Chapter 8 – Warning in White

Tim McGee

May 1932

Tim sighed as he rubbed his eyes. He had been working for James Napolitano for two months, but he had only managed to crack a fraction of the ledger's code. Napolitano trusted him enough to let him in on the scope of his network. But he trusted no one with the code to the books. In that way, Naps protected himself and his investments.

And the job was exhausting. With the amount of work, he put in, as far as he was concerned, he earned every penny of his three hundred dollars a week.

Thankfully Dale kept the legal businesses straight with little trouble. He couldn't imagine trying to keep those books straight in addition to Jimmy's illicit businesses. Although, given how pale Dale was, he was pretty sure it was because the man was always inside working and rarely saw the sun. Or he was patently terrified of Jimmy. Or both. Any time Dale crossed paths with Jimmy, Dale clammed up and stammered so much he couldn't get any of his words out. Half the time, he had to tell Jimmy what Dale was trying to say.

As for his work load, club owners reported their earnings to regional accountants every Monday. Those regional accountants reported their earnings to him on Tuesdays. Naps' other business interests were similarly structured and reported on different days to their regional accountants and then to him.

By keeping his finances regionalized and compartmentalized, it reduced his risk. No one knew the full extent of the operation, which meant that if one person was picked up by the Prohibition Unit the impacts were minimal. Well he was the exception. If they picked him up the impacts would be catastrophic but fortunately he was well insulated.

And now that he was two months into the job, his responsibilities widened further. He was now inspecting the books of the regional accountants. Just last week, he encountered some irregularities in one of the regional accountant's books. His investigation led him to believe that the man had been stealing and apparently, he had admitted as much to Naps.

The man's body had been discovered yesterday. Jimmy had praised his work, but he wasn't pleased. A man had died because of him and he couldn't have done anything differently to prevent it. His only consolation had been that the man had been shot in the head rather than tortured to death like Terry Spooner.

"You ok McGee?" Tony asked as they walked down the sidewalk. "You've been sighing up a storm since we left the office." Tim didn't answer. "This is about that kid, Fred Seymour, isn't it?"

"I'd hardly call him a kid," Tim replied. "But yeah. It is."

"So that's the reason for the walk in the park?" Tony asked as they strolled down the paths of the National Mall.

"Well that and it's a nice day," Tim replied as he looked around.

"It's hot as hell out here, McGee," Tony complained as he took off his suit coat and started to roll up his sleeves. "Did you see that thermometer back on that barbershop? It read ninety-five degrees."

"It's in the full sun, Tony," he replied even as he mirrored his partner by pulling off his suit coat. It might not be ninety-five degrees, but it was hot and the breeze, while welcome, was warm. But it wasn't so bad under the trees. He looked around. The greenery of the park and the tree lined sidewalks were a welcome change from his office. "But I don't get outside often enough."

"I can't argue with that," Tony said as they slowly walked down the sidewalk. "At least you still have more color to you than Dale." He glared at his partner. "I know, that isn't hard. Look, you can't blame yourself for what happened to him!"

"Because I told Naps, Seymour is dead," Tim muttered. "How am I not responsible for what happened?"

"First of all, he was the one that stole from Napolitano and unless you were twisting his arm, that definitely isn't your fault." He nodded reluctantly. "And if you hadn't told Jimmy, you could be dead. Or worse, out of a job," Tony retorted. He snorted involuntarily. Tony was right. "You can't worry about that Tim."

He sighed. "I know."

"Still stinks though," Tony said.

"Yeah," Tim replied as they slowly walked.

He glanced at a makeshift camp that a couple families had set up under a tree. Three young boys were playing a short ways off and two women were talking quietly as they tended a pair of babies. Their husbands were passing out fliers and asking pedestrians to lobby their Congressmen to vote in favor of the Wright Patman Bonus Bill that would allow the veterans to collect their bonus right away.

They politely informed the men that they lived in Washington and so had no Congressman to lobby. The men thanked them and quickly moved onto the next group of people walking nearby.

They walked along in silence for a time. He was so lost in his thoughts that he wasn't paying attention to their path. He kept thinking about the Bonus Army men who were trying to get money to take care of their families just like Fred had been stealing from Naps to feed his family. He wasn't sure how things would turn out for the Bonus Army, but he knew that Fred's family was worse off than they were before he started stealing.

