Tony wanted a painkiller, a cup of coffee and a hug, preferably in that order. Of course, as far as his captors were concerned, he could probably use a lobotomy. He wasn't feeling anywhere near as loopy as he was letting them believe, not anymore. His only regret was not telling Ziva about his…could he really call it a plan at this point? His main objective was escaping and he wasn't any closer to that than he had been before he'd become Special Agent Bozo. As far as he could see, his only accomplishment thus far was annoying everyone. Still, if he could use the lowered expectations…really, it was just like any other day, except when someone asked if he had a head injury, he could smile like a doofus and agree.

Then he could reach into Safad's chest and rip out his heart, Temple of Doom style. Bastard deserved it.

Tony turned his head and squinted at Ziva, who was listening intently with her eyes closed. Ever since Nozdryov had arrived, there had been a lot more movement, maybe indicating they were about to be moved. That would be their best chance for an escape attempt, preferably an escape success. He whispered, "Is your Spidey-sense tingling?"

"Ssshhh. I thought I heard someone say 'truck' a moment ago, but they've gone upstairs."

He decided it must have been uttered in another language, audible only to dogs and Moussad-trained super spies, because he hadn't heard a thing. Back to business – getting free from his chair. The ropes binding his wrists to it were as tight as ever. There was definitely nothing in his pockets that would help him, not that he could reach his pockets. He could just wait until they untied him again. He furrowed his brow, but found that it was exceedingly uncomfortable due to his swollen, bruised face. The last time he'd been untied they'd made sure to keep a gun on Ziva until he was firmly retied. They could kill her before he got more than a swing in. He couldn't risk that, couldn't risk waiting any longer. He raised himself as high as possible and brought as much of his weight down on the seat of the chair as he could.

"What are you doing?" Ziva hissed, giving the webcam a nervous glance.

He heard a creak as he gave his chair another heavy bounce. "They sound pretty busy out there. Maybe they're not paying too much attention to us."

"I noticed that too. Perhaps they are getting ready to leave."

"Yeah, that's what I figured. I don't really feel like going with them, do you?" He gave another bounce, feeling a little more give this time.

"It is unlikely that they will take me."

"Oh, sure, they'll just leave you here alone to escape at your leisure." The wood gave another creak of protest under his effort.

"I mean that…Tony, you are useful to them. I am not."

"Yeah, how could they possibly take advantage of the Moussad Director's daughter as a hostage?"

"My father will not allow them to, and they know this. They will not allow me to leave here alive."

"No, no, no. No fatalist bullshit." He directed his anger at their situation into downward force. One or two more tries and he was going to teach this lousy chair who was the useless hunk of wood. "We're both getting out of here, hopefully before they realize what's going on."

"I think they will notice the crash if you break your chair."

He avoided a glance at her, which he was sure would not be helpful at this point. "Yeah, but not in time to stop me from…" He felt the wind knocked out of him as his wooden chair cracked, sending him to the floor in a graceless heap. "Yeah, that." Wiggling his left wrist, he found that he could almost… "Oh, yeah. Tony 1, chair 0." With his newly freed hand, he went to work on the rope still binding his right wrist to the wooden fragments.

"Hurry up."

"What, you don't think I'm…ah." He rubbed his wrists, wondering why people in the movies always did that after being untied or unhandcuffed or whatever. Hell, people he arrested did it, too. All he was feeling was additional chafing after the presence of the coarse rope for the past few hours. Ziva was probably feeling similar discomfort. He gave his wrists a final rub before turning to her. He paused as he got his first good look at the wound on her neck. "Holy…he could have…you…you should have told me he tried to slit your throat."

"He did not."

"You're not defending…?"

"No. I am simply telling you that it is not serious."

He tentatively touched the sticky blood just below the cut, remembering his earlier plan for Safad. "I'm gonna…"

"You look pretty terrible yourself, so why don't you just concentrate on untying me for now?"

"Right." He turned his obstructed rage on the knots. After helping her slip her left hand through the loosened loops of rope, he said, "I don't know how far we're gonna get with a couple of splintery chair legs. Is there any chance we might find some weapons under these sheets, you think?"

She looked at a wrist that seemed like it had made a lot more effort to get out of the ropes than either of his had. He knelt on her other side, working quietly until she said, "Jen should have something in her desk."

Tony stopped what he was doing to meet her eyes. She seemed lucid, but…he'd been playing at being brain damaged for the past few hours, so it was perfectly plausible that she'd been doing the opposite, putting on a brave face to compensate for her injuries. "You better let me handle the tough stuff. I think you've lost a little too much blood to think clearly at the moment."

"I thought you were the one who needed extra consideration."

"Hey, you know me." He tried to wink but wasn't sure he managed a visible gesture. "I'm full of surprises."

He felt her fingertips graze his forehead. "Just let me take care of my other hand and look in the desk."

"Ziva, we're not…"

"It is Jen's house!" she whispered urgently. "There will be weapons somewhere. Find them!"

She was really losing it if she thought…she hadn't breathed a word of it before now, and if they were really in Jenny's house, she would have said something to him. Something. Come to think of it, she had claimed that she told Gibbs where they were, but he'd figured that had just been some code he wasn't smart enough to…unless. Was it really that ridiculously simple? "You can't be…"

"Tony!"

"I'm so glad you're my super spy." He pecked an unscathed spot on her temple and reluctantly stepped away as she fumbled with the ropes on her right hand. A large, dark desk appeared when he yanked the sheet off the biggest lump in the room. He had already discovered a letter opener when she appeared at his side, giving far less consideration to the Director's things than he had been. "Uh, if this is really Jenny's house you should probably…"

"Nothing," Ziva spat. "Why doesn't she have a gun in here?"

He grinned despite the situation and the pain the action caused. "Because not everyone is as well armed as you? They'd never have found all the weapons if they were holding us hostage at our place."

"Keep your voice down!"

"Sorry, I just…we've got chair bits and I found a letter opener, if that helps."

"I can assure you, it will not," a cold voice replied from the entryway. Tony tightened his grip on the letter opener as Nozdryov cocked his gun.

Safad stepped into the room behind him, looking unimpressed. "I must admit, I was expecting something like this much sooner. Alex has been so patient throughout this process that I have been feeling very anxious that he would not receive his compensation in a timely manner. And now you present an opportunity. Would you like to take a moment to say goodbye, Officer David?"

"She does not deserve…"

Safad waved him off. "Just try not to shoot Agent DiNozzo. I still need him to, erm, trade."

"Nobody will be getting shot today."

The two armed men were distracted by the unexpected announcement from behind them. Ziva gave Tony a half-smile when he glanced at her. "I told you it is Jen's house."

He didn't have a chance to reply before all hell broke loose.