Notes: Thanks to the Nice English Lady ™ for the beta. All errors are mine. Thank you for all the follows, favourites and reviews. Lots of medical and law enforcement procedural inaccuracies to serve the story. Deal with it.
Chapter 7
(6979 words – 31 min)
The alphabet agencies might not be very keen on giving the newbie investigative unit space, especially related to such a high-profile case, but the Secretary of Defence himself was tired of waiting. The last incident with the death of two more federal agents took the decision out of the agencies' hands, even if their directors didn't know that yet. Now the new Special Investigations Unit of the Department of Defence was taking over and Rivkin was their first target.
Tony tried to stretch in the confines of the driver seat. Stakeouts were certainly something he wouldn't miss with his promotion. "Here's hoping that this is the last one I have to do," Tony thought, eyes glued to the entrance of the building. It was dark now and Tony confirmed that Ziva David arrived just after 5:30 pm, which meant that she left the Navy Yard at 5pm on the dot and drove her crazy way back home. Tony didn't see Rivkin today, but his agents, Bob Appleton and Heather Foster, had been the ones on surveillance earlier and confirmed that he left for a shopping run and was back in the apartment at lunchtime, not leaving since. They were able to have cameras and spotters positioned in the neighbour buildings, so their information was pretty solid.
Now the two agents were organizing the planned takedown of the Kidon agent while Tony did his part and kept an eye on things. He knew Abby and McGee should be investigating the evidence that Paula Cassidy's team had collected before the explosion, and they might make the necessary connections to identify Ziva's apartment as a point of interest. Tony was unsure if Gibbs would act on that directly or send Langer and McGee to deal with the situation. He actually hoped that Gibbs would wait to talk to Ziva at the office instead of sending someone to her house. Tony knew his hope was probably in vain and he had a backup plan to avoid the FUBAR that Gibbs, or anyone else from MCRT, showing up would cause.
A taxi stopped by the entrance to the building and Tony straightened up in his seat, phone at his hand, ready to send the signal that their target was on the move. Rivkin showed up at the building entrance, a backpack on his left shoulder and pulling a carry-on luggage. Ziva was just behind the man and pulled him back for a searing kiss. Tony watched dispassionately, analysing the body language of his two targets. It was clear that Ziva was invested and had feelings for the man, but Rivkin was doing a bad job of even showing any interest in her. He separated from Ziva as quickly as possible, shoving his bag and pack inside the car, following suit. The taxi peeled from the curbside, quickly entering the heavy traffic. Ziva stayed by the entrance of the building for a few more seconds, lost in thought. She shook her head and went back inside while Tony typed quickly on his phone, after checking that the tail car was following the taxi Rivkin was in. When a dark sedan parked just behind the car he was in, Tony gestured through the window, acknowledging the arrival of the other agent who would be assuming the surveillance job and turned on the car to go to the airport where they expected to pick up Rivkin.
The journey to the airport was surprisingly easy even with the end-of-the-day traffic. Appleton and Foster were hot on Rivkin's heels, and they had enough Homeland agents to help, but Tony had planned for a discreet takedown, nothing that could come back to other agencies or Mossad itself. You never know who might be watching. Rivkin was certainly helping when he checked in with his English passport and went to the VIP lounge of the airline. A text from Foster indicated that Rivkin was already loaded and there were still three hours to go for his flight. As long as they could keep Rivkin mellow and drunk, this should work well. The decoy was ready to pick up Rivkin's place in the airplane, and Tony arranged for Interpol to intervene when they landed in London. They needed some buffering time before Mossad started to make noises about their missing agent.
Heather was clearly the best option to approach Rivkin. A tall, reasonably muscular redhead who exuded a sporty, adventurous vibe would pick up his attention easily. She was wearing comfortable but elegant jogging style clothes when she entered the VIP lounge with just a backpack on her hand. She picked a light beer and some chips and sat on the lounge chair in front of Rivkin, sharing a coffee table between them. Rivkin had a scotch in his hand and didn't even try to disguise the once over stare he gave her. Heather smiled seductively and purposely moved chairs to sit by Rivkin's side.
