Chapter 17 – Comfort Zone
Tony DiNozzo
September 1932
He smiled as he smelled the single orange calla lily. He wasn't an expert on flowers but it had drawn his attention the moment he walked into the flower shop. He had never seen anything quite like it and instead of walking out with the bouquet he had intended to buy; he walked out with the single flower.
And it smelled lovely. It was just like Ziva. Exotic and beautiful.
Ziva had sung a short set tonight since Abby had booked some famous jazz band tonight. He didn't recognize the name but Tim had been overly excited since last week when Abby told them she had booked the band. He did his best to listen to his partner's excited chatter about an up and coming jazz musician but he tended to zone out after a few minutes much to Tim's annoyance.
He knew that Ziva would be singing a few songs with the band later but not until after the band's first set and they had just started their first song. Tim was settled in their usual booth eagerly listening to Wendell Hobbs and the Blue Romance. Gibbs was nowhere to be found. Abby was busy with the club and that meant he had some time on his hands to pay a visit to Miss David.
He lifted his hand and knocked. A moment later Ziva opened the door. She had replaced her evening gown that she had worn during her set with a much more comfortable and cooler silk robe. Being mostly underground, the club stayed significantly cooler than most places but still he would be hard pressed to call it cold in the club. There were too many people keeping the place warm with their body heat.
"Tony," she said smiling when she saw him.
"Miss David," he said as he produced the flower from behind his back.
Her eyes widened in delight as she took the flower and smelled it. "It is lovely," she said as she opened the door to allow him inside. He watched as she found a vase and filled it with water. She smelled the flower one last time before placing it in the vase on her dressing table.
"Not half so lovely as you," he said charmingly as he took her hand in his and placed a kiss on it. He wasn't unhappy to see that she had a ceiling fan which was stirring the air rather pleasantly. He looked up and saw her frown. "Something wrong?"
"Why do you not call me Ziva?" she asked puzzled.
He shrugged. "Manners I guess. I was taught that it was polite to address a lady as Miss or Mrs. unless told otherwise. Would you prefer that I call you Ziva?"
"Yes," she replied. "We have known each other for too long for you to continue to be so formal." She motioned for him to take a seat on the day bed. "What brings you to see me tonight?"
"Oh," he said. "I just wanted to spend some time with you. You know, without a crowd."
"It is rare that we see each other alone," she agreed.
"McGee is more excited to see the guest band than any man should," Tony replied. "Seeing you gave me a good excuse to get away from him. Plus, I get to see you."
As he sat, she said, "I do not understand you Anthony DiNozzo." She sat down next to him, her long leg peaking tantalizingly out from her robe. He looked at her leg from the toes up to the mid-thigh and caught himself imagining what the other would look like.
"I like to maintain an air of mystery," he said slowly as he forced himself to look her in the eye. "Just like you do Miss David." He caught himself. "Ziva."
But instead of smiling in return, Ziva frowned. "That is not what I meant. You are sending me crossed signals."
"I think you mean mixed signals," he said correcting her.
"Then what is it that is crossed?" she asked clearly confused.
"Crossed wires are a misunderstanding of plans," he replied.
"Oh," she said. "That is not it then. Because we have not made any plans. You are sending mixed signals."
"How so?" he asked.
"We have known each other for four months," she said. He nodded. "I am attracted to you and I think that you are attracted to me."
"I am," he replied earnestly even as he worried where this conversation might lead.
McGee might have found his best friend or whatever they were in a night club but what were the chances that he had found his in the very same club? He was attracted to the exotic Miss David and had been ever since he first laid eyes on her. To hear that the feeling was mutual was exciting and frightening all the same especially with the lingering questions regarding the mysterious occurrences that seemed to occur around her.
He had never been one for commitment. He hadn't had much luck with it. Part of that was because he rarely spent much time in any one place. And part of that was because he never stayed with a woman for very long before he grew restless.
