Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed/messaged me about the story so far.
There is some description about a brain tumour in this one; I know most people have some experience with cancer and that it can be a sensitive topic, so I'm sorry if the chapter upsets anyone. Brain tumours differ greatly in different cases, depending on where on/in the brain they are and what areas they affect. I'm not a doctor so lack any real medical knowledge; my basic knowledge is garnered from a family member who has a tumour that is inoperable but thankfully treatable.
NCIS first aired in 2003 so I'm setting Tony's arrival at NCIS as being after the invasion of Afghanistan but before the war in Iraq. Not sure how accurate those dates would be in canon but that is what I'm going to guess at.
This one is a bit description heavy. There's no drama in this chapter; it is all about explaining the crime and the people behind it…their motives and means and setting up for the next chapter when they will go after the big guns.
On with the story…
Gibbs and Tony had made it into the Navy Yard before the sun was truly up in an effort to pool all their information together and work on a plan of attack against Aikers and the criminal network that seemed to be spreading its tendrils throughout Norfolk Naval Station.
The Quartermaster, Allen Bradford, was an old friend of Henson, both having grown up together, first through school and then through basic training for the USMC. They had both done their tours of duty with the same battalion, but they had never served within the same unit; the two agents were convinced that the Marines' involvement with the guns must have started on base.
"I think we have a motive," Gibbs said, scrubbing at his eyes. He may have ordered an early night for DiNozzo but his own mind had not settled down; he spent half the night shaping wood in his basement and the other half looking through some files he had taken home with him.
"That's good," Tony looked up; there were so many unanswered questions to the case that any revelation could only be a good thing.
"Bradford's wife is dying of cancer; apparently there's an experimental drug she was on that helped her through the worst of the symptoms and might let her live a little longer, but the insurance company won't pay out anymore."
Throughout his time at NCIS, Gibbs had come across all sorts of motives and it was always the well-intentioned ones that left a bitter taste in his mouth; good people in desperate situations resorting to even more desperate measures in an effort to help their loved ones.
If they could get a good case together with sound evidence supporting it, then Bradford's wife would most likely be left to die alone as her husband faced years in prison for several serious offences; judging by the lengths Bradford was prepared to go to in order help her live for perhaps a couple more months, it was clear that he would be devastated.
It really did seem as though the road to Hell was paved with good intentions!
"That would do it," Tony said quietly with real empathy behind his tone that Gibbs wondered if DiNozzo had suffered through something similar or if it was simply another instance of the man's quiet compassion; it was a side he first seen when he had been gently dealing with Miss Kadare back in Baltimore.
"This case is going to hit Bradford and Henson hard but we're probably not going to manage to arrest even one member of the Cartel that is truly responsible for this," Tony shook his head in frustration.
Gibbs knew that was most likely true; so far the only tangible link they had to the Sinaloa Cartel was Aikers, but even that was through his father and they had no evidence that suggested the two were even close.
The Cartels all managed some degree of security for their higher echelons both inside Mexico and beyond the Border due to the successive layers that acted as buffers between the basic soldiers and those pulling the strings. Aikers' father was one man who was likely to be fiercely protected; they would have to hope the same couldn't be said for his son.
"We'll shut down the smuggling ring, DiNozzo," Gibbs promised with a ferocity to his tone that left no room for doubt. "No more military grade hardware killing our men and women on Border Patrol or working for the DEA or ICE. That is the main priority."
"Yeah, I know," Tony conceded, still not liking the idea that there were some powerful criminals behind the gun-trafficking and the deaths related to it that were likely to avoid the prison cell and overalls that rightfully belonged to them.
"Fornell's people are still watching the base, making sure Aikers doesn't rabbit; he's on his way in and Best and Richardson are going to bring in Bradford as quietly as they can. They're going to pick him up from the hospital when he's visiting his wife," Gibbs informed the younger man who was glaring away his frustration at a stack of financial-based paperwork.
"Discretion is probably for the best under the circumstances," Tony murmured, distracted. "It doesn't make sense."
"What?" Gibbs asked, confused.