'Waiting long for your flight?' She started the conversation, being blunt in the way her eyes ran over him.
'Couple of hours,' Rivkin answered, finishing the drink in his hand. 'You?'
'Pretty much the same,' Heather's smile grew. 'Interested in spending the time doing something more… fun?' Her smile was all seduction.
'I don't know what options this lounge has to offer.' Rivkin seemed reluctant, but his eyes didn't move from Heather's chest.
'Oh, I have friends here,' she insinuated, putting a hand on his arm. 'I can find a discreet, comfortable place and we would even hear the flights announcements.'
Rivkin put the empty glass on the coffee table and started to stand, offering his hand to Heather. 'So please, lead the way.'
Heather picked her backpack and held Rivkin's hand, starting to lead him towards the back of the lough area. 'By the way, I'm Heather.'
'Call me Max,' the man answered, having to pay attention to walk behind the woman, the amount of alcohol he'd already consumed having an effect.
They entered a door by the end of the small corridor into a dark room where the silhouette of a bed was barely identifiable. Heather threw her backpack to the side, clearing the entrance, and Rivkin took a moment longer to divest himself of his bags. When he turned to embrace the girl, she swept his legs from under him, pushing him towards the bed.
'Oh, a woman in control! I like that,' Rikvin laughed.
'So much control that you won't know what to do with it,' Heather responded and quickly grabbed his right arm, twisting it roughly to pin him down.
'Hey!'
'Sorry, Michael,' Heather whispered close to his ear. 'Fun times are over,' and she tapped the side of his neck with the outside of her hand, dropping him unconscious.
A door on the other side of the bed opened and Bob Appleton and Tony DiNozzo entered the room.
'Nicely done, Heather,' Tony smiled. 'Help BA here carry our guest to the van outside while I collect his bags and prep Vince to take his place on the flight.'
'Really, chief?' Appleton asked. 'Gonna keep calling me that?'
'You're an over 2 meters tall bald black man with, what, 200 kilos of muscle? With the initials B and A? Pile up some gold necklaces and nobody could tell the difference!' Tony joked.
Appleton sighed, resigned, and Heather laughed out loud. They moved to carry the passed-out man out of the room while Tony gloved up and started rummaging through the man's jacket for his documents. He went through the backpack and made quick work of opening the carryon bag. He left all the clothes and toiletries there but made an impressive pile of opioids, medications and all the electronic devices he found. A more detailed check earned him two memory sticks that were concealed inside some bunched up underwear. After making sure that there was nothing else of interest in the luggage, Tony waited for their decoy agent, Vincent Byrne, to enter the room from the back door, dressed exactly as Rivkin. Both men were close enough in heigh, weight and colouring to fool almost anyone from a distance and certainly for Vince to use Rivkin's passport, especially since Rivkin had already gone through the airport security. Interpol would pick up Vince at Heathrow before Mossad could make contact. How they proceeded afterwards would depend on how cooperative Rivkin would be with Tony and his investigation.
Rivkin woke up abruptly and tried to sit up but noticed quickly he didn't have a lot of freedom of movement. He was clearly on a hospital bed and had an IV inserted in his right arm. Both wrists were cuffed to the rail of the bed with leather cuffs, the type used in mental hospitals. Rivkin tried to pull his arms free, showing that there was enough give so he wouldn't hurt himself unwittingly but not enough that he could have any leverage to break them. His ankles were similarly cuffed, a bit of slack to move on the bed, not enough to allow him to pull free or kick someone.
A nurse entered the room, clearly being notified somehow that he was awake . The man checked his vitals quickly and efficiently, never trying to address Rivkin directly. The nurse left the room, leaving the door open so three people could come in. Rivkin couldn't suppress the surprise and annoyance when he recognized two of them. The woman was dressed in a more professional manner, with black slacks and a light green blouse, a badge tucked firmly on her belt. Rivkin lamented that this situation would probably end with his death, or hers, if he could do anything about it. She was quite his type, after all and he never had the chance to enjoy himself.
The tall black man at the back, Rivkin dismissed as pure muscle, there to try and intimidate him into talking. Even if he was feeling clear headed as he hadn't in a while, Rivkin couldn't dismiss the high chance they had pumped him with some drug to help with his interrogation.