Then there was the issue of his current position undercover. Abby had taken to their situation like a fish to water. If she found out the truth, would Ziva do the same? Could he risk their mission over a beautiful woman? There was too much at stake. Tim's life. Gibbs' life. His life.
"So why is it that you have not pursued something further? Do not be mistaken," she said. "I enjoy the flowers you send me. And I enjoy your company. But it is infrequent and I would like more than a chaste kiss on the hand." He blinked. That was forward. She smiled slyly. "Tony. Not everyone subscribes to your red nose American sensibilities."
"Blue nose. Not red nose and I see that," he said smiling in return. The thought of more intimate relations with Ziva had crossed his mind on more than a few occasions but he had never allowed himself to come close to acting upon those thoughts. "But it is complicated, Ziva. My job right now is to protect McGee. And if I commit to you in a way that you deserve, I wouldn't be doing my job."
Suddenly she laughed.
He stared at her, wondering what he had said that she had found so amusing. Then he worried that he had completely misunderstood the point of the conversation.
"Tony," she said as she set at hand on his leg. "I am sorry. I did not mean for you to think that I do not want your affections."
"Then why'd you laugh?" he asked.
"Because, I understand that you have a duty to McGee." Her gaze grew distant for a moment. "I understand duty and service very well," she said almost to herself. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "I understand that I must be second in your thoughts, even if I do find it odd that I would come after a man," she said wryly.
"Oh," he said wondering how he should answer. He looked at her and couldn't deny that he wanted to get to know Ziva. He definitely couldn't deny that he was attracted to her and intrigued by her.
Her face fell at his hesitation. "I am sorry I brought it up," she said as she started to stand.
He caught her hand, preventing her from standing. "No. I'm glad you did. You've been waiting for me?" he asked.
"I enjoyed our game of cat and dog," she said.
"Cat and mouse," he corrected. She frowned as she mouthed the phrase. He smiled. He had enjoyed their game of cat and mouse too. The flirting, the intense debates that had been subtly sexually charged, the moments spent among their friends at Abby's table. He enjoyed all of it.
"Whatever you call it, I have grown tired of waiting for you to make the first move. Perhaps it is not ladylike to be so forward but this is nineteen thirty-two."
"I like a modern woman," he said smiling. "Is that why you've been teasing me with," he said as he motioned to her legs. She smiled coyly. He returned her smile, enjoying the game but his smile faded. "I'm just worried," he said.
She smiled, making his heart skip a beat. "I am not asking for you to marry me," she said with a little laugh.
"I know," he said. "Besides, that would be a little strange for a woman to propose."
She looked at him. "And what is wrong with a woman taking the initiative to propose?"
"There's nothing wrong with it," he said hastily. "Just strange." She continued to stare at him in a way that made him slightly uncomfortable and fearful for his health. "I mean, you don't hear about it all that often." She relaxed. "I can't promise anything Ziva but I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. So, I'll do my best."
"Good," she replied. With a small smile, she leaned in. He met her half way and what happened in the middle was electric. "See what you were missing."
"Yeah," he replied. She leaned in for another kiss. "Wait." She paused and looked at him, waiting for an explanation. "Look. I think you're great and all but…" He paused. "I need to know something first."
"What?" she asked as she sat up.
"You know I'm McGee's bodyguard, right?" he asked. She nodded. "Well that means checking into the people that he's going to run into frequently. Like you."
"I have never run into McGee," she said perplexed.
He shook his head. "Not literally run into. The phrase means people he's going to encounter on a regular basis." She still looked puzzled but he could see small signs that it was an act. "Like Blue or his boys. I needed to find out that they were all on the up and up and that I could trust them around Mr. Napolitano's money man."
"A wise precaution," she said slowly. "You checked into me?"
He nodded remembering the conversation with a Bureau man he knew from their days in Baltimore. He had used his first day off after McGee fell head over heels for Abby and it became apparent that they'd be spending their time at Quicksilver to drive up to Baltimore to talk to him.