"If Bradford decided to become an amateur arms dealer so that he could get some money together for his wife's medications, then where is the money? I've been looking, trying to find evidence of any money coming and going from his accounts, any change in spending habits, and I can't find anything even remotely helpful!"
"Nothing?" Gibbs asked sceptically. Henson didn't have much in his accounts, certainly not the expected earnings of an arms-dealer, but there had still been more than there should have been.
"Nothing as in literally nothing!" Tony emphasised. "He has just shy of a hundred bucks left on one of his overdrafts, and that is nowhere near enough to keep his wife on that drug-trial. He's taken out a second mortgage, he has two other overdrafts, both of which are completely maxed out and he's late for payments on both of his credit cards; if he's been getting money, where the hell is it?
"He can hardly walk up to the hospital running the drug-trials and say 'hey, I'm the guy that couldn't even afford to buy a lottery ticket last week and now I thought I'd pay you in one hundred dollar bills, is that ok?' We need to find out how Bradford and Henson hid their money."
"Well, now we can ask him," Gibbs nodded towards the elevator where Fornell and his agents flanked a rather pale and shaky looking Quartermaster.
Tony had been surprised that Gibbs hadn't relegated him to the observation room alongside Agents Best and Richardson, but he happily found that his view from just across the table afforded him better access to Bradford and all the subtle nuances in his behaviour and body language; a stalking, angry Marine rapidly firing off disturbingly perceptive questions was clearly useful in interrogation, but he could distract even the most observant of agents from seeing everything that was going on.
What had really pleased him, however, was the look on Fornell's face when he had been consigned to the wrong side of the two-way glass. The FBI Agent might be damn good at his job, but that didn't mean Tony always wanted to play nice; he had a feeling that his time at NCIS would see many more incidents of one-upmanship with their 'friends' over at the Hoover Building.
He knew that the Senior Agent was going to lead the questioning and that if he wanted Tony's input, he'd make it more than clear, so Tony was quite content to sit back and listen to the story, trying to fit it together with whatever evidence they had managed to scrape together.
"I've been looking at your bank accounts," Gibbs said with a mildness and indifference that even Tony found himself being taken in by. "Your wife is dying," Gibbs said without a hint of the empathy that he was really feeling, knowing that he too would have done anything to save his family, be it from disease or from drug-dealing criminals of Mexican Cartels.
The Quartermaster looked up at the mention of his wife and Tony could read the remorse etched in every one of the lines that creased their way across his forehead and drew his mouth down in unspoken sadness; Tony guessed that even with the benefits she had managed from the drug-trials, her time was coming to an end.
"You wanted to keep her with you for as long as you could, and you wanted her to spend what was left of her life in comfort; no one can fault you for that," Gibbs finally looked up from shuffling through papers that he really had no need to organise. "But the insurance company refused to continue to cover the costs of the drug-trial and you were desperate.
"Then you realised what a gold-mine you were sitting on; all day you spent your time on base surrounded by a stockpile of ammunition that no one was using. Rifles and side-arms and frag grenades and military-grade explosives can all bring in a tidy profit if you can find the right buyers.
"So you and your friend Henson started working out the details, and you decided that there was always a market for weapons, even locally; you approached a known criminal organisation and you offered them US military-grade weaponry for a price. Do you know what that price was?" Gibbs asked disdainfully as he went back to the files in front of him.
"This was the price," he spat with contempt as he threw down several large glossy photos in front of Bradford, all of them of different crime scenes but all of them containing a similar image. "These are the people who really paid for your little foray into arms-dealing; some of these people were no more than kids." He purposefully picked out one photo and placed it on top of all of the others.
"This is Harry Shavers; he was twelve years old and do you want to know how he died? He was playing basketball with some of the other kids from his neighbourhood when a car drove by and opened fire on them. One member of a rival gang got shot in the arm; three kids were shot. Harry here died before the paramedics could even get to the scene; his fourteen year-old friend, Carlos, will never walk again.
"Hell of a price," Gibbs finished with a hushed but deadly tone as he looked at Bradford. The Quartermaster was clearly upset by the photographs, trying to look anywhere but at the image of a bloody, twelve year old. Gibbs was glad to see the man's remorse, not because he thought it would change anything he'd done, but because guilt was something he could work with much more than anger; the guilt of a remorseful man could easily be used against him.