The third person, the man dressed in an elegant and expensive suit, a Zegna, if he was not mistaken, was the real surprise. After all, he was told the man was out of the game over a year ago, but seemed that, once again, Ziva had overestimated her prowess and was telling tales to promote herself to her father.
'Well, well, well, if it isn't Agent Meatball himself!' Rivkin had thought for a long time that he didn't have much to lose, considering the life he had been leading and the pressure Director David kept him under. So he would have fun whenever and however he could. 'Ziva was so certain that her little plan got rid of you last year, but like a bad penny, you seem to keep showing up.'
Rivkin kept an eye on the reactions. The black man straightened up at the back of the group, clearly upset with the comment. The woman seemed more in control, but still pressed her lips together in a sign of displeasure. DiNozzo, Agent Meatball, smiled softly, like he was amused by a child's antics, completely relaxed in posture. Rivkin felt himself bristling with the implied insult of the attitude, like he wasn't important or dangerous enough to be of consideration.
'Officer Rivkin,' Tony started. 'We both know that Ziva has an unhealthily high perception of herself and likes to talk herself up to anyone close enough to hear her. You should have known to take anything she tells you with a grain of salt. Or a handful of it, actually,'
'You didn't show up in any other agency after your "retirement",' Rivkin said leadingly. He was curious.
'I dedicated myself to my rehab for a while,' Tony conceded. 'You can have the complete list of my injuries if you like, but in spite of them, as you can see, Agent Meatball is fit and well again.' Tony preened exaggeratedly' 'I also like to be well prepared for any new endeavour, so I made sure to have all my ducks in a row before jumping into the pond again.'
Rivkin shook his cuffed wrists. 'And what is this? A bit of "Fatal Attraction" payback? Ziva did say you were overly invested in her personally?' Rivkin couldn't think of any agency DiNozzo could be with where Mossad wouldn't have heard about it.
Tony laughed out loud, amused. 'Grain of salt, Rivkin, please, I can buy you a pack if you need,' he kept chortling. 'The only thing about Ziva that I was interested in was how her spying was impacting on U.S. operations and how much damage it was causing us,' he added seriously. 'I'm sorry that it took the death of three agents and six suspects for the powers that be to allow me to deal with the situation my way. How things will shake up for you will depend on your cooperation.'
'That agent on the SecNav's house was an accident,' Rivkin conceded. 'Ziva's team was supposed to have the case of the sleeper cell and she would have been able to steer them away from their location.' Rivkin was surprised with his candid responses. Maybe they really had drugged him. Or he was just tired of it all. He certainly preferred they kill him instead of losing him in a dark hole in Gitmo or anything like that. Mossad and Director David wouldn't come to his rescue, they never did. He would be considered compromised, and the best he could hope for was a clean hit. If David thought he could use the situation in any way, he would let Rivkin linger as a prisoner, anywhere, no matter the conditions. Rivkin knew exactly what David did to Ari to prep him to be a double agent and how quickly he ordered his assassination when it served him, and Mossad, best.
'No plan survives the first encounter with the enemy,' the woman said. 'Was her name really Heather,' Rivkin considered.
'That's what back-up plans are for,' Tony suggested.
'And plan C and D and E, all the way to Z,' the black man completed.
'You are going through a detox,' Tony informed. 'First for all the alcohol you have been consuming the last week or so. Man, you need to learn to appreciate the flavour, not just chuck things down,' he shook his head as if disappointed in Rivkin's behaviour. 'And then we'll be offering you treatment for your opioid addiction.'
Rivkin leaned back against the bed, surprised by the information and in denial about any issues. 'Nothing to do with you, Meatball,' he growled at the other man, feeling anger for the first time since he awoke. But he was also surprised to notice he wasn't feeling the pain in his lower back that had been his constant companion for the last six months or so, since he hurt it in an ill conceived operation in Bulgaria.
