the way Anthony perished. We couldn't even bury the lad properly. The memorial service was most elegant but simply not sufficient enough to lay him to rest in the manner he deserved. He was a such restless soul in life. Without being laid to rest with a marker over his final resting place and a formal ceremony I fear his spirit does not settle in death."

"And such a loss the agency took. I'll admit that when I first arrived I miscalculated Agent DiNozzo somewhat. On the surface I didn't see anything of great asset to the agency. My miscalculation came in not factoring in the potential for what might lay hidden, dormant, under the outward shell. I attempted to fit him into the box of the type of agent I saw as the future of NCIS. I should not have been surprised when he did not fit in it. And I should not have discarded his value based on such narrow criteria."

"You were not the first I assure you. It sounds as if you came around somewhat," Ducky responded. Some of his hopefulness that the director had come around a bit about Anthony slipped through in his voice as he spoke.

"Let's just say I might have come up with a wider box."

"Between Anthony's energy and creative thinking and Jethro's lack of social grace and endless bullheadedness it must have been a much more durable box as well."

"Most definitely. But despite the loss of Agent DiNozzo we must move forward. I am confident that The Wheel had more than a little to do with Davis' death. Perhaps we can use it to finally dismantle them and give a little justice to a fallen agent. Did the journal shine any light on that at all?"

"Indeed. As Davis' illness progressed and his prognosis began to dim he wished to leave The Wheel. From what I can gather that is akin to trying to leave the mafia – once you are in you essentially have two choices – either, number one, you stay in or, number two, you risk death. But Davis was dying anyway so he began to challenge The Wheels' actions and beliefs. This caused quite a bit of upheaval amongst the other leaders. And also between Devon and his brother, Aaron, who was a lower ranking member of the Wheel. The two became increasingly at odds with one another. Devon wrote that his brother saw his desire to leave as betrayal. Devon saw it as seeking a sliver of redemption before his death."

"Betrayal. Sounds like a good motive for murder if you ask me."

"Add to that greed. Aaron Davis was to inherit his brother's place as a leader in the Hub if Devon did not survive his illness. But only if Devon remained loyal to the organization until his death. Otherwise Aaron would be passed over."

"So maybe Devon was dying but not as fast as his loyalty to The Wheel was. And Aaron figured he would take action to ensure he got promoted. Make Devon's death come before he completely turned his back on the organization," Vance theorized.

"Perhaps it is as you said Director. Truth is stranger than fiction."

"It might be stranger but I'll take the truth any day. I am going to dig up as much of it as I can about Aaron Davis. He's a new player. We knew Devon had a brother but we could never confirm his status as a Wheel member. Now he might be one of its leaders. The leaders are the key to their downfall mark my words."

"And I shall delve back into the secrets a dying man felt the need to ink onto these pages. Hopefully there is more ammunition to use to take these bastards down."

"Amen to that Doctor Mallard. Amen to that!"

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

Leroy Jethro Gibbs watched William Tucker Greene. The other man sat on the edge of the desk by the door. A few moments earlier he had pulled a thin length of rope from his pants pocket and had begun twirling it around his hand. When he had come to the end of the rope he unraveled it and started over.

Normally Gibbs might have thought it was some kind of nervous habit but Greene did not have that vibe coming off of him. He was relaxed in his body language and he had an air of nonchalance to him. The guy mind as well have been waiting at a bus stop and not here in the room with two federal agents he was holding captive. And the heavy silence in the room did not seem to faze him at all.

While Greene had his gaze focused down on the rope in his hands Gibbs stole a glance over at Tony. The younger man had his head rested back on the edge of the bed and his eyes were closed. Gibbs recognized the strain in Tony's facial features. He was having to work at keeping the physical pain he was in from showing in his expression. He was not able to hide the tremble of his body however as he shivered every so often.

Tony had mentioned falling in a stream. It explained the slight dampness Gibbs had felt to his clothing when he had placed a hand on the other man's shoulder earlier. Remembering what Tony had said he had gone through Gibbs shifted his gaze. Greene just about noosed me earlier had been his words. The dim lighting of the room and the younger man's position had not afforded Gibbs a clear view before. But now that he was looking for it he could see the ugly red line that marked the skin of Tony's neck.