"These are just the bystanders," Gibbs continued. "If this was all we had, then the local PD would have been investigating and they would probably have missed a hell of a lot of links here. This is a dead Marine," he produced another glossy image, the skull clearly shining brightly through the blood as it lay in fragments around the man's head. "He makes this my case, and I'm going to get nothing less than the truth."
Bradford looked to be more affected by the image of the dead Marine than of the child; Gibbs wasn't surprised. When he had done his background searches on the man the previous day, he had found that Bradford and their dead Marine had served together in Charlie Company during their last two tours.
The man could not tear his eyes away from the photo in front of him, but at the same time he could not help the feelings of disgust and shame and anger that passed across his face as he fought to tear his gaze away from the bloody image.
He knew that he was caught, knew that the evidence was stacked up against him and he knew that there was nothing he could do about it.
They thought they had been clever, selling weapons that had been ear-marked for decommission and would be missed by none if they played it well, but once the Cartel started giving them a wish-list and dire consequences for failing to deliver, they had to fill the more extensive orders by taking from the armoury on base.
"He wasn't supposed to be there," Bradford finally said, still looking at the photograph and chewing on his bottom lip in his distress.
Gibbs and Tony shared a look; they knew they had him now!
"It was all supposed to be so easy," Bradford lamented, tears beginning to pool in the corners of his eyes.
"How did you get started in it all?" Gibbs asked, quietly and with a rare mildness to his tone, not wanting to shake Bradford out of his imminent admission.
"There are always weapons that are waiting to be decommissioned; some of them are just faulty, some of them get hauled back from an enemy's weapons stash overseas…hell, sometimes we even have the cops give us the guns they bring in off the street if they run out of storage room, because where is safer to store a small arsenal than a military base," he stated with cynicism.
Gibbs nodded as he made a brief note to look into just how many guns they were talking about.
"We always got more money for the weapons that were US Military issue; they were faulty, but you can get a whole load of guns together and dismantle them, replacing faulty parts with working ones. The trigger mechanism might not work on one gun but you can replace it with one from another where the barrel keeps on jamming.
"It always took a lot of time but the money was good because the end product was normally a hell of a lot better than some Third World battered AK47 or a wildly inaccurate Uzi that had been lifted from some street gang."
"Where did you find the time to do this?" Gibbs asked; he knew that Bradford had help, and he knew that he needed the man to admit to it. "You had a job to do and a wife to look after," he reminded the Quartermaster, not at all afraid of reminding the man of his wife's failing health.
"Henson used to bring parts to the house; Mel was in the hospital by then and no one ever really comes by the house anymore. The garage was hidden from view and we could get a few of the guns put together there. Any left overs went back to the armoury to await decommission; it would have been too suspicious if there was never anything to destroy."
"How did you get the Diablos involved?" Gibbs asked, pushing for an answer that could lead them towards evidence more substantial than the testimony of a guilty man.
"Henson and me…we grew up in DC, in the same neighbourhood. It was pretty rough, a lot of gangs all wanting control of the same crappy neighbourhood and every available street corner so they could sell whatever drugs they managed to get their hands on. The thing is, to be powerful, they needed men; they started building up their very own army."
"And Henson signed up," Gibbs stated rather than asked.
"It was different for him; I spent most of my time in school or working, trying to bring in a little extra money. Henson, he only lived with his dad but they managed to have a little more money than most of the other families living on the same street, but it sure as hell wasn't because the old man worked his ass off trying to support his son.
"His dad was an asshole, a violent, junkie asshole who made his money by dealing crystal meth right out of his own living room. Have you ever smelt that crap? The smell gets everywhere and the drug seeps into everything and every surface is infected with it, something as small as picking up the remote and then biting a nail could get that crap into your system.
"It used to make him sick, staying there, physically ill; so when I was working and we couldn't hang out, he needed a distraction…anything to stop him from going home to that. He found a distraction with the Diablos," Bradford shrugged sadly. "He never did an initiation or anything; he didn't join them…he just hung out with them.
"He was maybe seventeen when his father died and he moved out to the country to live on his grandfather's farm, but he stayed in touch with me and I know he stayed in touch with some of them."