This depression had been hard on the entire country. He had been fortunate to be working for the navy when the markets crashed and so still had a steady job. And now he made more than enough money working for Naps. In light of the poverty of the veterans and their families, it made him feel guilty even though he knew he was risking his life in his attempt to take down James Napolitano.

He sighed again, thoroughly unhappy with things as they stood right now.

"Hey," Tony said clapping a hand on his shoulder to draw his attention. "I know just you need to cheer up. We should go out tonight," Tony said.

"And drown our sorrows in bootlegged liquor?" Tim asked wryly.

"Why not?"

"Aside from the fact that it is a Thursday and I have a ton of work to do tomorrow that it is better done without a hangover?" Tim asked. "What about liquor and getting drunk makes you think it'll make me feel better? It won't change what happened to Seymour." Suddenly he changed his mind. It had been a couple weeks since they had gone out. He didn't need to get corked to relax. He could use a distraction and some good jazz would do the trick, but a drink wouldn't hurt either. "You know what. Sure. I could use a little stress relief."

"That's the spirit!" Tony said slapping Tim on the back.

"Excuse me," a voice said drawing their attention. "Got a light?"

Tim looked over the man in front of him. He instantly recognized Leon Vance even if he was dressed in a white sailor's uniform. They had worked with Leon in Baltimore when they had worked port security. Leon worked on the docks and would relay inside information to them. Apparently, he had moved back to Washington and now was meeting them under the guise of a navy sailor.

"Yeah," Tony replied as he began to fish through his pockets for a book of matches.

"Thanks," Leon said. "Overheard you saying you were going out on the town tonight." He glanced at Tony and wondered why Vance had been tailing them. "You might want to consider a change in venue."

"Change in venue?" Tim asked in surprise.

"I wouldn't recommend the Tin Angel tonight," Vance said pointedly.

"Is there going to be a raid?" Tony asked softly as he produced a book of matches. He struck a match and held it out for the sailor to light his cigarette.

"Yes," Leon replied as he lit the cigarette.

"Does Napolitano know?" Tony asked.

"Yeah," Tim said at the same time as Leon answered. "The Tin Angel is his flagship club, Tony. He's got enough sources inside the police force. Someone has to have spilled the beans that his club is going to be raided."

"Right," Leon said agreeing. "Thanks for the light."

"Anything for one of our boys in uniform," he said as Vance hurried down the street. He watched as Leon snuffed the cigarette and hurried off. "That was strange," Tim said as they walked.

"He was waiting for us," Tony replied.

"How'd he know that we were going to walk here?" Tim asked. "I suggested it on a whim."

"He's been tailing us since we left the office," Tony said. "You didn't notice? Of course you didn't notice. You've been distracted by what happened to Seymour."

"I'm not that distracted Tony. I think I would have noticed a sailor following us," he retorted as they approached their car.

"He wasn't dressed as a sailor the whole time, McGee," Tony replied as he put the roof down. "He only put the sailor outfit on once we started walking around the park. As long as our car was here, he knew we hadn't left."

"So, he changed and then waited for us to walk by," Tim finished as Tony started the car. "Just to make sure we weren't going to the Tin Angel. Do you think Morrow sent him?"

"Yeah," Tony replied as he negotiated the streets. "We haven't kept it a secret that we go there. Morrow knows that we patronize illegal gin joints. He knows that it's part of the gig."

"I don't think he likes it though," he said, grateful that Tony had put the top down on the car.

"Me neither," Tony replied. He looked thoughtful. "I think he's kinda jealous."

"Jealous?" Tim asked. "Because he can't go himself."

"He is the navy liaison to the Bureau of Prohibition," Tony said. "How would it look if he got caught in an illegal club?"

"Good point. Well at least he's keeping us out of the law's cross hairs," he said. He sighed and fell silent. He watched the scenery as they drove. "I was really looking forward to that drink. So, if the Tin Angel is out, you have any other suggestions?" Tim asked as they reached their neighborhood.

"Yeah," Tony replied as he swerved to park the car in a newly vacated spot. He glared at Tony as he was thrown slightly but his friend grinned at him irrepressibly. When they came to a stop, Tony looked at him and said, "Actually. A club called Quicksilver."

