Chapter Three
Tony had arrived at the J Edgar Hoover Building to meet with Fornell at eight in the morning. The powers of an NCIS agent were mainly limited to Navy personnel. They could investigate and apprehend Navy personnel but civilians were outside of their jurisdiction unless it involved a Navy matter. They could assistant with civilian investigation in a support role. Both Fornell and Tony agreed that this was to limiting for his role in the Task Force, so after having his picture taken, fingerprinted, and interviewed by a psychologist, Fornell presented him with the paperwork to sign to temporarily transfer him to the FBI.
He sat at Fornell's desk and signed the paperwork and all the supporting copies. Once he was done Fornell held out a lockable sack and Tony placed his NCIS badge, ID, and service weapon in the bag. Fornell zipped it up and locked it then he handed it and the key to Tony.
"Give that to Director Shepard," he said.
"Yeah," he replied.
Next Fornell handed him an FBI badge, ID, and Glock 22.
".40 caliber and fifteen rounds in the clip," Fornell said. "I think you can handle it."
Tony checked the sidearm and then holstered it and attached it to his belt. He then clipped the badge to his belt and put the new ID in his pant pocket.
"You are now temporarily FBI," he said.
"I feel strange," Tony said.
"More powerful, more authority?" asked Fornell.
"No, suddenly, I feel the urge to wear bad suits and matching sunglasses," he said.
"Very funny, DiNozzo," Fornell said.
Tony checked his watch.
"It's eleven. Jenny must have told them by now. I'm almost afraid to go back to NCIS," Tony said.
"Now you know how I feel," smiled Fornell.
"So, it's an FBI thing," chuckled Tony. "Does Sacks know that I'm FBI and co-lead of this Task Force?"
"Not yet," Fornell smirked, "I thought you might like to tell him."
"No, you can do it. Just take pictures," said Tony, who ten stood up. "I might as well get this over with."
"Good luck," offered Fornell.
NCIS
The meeting with Director Shepard didn't go well. When she explained that the MCRT was out of the Task Force, except for Tony, and that he had replaced them with Cassie Yates, Agent Goode, and Agent Moynihan, Gibbs went ballistic and Ziva went deadly quiet. Now the angry grizzly bear sat glaring at Tony's empty desk, while the assassin also sat glaring at Tony's empty desk.
McGee didn't know whether to worry about Tony's life or enjoy the bloodshed when it happened. He was kind of looking forward to going to New York and was completely thrown for a loop when he found out Tony had them removed from the Task Force. It just didn't make sense. He knew Tony trusted Ziva with his life and trusted Gibbs more than anyone else in the world.
The ding announced the elevator and two heads snapped their attention in the direction of elevator. McGee thought he saw laser beams coming out of Gibbs' eyes and steam wafted off of Ziva's head.
"DiNozzo," growled Gibbs, as Tony in a black Armani suit and Burberry raincoat entered the bullpen.
Tony looked over at Ziva and felt his life was in danger. He walked over to his desk and put his locked bag on his desk. Before he could speak in defense of himself Ziva spoke up: "Your explanation better be good enough to save your life because I am in the mood to hurt someone."
"Okay, listen. I told you I'd fix everything and this is my solution. I decided this was far too dangerous to involve my team, my family," he started to explain.
"So, it is okay to put Cassie Yates, Agent Goode, and Agent Moynihan in danger but not us," seethed Ziva.
"I can control them. I can't control you guys," he said. "They are going to remain NCIS agents on the Task Force and take only a support and investigative role. You guys would have stuck your neck out to protect me and I can't have that."
"What do you mean that they are remaining NCIS agents? What did you do, Tony?" growled Gibbs.
"Um, boss, I, um, I've temporarily transferred to the FBI so that I can co-lead the Task Force with Fornell," he said.
Gibbs stood up. Tony thought it actually hurt to look into his grey blue ice cold eyes.
"My office now!" he ordered then strode out of the bullpen.