"So when you needed a buyer, he hooked you up," again, Gibbs was stating rather than asking. "Whose idea was it in the first place?"
"Mel, she was really sick, and I knew that she wasn't going to last forever, but just because the cancer was inoperable it didn't mean there wasn't anything that could help her. The tumour was growing…no surgeon could get to it without cutting through half of her brain, radiotherapy wasn't shrinking it and chemo wasn't helping; she was dying, but it was the treatment that was killing her.
"The tumour is putting a lot of pressure on her brain, pressing against it and causing grand mal seizures and fits; she lost some of her mobility, her ability to concentrate was gone and her moods would change so radically that it used to give me whiplash.
"Then the doctor put her on a drug-trial; he said that it probably wouldn't work and that there could be further side-effects, but by that time there was nothing else to do other than take the risk. It worked; it wasn't perfect and she still had problems with her mobility, but she could move and she could think clearly and she wasn't always so angry or depressed.
"But then the insurance company refused to carry on paying for what they called an 'experimental treatment'. She came home and she got worse again; I knew I had to get her back on that drug trial, and I did everything in my power to get her back on it. She's still not as mobile as she was and so she's still in the hospital, but she'll be out of there soon.
"She is still dying, Agent Gibbs, I know that, but now she's dying as her, not as someone inhabiting her body and mocking her beautiful spirit; she'll die as the woman I know, the woman I married, the woman I love! There was never any doubt that I would do anything in my power to help her. I asked Henson for help, and he helped; no matter what, I can never hate him for that," Bradford finally finished, wiping a hand gently across the glossy image of the dead Marine.
Gibbs hadn't missed the emphasis at the end or the tortured look directed down at the photograph. He looked over to Tony and saw that he hadn't missed any of it either, he was staring at the photo in silent contemplation, his brow furrowed. Eventually he looked up at Gibbs, trying to gauge whether or not the Senior Agent was on the same page as him.
"He was your friend," Tony quietly stated after receiving a subtle nod from Gibbs.
Bradford looked up at the man who had broken the silence; he knew the other Agent was not referring to Henson, but to the man in the picture.
"He wasn't supposed to be there," he repeated brokenly.
"How did Aikers get involved, Allen?" Tony asked quietly but firmly, trying to get the man focused on the real crux of the matter. The sale of weapons awaiting decommission to a DC street gang was one thing, but the sale of military-grade hardware, which was supposed to be for US troops overseas, to a criminal organisation as powerful as the Sinaloa Cartel carried with it all sorts of far-reaching consequences, particularly for those in Border Patrol and the DEA who were tasked to keep the Border safe and clear.
Genuine fear crossed the Quartermaster's face.
Since entering the room, Bradford had shown a multitude of emotions: guilt, remorse, anxiety and uncertainty, even the odd glimpse of fear at finally being caught out and being forced to face the consequences.
The fear on his face brought about by the mention of Aikers' name had been more than a fleeting emotion; the man was terrified down to his very core and for the first time since starting the interview, Gibbs worried that he might not get the information he so desperately needed from Bradford to close down the smuggling ring once and for all.
"Yeah, we know about Aikers; we know all about Aikers," Gibbs said sardonically in an effort to show that they were not at all worried about the man or his connections.
"Henson got us selling the weapons with the Diablos and we got some money rolling in, but it was only just enough; I was still having to rely on my overdrafts and my credit cards to help pay for the meds and the hospital care. We knew we needed to make more money but we were limited by what came in for decommission; there was nothing else we could sell…or at least, we thought there was nothing else we could sell.
"I don't know how Aikers found out about us, I swear, but I always figured that it was the Diablos. One day he just came up to us, me and Henson, and he told us that things were going to change," he laughed humourlessly. "Well things sure as hell changed!"
"How?" Gibbs prompted after the man had been quiet for too long.
"He said we needed more."
"More weapons?" Tony clarified.
"More everything," Bradford gesticulated, waving his arms wildly as he felt himself get more and more worked up. "We told him that we didn't have access to the things he wanted, but he said we did…he said we had a whole arsenal at our disposal. We tried to back out, tried to tell him that we weren't interested, but he wasn't having any of it. Then he told us who he was working for."
