A/N: Many sincere thanks to all of you who are following and reviewing this story - in particular, for your patience. This chapter took an inordinately long time to write, at least in part because I am dealing with some serious family health issues at the moment which are taking up a fair bit of my time. I will nevertheless try to continue posting regularly, hopefully once a week, since writing is a good outlet for me.

Spoilers: Minor spoiler for Season 3 episode "Untouchable". Major spoiler for Season 7 finale "Rule Fifty-One".

Disclaimer: All NCIS characters belong to CBS. The rest of 'em are mine, thank you very much.

Sunday, May 30, 2010 6:33 p.m.

Ziva had been unusually quiet for most of the drive to Fort Meade. Staring out the window blankly, her thoughts had drifted back to the words of the oath she'd only recently taken.

I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God.

It was heavy stuff; a serious commitment. And she'd meant every word. But now she found herself wondering whether the true implications of that oath had really sunk in. Perhaps Tony was right after all - perhaps this case would be a true test to see where her 'allegiance and fidelity' really lay. Now that Gibbs had fully briefed them on what he knew about the small fleet of ships heading towards Gaza, a sick feeling was starting to twist her stomach into knots.

Ever since Benjamin Netanyahu had been re-elected Prime Minister, Israel's relationship with the U.S. had gotten progressively more testy. The Mossad-trained operative in Ziva admired his firm stand against Hamas, and his fearless resolve to use force whenever necessary to protect the Israeli people. Nevertheless, she had come to appreciate from her time in America that, sometimes, brute force was not the best way to gain the advantage in a situation. No matter how vociferously the Israeli government maintained its justification for attacking Gaza in December 2008, Ziva knew in her heart that 'Operation Lead Cast' had done irreparable damage to the stability of the Middle East and to U.S.-Israeli relations.

Gibbs tore up the Baltimore-Washington Parkway like a man possessed; Ziva wondered why Tony always disparaged her driving, when their superior officer was obviously more of a menace on the roads than she. Had they not been wearing seatbelts, they'd all have gone through the windshield at various points along the way. Her stomach growled, but she didn't dare ask whether they could stop en route to pick up a bite of dinner. This wasn't the typical NCIS case. Most often, they had a dead body that wasn't about to go anywhere, and they could take their time documenting and assessing the crime scene. But it was very possible that any evidence of this crime was being destroyed at this very moment; every second counted.

Admiral Penachetti had ordered all Naval Communications and Cryptologic units to stand down from their workstations, and no-one was permitted to leave the base. There were over 1,100 active-duty Naval personnel at Fort Meade. NETWARCOM had narrowed the field to 26 'persons of interest', based on their areas of specialization, access to the mainframe network, and linguistics skills. Ziva and Tony were to interview all of them; it was going to be a long night.

They decided to begin with the NSA personnel, focusing on the Signals Intelligence division. The head of the NSA, General Kevin G. Anderson, had been advised of their impending arrival by Penachetti, and he was waiting for them in the main lobby as they passed through security.

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS." Gibbs flashed his badge at Anderson. "My team - Special Agents Anthony DiNozzo, Ziva David, and Timothy McGee. General." Gibbs nodded in deference to the Director.

Anderson nodded back. "Agent Gibbs. We've set aside some rooms as you requested. This is Lieutenant Commander Steve Schumacher. He oversees security of our mainframe and networked communications systems."

"I've been authorized to give you complete access to our systems, Agent Gibbs. We're very anxious to nail this down quickly." Schumacher appeared more than a little shaken - he'd never had a breach under his watch before, and he was determined to do whatever it took to catch the perpetrator quickly.

"McGee -"

"Go with the Commander and establish a link-up with Abby. On it, boss." McGee and Schumacher high-tailed it to the Tordella Supercomputer Building, while Ziva and Tony followed Anderson into the SIGINT work area. To Ziva, it was all very reminiscent of their last encounter with such personnel, back in 2006, when they were looking for a suspected mole at the Pentagon's cryptology unit. These people walked a fine line between genius and insanity, had quirky personalities, and were hard to read. She wasn't at all convinced that their interviews would uncover the culprit, and hoped McGee and Abby would have some luck tracing the signal.

