Chapter 5

***********************************8

"Can we get the audio any better?" Gibbs asked.

Abby was slicing and dicing as fast as her fingers could go trying to eliminate any extraneous sounds coming through the audio. "The problem is time, Gibbs. Every time I get rid of one, another one seems to take its place."

"Keep trying," he said.

Fornell watched the monitors on the screen and reflected on the dinner. "What do you think this is all about?" he said referring to the DiCarlo's leaving during dinner and then asking the women to leave.

"I have no idea," Vance answered. "But if it's anything like his last meeting, I don't want to speculate."

Kort chimed in with his thought, "I doubt he'd do the same thing again. He has a penchant for theatrics and once something is done, it's not likely he'll repeat himself."

"And exactly how do you know this?" Gibbs countered.

"Because I know a thing or two about narcissism. You don't get to be the head of a crime family without believing you're the center of the universe." He pointed at Vinny, Sr. on the monitor and said, "He's been informed about something, but whatever it is, it has more to do with the business than with family."

Since when did Kort become such an expert on Mafia affairs? He was right, of course, but that didn't stop Fornell and Gibbs from questioning him about it.

Gibbs took a seat beside Fornell and watched.

"While you're cleaning up the audio," Fornell said, "maybe you could do something about the visual. It's still fuzzy."

McGee said, "We're hi-jacking their transmission, sir, which means we're seeing a copy of a copy. With each copy, the quality degrades. In addition, DiCarlo may have installed state of the art technology throughout his estate, but he didn't invest in state of the art equipment. The hardware he's using isn't very good. I'm afraid this is the best we can get visually."

"But not the best in audio!" Abby declared as she eliminated another echo from the file which greatly enhanced the feed. "I was finally able to identify that static noise. How's this sound now?"

McGee smiled, "Better." Watching Abby work was a nice respite from the stress he experienced while watching Tony and Ziva. He knew all too well that the ice was so thin that at any moment it could crack, and he just wouldn't allow himself to think about it.

In silence, they listened in on what the head of the DiCarlo family was saying: "Now that the women folk have left, let me share with you what I just recently learned. Our radical Islamic friends have discovered my somewhat nefarious plan for making them the fall guys in the killing of Rolf Guidinetti. Seems they got tipped off by someone, and near as we can figure, that someone was a cop on our Baltimore payroll. He's been taken care of and let's just say that he won't be snitching us out to anyone else, God Rest His Soul."

Vance, Gibbs, Fornell and even Sacks all turned and looked at Kort.

He shrugged, "What can I say? We wanted to cause a riff between the family and the terrorist cell, and I saw an opportunity. I don't want to arrest a murderer; I want to take out the entire cell."

"So you told Abu-Wahib what DiCarlo was planning?" Sacks sneered.

"Don't be ridiculous. I told Jerry Phelps what was happening and he told the group…for less money than I thought possible. Evidently being a Baltimore County Police Officer pays less than dirt, so for a few dollars, he tipped them off."

"And he paid for that with his life!" Sacks snarled.

"He would be thanking me now if he could. For all the crimes he's committed as a law enforcement officer, he was looking at life in prison. I saved him from that."

"You can spin it any way you want, but you set that man up!"

"Just like Gibbs and Fornell set up Bobby Villanova?"

"—All right," Vance said, interrupting the pissing match that had begun. "Would you both just shut up long enough so we can listen to what DiCarlo has to say?"

Vinny DiCarlo, Sr. had been sitting contentedly at the head of the table. Furrowing his brow slightly, he continued, "I've had to do some damage control with Abu-Wahib. He was understandably angry with me, but I learned that he needs me as much as I need him…maybe more. He wants me to show him a better way to launder his money. He says the feds are getting closer and he doesn't want to lose any more funds."

"Sounds like they got something planned," Michel said, not knowing how right he was.

"What they have planned is none of our concern," his father said. "We are simply supplying a few alternatives to their current method of laundering money."

"How do they currently do it?" Tony asked, taking a chance that one of them might divulge some information.

DiCarlo looked at his son, Vincent, to answer. "Currently, they're using car dealerships throughout the mid-west, most in the Peoria area."