"He threatened you," Gibbs stated; he and Tony had talked earlier, played around with ideas, discussing how two Marines had become involved in the first place and how things had snowballed into a deal with the Cartel. So far, their conjecture seemed pretty accurate.
"I couldn't go to prison, Agent Gibbs…I can't go to prison; my wife needs me," he said brokenly.
"You're right, she does need you, but you can and will go to prison," Gibbs assured the Quartermaster.
Bradford dropped his head towards the table, where shaky hands stopped him from banging his head. He scrubbed furiously at the tears that threatened to fall as he helplessly tried to claw his way back to some degree of self-control; it was an impossible task.
Everything was falling away from him: his wife, his career and now his freedom. He didn't really care too much about the last two, although he knew he would later, years down the line; all he truly wanted at that moment was to hold onto his wife, to kiss her and to promise her that everything was going to be ok, no matter how well he knew it was not the case.
"I won't give evidence against Aikers; I can't," he promised quietly, mumbling through hands that were still holding his head in his despair.
Gibbs and Tony shared another look; they could both hazard a guess as to the man's reluctance.
"Your wife is dying," Tony pointed out with a great deal of effort being made to mask the sympathy he felt for a good man who had turned to desperate measures to help his wife. "Soon, she'll be in a place where no one can threaten her."
Bradford looked up and stared into the green eyes of the younger man; his gaze was so much easier to maintain than that of the gruff Senior Agent opposite him. He knew the truth of the words and could feel his heart breaking a little more at being forced to hear that truth from a stranger.
Tony looked briefly to Gibbs asking silently for permission to play on a hunch; they needed a damning statement from Bradford to give a judge something to sign off on when they went looking for a search warrant.
Gibbs' eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to figure out DiNozzo's plan. He had offered the younger man a job because back in Baltimore he had learnt to trust in him, his abilities and his instincts; it was time to reap the benefits of such a decision.
He nodded ever so slightly, not wanting to give Bradford a sign that anything was up.
"Aikers took over and things changed," Tony continued, regaining eye contact and using the own man's words to speak to him. "Everything changed! You weren't getting any more money but more people were in danger…people you cared about. He threatened you wife, you job, everything and anything to get you to make him money.
"The guns you and Henson sold were being sold to petty street criminals. The Diablos spent just as much time shooting each other as they did looking for rival gangs; criminal on criminal with poor innocents like Harry Shavers sometimes getting caught in the crossfire."
Tony was happy to catch the man flinch at the mention of the dead twelve-year-old, but Bradford never looked away. He could see a fiery anger burning away behind the man's dark eyes, feel the intensity of it building as Tony did his best to stoke it, reminding him of everything that Aikers had taken away from him and would still take from him.
"Then Aikers came in and it wasn't just guns destined for decommission; there were rifles and frag grenades and anti-personnel mines all on their way over the Mexican Border. All on their way to be used against rival Cartels and anyone they felt needed to be taught a lesson; all on their way to be used against US Border Patrol, DEA and ICE Agents.
"You promised to serve your country, Allen. You promised to protect your country, from all threats; foreign and domestic. You failed!"
Tony waited quietly for that to sink in. Bradford had glowing reports, all commentating on the man's devotion to his country and to his brothers-in-arms; the man had seemingly once valued patriotism.
"US Agents are being killed because of your actions; a US Marine from your Company is dead because of your actions; your wife will die alone because of your actions." Tony paused again, watching as agony creased through the man in front of him. "Aikers changed everything and made it impossible for you to fulfil your vows, either to your country or to your wife. Aikers has taken everything you value while he hides in the shadows like a coward, a disgrace to his uniform and his oath, and still you defend him."
Gibbs resisted raising an eyebrow at the way DiNozzo had used the man's patriotism and duty against him; the younger man had no military experience other than a brief stay at Rhode Island Military Academy in his youth, but it was interesting to hear the fervour of his words, which matched so many serving men and women he had met both during and after his own time in the Corps.
It was clear that Bradford was torn; he was clearly full of loathing towards Aikers, but at the same time he obviously feared the man's contacts. It became clear as soon as he had made his decision as for the first time since Bradford had entered the room, he was at peace.