They scouted the various rooms, and decided to make the staff lounge their main base for interviewing. "If we're going to be stuck here all night, I want to be comfortable," was Tony's rationale. Ziva had visions of him stretching out on the sofa while she, now carrying the honorific title of 'Probie', got to do all the work. Not to mention the fact that there was a kitchinette in there, and they were both starving (Tony more so than Ziva; he'd skipped lunch in the hope of getting home a bit earlier). They dumped their equipment on a table, and Ziva set to work, plugging in the laptop and webcam. Tony already had his head stuck in the fridge, hoping to find something, anything, edible that didn't have someone's name on it. Ziva was casually admiring his cute protruding butt when she noticed Gibbs sidling up behind him stealthily. An evil grin spread across her face as she saw what was about to transpire.

"DiNozzo!" Another head smack, and Tony's nose almost landed in a wad of half-rancid butter. "We don't have time for you to be snooping around in here. Help Ziva, and get to work!"

"Ah, come on Boss, we're all starving! I haven't eaten for over 8 hours. I'm not sharp when I'm hungry. Can't we at least order in some pizza or something?" Tony pleaded, pulling his head out of the fridge and turning to face his superior. Gibbs got right into Tony's personal space, staring into his eyes with a confrontational glare, and for a moment Ziva fully expected things to escalate. She knew very well that when he was cornered like this, Tony would never back down. They stood that way for what seemed like an eternity. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Gibbs' shoulders relaxed, he pulled out his cell phone, and strolled out of the room without another word to Tony, ordering two 12-slice pizzas as he went.

Ziva chuckled. "I do not know anyone but you who could get away with that."

"It'll probably be cold by the time it gets to us," Tony grumbled, contemplating the circuitous route they'd taken to get here. He secretly hoped there was a bathroom adjacent to the staff lounge, because otherwise he'd have to ask some nerdy kid for directions.

"Stop acting like a spoiled child, and help me set up this equipment!" she snarled. "You do not have a monopoly on hunger. In Mossad we were trained to go for days without food if necessary, to accomplish the mission."

"Newsflash, Probie, you're not in Mossad anymore, you're an NCIS Special Agent, and we require nourishment in order to work effectively."

"I would hardly describe a Grand Hawaiian pizza with double cheese as 'nourishment', Tony."

"ZIVA! TONY! TICK-TOCK!" Gibbs stuck his head back in the lounge doorway and glared at them, pointing to his watch, then stormed off. They both realized they'd pushed the envelope as far as was advisable, so they refocused their attention on the task at hand. They connected the laptop to the NSA personnel network in order to review the files of those they were about to interview, then tested the webcam signal feed to Abby's lab. Every interview would be recorded in case they missed something the first time around.

Interviewee number 14 wandered slowly into the staff lounge, closing the door behind her, and stood, nervously scanning the room. Ziva was propped against the wall behind the door, facing Tony, sitting on the arm of the sofa with her ankles crossed in front of her, gnawing at an annoying hangnail. It was looking like this might be the only protein she would get tonight; it had been over an hour since Gibbs had ordered that pizza.

It was her turn to be the observer; they were switching off every half hour or so. From where she sat she could see both Tony and the person being interviewed. Her Mossad training gave her a keen sense of when someone had something to hide. With an almost imperceptible signal to her partner, she could alert him to probe deeper if she felt it was required. They worked well together, and by now they had it down almost to a science.

Tony didn't even look up, motioning silently to the chair across the table from him as he scanned the cryptologist's personnel file. "Petty Officer First Class, Louisa Angelina Penachetti," he read aloud slowly, recognizing instantly who she was. His stomach growled, and he took a deep breath, leaning back in the chair and glancing up at her. She looked like a deer in the headlights - terrified. Not a good sign. He continued reading. "Born November 14, 1980. Single, no children. Enlisted in the Navy in 2000, transferred to NSA April 2, 2002. Cryptology specialist in Middle Eastern codes. Fluent in Italian, French, Arabic, Turkish, Armenian...and Hebrew." He looked up. Even though she was Pete's sister (or perhaps because she was Pete's sister), he knew he couldn't go easy on her. She fit the profile they were looking for perfectly.