"I know that one," Tim said as they got out of the car. Tony quickly put the top up before they started to walk up the street to their apartment building. "That's the club run by a woman."

"Yeah but that's not the point. They have this great act. Well I've heard that she's amazing," Tony replied. "I've been meaning to go but you like the music at the Tin Angel and she only started at Quicksilver when you took the job with Napolitano." Tim shrugged. The Tin Angel booked some of his favorite bands and it was Napolitano's best club, so it wasn't a hard choice. "It'll be nice to go someplace different, especially since I've heard good things about Quicksilver."

"I wasn't saying a club run by a woman was a bad thing Tony," Tim said as they nodded at the doorman. Jake Roberts tipped his cap as they entered the building and strode through the lobby, which buzzed with conversation as their neighbors chatted as they retrieved their mail. Tim quickly retrieved their mail and they made for the elevator just as several people stepped out of the car. They entered the elevator, greeting Pringle and rode to their floor in silence. He passed the kid a tip when they reached their floor and Pringle tipped his hat politely as they walked towards their apartment.

Tony opened the door and allowed Tim to enter. The windows were open, and several electric fans provided a nice breeze. While it was warm inside, it wasn't unbearable although he was certainly looking forward to putting on something cooler.

As he draped his coat over the back of the sofa, Tim picked up the conversation thread where they had left off. "A woman can have just as much business sense as any man," he said as he handed Tony his mail.

Tony snorted as he glanced at the letters, which appeared to be bills. "I've known some men with lousy business sense," Tony added as he tossed the bills onto the table.

"I know and that's my point," Tim said as he started to roll up his sleeves. "A man isn't necessarily good at business and being a woman doesn't make you inherently bad at it. The manager has a shrewd head for business and it isn't in spite of being a woman."

"Mr. DiNozzo! Mr. McGee!" a woman said from the dining room. "You two are late."

Tony grinned winningly. "So, are you our mother now, Anne?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Sometimes it feels like it," she retorted. "But I've already got two kids of my own. They're enough to handle. I don't need two grown men added into the mix."

"Sorry Anne," Tim said smiling wanly as he loosened his tie. "I had a difficult day at work so I went for a walk to clear my head."

She softened and replied, "Well I can't blame you, Mr. McGee. I find a nice walk will clear my head too although it is awfully warm out."

"We noticed," Tony said dryly as he rolled up his sleeves as well. He shrugged at his partner.

"Dinner will be ready in a moment, Mr. DiNozzo," Anne said.

Tony shook his head at her. "Anne, you know what we told you about calling…"

"You have," she said cutting him off. "Repeatedly. Can I help it if I'm polite?" He watched as Tony stared at her in an attempt to imitate Gibbs' infamous stare but without success. He bit back a laugh which made Anne smile. "I will try, Tony and Tim," she said emphasizing their names. "To remember to call you by your given names. But it is tough to break habits."

"Don't I know it," Tony muttered as he loosened his tie. "You keep forgetting and I'll keep reminding you."

"Fair enough," she said as she disappeared back into the kitchen.

"So, I thought you've never been to Quicksilver. How do you know about it?" Tony asked puzzled.

He sighed. "I haven't been. I just know it because of my work. I've seen the ledgers and the profits tell me that something is going right."

"I thought you hadn't cracked the code yet," Tony said softly as he removed his tie.

"I haven't," Tim replied frowning. "Well mostly." He lowered his voice. "From what I can tell, there are multiple codes within the ledgers." Tony shook his head, not understanding. "There's a code that masks the clubs' names. There's a code for his racketeering businesses. There's a code for his prostitution rings."

"I get it McGee," Tony said cutting him off.

"And," he said ignoring his partner. "There is a separate code for his blackmail business, which includes names of all of his sources of information." Tony's eyes widened. "But I haven't figured out that code yet. The clubs are easy to figure out since they are higher profile. I know most of Napolitano's bigger clubs. The Tin Angel is his largest and his current favorite. I used that as a starting point and sorted out which club was which pretty easily."

"So, you know all of Napolitano's clubs?" Tony asked surprised.

He nodded. "I have since pretty much the moment I started working for Napolitano," he replied matter-of-factly.

Tony tossed his tie onto the sofa and walked over to the radio and turned it on. When he found a station playing music, Tony turned up the volume enough to keep their voices from being heard in the kitchen.