'We want your cooperation, Rivkin,' Tony declared. 'I think we could offer you something in exchange for that. Rest, let the doctors take care of you for once, and we'll talk again soon.' Tony turned to leave the room; the other two agents ready to follow him. Tony stopped at the door, turning once more to the man on the bed. 'Take my advice, no strings attached. Think of yourself first here, Rivkin. No guilt, no loyalty, only you and what's best for you. Took me a couple of months to reach that mindset, but it certainly did me a world of good and changed my life for the better.'
The three agents left the room quickly, leaving Rivkin to drown in his own thoughts.
Rivkin calculated it had been over 24 hours since he had spoken with Agent Meatball. He slept a lot during those hours and now he was seated on an uncomfortable metal chair in a standard cement grey interrogation room, chained to a bare metal table, dressed in one of those horrible orange jumpsuits that Americans thought make the right kind of prisoner garment, staring at a two-way mirror on the wall. This would be the first round of interrogation and Rivkin was psyching himself for it. After the quick chat while he was in the hospital bed, he thought he understood what this was about. They would try to get some Mossad secrets from him, probably threaten him with torture, or a secret prison. He knew Director David would make him pay for the death of the American agents, but he expected that payment to be made through a suicide mission or such. Rivkin felt actually a bit stupid for falling for the female agent plot and being taken out so easily. If that story ever got out, he would never live it down. But maybe that was the least of his worries. What were the real chances he would walk out of here? They would try to exchange him for Mossad secrets or help, and it would put him right back on the line for a suicide mission. Or they would throw him into a black hole of a prison never to be seen again. Rivkin wasn't seeing a good option out of his situation.
The room's door opened to let DiNozzo and the female agent enter, distracting Rivkin from his dark thoughts.
'Agent Meatball himself!' Rivkin would get his fun anyway he still could. 'And my would-be lover. Are you really Heather?' He couldn't stop himself from asking.
'Yes, Michael,' she answered. 'I'm Heather. And we can get right down to business, or you can keep up with the brat impersonation. It's your own time you're wasting.'
'Mood killer, Heather,' Rivkin retorted but stayed quiet afterwards.
'We already have a lot of the information we need, Rivkin,' DiNozzo was in all business mode, looking busy with the folder in front of him, going through the pages inside. 'You even confessed to the murder of the I.C.E. agent, and your involvement with, at least, the bombing of the repair shop that caused the death of two NCIS agents.' He raised his head to look the Israeli agent directly in the face. 'We are here to wrap up our investigation and be ready to proceed with the necessary action to minimize the problems created by Ziva David's espionage and Eli David's convoluted plans. It's up to you if you want to get something out of this just for you, or if you are ready to go down in flames with the David family,' Tony leaned against the back of the chair, looking quite comfortable and confident.
Rivkin could recognize and accept how bewildered he was right now. This was not the approach he expected at all. It was certainly not the way they would do an interrogation at Mossad or any other of the spy agencies he knew anything about. He had bought the information on the NCIS agents' dossier that Ziva had prepared for Ari and accepted her updated version of the new agent on the MCRT, Langer, and the revised versions for McGee and Gibbs. For DiNozzo, there was just a short comment about his incompetence as team leader and how she had acted to take him out of the team. He should have considered why Ziva thought it was better to get rid of DiNozzo instead of finding a way to control him, if he was that incompetent.
'I can play the game with the best of them.' Tony started talking again, getting Rivkin out of his composure. It looked like the whole detox thing was really messing with him. Michael couldn't seem to concentrate for five minutes straight.
'I just don't think we need to go through the whole "good cop, bad cop" scene; or down the "threatening/sympathetic" road here. I know you don't regret your actions, just the consequences some of them might bring you. I would prefer you go to jail for the murders you committed on U.S. soil, but I'm pragmatic. I know we have bigger fish to fry, and you can give us all the bait we need to roll them in. It's a real quid pro quo: you give and/or confirm the information we need, and we offer you a new identity in a new country, so you can escape your past,' Tony said calmly.
Rivkin reared in surprise. That was nothing he could even dream of. 'What is the catch? There is always a catch.'