"Am I a suspect, Agent...?"

"DiNozzo. Anthony DiNozzo. This is my partner, Special Agent Ziva David." He paused to take in the shock on her face. She must have recognized his name.

She mumbled, "I decrypt codes, I don't encrypt them, Agent DiNozzo. I don't even have the right equipment for that. And I don't have any access to communications equipment," she lied, "so even if I had created a cypher, I couldn't have transmitted it anywhere."

"You speak Hebrew."

"Yeah? What about it? So does everyone in my division. It's a requirement of the job." Her voice was rising in pitch. Ziva noticed her glancing around nervously, avoiding eye contact, and noted that she was fidgeting with the bottom button of her khaki shirt. She raised an eyebrow at Tony, and he reciprocated. It was their signal. Keep pushing.

"Where were you between 16:30 and 17:00 hours this evening, Petty Officer?"

She stared at him blankly. "At my workstation." A pause. "You can check the security cameras if you don't believe me."

"Oh, we will," he assured her. He ran through a battery of questions, and she answered them all with a curt precision. Then..."Have you noticed anyone in your section behaving suspiciously?" At this, she hesitated, as her thoughts drifted to the latest disgusting note she'd found in her coffee mug this evening. "Nothing that's relevant to your investigation."

"Why don't you let me decide what's relevant to my investigation?"

"OUR investigation," Ziva corrected him. He looked up at her under his eyebrows and resisted the urge to stick his tongue out.

"Am I a suspect?" Louisa repeated, deflecting Tony's line of questioning. She really didn't want to bring up Halden. It would make her look guilty, as if she was trying to divert attention away from herself and onto him.

Tony smiled coolly. "Everyone's a suspect until I say they're not."

Louisa had been slouching, almost cowering, but at this remark she sat bolt upright in her chair and placed both hands on the table in front of her. "You're thoroughly enjoying this, aren't you, Agent DiNozzo? You know what I think? I think you're just on some giant power trip."

Ziva smirked, knowing full well that Louisa had seen right through her partner's performance. Tony glared at them both, annoyed to be taking a hit so close to the bone.

"You're not helping yourself, Petty Officer."

"I don't think you realize who you're dealing with, Agent DiNozzo," she countered. "I have served the Navy with complete loyalty for ten years. I would never betray my country. My father is Admiral Hank Penachetti, the head of the Naval Network Warfare Command." At this, Ziva raised both eyebrows.

Tony's cell phone rang, interrupting the flow of the interrogation. He glanced at the call display. It was Gibbs. Dammit, why didn't his superior follow his own rules? He answered it curtly. "Yeah, Boss."

"You making any headway, DiNozzo? NETWARCOM is picking up a lot of chatter, they think the Israeli Defense Force is getting ready to make a move against the Flotilla."

"We've got some possibles, Boss. Nothing concrete yet."

"How many left to interview?"

"About a dozen.

"Well, get 'er done! We're running out of time!" Gibbs snapped his flip-phone shut in Tony's ear, not giving him the chance to inquire as to the whereabouts of their pizza.

Tony turned back to Louisa and stared thoughtfully at her. Despite all of Ziva's signals, somehow his gut was telling him Pete's sister was no traitor. She seemed to sense his hesitation, and seized upon it.

"Am I free to go?"

His eyes narrowed. "For now. But make sure you're available in case we need to question you again." He leaned back in his chair and smirked at her reaction, which was a mixture of panic and fury. She muttered something in Hebrew at him as she stood, and Ziva almost choked as she tried to stifle a laugh, catching the flash in Louisa's eyes. Ziva smiled broadly - she had to admit, this woman had spunk. Louisa spun on her heels and marched out, slamming the door behind her.

Tony shot an annoyed glance across to his partner. "What did she say?"

"Trust me,Tony. You don't want to know."