Rage spiked in him. He was going to end Greene if he had to do it with his bare hands.

The sound of a knock on the door jerked Gibbs' attention away from his agent. He could feel Tony shift beside him so it had gained his attention as well.

"Enter!" Greene instructed. The door opened and the younger of Greene's men from earlier entered. He was trailed closely by St. Clair who Gibbs noted carried a backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Ah Danny! Good to see that Sutton was able to find you so quickly. Now we can be on with it," Greene declared. Standing up he tucked the rope back in his pocket and crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's time for Agent Gibbs' new accommodations. You have your instructions," he continued.

To this both men moved over to where Gibbs was seated on the floor. St. Clair held on to Gibbs while Sutton removed the handcuff from around the bed post. Once that was undone St. Clair hauled Gibbs to his feet and secured his hands together behind his back with handcuffs. Then he also applied zip ties in addition.

Gibbs could have attempted to fight in the brief moment while his good arm had not been restrained to anything except St. Clair's hold but the situation did not bode well for an outcome in his favor. So for now he tamped down on the urge to resist.

Gibbs sensed Greene's gaze on him so he sent a glare the man's way. It did not last long though since Sutton retrieved a cloth from his pocket and tied it around Gibbs head to cover his eyes. Gibbs swore silently at the blindfold. Not because it made any difference to his ability to fight but because he had planned on sending one more look Tony's way before they were separated. And now that was not possible.

He wondered if Greene had caught on to their silent communication and hence the blindfold. The only other reason for it would be so that he could not see where he was going and what they passed along the way.

St. Clair placed a hand on his upper arm and clamped the other down on his shoulder. Gibbs could sense that the younger henchman, Sutton, was positioned off to his right.

"Walk!" St. Clair instructed him. When Gibbs didn't react quickly enough for him the cop gave him a shove of encouragement. His delay had not been out of resistance but instead Gibbs had been trying to find something to verbally offer Tony. However, everything he came up with would have benefited not just Tony but would have provided confirmation to Greene of the depth of their connection to one another.

"Move or I will move you!" St. Clair snapped. Still trying to grasp onto to something to tell Tony he waited too long and St. Clair moved him forward by force. They passed through the doorway before Gibbs found any words for Tony. As they headed down the narrow corridor Gibbs could hear Tony's voice pipe up back in the cabin.

"What part of I could care less about him do you not get Greene? This little show of hauling him off isn't going to change my mind. I am not telling you a damn thing. You can just go to hell!"

Gibbs smiled faintly. DiNozzo had been battered but there was fight left in him yet.

St. Clair guided him along the corridor. Sutton was with them and while back in the cabin room Gibbs had seen that the kid still had the Ruger he had shown earlier. And St. Clair was certainly armed. That combined with what it might mean for Tony if he tried anything kept him compliant – for now anyway. Instead he tried to memorize their path, counting steps and turns along the way.

They rounded a corner and paused for a moment.

"Stairs," St. Clair offered in warning. The detective maintained a good grip and balanced him as they descended the steep narrow staircase. They moved down another narrow corridor briefly and then stopped.

"Home sweet home!" Sutton announced and let out a laugh.

Gibbs heard the sound of a handle being turned and a door opening. A cold blast of air struck him as St. Clair nudged him forward through the doorway. The floor was harder and rougher under his feet on the other side of the threshold. Their footsteps sounded differently now – the sound resonated more here instead of being absorbed. As he was noting all of these details the cop had continued to guide him forward. When St. Clair jerked him to a halt Gibbs could sense they were standing close in front of a wall.

"Turn around then sit down," the detective told him. In doing so Gibbs found that he had been right they were near a wall. When he finished turning he could feel the cold radiating off it onto his back. He leaned back and used its support to slide down to sit on the floor which he discovered was equally as cold.

All of this following instruction was really pissing him off but he had to contain it for Tony's sake. They were only going to get one shot at escape so they had to be smart about it. They couldn't afford for their emotions to drive them straight into making mistakes.

Once Gibbs was seated Sutton ripped the blindfold off his head. Gibbs blinked encouraging his vision to adapt to the change. The room they were in was even more dimly lit than the cabin above had been. There was a single light fixture with a single bulb lit up inside it. The only other light came from the door being left ajar allowing a bright glow in from the hallway.