He swore Sacks to secrecy about their meeting and told him a line about being undercover investigating Navy bootleggers. Fortunately, Sacks bought it and didn't ask why he wanted to know about a foreign singer. They met a week later to discuss what he had found.
"I looked into her," Ron said over a cup of coffee in a small diner near the inner harbor. They were both dressed in rough clothes akin to what the dock workers wore so they fit in with the clientele. "I talked to some people in the ICPC."
"International Criminal Police Commission?" he asked as he recalled the acronym.
They had come across a few men from the fledgling commission a few years ago while they were investigating an international crime ring. He had even been questioned by one of the police men while he was working on the docks in Vienna. Thankfully he spoke Italian well enough that he hadn't drawn extra attention and they had managed to keep their cover intact.
"Yeah," Ron replied. "I met a few of them when we were looking for a witness to a triple homicide. He fled to Italy to avoid being killed before he could testify. They found him for us." He nodded motioning for Ron to continue. "They didn't have anything specifically on a Ziva David. On the surface, she seems clean."
"Seems?" he asked.
"Yeah," Ron replied. "Since the end of the war, she's been traveling the world with her father, Eli. He's bad news, Tony. They can't pin anything on him but they're convinced he's behind the thefts of information and valuables."
"A spy?" he asked.
"For hire," Ron confirmed. He had hesitated a second. "And they're pretty sure he's responsible for a number of mysterious murders that some are calling assassinations."
"If she was traveling with her father, then that would explain the rumors I'd heard," he said. "Is her father here in this country?"
Ron shook his head. "I don't know. He's gone off the map. My contacts think that he's lying low – maybe in Amsterdam – after taking out a prominent and well-liked businessman in Cairo. That was two years ago. Miss Ziva David turned up in Chicago a few months later."
"And you think she was involved? With her father's business?"
Ron shrugged. "My contacts don't have any evidence connecting either of them to the crimes. Anything they do have is circumstantial."
"Circumstantial evidence can add up," he said sensing what Ron was thinking.
"It can," Ron said as he sipped his coffee. "Especially when those circumstances repeat themselves in seven different cities in seven different countries."
He sipped his coffee. "Just spit it out Ron."
"I don't have the evidence to back it up but I'm sure that Ziva David is a killer and a thief. And she's not to be trusted. Are you trusting her with something?"
"You know I can't answer that," he replied. Ron frowned. "What about this country? Anything funny happen coincidently with her residence here?"
"No. We haven't got anything on her in this country, but it is only a matter of time until we find something," he replied. "It'd be helpful if we knew where she was. Where'd you come cross her? For that matter, where does ONI have you stashed? Last I heard you were in France. You're not in Baltimore again. So, is it Philadelphia? New York?"
"I can't tell you that either Ron. It's not a secret if I tell every Tom, Dick and Harry, now is it?" he replied.
Ron frowned but nodded.
"I'll check in with you again, Ron. You find something, you let me know. Ziva is in a potential position to do some damage if she really is the assassin you think she is," he said as he finished his coffee. "Don't ask where. I won't tell you."
"So you said," Ron replied dryly.
Ron had been confident and even though he didn't like the man; he didn't have a reason to mistrust him.
"I found some…" He searched for the right word. "Concerning events that coincided with the cities you've lived in."
"You do not believe in coincidences?" she asked coyly.
"No," he replied adamantly. "And not with this many incidents. Seven cities. Seven countries. Seven deaths. All of them with circumstantial evidence pointing towards you." She looked at him. "Was it you or your father assassinating those people? I need the truth or I walk out that door and tell Abby she needs to choose between you or Tim."
Ziva looked at him and he could see that she was weighing her options. Would Abby choose an act that brought people into her club in droves? Or would she choose a man that she potentially loved? He watched as she came to the same conclusion that he had. Singers were a dime a dozen but to Abby, Tim was special.
"There were more than seven," she said to his surprise. "I will admit that I have done things that are against the law. My father…" She hesitated. "My father's business is not a pleasant one, Tony. But it was all that I knew."
"Knew?" he asked catching her meaning.