"Are you going to give them access to our laundromats?" Michel asked.

Tony's stomach flipped at the thought of learning where the DiCarlo family launders their money. This would be too good if that happened. The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, "How do we launder the money? I ask because giving them access to one or two of our places could surely bring in the Feds."

"Not if they follow my instructions," Vincent said.

"Instructions or no, if they make so much as a small mistake, it'll invoke a behind the scenes investigation and then your laundromat as well as your money goes up in smoke."

Vincent leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at the relative newcomer to the family. "You seem to know a thing or two about this business. Why?"

Gibbs' stomach clenched.

Tony confidently leaned forward and said, "Because that's how the Lombardi family met its demise. They let two bit hoodlums, who didn't know their head from their ass, use their fronts. They withdrew too much money and they got flagged. From then on, the Lombardi family was as good as done once the Feds got involved."

Vincent leaned back and pondered this new information.

Filling the silence, an unfamiliar voice said, "Are you saying we shouldn't work with Abu-Wahib?" The voice belonged to Louie Zoelle, better known as Lou, Vinny's right hand man who rarely, if ever, spoke. Until now. "Don't you think we sort of owe him for offing Rolf and then serving him on a platter to the cops?"

"He didn't do anything the rest of us wouldn't have done in the same situation," Michel answered.

Mario jumped in next, "We don't owe that terrorist nothing!"

Frank added, "I say we cut our ties with them. We don't need the likes of those American hatin', rag-top extremists to tell us how to run our business. We already know!"

"And it just feels wrong—working with terrorists. Don't you agree Vincent?" Michel added, knowing that his older brother's opinion meant more to his father than all the others combined.

Vincent had actually been the one who wanted to work with the terrorist group in the first place because working with them had all made sense to the business side of his brain. His father was the one who hadn't wanted to bring them in. His father was old school and wasn't as confident as his oldest son. Yet, Sr. did understand the value of making such an organization, who was even more hated than the Mafia, their own personal lackeys.

"I say we give 'em Bank of America in Baltimore," Mario said. "Everyone at that bank is on our payroll—"

"—Mario!" Vincent toned, effectively shutting his brother down. The only time they talked specifics was in the study, a sealed room. Mario lowered his head, forgetting the cardinal rule.

The discussion had stalled after that making the lingering silence awkward for everyone. There was a fine line between expressing your opinion and forcing your ideas, and if the rest of Vinny's boys knew anything, they knew when to shut up and let their father and older brother think it through.

Unfortunately, Tony didn't have the same filters so it came as somewhat of a shock to all parties when he quietly said, "Why don't we steal their money?"

All eyes looked at him. By their expressions, he couldn't tell if he'd crossed the line or offered up something good. About all he could do after he said it was wait out the silence.

This, DiCarlo thought, this conversation was just the sort of thing he was hoping to hear. He didn't want to work with terrorists any more than his sons did, but he did see potential value in an alliance, what he didn't know was how to exploit it. And here it came, right from the mouth of their most recent new comer. "What did you say?"

Tony cleared his voice, hesitant to repeat himself but seeing no way out, he slowly reiterated, "Why don't we steal their money? They want to use our facilities, so why don't we give 'em Bank of America? Then we go in and steal their money. A terrorist cell is nothing without funds."

"We'd be making one hell of an enemy," Mario said with a smile on his face and totally loving the idea.

Frank said, "What's one more to our ever growing list."

Vinny DiCarlo leaned back and clasped his hands across his full belly. He liked where this was going. He liked the idea of taking down a terrorist cell and he liked the idea of nurturing a relationship that he could use to bargain with if the federal government decided to come after him. But most of all, he liked the idea of getting all that money, and according to his sources, the terrorists had some serious dough coming into the states.

"I like the way you think, Tony Villani," Mr. DiCarlo said. "Tell me more."

"Don't say another word, DiNotzo," Fornell toned, saying out loud what everyone was thinking. Nothing says Fed like knowing the ins and outs of a money laundering scheme. They waited, holding their breath. McGee stared at the monitor, willing Tony to shut up; unfortunately, keeping his mouth shut was not one of his strengths.

