Chapter Nine
The six men were dressed on in black with knit black hats that made them sweat and black face. Once in Liberia they rendezvoused with a source who supplied them with Jericho 941 pistols and IMI Tavor TAR-21 assault rifles, as well as plenty of ammo. Locked, loaded and ready they made their through the brush, think with trees, bushes and humidity, to the coast and the terrorist village.
Tony was wondering why the fuck he was there. He was an FBI agent not a fucking spy or an assassin. Somewhere along the he had taken a wrong road and ended up associated with these people and they thought he belonged with them. He didn't feel like he belonged with them. In his mind, he was a cop, an FBI agent, which was a glorified cop. Going through a village and killing everyone and then booking the dead wasn't cop work.
They arrived at the edge of the village. Simon tapped Tony on the shoulder and pointed up at the full moon. It was inspiringly beautiful and it was dangerous for them because darkness was their cover and their friend. Malachi leaned in between Simon and Tony, who could feel his hot breath on his cheek.
"Don't even bother about night vision. The moon makes it almost like daylight. We should have planned this better," he said.
"We are on a tight time schedule, Malachi," said Simon.
"So, are we doing this?" asked Tony. Or can I go home, watch a DVD, and drink a cold beer.
"In five minutes. I am sending Menachem to kill the sentries first," he said then disappeared.
"Old Menachem must be good with a knife," remarked Simon.
He was going to cut some throats. The last throat he saw cut was at a serial killer's crime scene. He helped track that bastard down and imprison him. This time he had to wait until some cut throats. Does three throats make Menachem a serial killer? Or was he just a soldier doing what he had to do? It was a difficult question to contemplate let alone answer.
Of course, now wasn't the best time to be contemplating such questions. Now was the time to concentrate, to focus, and prepare to kill. That was the only reason he was here was to kill. He was here to be a kill. There was no sugar coating it: this was assassin work. He was here to do assassin work.
Menachem came back and nodded to Malachi. It was time. With great effort, Tony shut off his mind and followed the other five men into battle. Within seconds, firefights broke out and men went down. He fired his assault weapon killing a man then another and another. Several times, he heard bullets whizz by his ear, which worked as a great way to refocus him.
He felt a burning in his upper left arm. A bullet grazed him and ripped open the upper arm. He noticed in the moonlight blood appeared to be black. His hand was painted black after grabbing his wound. Somehow, it seemed appropriate for his blood to appear black. Black, spoiled, dirty. He shot another man then kept running.
Tony would never have thought six men would have been able to kill thirty-two with only minor injuries. Malachi came up behind Tony and Simon.
"Now the hard part. We must collect intelligence and identify the dead," he said.
Now the hard part. Tony wanted to vomit. In all this chaos, he had actually killed a man who was coming out of a bathroom. He had no gun, but was rushing to zip up his pants. Now was the hard part.
"Tony and I will grab papers and computers in Hasan hut," said Simon.
"Why you?" asked Malachi coldly.
"Because US Seals are picking us up," Tony answered.
They rushed over and entered the hut. Simon rifled through things to look for files, papers with anything written on them, while Tony found a laptop. They exited the hut to see a sour faced Malachi. He walked up to them.
"It looks like Tariq Hasan is not here," he said.
"Fuck!" growled Tony. "Don't tell me we did this for nothing and one of the Hasan's is gone off to kill a shitload of people."
"This is not for nothing," Malachi said then he waved his hand around. "Look around you at them. They are dead. That is something."
Tony felt nauseous, a further reminder that he wasn't a spy or assassin. Simon noticed his friend.
"Call for the Seal, Tony," he said.
"Yeah, fine," Tony said then took out his satellite phone and connected with the USS Eisenhower. "Time to make the doughnuts."
"Pickup on the way," a voice said.
Tony looked from Malachi to Simon: "They are on their way."
"Easy peasy," smiled Simon.
With laptop and papers in hand, they waited on the beach. Tony saw three helicopters hugging the waves making no noise and rushing in towards them. The Navy Seals were on the way.
TWO ROADS
Onboard the Eisenhower, he offered the laptop and written materials over to translators and computer geeks. Tony was rushed in the infirmary for stitches for his arm and ribcage, and then finally told to get some sleep. He did as he was told. When he woke in the infirmary, Simon had the bad news for him.
"Well, our job is far from over," he said.
"What is it?" asked Tony.
"Tariq Hasan had left for first a doctor in London. I'm told the doctor was a plastic surgeon. MI-6 will be paying him a visit to get a description of what the bastard looks like now," said Simon.
"What are we going to be looking for when we find him?" asked Tony. "Briefcase nuke?"
"Y Pestis," he said.
"Shit," he sighed then looked at him. "What the hell is that?"
"The plague," Simon answered. "On top of there was a map with Baltimore and DC circled."
"Fuck us," said Tony.
"Yes, well, I'd rather not," said Simon.
"Tease," Tony smiled.
"So it looks like we are going to be given a flight back to land then another flight to DC and finally a jaunt to NCIS," said Simon. "I wanted to get this over with."