The room itself was small and completely empty. A storage area Gibbs guessed.

"You move and I shoot you. Again," Sutton told him apparently noticing Gibbs looking about the room. The kid had the Ruger trained at his head. Gibbs was beginning to think St. Clair had been right when he said Sutton was one hundred percent action and zero percent thought. The kid was practically itching to pull the trigger. Gibbs was tempted to comment on how maybe because Sutton was closer this time he might actually get it right but decided not to press his luck.

Instead he watched St. Clair who had unzipped his backpack and retrieved a case of some kind from inside. Setting down the pack the detective opened the case and removed a plastic pill bottle. He put the case back in the pack then took one of the pills out and replaced the lid. He held his hand out palm up so that Gibbs could see the tablet there and then spoke.

"Hate to sound like a bad movie but we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"Not gonna happen."

"They're antibiotics for your shoulder wound. You mind as well take the pill because you're getting them one way or the other."

"Why would you take me prisoner. Stick me down here. Then give me antibiotics."

"It's wasn't my idea. It was Greene's. He has a convoluted idea that if you get an infection and fever you won't be able to appreciate your accommodations."

"Appreciate my accommodations? You can tell Greene he can stick his accommodations and his antibiotics. Better yet he can come down here and I'll tell him myself."

Before the detective could even reply Sutton snatched the pill from his hand then practically dove at Gibbs. The kid grabbed his head in a hold with one arm and with the other he tried to force Gibbs to open his mouth so he could shove the pill in. But Sutton was using force over technique so he made little headway. The detective broke it up by shoving Sutton off Gibbs with a push of the boot to the chest. It was forceful enough that the kid landed on his butt on the floor beside Gibbs.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" St. Clair snapped at Sutton. He then moved to pick up the pill from where it landed on the floor. When St. Clair had shoved Sutton off and the kid landed next to him Gibbs had caught a glimpse of something in his back pocket.

Now while both of the other men were distracted and Sutton was still seated next to him Gibbs stole another glance. Sutton had several items stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans. One of which was a mini pen flashlight. Gibbs glanced up. St. Clair was still occupied and just then Sutton spoke up directing his anger at the detective.

"He wasn't go to take them so I made him. He can't tell us what he will or won't do. We're the ones in charge. Not him!"

It was that moment or never. Even though his hands were bound he was close enough to Sutton that with a little awkward twisting of the arms he was able to swiftly slip the flashlight out from Sutton's back pocket. He quickly tucked it into the back of his waistband and covered it with his shirt.

Sutton was busy glaring at St. Clair and he did not so much as flinch. The detective hadn't noticed either because when he spoke it was directed at Sutton.

"Cool the hell off!" he told the kid.

"Greene gives the orders. Not you."

"Try me kid and I will put you down so fast you won't even see it coming."

"Fuck you St. Clair!" Sutton growled and got to his feet.

Gibbs was glad he got the flashlight when he did because it likely was his only opportunity. And it was worth its weight in gold. The wire spring in the battery compartment would likely work just fine at picking the handcuffs. And he could simply cut through the zip ties.

"If you stopped to think for five seconds you would realize I said I had another way to do this if he refused to take it," St. Clair informed the younger man. He reached down and grabbed the case out of the backpack and opened it back up. He showed its contents to the other man.

"We just need to restrain him first. For gods sakes use your head for once."

"Whatever!" Sutton tossed back at him then reached into the pack himself and pulled out lengths of rope and chain.

Both men set about restraining Gibbs. St. Clair secured his bound hands to a pipe that ran up the wall behind him. Sutton bound his ankles together.

When they were done St. Clair grabbed Gibbs' arm and pushed his shirt sleeve up past his elbow. Opening the case from his backpack he took out a rubber tourniquet and tied it around his arm. Once that was in place he took out a glass bottle and a syringe. After quickly administering the shot he looked Gibbs in the eye and spoke.

"Next time just take the damn pill," he stated.

"You be sure to pass along my message to Greene now," Gibbs replied calmly.

St. Clair didn't reply. He just gathered up his backpack and followed Sutton out through the doorway. The detective closed the door behind him taking the glow of light from the hall away. A mere beat later the bulb inside the room went out as well obviously shut off with a switch located outside the room.