Ziva smiled knowing that he was going to get his ass kicked. Tony looked at her and sighed then followed Gibbs into the elevator. All agents stayed away as Gibbs slapped the button for the doors to close then slapped the emergency stop button. He took a few moments to gain control of his temper then spoke: "Do you know what you are doing, DiNozzo?"
"Yes, boss, I do," he said.
"Explain it to me," he ordered.
"I am going to New York on a Task Force that will more than likely put me in direction conflict with my family. This means I'll be putting my life in danger," he said.
Gibbs exhaled and relaxed the muscles in his shoulders: "Don't you trust us? Don't you trust me?"
"With my life, boss," he said.
"How can I believe that based on your actions?" he asked.
"It means that I value your lives, Gibbs, more than you realize. I refuse to be the cause of injury to either you or Ziva or Probie," he said.
Gibbs heard the sincerity in his voice and knew there was no way of changing his mind.
"Tony, you should trust us to do the right thing," he said.
"I do. But I don't trust my family, especially my father. If he knew how I felt about you or how I felt about Z…," he paused not wanting to admit any more. "My father exploits emotions and weaknesses. Love is a weakness to him."
"So, you take it upon yourself to protect us," he said.
"Yes. It's what you taught me to do," Tony said.
"Damn it, Tony, you better not get yourself killed or I won't be able to hold Ziva back from taking out the whole Genovese Family," he said then turned off the emergency stop, "because I'll be too busy helping her."
"I'll be careful, boss," he said trying to hide a smile.
They stepped off the elevator and started to walk back to the bullpen when suddenly Gibbs wheeled around and got in his face. In a low, even voice he said: "If you need us, you call me. If you even think you need us, you call me. I'll be there as soon as I can. Understood?"
"Yes, boss," he said.
Gibbs then turned and went into the bullpen went to his desk and grabbed his coat. He needed fresh air. His senior field agent was walking into a danger zone for him, but he wasn't taking his team. Gibbs wasn't happy.
"I'm getting a coffee," he said.
He then left leaving Ziva and McGee staring at Tony.
"I think I'll go down and talk to Abby. She needs my help with something or other," said McGee.
He got up and left leaving Tony with Ziva.
"Did Gibbs accept your reason for your actions?" she asked.
"In his way," he said. "He knows I did this to protect the people I love."
Ziva looked at him and her eyes seemed to melt a little.
"What about the man I love, who protects him?" she asked.
"Fornell, the FBI, God," he said.
"When do you leave?" she asked.
"Tomorrow," he answered.
"We will talk tonight then," she said then got up. "I need tea."
Ziva walked out of the bullpen leaving Tony alone.
"Yeah, that went well," he sighed.
NCIS
Tony stood in front of the open closet door and reviewed his suits and shirts and shoes decided which to take with him. He had to admit he'd spent a lot of money on his wardrobe. Made men with style in the mafia like to do something called wearing it. This meant showing off one's status by dressing the part, which meant an Italian suit, pinky ring. Pocket square, expensive watch, silk socks, and gold cufflink. Tony had his own way of wearing it and he enjoyed it.
"Aren't you packed yet?" Ziva asked from the bedroom door scaring Tony to the point he almost drew his sidearm.
"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," Tony said.
"If I didn't love you I would do worse to you than scare you tonight," Ziva said. "You are wrong to have done that to us. We are a team and should go to New York as a team."
"Still angry, huh?" he remarked then went back picking his clothes.
She walked over to him, grabbed his right arm and forced him to face her. Tony didn't want to fight. For a few moments they stared into each other's eyes. He saw angry and desire, which suited him fine. Maybe he could exploit her desire for him. Instead of talking he grabbed her face and devoured her mouth. Her reaction to this was to hip toss him onto the floor.
"If you get yourself injured, Tony DiNozzo, I will never forgive you," she growled then she offered him her right hand to help him up.
Tony put his hands letting her know he gave up then rolled onto his side and got up without her help.
"Okay, ninja, I give up. You and Gibbs are mad at me. I've made a mistake. I got it. I fucked up," he exhaled. "I'm still glad you're not coming with me. You said it yourself: you learned about terrorists not the mafia. Well, we are going to be dealing with the mafia and I don't really think you know just how serious and dangerous they are."