To everyone's surprise, Tony sat back in his chair and shook his head. "Sorry, I wish I could help. All I know is what Mr. Lombardi taught me, which isn't much. And then we were busted."

***********************************8

In MTAC, there was a collective sigh of relief at Tony's response and also an excitement at learning the bank's name. Before anything was said, Fornell spoke up, "I'll get on Bank of America and start pulling records and figuring out what we have there."

Kort added, "I'll start poking around at this influx of funds: where it's coming from and when."

With nothing further to discuss, Fornell, Sacks, and Kort left, leaving Gibbs, McGee and Abby in MTAC. It was true about the study; it was the one room in the entire mansion that Abby couldn't hack into. But they now had a name and a plan. "Can they come home now?" Abby asked.

Gibbs waggled his head, "Not yet."

"I don't like this, Gibbs. I want them home."

"If they pull out now, Abby, DiCarlo will know something's up."

McGee nodded his head in agreement. "Don't worry, Abby, they'll be home in a few days, tops."

Somehow, her gut wasn't believing it.

***********************************8

Tony opened the door quietly and slipped in.

"Well?" Ziva asked.

"No way," he whispered. "Fort Knox would be easier to get into. If you think there are minions in our wing, you should try penetrating theirs. Soldiers and guards every 20 feet. They don't mess around when it comes to security."

"I did not see where there is an abundance of people here," she stated. "I do not understand why you cannot just slip past the guards and enter the study."

Tony had taken off his suit jacket and flung it over the back of a chair. Seated, he began taking off his shoes, "Be my guest, Rose. If you think you can bat your eyes and wiggle your… shoulders into that study, go ahead and try. Just remember: these men are trained to give their life for their boss because if they screw up, it'll be their life."

Ziva left, wearing tight black leather pants with a red zippered jacket.

He finished hanging up his clothes and then laid down on the bed. He couldn't help but smile. If she managed to get further than him, good for her. But he knew she wouldn't and then she'd return madder than a hornet and she was most amusing when she was like that.

He was still smiling when he heard a hard rap on the door. When he opened it, standing before him was a massive six foot five inch no-neck goon, and Ziva.

"I think you lost somfin."

Ziva jerked her arm out of the goon's grip and said, "I am NOT a piece of property!"

Tony smiled and stood back, gesturing with his hand for her to enter. She was exactly how he predicted. Looking at the no-neck, he asked, "Where'd you pick her up?"

"Tryin' to enter the family's private quarters. Don't let it happen again."

Tony offered a mock salute and closed the door. Before he could even get turned around, she hissed, "I do not believe these people! Nothing worked! I had no sooner slipped past the first guard when they were on me. I could barely talk my way out of it, but I did! I told them I wanted to visit Maria. Maria! Can you believe that! Once she hears about this, there will be no escaping her! They escorted me back here like I was your property!"

He guided her to a chair and sat her down. Then he massaged her neck and shoulders, saying, "I applaud your efforts. It takes real guts to try and gain access to a Mafia Don's private quarters. You deserve recognition for trying."

"Stop making fun of me!"

"Oh, Ms. David," he whispered in her ear, "I assure you I am not making fun of you. You may know how to infiltrate government agencies, and you may have skills that far exceed that of my own, but I know a thing or two about the Mafia, and a pretty face and a seductive swagger won't work on these guys. You have to get an invitation. Without that, you're going nowhere fast."

The anger seemed to dissipate and she wasn't sure if it was because of his words or his incredibly soothing massage.

"C'mon," he coaxed. He pulled her gently to the bed and they lay down together. His arm felt good around her, and she let herself relax into the crux of his shoulder. She played with the button on his shirt a few minutes before admitting, "I'm a little anxious about this place. I think we need more backup."

He twisted his neck to look at her. "You, who thrive on being the lone wolf in a fight, want more people around?"

She remained silent for a moment because to give the real reasons would be to betray her true feelings, and not only were these thoughts detrimental to have, they went against Gibbs' rules. "If I were alone, things would be different."