Now surrounded by darkness Gibbs shifted his hands behind him and stretched his fingertips to brush them over the back of his waistband. He could feel the outline of the flashlight he had tucked away there. He prayed that Sutton would not notice its absence - at least not anytime soon.

His fingertips also skimmed over the leather of his belt. His knife was still safely hidden away there. When the time came he would pick the handcuffs with the wire from the flashlight and remove them. Once that was done he would work his belt around to the back and retrieve the knife. And use it to cut the zip ties. With his hands freed he could have the restraints on his ankles undone in a matter of seconds.

All that was left to do was to bide his time for the rest of the plan to take hold.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

Tony leaned his head back to the sky and opened his mouth. He let the raindrops hit his tongue and roll down his parched throat. It felt like heaven to him.

When Greene's henchmen had returned from hauling Gibbs off to god only knew where Greene had declared that Tony needed to get cleaned up a little. But, of course, he had not meant a nice hot shower and change of clothes. Instead he had Sutton and St. Clair drag him up on deck and secure him to a railing there. Which was where he sat now out in the open as it rained. On the plus side he was getting a much appreciated drink. On the downside he was soaking wet and cold.

Tony stopped with his raindrop catching long enough to look over at his guard. St. Clair now dressed in yellow rain gear stood a few feet away under where the roof overhung the deck. He didn't look particularly happy but he didn't look cold or wet either. Mostly Tony saw exhaustion. He knew the feeling.

Stealing one more raindrop drink from the sky he decided this might be the best opportunity he may get to work on St. Clair. It was unlikely there were microphones on the deck and even if there were the rain would help mask their voices. Also who knew how long they would be alone together. Sutton could take over for St. Clair at any minute.

Tony thought for a moment about whether to start in gentle or dive right in. Gibbs seemed insistent that gentle wouldn't do anything so might as well go for broke.

"Ya know I used to be a detective like you, St. Clair," Tony offered. His voice was calm and quiet.

"Old news DiNozzo. How about we don't talk? Because that would work just grand for me," St. Clair grumbled and looked away for a moment to gaze out over the water.

"Not talking. Not my best event."

To this the detective looked back towards Tony. His expression had changed. Tony recognized the growing annoyance in his facial features even before the man spoke up.

"This the part where you try to identify with me? The part where you try to convince me I don't have to do this? It ain't gonna work so save your breath and me the headache."

"No. It's not. Because ya see when I was a detective it was my partner who was dirty not me. So no I'm not trying to identify with you."

St. Clair looked out at the water again then responded.

"How about you shut up."

"You got a partner, right, St. Clair? He dirty too?" Tony asked and braced for the backlash. It grabbed the other man's attention for sure. St. Clair fixed him with a hard look and his posture stiffened considerably.

"You shut the fuck up. You don't know nothin' about my partner. So don't you talk about him."

"A bit of a sore spot is it. He doesn't know does he?" Tony stated pushing on.

"Shut your mouth."

"Ever wonder what he thinks about dirty cops. He ever mention anything about it without realizing who he was talking to?"

"You need to stop talking before I decide to do it for you."

"Ever wonder how he would react if he knew about you? Partners find that kind of stuff out eventually – working day in day out together. It may not be today. May not be tomorrow. But he'll find out St. Clair. It gonna come from you or somebody else? Cuz let me tell you it really sucks when you find out from somebody else. That he couldn't even man up to you. Then there's that whole I was protecting you, partner, by not telling you line that comes tumbling out. What a load of bull crap!"

"I am not gonna say it again. Shut the hell up or I will shut you up."

"My partner and I – well - I thought we had an understanding. That we were straight with one another. That we were on the same page. Come to find out the money meant more. It brings a whole new meaning to the word partnership – sort of turns the meaning into I'm straight up with you, I'm you partner, I've got your back - oh unless of course - somebody pays me enough to put something else first. You find out your partner was working out of a whole different play book. Makes you question everything – every word he said to you – every move he made when he was supposed to be having your back."

"You don't know what the fuck you are talking about. I didn't do it for money. I did it for my brother. To save him from the hell he was going through. You don't know me. You don't know a fucking thing about me. And you sure as hell don't know my partner. So not another word! Or I will break your effing jaw and you won't be able to talk at all anymore."