"I am not afraid of them," she said.
"Again that makes me glad you aren't coming. You should be afraid of them, Ziva. Damn it, I'm afraid of them and I'm supposed to be their fucking blood family," he said letting more emotion out than he wanted to.
"I should be there with you, Tony," Ziva said.
"Ziva, if my father knew how much I loved you, he'd use you against me," he said. "Now I know that you know how that feels."
She remembered the photos Officer Bashan showed of Tony and her when she was framed for murder. There was an implied threat against Tony in those photos. Deputy Director David of the Mossad loved subtle threats. The implied threat and Gibbs coming back led her to back away from Tony until they just started renewing their relationship. She understood what he was talking about.
"I don't want him using you against me, Zi," he said.
"If you are gone longer than three weeks then I expect to be allowed to visit or two," she said.
"Really? A romantic weekend in New York with me?" he smiled.
"A weekend, yes. The romantic part is up to you," she said.
"I think I can do that," he said.
"Good," she said then gave him a kiss on his cheek. "Now it is time for you to pack."
"I have to pack some suits," Tony said.
"Showing off?" asked Ziva.
"Out styling the mafia is important, Zi," he said.
Ziva smirked. He noticed.
"Okay, make your comment," he said.
"No," she purred.
"You were going to make fun of my suits. You know you want to," said Tony.
"No," she said again.
"I know you, Zi. You don't understand the intimidation factor a well cut, expensive suit," he said.
"I was just thinking that I prefer you without a suit on," she smiled slyly then glanced at the bed.
"Are you trying to seduce, Mrs. Robinson?" Tony quoted from The Graduate.
"Yes," she smiled.
"You had me at hello," he quoted Jerry Maguire then took her in his arms, picked her up, and dropped her on his bed.
He dropped down on the bed beside her and started kissed her.
"Are you going to miss me?" she asked.
"I haven't even left yet and I miss you, Zi. I love you," he moaned as he nibbled on her neck.
"Less talk more action," she mumbled.
NCIS
After a corned beef and tongue sandwich Franco Moretti exited the New York Deli on 57th Street at four in the morning. Adjusting his overcoat he stood outside of the deli with Rocco and Hank, his two bodyguards and greeted a navy blue sky which was slowly turning a lighter blue.
"Notaro is a cafone," said Moretti. "He is a dead man. All we have to do is find him and bury him."
"Some say he is workin' for Tommy Scalia," said Rocco.
"Scalia is an empty suit, a real pucchiacha," Moretti snorted.
"If Notaro sent the button men after DiNutso on his orders of Scalia and off the record then he ain't no empty suit but he is a dead man," said Rocco.
"Where's the fucking limo?" asked Moretti.
"Don't know, boss. He's supposed to be here," said Hank.
"He probably went and got a hummer from a street walker while we ate," said Rocco.
"He's fucking fired if I don't see his ass and my limo soon," said Moretti.
A black Lincoln Town Car Limo with tinted windows slowly made its way down 57th Street. The limo stopped and a man in a black suit and a FN P90 compact assault rifle got out.
"Oh, fuck," said Rocco, who knew exactly what was to happen next.
The magazine of the FN P90 holds fifty rounds. At least forty of those founds ended up in Rocco, Hank and Moretti. The driver got back in his limo after smiling at a CCTV camera and drove away leaving the three men to bleed on the cold sidewalk. By the afternoon he'd be on his way to Rome and from to Sicily. A year or two away from New York then he'd be able to return without a problem. It was a small price to pay for the money he was paid and the offers he'd received when he returned.
NCIS
Tony, Fornell, along with Angela Man, Sal Stabile, and Patrick Mullen landed at LaGuardia Airport. The rest of the Task Force was taking a later plane. After whisking through TSA with the use of their badges and ID they collected their luggage and rented two SUVs to drive into Manhattan and their hotel.