Tony snapped his fingers in acknowledgement, pointing his index finger to the other man with a smarmy smile, like a game show host. 'Good question! Glad to see you paying attention. The catch is that you must agree to go to rehab for your addictions, opioids and alcohol, and stay out of the spy game forever. The government of your new country will keep tabs on you but won't really hound you if you behave.'
Rivkin considered the information, assessing how he could use it as leverage to his benefit.
'Of course, if you cross us with fake information or activating some kind of dead-man switch related to our investigation, we'll burn you with Mossad and all other agencies, let them know you are going around selling information at the highest bid, no matter to whom,' Heather added with a smirk.
'Whatever information I give you will make it look like I already did that,' Rivkin responded with disdain.
'Oh, ye of little faith,' Tony smirked. 'We have a whole operation ready to deploy, showing you died in the most natural way possible, so no one comes sniffing around. We just need your cooperation.'
Rivkin couldn't control his surprise. 'How?!'
Tony shook his finger in a 'no' motion. 'Trade secret. This Agent Meatball keeps his cards close to the chest.'
Rivkin was getting really tired of the way Tony was talking to him, like he was a recalcitrant toddler. 'What is it with all this talking to me like I'm a child?!'
'Calling people names is quite childish,' Heather commented.
'I can live with the nickname Agent Meatball, if you can live with the admonition,' Tony kept smirking.
Rivkin shrugged, still feeling out of balance with the whole situation. The agents in front of him stood up and moved to leave the room.
'Bob will take you back to your room and lunch will be brought to you soon. Drink plenty of water, alcohol detox is murder on your hydration levels,' Tony said, waving as he left. Heather followed the lead agent out, throwing a last-minute smirk back to Rivkin.
The prisoner didn't have to wait long until the tall black agent he'd seen before came to release him from the desk and escort him back to the same room where he'd woken up for the first time here. The bed had been changed to a normal cot without rails and there wasn't anything else in the room anymore. Rivkin knew that if he wanted to go to the bathroom, he needed to press a button by the side of the door so someone could escort him there. It was clear this was not a real prison, maybe some kind of barracks or a shared place for agents or military. But Rivkin hadn't seen anyone walking by the corridors while he was being moved around, so there wasn't much he could deduce from the stark white walls so far.
The agent didn't leave the room after escorting him there but was clearly waiting for the lunch to be delivered before locking his door again. The lack of a window did make the room look like a cell, but the stark white made Rivkin think about mental hospitals and that didn't help him relax at all. He needed to think about what Agent Meatball said, and how that would actually work for his benefit. So, he ate the surprisingly acceptable food and lay down to think, losing himself in sleep.
'Can we believe anything he tells us?' Heather asked Tony while they walked down the corridor toward the improvised office they were working from.
They had taken over part of a wing in a military training facility close to Norfolk. The whole thing was going through renovations and the area they were using was set up as a test run, so things seemed new and well kept, but they weren't the final version of the proposed use for the building. This played well with Tony's plan, keeping Rivkin out of kilter, not really knowing where he was or who was behind his capture.
'He doesn't have much to lose or gain in lying to us,' Tony started. 'He became a liability after he killed the I.C.E agent and let the NCIS agents get mixed up when he took out the sleeper cell. Director David isn't the forgiving type. He would make Rivkin pay for this in some way. So, we are offering a way for him to escape his punishment there.'
'It's enough incentive?' Heather persisted.
Tony shook his head side to side, waving his hand as if to say more or less. 'Helps. It's a good incentive in general. He'll probably like the place we plan to offer him. But I know he won't tell us everything. He probably has his information insurance, and he'll choose how best to utilise it. We might not be the best buyer for it, in his mind. I know Haswari had his fingers in a lot of different pies, not only Mossad and Hamas. I doubt Rivkin would be different. He probably has contacts all over, and not only in the intelligence network.'
'Did they break into his laptop and cell phone?' They entered the office, each going for their desk. A third desk was empty by the side of the door. Bob Appleton was with Rivkin right now, first moving him back to his temporary cell and then waiting for the food delivery before coming back to the office.
'The laptop, yes. It wasn't his but from the sleeper cell in LA. That's how he found out about the one in the DC area.' Tony sat down, placing his hands behind his neck, leaning back to look at the ceiling. 'They're being more careful with the phone, but I think we'll have something before our next meeting with our Kidon guest.'