"Why didn't you tell me McGee?" Tony demanded as he rejoined Tim in the sitting area.

Surprised that Tony was upset, he replied, "I didn't think it was important, Tony. We're not going after his clubs. We're looking for…"

"I know what you're looking for," Tony said cutting him off. "But you don't know what I'm looking for." He looked at Tony in confusion. "You don't know what information might be useful to me or Gibbs." He watched as Tim's eyes lit up in understanding. "I know you weren't purposefully keeping secrets from us, but you need keep us in the loop from now on. On everything."

Tim nodded. "I will," he promised.

"Good," Tony said. "So, what do you know about Quicksilver?"

"Well," he replied as he removed his tie and opened the collar of his shirt. "Before it was called Quicksilver the club was named Adam's Tavern. It was a half decent bar, owned by an independent bootlegger until Napolitano took over. He wasn't pleased with the change in ownership and after six months he decided to skip town with most of the club's funds."

"I'm sure Jimmy liked that," Tony said sarcastically. "What happened to him?"

"You have to ask?" he asked incredulously as he sat down. "Napolitano's men tracked him down and did what they do." Tony rolled his eyes. "Problem is, they never got the cash back. Either he spent it all or stashed it somewhere. Jimmy looked for a while but decided it wasn't worth it."

"Couldn't have been that much if Jimmy gave up," Tony said as he took his seat.

"In the grand scheme of Jimmy's empire, it wasn't," Tim replied. "It hurt the club more. Jimmy wasn't keen on replenishing their reserves, especially since Adam's Tavern was hemorrhaging cash. The new manager Jimmy appointed was all wet and Adam's Tavern lost her clientele."

"I thought the club was doing well," Tony said.

"It is now," he said as he nodded. "The current manager used to be a bartender until she staged a mutiny and ousted him," Tim replied. "She renamed the club to Quicksilver and started making all sorts of changes. At first Napolitano didn't want to let her keep the club but she convinced him to give her a chance. Quicksilver's profits have grown significantly since she took over, so he's kept her on as manager of the club. She has full operational control and everything."

"You sure know a heck of a lot about this club, McGee," Tony said.

He shrugged. "I was talking to Naps about it just last week. He's been very impressed with what she's done with it."

"The manager has been doing some renovations," Tony said as he settled onto one of the sofas. "Gibbs has been doing the work for her."

"How'd you hear that?" he asked. "When did you hear that? I didn't think you'd spoken to Gibbs in ages. And since we've been together practically every moment since I started working for Naps two months ago, I know you haven't seen him."

"Not in person," Tony conceded. "He sent a message through a mutual friend, Chris Pacci, to set up a call. I stepped out while you were working and used the pay phone on the corner to call Gibbs."

"Why didn't you tell me that earlier?" Tim asked.

"Because," Tony said sternly. "You were moping about Seymour and I was more interested in cheering you up than sharing what only amounts to gossip." Tim frowned. "Gibbs doesn't have anything new except that he's been spending a lot of time working for the dame that runs Quicksilver."

"So, he's the one telling you good things about the show?" Tim asked.

"Yeah," Tony replied. "She's pretty and exotic. Apparently, she's from Palestine."

"Really?" Tim asked intrigued. "She's a long way from home."

"Gibbs says she's a real looker," Tony replied thinking back. "Although you know his taste in women but if she has a voice half as nice as Gibbs says she sounds, then she's got to be a choice bit of calico."

"Wait," he asked in surprise. "So, you're saying that Gibbs has actually liked what she was singing?"

"Yeah," Tony replied. Suddenly Tony realized what he insinuated. "Damn, she must be something else if she's gotten Gibbs to tolerate hot music."

"Yeah," he said chuckling.

Tony took a deep breath as he allowed that information to sink in. "Sounds like we have a plan. I'll make a call before we go out to get the password to get in." Suddenly Tony sniffed the air. "Anne, is that garlic toast I smell?"

"Yes," Anne replied as she leaned against the door frame. "I thought you might like a taste of home, Tony. So, I talked with the owner of the pharmacy near my apartment. His mother's side of the family is from Italy. He gave me some recipes that would remind you of home. So tonight, I made spaghetti carbonara with garlic toast and tiramisu for dessert." He looked at Tony in surprise. "I didn't make the tiramisu," Anne said hastily. "Mr. Cabrisio's daughter, Louise, bakes and he sells her baked goods in his shop."