When they arrived on 23rd Street and stopped in front of the red brick and wrought iron balcony façade of the Chelsea Hotel, Tony smiled at the thought of federal agents staying at such a bohemian hotel. This was the hotel of beatniks, punk rockers, actors, Warhol factory hangers on, and literati. Five federal agents staying there was like hiding costume jewelry among diamonds. It made him smile.
Fornell checked them in and handed out keys with Mullen and Stabile sharing a room and Fornell, Angela Manetti and Tony getting their own room. Entering the room Tony immediately walked to the French door that opened onto the balcony and threw them open letting brisk air into the room. With the doors open he could hear the cacophony of noises which made up NYC. From cars, car horns, yelling, singing, song, clatter, and the cries of humanity, it all sort of bundled up into one long, almost nonstop city soundtrack.
With the soundtrack of New York to entertain him, he started to put away his suits and clothes. Once that was done, he started to get dressed for the evening. Fornell and his people wanted to keep a somewhat low profile, especially with their meeting with the NYPD Organized Crime Task Force in the morning, but Tony wanted to announce he was there.
He chose a Ermenegildo Zegna no stripe two button wool black suit with a light blue custom made shirt, a grey silk tie, grey silk pocket square, gold and onyx cufflinks, and an Emporio Armani stainless steel bracelet watch. For shoes he chose a pair of Berluti in black along with his Burberry raincoat. There was a knock at his door. He opened to see Fornell standing there.
"Where are you going?" asked Fornell.
"It's Monday. Sonny Faso, a caporegime of the Genovese Family, has a standing table at Rao's. I'm crashing dinner," said Tony.
Fornell smiled: "This is why I wanted you for this."
"I know," said Tony.
"I want Pat Mullen to go with you. He's a tough son-of-a-bitch and he knows the terrain like you," Fornell said.
"How tough?" asked Tony.
"Golden Gloves champ, expert shot with a sidearm, and a fucking Celtic crazy bastard, who is loyal if he likes you," Fornell said.
Tony nodded yes. Fornell turned and yell: "Mullen!"
Two doors down the door opened and out stepped Mullen in a black Armani suit, white shirt, blue silk tie, and his ginger hair combed back and kept in place with mousse. Tony had to admit he looked like a successful Irish hood.
Mullen walked up to Tony and shook his hands. He was two inches shorter than Tony at six foot, but where Tony's body was athletic and lean with a need for a little exercise, while Mullen was hard as a rock and chipped from marble.
"I heard about you. Good to meet you," he said.
"Grab your overcoat. You and I are going to Rao's. Now I know I'll get a meal but I don't think they'll let you sit at the table," Tony said.
"Mick haters. I understand. Every WOP I ever met in Boston was a Mick hater once they found out who my father was. I'll sit at the bar and prove to them the stereotype is a reality," he smiled.
"We'll grab a cab," said Tony and then slap him on the back.
Rao's was on 114 Street and Pleasant Avenue. It first opened in 1896 and has been the spot for certain types of people ever since. It was an unassuming and smallish place with only ten tables and only one serving for the evening. The cab left them all in front of Rao's.
Getting out of the cab Tony took off his Burberry raincoat then fixed his suit. Mullen watched.
"I feel like you are my date the way you primp," said Mullen.
"I have the feeling Fornell is going to partner us up a lot so get used to it," said Tony.
"Two mobsters sons who are federal agents, it makes sense to me. We are either the dirtiest feds in the US or the cleanest feds in history," he smiled.
"I like to get donuts for free and weasel out of parking tickets," said Tony.
"Not paying for tickets isn't dirty, it a perk of the job," Mullen said.
"Well, show time," Tony smiled.
The entered Rao's and were first struck by the mouthwatering smells emanating from the kitchen followed by the low to medium hum of conversation. The maître d' gave them a quick perusal and then smiled. They had passed some test that they were unaware of.
"Gentlemen, I know you don't have a table for the night, but you can have drinks at our bar," he said.
"Non ti preoccupare," said Tony.
"Davvero!" said the maître d'.
"Si," smiled Tony.
Then Tony walked over to where he saw Sonny Faso sitting there with four of his men. Tony walked over to the table and stopped and stared. It took a moment for Sonny to look up and recognize him.