They waited in silence for Bob. The tall man entered the office while putting his phone back in his pocket.
'Vince confirmed contact with Interpol, but the schedule was forwarded,' he informed them. Tony sat up straight, turning to the other man, waiting for the rest of the information. 'A guy died during their flight, so Interpol used it to put the plan in action. They took the body away and Vince "passed" through immigration with the dead guy's passport. Rivkin's was used for the body.'
'How d'you think the Davids will react? Heather asked.
Tony thought for a moment, his eyes unfocused. It was clear he was going through the information and possible scenarios in his head. 'Interpol is using the "suspected terrorist plot" option?' He asked Appleton, and the man nodded in response.
'Hum, Eli will request as much information as possible, hack the autopsy if he can. He'll request the body for their own examination. It'll need to disappear before our plot sinks,' Tony said. 'Ziva will go ballistic, jumping immediately to think he was taken out. I doubt she would accept he's an addict and a natural death was possible.'
'We can use this,' Heather considered. 'When she tries to hack something looking for information, we can bring her in. Maybe even bring charges for what she did that contributed to the attack on you, Chief.'
'Grain of salt, Heather. I'm serious about it. She was just trying to sell herself up there. It was actually an accident. Or better said, neglect for my safety.
'What did you find out about what happened then, Chief?' Appleton asked.
'One of the guys that was part of beating me went around bragging. The boss I was trying to chat up had a hard line on lieutenants trying to advance behind their bosses' back. And McGee and Ziva's conversation at the bar sounded like it was exactly what I was doing. They kept harping about Gibbs being away and me trying to take over the team when he was out of town. The guy decided to teach me a lesson, make an example of me, and maybe gain some brownie points with a rival. The gang is under surveillance from the ATF. The bragger is one of their best unwitting informants,' Tony chuckled.
'So, they were being stupid, not staying in character. And Miss Mossad thought she could advance her position using the incident?' Heather confirmed.
'Pretty much, yep.'
'That must hurt as much as the injuries, Chief - you being hurt because they couldn't do their jobs,' Bob commented.
'Yep,' Tony couldn't keep the upbeat persona. The way they acted showed their disregard for him and his life and was indeed offensive. But Tony worked, was working, on it through therapy, and with this new job. He would do the work to the best of his ability, and he wouldn't need to prove anything. His work would speak for him.
'I think Vance is ready to leave the issue in our hands, Chief.' Bob changed the subject, seeing how the issue still pained Tony. 'He contacted Morrow again. And it seems that Gibbs asked to have Rivkin's English passport flagged, so he will know about the "death"', he completed.
'Hum,' Tony mumbled. 'We're moving faster than I expected. I don't want us to rush too much and lose the prey we really want. Ziva is a thorn in our side, but she doesn't have initiative. She mines the databases she can access piggybacking on McGee's hacking. She collects the information daddy requests of her. We didn't find any indication that she's playing with it in her own time.' The other agents agreed with the assessment.
'Eli David is our main target. He's the one playing at backroom dealings. We know he only agreed to pass information about Benoit to Jennifer Shepard after he confirmed the man was working with the CIA. The sleeper cells he sent Rivkin to find and destroy, they could have provided tons of intelligence for us, but he preferred to have them dead, because the only effort Rivkin made to get information from any of them was to find that laptop,' Tony was processing the information out loud.
'The most important thing there seemed to be the terrorist training camp details,' Heather suggested.
'Saleem Ulman', Bob provided the name.
'Infiltrating that camp would be a suicide mission,' Heather commented.
'Quite the thing Eli David would do - send someone he wanted to punish or get rid of,' Tony responded.
'That's something we can use with Rivkin?' Heather asked.
'I think he already considered it,' Bob answered.
'Huh-huh,' Tony agreed. 'I believe our best angle is how he can escape Eli's chains, and Ziva's advances,' Tony smirked.
The next day, Tony made sure to talk it out with his Interpol contacts and guarantee that Rivkin's "death" wouldn't be flagged yet. They were on day two of the snatch-and-grab operation, not counting the flight hours, so they should have some time to work things out with the Kidon agent before Mossad would start asking questions.