"Hurts doesn't it? Thinking about what the look on your partner's face will be when he finds out – the disappointment – the disgust – the injury of betrayal. Funny my partner's name was Danny too. And he saw every single one of those things on my face when I found out about him."

Before the last word had even exited Tony's mouth St. Clair had moved the distance between them. He jabbed the barrel of his Glock into Tony's chest then looked down at him straight in the eye.

"Screw you DiNozzo!" he spat out. Tony did not react physically. Instead he pressed on and hoped what he was about to say flipped that switch Gibbs had been talking about. He kept his voice strong and calm when spoke.

"You're not mad at me St. Clair. You're mad at yourself because you know what I'm saying is true. You have the chance here make a choice that your partner would be proud of. Give him something to work with to try and save your friendship when he finds out. Because if you don't he will walk away just like I walked away from my partner. If he had just given me a sliver of something to work with maybe things would have worked out differently. Don't let him down like my partner let me down."

St. Clair did not hesitate in his response. Tony didn't even have time to duck his head before the detective had raised the gun from his chest and clocked Tony across the head with it. Dazed he slumped back against the side of the boat. Tony blinked his eyes trying to get the world to come back into focus. Instead his eyelids only got heavier to open each time. And he could feel himself floating away from consciousness despite his fight against it.

It did not take long before the battle was lost and unconsciousness pulled him all the way under.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

Abby slipped her headset on and then picked up her remote. She hit the button on the control to pause the music which had filled the air of her lab. Once it was quiet she dropped the remote back on the table. Then hit the button on her desk phone to open a line. Hitting the speed dial button for Tim she listened to it ring once then twice.

"Pick up. Pick up. Please pick up," she begged in a whispered voice as the third ring arrived. On the fourth ring her pleas were answered.

"Hey Abby! Anything?" he greeted her. He sounded tired but hopeful.

"You doubt me McGee."

"Wait. What? No. I didn't say that."

"You asked if I had anything. That implies that you thought there was a chance I hadn't found anything."

"I didn't mean it like that. You know that. So you've got something?"

"You bet your bottom dollar mister. Huge huge ginormous news."

"Please tell me you are not messing with me Abby. It might send me over the edge if you were."

"I am one hundred percent on the up and up."

"Lay it on me. I don't think anything at his point will surprise me."

"Two things. First thing. I think I found Detective St. Clair's truck."

"Where?"

"Parked in a lot down at East End Marina. At least I am ninety nine percent sure it's his."

"What's the other one percent?"

"I could only make out half of the license plate on the camera footage. The other half was obscured by a fence in the way. But the odds it's not his are very very small. Everything else matches."

"That's really helpful Abby. We'll head there next. Did the footage show him at all."

"I could only access the most recent couple hours. They must do something with everything before that. Erase it or store it somewhere else. I couldn't locate anything older."

"I have a feeling they may have had a little encouragement to get rid of it."

"Yeah that's what I was thinking too. Bummer."

"Get anything on our print from the ID yet?"

"I did. But I had to run it a few times," Abby answered.

"Did it not come through well enough in the photo? I was worried about that," Tim said with disappointment layered in his voice.

"Nope. It was an excellent print."

"I don't get it. Then why did you have to run it more than once?" he asked.

"Because of who it belongs to McGee."

"Who is it Abby?" Tim inquired. The disappointment gone from his voice and replaced with something stronger.

"None other than FBI Agent Tobias C. Fornell!"

"What? You're kidding me?"

"The match was right McGee. Ran it three times and then checked it manually," Abby explained confidence brimming in her tone. When Tim replied his tone carried a harsher determined tone.

"I think it's time I had a little chat with Tobias C. Fornell and he'd better have some damn good answers," he stated.

"You go get him McGee!"

To Be Continued...

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Author's Note: The case Tony and Gibbs spoke about involving Turtle was made up. It was never a case shown on screen. Just on the chance anyone was thinking they couldn't recall that one when the other ones mentioned were actually canon.

You guys don't seem to mind the long chapters so I posted this all as one. By all means if you want them broken up voice your opinion and I will certainly take it into consideration for future chapters.