"Like I said, I'm pretty sure he found out about the guns through his contacts," Braford's voice shook slightly as he mentioned Aikers' 'contacts'.
"Contacts inside the Diablos?" Gibbs questioned, hoping to get some more clarity before they went after Aikers.
"I guess," Bradford shrugged apathetically; it was clear that his fight had deserted him. "He never told us and by that stage it really didn't matter; by that stage the Cartel was involved. You've heard all the murder statistics about Ciudad Juárez and just what those Cartels do to people who cross them; no way was I going to risk my Melanie like that."
"So you did what they wanted you to do," Gibbs stated.
"What else was I going to do? These guys have people everywhere; there was no way in hell that I was going to make Mel a target for them. So yeah, I did what they wanted me to, and so did Henson. Harrison," he gestured towards the photo of the dead Marine. "Henson messed up an order and Aikers and his friends were pissed. Harrison came into the armoury to see me only he found Aikers and one of his friends…discussing," he struggled for the right word, "things with us."
Gibbs arched a brow but didn't interrupt; it was evident from the man's tone that there had been less discussion and more threatening. He looked to Tony and received a small nod that showed he understood what hadn't been said; the Senior Agent was never likely to willing hand over his right to interview suspects, but he was glad his latest recruit seemed to have a similar intuitive grasp to his own.
"I tried to tell Aikers that Harrison wasn't a threat, that he didn't need to be involved, but he and his friend," he spat contemptuously, "they said that they weren't taking any chances. They tried to make me and Henson shoot him, but I couldn't," he shook his head sadly as he thought of his former brother-in-arms. "Henson didn't have the same problem."
The two agents shared a look; clearly that was what Bradford could find himself hating Henson for.
"How did you keep the missing weapons hidden?" Gibbs asked.
"Aikers ordered me to mess with the paperwork; with the war in Afghanistan everything was being brought in in bulk and things were pretty hectic. It was easy enough to make it seem like a shipment had disappeared somewhere between the factory and the armoury or in transit overseas; we put them in trucks that were supposed to be ferrying guns for decommission to get them off base. As far as I know, the Diablos and Aikers saw to getting them across the Border."
"You didn't ask?" Gibbs wondered.
"Would you?" Bradford laughed humourlessly. "I kept my head down and did what I was told; I got my money and put in a new account I set up for my wife to pay for her participation in the drug-trial. I was only going to do it until she was…until she…I wasn't going to do it forever," he finally said, unable to voice that his wife's death would save her from feared reprisal and that he would be free to tell Aikers where to go.
A knock at the door had Gibbs eyes narrowing his eyes at the interruption; 'Rule 22: never ever bother Gibbs in interrogation', had become infamous throughout members of the MCRT, so much so that even Director Morrow tried to avoid breaking it.
Fornell stuck his head in and gestured for Gibbs and Tony to leave; the two men exchanged a brief glance in an effort to see if the other was any the wiser, but both men were clueless.
"Is Aikers still at the base?" Gibbs asked once in the corridor, thinking that could be the only cause for the interruption, as it had been the FBI responsible for placing a tail on the GySgt.
"Aikers is fine; my men still have him placed at the base. A body has just been found handcuffed to the railings of a local basketball court; ID indicates that it is Henson. Bastards decapitated him and his head hasn't been found; Doctor Mallard has gone to fetch the body and bring him back for autopsy where he can hopefully confirm ID.
"I don't need to tell you that this is classic Cartel signature, Jethro; a brutal murder, the beheading and then leaving the body in view for everyone to see. This isn't just about getting rid of someone who might betray them, this is a warning for everyone, us included," the FBI Agent stressed his point with a stern gaze levelled towards the NCIS Agent who was known to ignore the threats his job sometimes brought with it.
"Once I found out it could be Henson, I tried to find Parks to see if he was still in the picture; I couldn't get through. According to his secretary, he's not been in the office today or yesterday; I sent two agents to his house but he's not answering his door.