Interpol confirmed that there were no other flight reservations under the English or Israeli passport for Rivkin, but that didn't mean he hadn't planned to catch the train through the Chunnel or even a ferry to cross between Great Britain and Europe. So, 24 hours after he should have landed in London, he was probably expected to make contact with the Embassy itself or some Mossad handler. Tony expected Eli David to wait up to 3 days before he started thinking that the silence was more than binge drinking and a sex escapade. Ziva would be on tenterhooks by day 2 though. Tony was unsure if she would control herself over the lack of contact.
Overall, he much preferred that any news was only made available after he reached an agreement with Rivkin. Less manoeuvring needed that way, less risk that his disappearance on U.S. soil would be noticed. The guy was almost there anyway. Being kept away from his coping mechanisms of opioids and alcohol was certainly messing with the man's head, but Tony didn't mind that at all. The best decision for everybody, in Tony's opinion, was for Rivkin to give the information they needed and then disappear. The farther away the Israeli was from the U.S. and Mossad, the better for everybody but the Davids, and Tony would be more than happy with such an outcome.
Their second interrogation/interview went basically the same way: Heather and Tony trying to keep Rivkin out of balance and the other man fighting to understand what was happening. DiNozzo was pretty sure that the lack of his poisons of choice, opioids and alcohol, were having a bigger effect on the Israeli than any of them considered beforehand. The guy was giving up information apparently without noticing, but Tony was suspicious enough to have Bob, and Vince over in London, checking everything. So far, everything checked out and was quite profitable on the information front.
Their third meeting, on what would be the third day Rivkin was with them, sealed the deal. Rivkin was getting restless and a bit violent from the lack of booze, and the basic denial of it wasn't cutting anymore. The guy would have to commit to rehab and receive full support to let go with his addiction, or he would blow up and they would have to throw him in a deep and dark hole while they keep digging on Eli David's dealings.
Not surprisingly, Heather was the one who shoved Rivkin over the edge. During the move from his cell to the interrogation room, done by the female agent this time, since Appleton was busy doing the background checking for their operation, Rivkin tried to jump Heather and overpower her. The woman was almost the same height as the Israeli, but certainly not as heavy or muscular. She had to sidestep the hard shove he threw, trying to pin her to the wall. Heather was able to put her leg between Rivkin's, tripping him. When he let himself fall forward, still trying to pin her, Heather grabbed the top of his orange jumpsuit and pulled sharply. She moved to the side and let his head connect hard with the wall behind her. He started to slide down, but Heather was quick to kick one of his knees, making him fall sideways, saving Rivkin from a concussion, leaving him with the headache for the close encounter between his forehead and the corridor wall, and an aching knee.
There was active surveillance in the area, so while this was happening, Bob and Tony came running from different sides of the corridor, both being alerted by text sent by the security person responsible for the cameras.
Appleton hauled Rivkin back up forcefully, holding his upper arms to help the man to steady himself and to make sure he couldn't try anything else. Tony was by Heather's side, visually checking the agent, to make sure she wasn't hurt. When he was certain she hadn't suffered from the unexpected attack, he turned to Rivkin, all the playfulness he used before gone from his façade.
'It seems you chose the hard road, Rivkin. I expected your self-preservation instinct to be stronger. But it is what it is,' Tony turned to Bob. 'Take him back to the cell and I will call in to transport him out. Not sure which black site has space right now, but I'll make sure that we can transport him as soon as possible.'
Tony held Heather carefully by the arm, turning toward their office. Appleton squeezed Rivkin's arms, pulling and pushing the man to walk the opposite direction.
'No!' Rivkin shouted, trying to fight the movement. 'Hey, I had to try, okay! I can barely think! I need a drink then we might talk!'
'We're not here to cater to your wishes, man!' Bob was ready to lift the man off the floor and carry him away.
'Look! I can give you the list of arms dealers' contacts that Eli uses!' Everybody stopped moving after Rivkin's delivery. 'You would never get it from my phone because the access requires a password and voice recognition. You give me the new identity and the rehab thing, and you will have full provable information on his backdoor dealings,' he finished, panting. The red mark on his forehead was a stark contrast with his pallor.