She smiled sadly. "Your friend Gibbs, he fought in the Great War." He nodded. "I lived through it."
Suddenly, he understood. "You were just a kid when the war started." He had been seventeen when the war had started and twenty when the US entered the war. He had been in college and hadn't joined the army. By the time he had graduated, the war was nearly over.
"I was twelve," she replied. "We were a part of the Ottoman Empire when the war began. At the start, we were a family of five. By the end, only two. My brother Ari fought against the British and was killed at Beersheba. My mother and sister, Tali." Her voice broke slightly. "They were killed in Jerusalem. Tali was only sixteen."
"I'm sorry," he said. He didn't have any brothers or sisters but after living with Tim for so long, he was beginning to realize what it was like. She nodded. He looked at her and realized that she had left out a member of her family. "Did your father fight in the war too?"
"My father served as a scout and spy in the war," she replied. "As did I. I joined my father after my mother and sister died." She seemed to be transported back in time. "I helped him gather intelligence until the war ended. After, we could not remain in Palestine. There were too many unpleasant memories."
"So, you two started to travel the world," he said.
She nodded. "My mother always loved my singing. She thought I could have sung in the opera in Paris or Rome. She always liked to think that my voice would take me to see far away countries," she said sadly. "She would not have liked the music I sing now. It is too… unconventional but I have seen the world," she added with a sad smile.
"I think that your mother would have been happy knowing that you are happy," he said.
Ziva looked at him and he could see that she appreciated his words. "I think you are right," she replied softly.
"So, what happened? How did you go from singer to…" He cut himself off. He didn't know what she was or how to pin it to just one word. For that matter, he didn't know if she had participated in her father's unsavory trade.
"To being a spy?" she asked for him. "Life was not easy after the war. Honest work was scarce for my father. I sang to keep food on the table and a roof over our head but it was not much. Eventually my father put the skills he obtained in the war to use for private contracts. The money was welcome and we were able to live comfortably again. Eventually he passed his skills on to me." She frowned.
"You didn't like the work," he said.
She shrugged. "It was all I knew until I met a friend." She smiled fondly at the memory. "Jenny was perhaps my first real friend. She convinced me to leave my father behind. We traveled through Eastern Europe for a time. She insisted that I come to this country and to leave my father behind for good. She gave me my first job in this country and I never felt so free. Always I was living my life according to someone else. Here, in this country, I am able to live how I choose."
"That's what this country is all about," he said. "Home of the free and the land of opportunity."
"It is," she said a hint of happiness creeping back into her voice. "But I do miss my father."
"He is…"
"Still alive and still working," she said. "At least I assume that he is still working. I do not care to find out. I have escaped that life and all of those things are in my past." She looked him in the eyes. "I promise you. I miss the man that my father once was."
He looked her in the eyes and studied her for a moment. Ziva was not lying. He nodded.
"What happened to your friend? Jenny?"
Ziva frowned. "She was killed. In a house fire."
He looked at Ziva. He had a feeling she wasn't being entirely truthful.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Maybe you can tell me about her." He had learned more about Ziva in the span of the last ten minutes than he had in months.
"I would prefer not," she replied. "At least right now."
He nodded. While she wasn't crying, she was emotional and clearly needed a change in topic. "Another day then."
She looked at him and smiled. "Thank you for understanding."
She leaned in to kiss him but he pulled back. She looked at him questioningly.
"Ziva I like you, I really do," he said. "And while your story is a real string-puller…"
"String-puller?" she asked.
"You know," he said. "The heart strings?"
"I thought those were tugged," she said. "But then again, I am often wrong."
He stared at her, wondering how he could reply to that until he realized that it wasn't the point.
"Ziva, I've never been shy with the ladies before and I'll admit that has gotten me into my fair share of trouble," he said. "But if you always do what you always did, you'll always get what you always got." He watched as she worked that out. "In my case, it was a lot of trouble. And right now, I can't afford that kind of trouble."
"Because you are McGee's bodyguard," she said.