Tony grinned and said, "I love you. Hiring you was the smartest thing McGee has ever done."

"Pretty sure that isn't true, but I appreciate your kind words," Anne said. "I hope you like dinner tonight. I know it's a little unusual and if you don't, there's some cold roast beef in the refrigerator."

"I'm sure I'll love it," Tim said. "I've loved everything you cook for us."

"I could make you something that reminds you of home too Tim, if you'd like," Anne said. "I don't know much about Irish food…"

"That's ok," he said hastily. "I'm not really Irish. I mean, my name is, but my family has been here for generations. I'm as American as you are."

"So, what was your favorite meal growing up?" Anne asked.

"Hmm," he said as he thought back. "I was particularly fond of poke and kahlua pork. But I used to love laulau the most. There was a street vendor that sold the best laulau just off the base."

"What on earth is any of that stuff?" Tony asked.

"Oh, uh, Hawaiian foods," Tim replied. "My father was stationed in Pearl Harbor when I was a teenager. Poke is raw tuna in shoyu with limu, salt and onion." Tony stared at him again. "Shoyu is soy sauce and limu is seaweed."

"Sounds delicious," Tony said sarcastically.

"Don't knock it until you try it," he countered.

"What is kahlua pork and laulau?" Anne asked changing the subject.

"Kahlua pork is a whole pig roasted in an earth oven," he said.

"Since I doubt that the building will let me dig a pit in the courtyard," Anne said with a laugh. "That's out too. What about that other one?"

"Laulau is chicken or pork wrapped in taro leaves that's then wrapped in ti leaves and steamed," he explained. Anne frowned. "Honestly, if you keep making the meals you've been cooking I'll be happy. Tony's right. Hiring you clean and to cook our evening meals was probably one of my better ideas. Neither of us are nearly as good a cook as you are."

"It's my pleasure, Tim," she said, disappearing into the kitchen. "I enjoy working for two such handsome gentlemen."

"I wouldn't let your husband hear that," Tony said as he sat at the table. "We don't want to cause trouble."

"Oh, he knows," she said as she reappeared with two plates full of pasta. She set it onto the table and then disappeared again. A moment later, she reappeared with a plate full of garlic toast. "He makes good money for the Navy but with the new baby, he took on a second job in a hardware store to help pay the bills. Losing that extra money was hard when he deployed. Henry offered to get a job to help but he's still a boy and shouldn't have to worry about those things. Working for you two a few hours every week has been just what we needed so that we don't have to worry about money."

"I'm sure it doesn't hurt that McMoneybags pays well," Tony said as he slurped in some pasta.

"Your table manners are terrible," he remarked as Anne laughed.

"That doesn't hurt at all," she agreed. "Mr. McGee pays more than what he probably should." She jolted. "Not that I'm complaining."

"I remember what it was like when my dad deployed during the war," he said as he picked up a piece of toast. "I know that Henry has enough to worry about without worrying about making sure the bills are paid. Consider it my way of paying it forward to a fellow member of the Navy family."

"I'm sure David will want to meet you when he returns from his deployment in a few months," Anne said.

"I'm looking forward to meeting him too," he said.

"I'm glad he was deployed," Tony said as he spun his fork into the pasta.

"What?" Tim asked. "You're glad that Anne had to take on a job that keeps her from her kids?"

"Well that part isn't great," Tony admitted. "But if he hadn't deployed, we would have never gotten to meet Anne and her heavenly carbonara," Tony replied as he bit into his dinner. "You might not be Italian by birth, but this dinner makes you an honorary Italian!"

Tim rolled his eyes as Anne threw her towel at Tony.

"What?" Tony asked innocently.

Author's Note: It's amazing what information you can find online if you just know where to dig. I'm not sure why I was looking up historical meteorological data for Washington DC (I think it was for a later chapter) but I discovered that Washington DC did have a mini heat wave in May of 1932. Per the weather records, DC hit 91°F (or 33°C for the rest of the world) on May 7, 1932. When I found that, I incorporated it into the story. Unfortunately for our boys, air conditioning wasn't really a thing back then!

Momcat: Pale Dale was a character in the episode Shell Game (14x06). He was a forensic accountant with NCIS brought in to track money that had been stolen.