Tony wasn't sure how to take her comment. Her tone and delivery said one thing; her words, another. He decided to let it go. He was tired and tomorrow was another day to plan, scheme, connive, and lie, and believe it or not, doing those things all day long, everyday, was downright exhausting.

***********************************8

"I miss anything?" Fornell asked, walking down the ramp in MTAC with Sacks two steps behind.

Gibbs straightened up a bit. He was working on only his second cup of coffee so he didn't feel much in the mood for any early morning visits from the FBI. The only thing that could be worse would be for the CIA to show up.

"Good morning, Gibbs. Fornell."

Gibbs turned to see Trent Kort walking down the ramp followed awkwardly by McGee. Gibbs quickly slung back the rest of his coffee.

"I'm sorry, Boss," McGee offered. "He just appeared and was here before I could call you."

Kort sat down in the seat next to Fornell and stared at the screen, like he not only belonged in MTAC, but he owned the place. Sacks had wisely taken up a seat on the second row. Fornell looked over and asked, "To what do we owe this early morning visit from the CIA?"

"Just keeping tabs on my investment," Kort said.

The CIA's investment consisted solely of money, something Gibbs had little time to worry about, but it was Fornell's look that had him concerned.

"What's up?"

"I think we have a problem," he said.

"What kind of problem?"

"There's a lot of activity in New York. I think the Guidinetti Family is on the move."

"What does that mean?"

"We don't exactly know, but we're keeping a close eye on their movements, which isn't an easy thing to do given the way they operate."

"How do they operate?"

"They go dark when something big is about to happen. Communication, transit, visibility…all that goes away, which makes keeping tabs on them extremely difficult."

Gibbs leaned forward and gave Kort a look. "You're quiet. Got anything to share?"

Kort shook his head, clearly lying to his counterparts.

McGee sat at the console and said, "I've got Tony and Ziva on camera." He pushed the image of the two lounging in the early morning sunshine by the pool to the plasma. "I've got audio for them as well."

Abby flitted into the darkened room and said, "Did I miss anything? Are Tony and Ziva all right?"

"They're fine," McGee answered. "Better than we are. Take a look."

She looked over his shoulder at his monitor and saw the two lounging by the spectacularly beautiful designer swimming pool with the rolling green pastures as the backdrop, sipping on Bloody Mary's. "Yeah, I see what you mean…"

Gibbs smiled until he heard the door to MTAC open again. Wondering who else was joining them, he looked at the ramp and saw Director Vance and Dr. Mallard coming in.

"Slow day in autopsy?" Gibbs asked. Even though he preferred to keep Tony and Ziva's audience to a minimum, he didn't mind Ducky being around.

"Thankfully, yes."

All we need now is SECNAV to walk through the door," he added.

"Not today, Gibbs," Vance said. "He has other, more pressing, issues to deal with. Where are we?" he asked, taking a seat next to Kort.

"We're about ready to find out," Gibbs answered, pointing to the screen. Up on the plasma they could see one of DiCarlo's boys approaching Tony and Ziva. Abby adjusted the volume so they could hear the conversation as clearly as possible.

"I thought I'd find you out here," Michel said. "Did you hear the good news?"

Tony shook his head. "We haven't heard anything. We've been here all morning."

Michel pulled over a chair and sat down. "It seems like Ahmed Abu-Wahib took the bait. My father contacted him last night and he's flying in today."

"That was fast."

Agent Ron Sacks slapped his knee in giddiness, "Not bad for a few months' worth of work. By tonight, we should have all the names anyone could possibly want…even you, Kort."

Fornell's enthusiasm was tempered; if they could get names by tonight, it would be an operation for the books. But something was niggling at his head.

Gibbs was less enthusiastic, "I'll rejoice when my people are back here safe."

"I'll rejoice when the people are back safe and the bills are paid," Vance deadpanned.

They turned their attention back to the screen. "Pops knows a good deal when he hears one," Michel was saying. "My father is going to—" he broke off, eyeing Rose. "I hear you went exploring last night."

"You hear wrong," she retorted. "I was merely trying to find Maria. She said she had a closet full of designer shoes."