"Easy peasy," said Tony.
"I knew you had an Englishmen in you," smiled Simon.
"What's going to happen to the Mossad quintet?" asked Tony.
"They are staying in the ship until they can be escorted to a plane and flown back to Israel. No one wants four assassins running around," said Simon.
"But you and I are okay?" said Tony.
"Our little work in Liberia bothered you, didn't it?" said Simon.
"We acted as assassins, Simon," said Tony. "I'm a cop not an assassin."
"You are an agent for your country which means sometimes you have to do whatever is necessary to protect your country," said Simon. "Do you have a problem protecting your country?"
"No," said Tony.
"Then don't be a whiny infant. You did what was the right thing to do," Simon.
"Simon," smiled Tony, "you have a gift for rationalization."
"It's part of the English educational system. I live in a country, which limits freedoms more and more. Sometimes I think I should be protecting the citizenry from our politicians instead of terrorists," said Simon. "But, I do what I do. I am a spy and you are an agent for your country. We do what we have to do."
"And I had to kill terrorists," said Tony.
"And you're not done. Tariq Hasan is going to try and kill a great many US citizens," said Simon.
"Okay, let's get Tariq Hasan," said Tony.
TWO ROADS
Vance sat at the head of his conference room, as the members of Gibbs' Team and Fornell's Team sat and listened.
"We now know what we are dealing with. Tariq Hasan has entered this country with Y Pestis," Vance stated.
"Y Pestis?" asked Sacks.
"The plague," said McGee.
"I knew there was a reason we kept your around," said Burley.
"I take it this information is coming from DiNozzo," said Fornell.
Vance nodded yes.
"Agent DiNozzo is on his way back along with Simon Bruce, who works for MI-6," said Vance.
"What happened to Talib Hasan?" asked Gibbs.
"Dead," answered Vance.
Fornell sighed. He didn't like the idea of his agent running around the world playing spy and killer.
"Is DiNozzo alright?" asked Fornell.
Ziva took a deep breath and waited for the answer.
"A few injuries but fine," said Vance.
Ziva exhaled.
"Tariq had gone to London for plastic surgery. We are waiting for a photo of his new face," Vance said.
"When will DiNozzo be back?" asked Fornell sounding like a concerned father, which made Gibbs smile.
"Tomorrow," said Vance. "Until Agent DiNozzo's return, I expect you to coordinate with other agencies. We need to find and stop this Hasan before innocent lives are lost."
"I take the CIA and FBI," said Fornell.
"I'll handle Homeland Security and Army CID," said Gibbs.
"I'll talk to the NSA and DOD," added Vance. "There is a fifteen to eighteen percent of survival once you contracted the plague. That means a lot of innocent dead people."
"Baltimore or DC are believed to be the targets of the attack," Vance said.
TWO ROADS
It had been a long day of talking to other agencies and setting up checkpoints at airports, train stations, and bus stations. Ziva was exhausted when she got home. She tossed off her overcoat and walked into her kitchen to make tea. Once the teapot was on, she walked into the living room and collapsed on the sofa. There was a knock on her door.
Ziva got up, pulled her sidearm keeping it slightly hidden behind her back then opened the door. A tired looking Tony was standing there.
"Hi," he said. "I just got back and you were the first person I had to see. I guess you've bewitched him."
Ziva holstered her gun then she grabbed him and pulled him into her apartment. Tony was about to speak when she captured his lips with her own. He forgot what he was going to say as he lost track of time as he devoured her mouth. Soon they ran out of breath and pulled apart.
"I missed you," he said.
Without thinking, he reached behind her hair and undid her clip letting her hair fall about her shoulders. She smiled at this.
"My bedroom is down the hall. You look tired," she said.
"Yeah, tired," he replied with only thought of making love to her.
Ziva grabbed him by his belt and led him to her bedroom. Once they entered, she unbuckled his belt and then unbuttoned his pants. Tony didn't need further invitation as he tossed off his jacket then his shirt, while Ziva started stripping of clothes. Once they were naked, they attacked each other.
Tony picked her up and tossed her onto the bed, evoking a throaty laugh from Ziva. She now noticed the bandage on his arm and ribcage. A look of concern passed across her face.
"Just grazes. I'm fine," he said.
"Good. I want to be the one to break you and no one else," she smiled.
"Let's get to breaking," Tony said.
He got on the bed as Ziva reached up and pulled him on top of herself. His hand slowly caressed her thigh working his hand up until he found a wetness between her legs.
"You are happy to see me," he murmured into her ear.
She reached down and grabbed his erection.
"Ditto," she said.
"God, I think I love you," he whispered in her ear then he positioned himself and entered her.
As Ziva lost herself to their primal passion, his words started to sink in. Love. She wanted him, needed him close to her, was that love? If it wasn't it should be, she thought.
"I love you, too," she panted.
Hearing these words drove Tony wild. It pushed him to want to do anything to satisfy this woman he had fallen in love with. He never would have thought this could have happened to him, but it had.