"Fuck me," Sonny said.
"You're not my type, Sonny," he said.
"Boys, this is Anthony DiNutso, Junior," Sonny said.
"Ain't he some kind of cop?" said one of Sonny's crew.
"The four of you, get up and go to McDonald's. Tonight I eat with a childhood friend and," Sonny looked at Mullen, "his Mick fed associate."
Without argument the men got up and left. Tony and Mullen sat down.
"Wine, scotch, whiskey, vodka, whatever you want, the night is on me," said Sonny.
"Whatever you're having," said Tony.
There was fresh bread in the middle of the table and small little dishes. Tony took the bottle of olive oil that sat on the table and poured some it into the small dish then took small of the bread and dunked it into the olive oil and ate it.
"Same," Mullen finally answered after watching Tony. "Is that good?"
"Bene," smiled Tony.
Mullen ripped some bread and dunked it in Tony's small dish of olive oil. He sampled.
"That is delicious. Best olive oil I ever tasted," said Mullen.
Sonny waved over the waiter: "Three Crown Royals on the rocks. Also, I'll give you our order now. We'll have the baked clams oreganate followed by the fish alla puttanesaca and whatever pasta you think goes best with that."
"Yes, sir," the waiter said and hurried off.
"So, Tony, are you oobatz coming back to New York unannounced?" Sonny said. "What are you thinking, or are you thinking?"
"Franco got whacked," Tony said.
"Yeah, good for the Gambino Family. Maybe they'll end up with a real capo this time," said Sonny.
"Off or on the record?" asked Tony.
"The hit was neither sanctioned or done by us. We afraid this fucking wild card named Tommy Scalia is behind the hit. He's making some kind of move, but it ain't going to go well for him," said Sonny. "Though, I have to admit that he has some talent working for him."
"Maybe we'll end up taking care of him for you," said Tony.
"Come to stir things up, huh?" said Sonny
"I always said I'd never come back` unless I had a reason," said Tony. "I have a reason now."
"Franco gets whacked and Vincent and your father almost get whacked and now you are here. I'm not stupid. You should leave," said Sonny.
Their drinks and clams arrived. Sonny motioned them to eat as he grabbed a couple of clams.
"So Irish, what do you have to say?" asked Sonny.
"Good clams," answered Mullen.
"You a tough guy?" asked Sonny.
"We'll see about that," said Mullen.
"I like the answer," smiled Sonny then he looked at Tony. "Keep him close. You better have someone protecting your back at all times. I hate to admit but we have more back shooters these days."
"And I have a lovely back?" smiled Tony.
"Sorry, Anthony," he said.
"You telling me, Sonny, that I can't trust my own family," smiled Tony.
"We both know your father hates you. Fatti gli affari tuoi," said Sonny.
"This is my business, Sonny," said Tony.
Mullen finished his calms: "Where the fuck is the main course because I'm hungry?"
Sonny looked at Mullen like he wants to smack.
"I can read you mind," smiled Mullen. "You may be some mooks caporegime, but you're not mine, you dry shite."
Sonny looked at Mullen closely: "What's your name?"
"Patrick Mullen," he answered.
"There was a tough Irish mobster by the name of Paddy Mullen, do you know him?" he asked.
"My father," smiled Mullen.
Sonny looked at Tony then back at Mullen and chuckled: "The sons of mobsters as feds and now you are partners. That's fucking rich. Some jamook is going to get a two for one deal and put bullets in the back of your skulks."
"Sounds Italian – the back of my skull," said Mullen. "Tell them I want mine in my forehead. I want to see it coming."
"Your father is smooth and cold as ice, Anthony, and yours I heard was as tough as steel, Mullen. Too bad you two decided to play it straight in life," Sonny said.
"Listen, Sonny: Col tempo la foglia di gelso diventa seta," smiled Tony.
"Irish here, don't speak Italian," said Mullen.
"Time and patience turn the mulberry leaf to satin," said Tony.
"What the fuck does that mean?" asked Mullen.
"It means, Anthony, has no intention of backing down," said Sonny.