Michel laughed, "Yeah, she'll tell you all kinds of stuff. She's a bit touched in the head, but she makes Rudy happy."

Tony encouraged, "Your father is going to what?"

"Pops is taking your suggestion. You see, Abu-Wahib already launders our money through his car dealerships, which is why we're working with him in the first place. So we have to make sure we get our money out of his dealerships first; otherwise, when we steal his money, he'll just turn around and keep ours."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

"I really don't know. Vincent and Pops work out those things. But once the terrorists' money gets dropped in Bank of America, we'll have it. It'll be the mardi gras of thefts! Unfortunately, we have the Guidinetti Family to worry about now."

"Why? What are they doing?" Tony asked.

"It seems that they figured out who killed Rolf Guidinetti. I think there's a snitch amongst us…heaven help him if there is."

Tony pondered the new development. There's no way the Guidinetti Family could link a brutal murder of one of their own to a group of terrorists and then back to the DiCarlo Family…unless… Suddenly, a one-eyed teabag popped into his head.

Michel continued, "Anyway, Vincent's a little concerned, but there's nothing we can do about it. Besides, we're going to have our hands full with Ahmed Abu-Wahib in a few hours."

Tony's stomach clenched; suddenly, things weren't looking so good.

"Sounds like it could be the start of World War 3," Rose said, hoping to glean a little more information.

"Nah. Vincent has it covered."

"Why not your father?"

Michel shrugged, "You know…he's not what he used to be. Age, I guess. Tired. He lets Vincent handle most everything these days. Working with Abu-Wahib was Vincent's idea. Using him to off Rolf Guidinetti was his idea, too."

The three sat pensively, enjoying the warm morning sunshine and their own personal thoughts. Tony wished he'd met Michel under different circumstances. He really did enjoy his company, but the man was as good as in prison when this was all over. Why is it that he always took a liking to the wrong people? An image of Jeffrey White came to mind. He wondered if there was an omen somewhere in all this.

"Well," Michel said, getting up from the chair, "I'll let you two enjoy your morning coffee. Maybe later on, we can do some more shooting. You never know when you'll need it." He winked and walked back towards the house.

Ziva reached over and took Tony's hand, "Care to join me in the pool?" And with that, she slipped off her cover-up and revealed a sparkling white bikini. Tony took off his shirt and followed her into the cool water.

"There goes our audio," McGee said.

"Maybe not," Abby said, maximizing the picture so she could see as much of their faces as possible without distorting the image.

McGee smiled, "You're going to try and read their lips."

"I'm going to try, but if they keep moving in circles, this may be more difficult than I thought."

Ziva wrapped her arms around Tony's neck and her legs around his waist. To everyone, including the Feds in MTAC, they looked the part of love birds.

Ziva smiled and brushed some imaginary hair out Tony's face. "We have to get into that study," she cooed.

"We tried, remember? It's a fortress."

She laughed, like he had made some sexually charged comment, and whispered, "I tried. You didn't try hard enough. I think you should try again today."

He playfully dunked her and brought her up sputtering. He swept the hair out of her eyes and said, "Unless I get an invitation, I can most assuredly tell you that there's no way we're gaining access to that room."

She shook the water from her eyes and in retaliation for being dunked, she squeezed her thighs together, enjoying his bulging eyes. "If you hadn't been so timid," she cooed seductively, "we might not be having this conversation."

He managed to catch his breath at the same time that he noticed activity over her shoulder. "Take a look at that."

Ziva turned and watched a flurry of men walking with an urgency she hadn't witnessed before. The last time Tony saw this kind of activity—he didn't let his mind go there. For he had seen this sort of thing once before, and the reason for it didn't bode well for the living.

And so had Fornell, maybe not firsthand like DiNozzo, but he knew what quiet desperation looked like, and it was never a pretty sight.

"What do you make of that?" Gibbs said.

"Nothing good, that's for sure," Fornell answered.

Kort remained silent.

Tony and Ziva dried off from the pool while keeping an eye on the men whispering. She asked, "What are they doing now?"