"Parks is either long gone or six feet under, Jethro," Fornell said gravely. "Metro dispatch informed me that over the past two days, five members of the Diablos have been put in body-bags, two of them were beheaded and one of them had his eyes, his ears and his tongue cut out; I think the message in that one is pretty clear."
"Yeah, in this case it says to everyone else that they should see nothing, hear nothing, and speak nothing," Tony stated quietly. "They're cleaning up."
"Yes they are," Fornell confirmed, seeing Jethro nod his head in agreement. "Things are getting pretty dangerous and any potential witnesses or turncoats are being removed or threatened into silence; thing is, we don't know if Aikers is staying on base to give himself a firm alibi or if he's scared to leave and make himself a target."
"Bradford's wife?" Gibbs and Tony asked at the same time.
"Safe," Fornell assured them, resisting the urge to smile at their surround sound imitation; DiNozzo and Gibbs were clearly on the same page about more than just interrogation techniques. "I've got two agents watching her hospital room and her doctors and nurses are being vetted. She should be secure enough there, but if she isn't then I don't know what else we can do; she's too sick to move."
"Bradford is our best bet as our witness then," Tony said, looking back towards the door.
"If he knows his wife's life rests in our hands he might be more willing to cooperate," Gibbs stated. "It is obvious that the Cartel is cleaning up after themselves and eliminating any potential threats rather than reacting to an actual betrayal; maybe this will convince him he needs to act now."
"That's our best bet," Fornell agreed and he couldn't hide his smile when he saw DiNozzo nodding absentmindedly, as he actually agreed with the FBI Agent.
"DiNozzo, get a judge to sign off on an arrest warrant for Aikers and a search warrant for his home address and his room on base. Then find out what you can from the cops over at Metro about the murdered Diablos and go to Ducky as soon as he's finished the autopsy; I want to know if that is Henson and I want to know what Ducky knows as soon as he knows it. Got it?"
"Rule 22? Tony asked with a mischievous smirk.
"Knock first," Gibbs rolled his eyes.
"So…some rules have exceptions?" Tony clarified, still grinning.
"Only if I say they do," Gibbs replied with a dangerous grin of his own. "My orders don't, DiNozzo, and you will follow them."
"Aye, aye, Sir!" Tony responded with a mock salute.
Gibbs rolled his eyes once again before reaching over and swatting Tony on the back of his head. "Send all evidence to Abby, along with a Caff-Pow, and keep checking in with her to see what she's managed to find out. Fornell," he turned towards the FBI Agent. "We're going to speak with Bradford."
"Of course, Jethro; I love it when you ask so politely," he opened the door and sat down in the chair that Gibbs had previously occupied in a childish effort to get a rise out of the stoic man.
The narrowing gaze and the tightening jaw told him he'd been successful.
Tony felt exhausted; he had run all over the place, linking up with the Detective in charge of the Diablo murders. Five dead bodies racked up a hell of a lot of paperwork and Tony had been forced to trawl through it all in a search for clues that linked the dead men to Aikers or the Cartel.
As with Baltimore and every other PD he had ever worked with or alongside, evidence processing took a lot longer than it seemed to at NCIS; Tony had organised to have all the evidence shipped over to Abby and she was already working her way through the pile.
The Forensic Specialist was undoubtedly exceptional at her job, but Tony wondered just how she managed to get through everything that was piled on her desk so quickly; surely Caff-Pows could only get her so far!
Ducky had not long finished the autopsy and the findings had been grim. DNA had confirmed that the body was Henson and Ducky discovered his death had been a painful, drawn-out affair; no doubt the Cartel were eager to know just what had been said while the man had been in custody.
Gibbs and Fornell had finished their interview with Bradford and the man had eventually capitulated to their demands, promising to give any and all knowledge he had in exchange for his protection, the protection of his wife and no jail-time.
Regardless of the last stipulation, the Quartermaster was still facing the very likely possibility of jail-time; it all depended on what sort of deal he could work out with the DA. Even if he was ever sentenced, he was likely to serve his time in solitary in an effort to keep him protected from anyone in Gen. Pop. who might have been paid by the Cartel to silence him before the trial was over.
The two Senior Agents had gone to Norfolk to get Aikers and bring him into custody, hoping to find out whether he was hiding in the safety of a military base filled with trained Marines, or if he was simply trying to make life easier for himself by getting the Cartel's soldiers to clean up after him.