Tony exchanged glances with his two agents before offering a curt nod in agreement. Appleton still pushed the Israeli harshly towards the interrogation room while Tony whispered some orders to Heather. The agent walked back to their office, and Tony followed their prisoner.
Bob shoved the man inside the room, being quick to lock his cuffs to the table. He then leaned against the wall behind Rivkin, just to one side, so he was still in the man's peripheral vision, but he would need to turn all the way to his left to actually see the agent.
DiNozzo entered the room moments later, seating himself in front of Rivkin without any of his usual theatrics. He made a gesture towards the camera on top of the two-way mirror and a red light blinked into life.
'So, Rivkin, you said you are ready to give us something. Better be good because I'm tired of your teenager angst act. Start talking.'
'The list is in my phone,' Rivkin started slowly.
'Heather is bringing it in. You can start explaining it now though. I can arrange for your transfer in the next two hours. You might have information that I want, but nothing you have is worth the life, or health, of any of my agents,' Tony emphasized the comment with a slash movement of his right hand.
Rivkin tried to raise his hand to his forehead, but the slack in his chains were shorter than normal. 'I have a headache…'
'Live with it,' Appleton said curtly.
Rivkin threw a sideways glance to the tall agent, sighed, and turned back to DiNozzo. 'I need the phone to open the list. I got it from an old memory stick Eli passed to me with other documents. It was corrupted then, like he tried to delete the file. It was a year or so ago that I got it. I thought he was testing me, so I didn't do anything with it at the beginning. Then he sent me on a mission in Bulgaria, where I had to contact someone who was on that list. Things went badly,' he rolled his neck, trying to alleviate the tension in his shoulders. 'It was where I got hurt and started using the opioids. Eli got suspicious, not of me, but one of the Bulgaria guy's crew, the group that screw up the mission I was hurt in. He gave information about them to MI-5. They were a bit of a pain for the British.'
Tone leaned back in his chair, listening without showing any emotion.
'That's when I started thinking something was wrong with that list and started digging. Discreetly,' Rivkin smiled sarcastically. 'Probably not a complete list of his contacts, but accurate, if I can say so myself,' he completed proudly.
Heather entered the room with a bottle of water and a phone in her hands. She put both on the table, within easy reach of Rivkin's chained hands, and moved to lean against the wall in front of the Israeli, by the side of the two-way mirror. Rivkin followed all her movements, but Tony never deviated from his observation of the Kidon agent.
Rivkin picked up the water first, opening the bottle and taking a big gulp of it. He put the bottle back on the table and lifted the cell phone. He quickly worked out the password to unlock the device, followed by a quick swipe to select something on its screen. Appleton followed all his movements from his vantage point behind him. Rivkin seemed to enter a longer password and then he spoke into the phone in Russian. He checked that it was what he wanted before laying the phone on the table and giving a weak push to make it slide towards DiNozzo.
'Russian, Michael? Missing family?' Heather asked with a smirk. The man raised his head sharply to look at her surprised. 'You thought we wouldn't find out about your connections with the Russia Mafia?'
'The Italian Mafia in America don't like the Russians' methods,' Tony commented while looking at the phone without touching it. 'I do have some contacts there and they do like to gossip,' he finished with his normal smirk.
After a few moments of silence, while he looked at the information Rivkin provided, Tony stood up and leaned over the table to come face to face with Rivkin.
'I think this was a smarter choice, Rivkin. Bob here will go through the list with you, and we hope you will give us as many details as you can about each and every one of them. I will go and work on our agreement and make sure your new identity and transport for your new country is ready for when we deem this information exchange done,' Tony said, moving quickly to leave the room and gesturing for Heather to follow him.
Bob moved from his position to sit at the table, pulled the legal pad that was lying to one side towards himself and looked expectantly towards Rivkin.
The other man sighed but called out to the two agents leaving the room: 'Can I at least have something for the headache?'
Heather turned to smile viciously at him. 'Sure, Michael, I'll get right to it.'
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