Tony shrugged, not really understanding what he was seeing. He studied the scene: Men in black suits, carrying automatic weapons and scurrying from station to station, whispering to each other. Expressions were dour; muscles were tense; skin was pale; gun safeties were off. Whatever the news, it wasn't good.

He saw a familiar face and yelled, "Hey, Mario!"

Mario turned, saw Tony and Rose and started towards them. He'd taken two steps when he was intercepted and then diverted.

"Tony!"

Tony and Ziva turned around to see Michel rapidly approaching them.

"What's going on?"

"No time to explain. Rose, you have to pack your things; you're leaving."

"What?"

"There'll be a car waiting out front that'll take you wherever you want to go. Don't bother changing; just get your things and leave."

"Michel, what's going on?" she demanded.

"We're evacuating all the women and children from the estate."

"Evacuating… Why?"

"You have to leave. You have ten minutes to gather your belongings and say goodbye to Tony."

"But—"

"—Tony, you have fifteen minutes to say goodbye and then get yourself to the dining room."

Tony wanted to protest, but Michel had already left.

"You'd better get going."

"I'm not leaving here without you," Ziva said.

"You don't have a choice. I'll find out what's going on and be right behind you." He took her by the elbow and escorted her around the pool.

"I do not like this."

"Neither do I, but when you got ten minutes to leave, you had better be ready in nine."

There was an eerie chaos as the women on the estate were scrambling to pack their bags. Some had brought trunks full of things, while others, like Ziva, had only the clothes she'd arrived in, which consisted of a short leather skirt, a tight white blouse, and thigh-high black stiletto boots.

Tony slipped on a pair of jeans and grabbed a white button down shirt. "You ready?"

Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she replied, "No. I—"

He took her by the arm and escorted her through the door, "—Too bad. That's all the time you have."

They were again met with a swirl of activity. Women were yelling, sobbing, and complaining. Children were crying, whining and fussing. Men were issuing orders and kissing their wives, children, or girlfriends goodbye. Tony and Ziva caught snippets of conversations as they made their way through the people: "Why must I leave?...I don't know…When will I see you again?...I don't understand…Call me…I forgot my favorite shoes!...Forget about them! I'll bring them to you…I won't leave here without you…I'll wait for you forever..."

A line of black sedans and limousines wrapped around the circle and down the drive. Tony pushed her towards the first sedan.

"This is not right!" she protested.

"Driver! Take her back to the hotel," Tony said through the front passenger window.

The driver nodded, anxious to be leaving.

Shoving her into the backseat, he wrapped his hand behind her head and drew her close. Whispering in her ear, he said, "I'll be fine. If I leave now with you, we'll be stopped at the gate. Tell Fornell that I'm leaving here today with or without the information. See you in a couple of hours." He kissed her quickly on the lips and slammed the door. He watched as the black sedan rounded the circular drive and then picked up speed on the straight away. He didn't stop watching until it was out of sight. Then, and only then, did he notice the noise and disorder again.

Gibbs rubbed his forefinger across his lips, nervous. "Fornell, you mind telling me what's happening?"

"I can't be sure, but when a family evacuates their women and children, they're expecting something."

"So let's shut it down?" Gibbs said, throwing it out there.

Fornell mulled that thought over before saying, "Let's wait until we hear from Special Agent David. If we don't know any more after we talk to her, we'll send in our team and start making arrests."

Gibbs leaned forward and looked around Fornell at Kort, waiting for him to weigh in on the topic. But he remained awkwardly silent.

Making his way back through the commotion, Tony crossed the marble floor and walked straight to the dining room. Aside from guards, there wasn't anyone there. He took in everything: the papers on the table, the electronic equipment, the personnel. What were they planning on doing? They wouldn't actually be entertaining the idea of attacking Abu-Wahib when he arrived, would they? What's the point in killing off the terrorist group's leader before you had the information you needed? None of this made sense, but it didn't make Tony any less nervous about what he was seeing.

"Tony!"

He swung around and saw Michel walking towards him. "You get Rose off okay?"

"Yeah. She was a little put out, but I sent her back to the hotel. What about you. Who'd you say goodbye to?"

"My mother. You know Italian goodbyes… the crying, the moaning, the weeping … I finally pulled myself together."