Aikers was going to be difficult to crack; on the one hand he was a supposedly respectable GySgt for the USMC, on the other hand he was definitely involved in major arms-dealing with one of the most feared Cartels in all of Mexico. Inside of the criminal organisation, he was either desperately trying to prove himself, which could lead to all manner of unpredictable behaviours and associations, or he was protected by his father, a highly respected member of the Sinaloa elite.
Cracking him would probably take more than Gibbs' Deathly X-Ray Glare and Fornell's sardonic eyebrow lift.
Getting the warrants had been his first priority and he'd had no problem there, but after that Tony had been left to gather all the information they had and try to put it all together in one comprehensive bundle.
He felt almost honoured that Gibbs had trusted him to get everything sorted out on his own, although he knew that, being short-handed with his team, the Senior Agent didn't really have a lot of choice.
Tony had yet to hear the man bring out a rule in the forties, but he felt that with the violent turn the case had taken, it would not be long now. The Cartels all had vicious reputations if they had been crossed; innocent women and children killed simply to portray a message or a dozen Mexican Federales killed in retaliation for one dead criminal spoke to the mind-set that seemed to permeate the Cartels.
He reached into his desk and searched for the forms Gibbs had given him the other day; maybe he should change his next-of-kin details before the case earned itself an even bloodier reputation.
Gibbs would be back soon and he would no doubt require an update from him concerning all the information he had been gathering together; maybe he could ask the Senior Agent then if he could put down his name.
He didn't really have a lot of options in DC.
Abby was nice and exuberant but Tony wasn't really sure he could ever even consider putting Abby down as his next-of-kin; the Goth had threatened to wrap him in cotton-wool and bubble-wrap after his little trip down the stairs and for Tony, those injuries were almost routine! Worse, he could easily picture her following through on her threat, taking the extra time to add a spider web design here and a skull and crossbones there.
Doctor Mallard was nice but fiercely stern when it came to anyone's health; on the one hand, Tony appreciated the concern, even as he felt uncomfortable with the almost grandfatherly attention. On the other hand, he didn't want to be rude to Ducky, and that would be inevitable if the man tried to stop Tony from carrying out his duty and constantly seeking to tie his to a desk after every bump and bruise.
After those two, he didn't really know anyone else in DC apart from Gibbs.
The Senior Agent had done a lot for him since he had come to DC and although the man was about as far from 'nice and approachable' as you could get, the idea of a 'nice' Gibbs was almost more frightening than the omniscient, gruff Marine he usually portrayed.
However, the man had a good, solid head on his shoulders and Gibbs already understood the importance of the job to him and the oath he made; Tony knew that the Senior Agent would never ask him to sit on the side-lines and ignore the duties of his job unless he was quite literally at Death's door.
Gibbs had that same drive and devotion.
Tony was beginning to see a career for himself at NCIS and he was beginning to trust in Gibbs as he had learnt to trust in Sam. For the time being, Gibbs was the only real choice he could make, but in a few more months, if things carried on as they were, Tony could easily foresee the impatient Senior Agent becoming one of the few people in his life that he could trust completely.
When that time came, Gibbs would be the only choice he would make.
Hope you enjoyed that chapter. Feel free to let me know what you think and point out any errors I might have missed; constructive criticism is welcome.
And for those who need them...
USMC – The United States Marine Corps.
DEA – Drug Enforcement Agency.
ICE – Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
Ciudad Juárez – a city in the North of Mexico, right on the Border and just South of El Paso. It is seen as one of the most violent cities in the world due to the crime rate which is directly related to the struggles between opposing Cartels looking to control major supply lines across the US Border.
MCRT – Major Case (or Crimes - depending on who you ask) Response Team.
GySgt – Gunnery Sergeant.
DA – District Attorney.
Gen. Pop. – a prison term short for 'general population', it describes the majority of those incarcerated who are allowed to mingle in the courtyard and mess halls. There are other options, such as solitary or the psych. unit.
OK, so next up, they have a little difficulty getting Aikers, Tony gets a new next-of-kin and someone gets shot!