Tony laughed, which was the first time he felt such levity since the flurry of activity began. "So," he hedged, "what's going on?"

"I don't know," Michel honestly answered. "I got the word and didn't ask questions. I guess we'll know soon enough. Pops, Vincent and Lou have been behind closed doors since breakfast." He glanced at the stuff on the table and said, "It can't be too bad, right?"

Tony agreed, sensing his anxiety, "Nah, it's probably not great news, but it's probably not terrible news either."

There was a false sense of security in the air, even though they both knew their words most likely belied the truth.

The door opened and Mario, Frank and Nicholas came in, each looking progressively more confused. "What's the word?" Mario said.

Michel shrugged, "You got me. What'd'ya all know?"

They collectively shrugged, "Nothing. We were told to get rid of the ladies and kids and meet here."

Michel took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Well, I guess there's nothing for us to do except wait for Pops and Vincent."

"Does this have anything to do with Abu-Wahib's visit today?" Frank asked.

Mario smacked him on the back of the head, "You just heard that no one here knows anything so why'd you ask such a stupid question?"

Frank rubbed his head but stopped when he saw Tony, "Why're you smiling?"

"What he just did to you, smacking you upside the head, it just reminded me of someone who used to do that to me."

The weight in the room shifted a little and the brothers took advantage of the lighter atmosphere. Frank tousled Mario's hair, making him back into Nicholas. Soon they looked like the three stooges wailing on each other. Judging by Michel and Tony's smiling faces, they were quite entertaining.

And then the door opened and in came Vinny, Sr., Vincent, and Lou, their expressions were a cross between determination, confidence, and worry. Behind them, walked the lieutenants, captains, and the rest of DiCarlo's army of men.

Gibbs asked for the second time, "Can we get a better audio in that dining room?"

"We're trying, but they seemed to have reconfigured their security," Abby explained. "Whereas we were able to tap into their lines before, I'm having to re-map the audio drops to the sound. It'll take a few minutes."

Abby furiously worked to clean up the sound, but her attempts were soon proven futile as they were only able to watch what was happening in the dining room. Not even her lip reading skills were helpful as the number of people talking and moving about the room made that virtually impossible.

Tony listened to Vincent talk. He looked over at Mr. DiCarlo, who looked worn down, haggard almost. Vincent kept his voice level, which was, at times, at extreme odds with what he was saying. "We've had reports that the Guidinetti family is planning an attack on us, here at the estate. At this time, we have no reason to believe that they'll actually do anything, but we also don't have any reason to believe they won't. That's why we sent the women and children away."

"Haven't they done this before?" Mario asked. "Threaten to attack us and then never do?"

"Yes, it's their M.O, if you will." Using a law enforcement term in an otherwise lawless environment amused the men and there was a hushed chuckle. "They've threatened this before and nothing ever came of it, which is why we have every reason to believe that nothing will come of this most recent threat. But we'd be fools if we didn't take it seriously, especially in light of our guest's pending arrival."

"I say we send the Guidinetti family a message of our own," Frank said, annoyed that the ladies were no longer around.

"That's already in the works," Vincent said. "I've sent some of our best men on a mission of sorts. They'll be back in a few hours. In the meantime, we're ready for anything they might try. Here's how we proceed: We're going to meet Ahmed Abu-Wahib just like planned. The show of firepower will be impressive, but because a quarter of our men are gone, it won't be overly threatening. He'll see that we are prepared for anything that he might try against us, or another family might try against us. We'll make the deal and move on. He won't be none the wiser about our plans until he's lost all his money in our banks. At that point, we'll sick the Guidinetti Family on them—if there's anyone left after we deal with them for jerking our chain every opportunity they get."

"Sounds like you have it pretty well covered," Michel said, approvingly.

Tony took it all in. The words were sound, reassuring even, but they didn't fit the reality. He wondered if Fornell and Gibbs were getting any of this. He hoped as Hell they were because he almost wasn't believing his own ears. He looked up, directly at the camera and Gibbs' gut clenched, and Gibbs knew.

Something was wrong…something was about to go terribly wrong.

~TBC