"Yeah," he replied. "La Grenouille already sent men after him once. Who knows what would have happened if Tim and I had left when Jimmy left with Michelle?" She frowned. "As pleasant as it would be, I can't afford to be distracted right now."
Ziva looked at him and nodded.
"I understand," she said. "I assure you," she said as she leaned in and kissed him. "When you are ready for a distraction, it will be very pleasant."
He swallowed hard. "I believe you," he said. Ziva smiled sweetly. "I should be going," he said before he changed his mind. He stood up. "I'm looking forward to seeing you sing again."
"I will see you later, Tony," she said.
He nodded and left her dressing room. As he closed the door, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"McGee is gonna owe me big time," he muttered. Taking another deep breath, he decided he needed to take a stroll around the club to clear his head. He checked with Simon at the front door and Gayne at the loading dock, but all was quiet. The crowd was heavier than usual to see the band Abby had booked but otherwise, it was a normal night.
Satisfied with the state of the outside security, he returned to the main room where a quick scan revealed everything to be in order. His partner was present in their usual booth along with a haggard Miss Sciuto.
He watched as his partner leaned back in the booth and took a sip from his drink sighing contently. It had been a long week and they were both grateful to be sitting in Quicksilver with the weekend in front of them. Tim also seemed very content to have a cool beverage, some great jazz, and Abby beside him. Although, now that he looked at her, Abby seemed to have had a worse week than them.
Gibbs joined him and handed him a drink. He smiled at the sight of the icy Mojito.
"Perfect timing and nice choice Gibbs. I didn't know you knew any other drinks other than Bourbon," he said motioning to the glass in Gibbs' hand. Gibbs pointed to the booth. He followed his boss without a word. He certain didn't mention that he saw his boss' pleased smile.
"That bad huh?" Tim asked Abby as they neared the booth.
"You haven't been here all week to see it Tim. So, if by bad you mean busy and booming, then yes, it was bad. I ended up tending bar the last three nights. Stan has been sick," she said. "What a time to have a big-name band booked in my club!"
He glanced over his shoulder at the bar and he could see Stan Burley filling orders. But now that he examined the man closely he could see that Stan did look a little green around the gills.
"I'm sorry," Tim said as he began to message her shoulders. "Geez Abs. You are tight."
Abby groaned. "Damn, Tim. You're giving me goose bumps all the way down to my toes," she said.
"We don't want to know what you two are up to, do we?" he asked as he slid into the booth with Gibbs right behind him.
Abby looked at him and shook her head. "Believe me; I'm too tired for that Tony."
He watched as Tim leaned in and whispered something. If he wasn't mistaken, his partner had said, "I doubt that."
"You're probably right," Abby replied as she put her hand onto Tim's thigh. Tim smiled and he rolled his eyes. "You certainly weren't, Tony."
Blinking in confusion, he looked at her. "Huh? I don't know what you mean?"
"That lipstick really isn't your shade, DiNozzo," Gibbs said dryly.
He quickly pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face. He grinned as he saw the lipstick stain the white cloth. "Oh," he said. "It isn't what you're thinking. That didn't happen. Not yet anyway. It was just a kiss. For incentive." Gibbs stared at him. "It didn't work."
He looked at Gibbs.
Gibbs was looking at him reproachfully which told him that his boss didn't believe him when he protested his innocence. Abby had a grin plastered across her face so she didn't believe him. And looking at Tim, he could even see that his normally clueless friend looked skeptical.
"Fine, you don't have to believe me," he said sourly. "Nothing happened. Not that I didn't want something to happen. I mean really. Have you looked at Ziva? Who wouldn't want something to happen with her?"
"What are you waiting for, Tony?" Tim asked.
Gibbs glared at Tim but uncharacteristically, Tim didn't seem fazed by Gibbs' expression. In fact, he seemed amused by it. Perhaps Tim was learning to stand up to their boss.
"I agree," Abby said smiling broadly. "You two kids are good for each other. You really ought to just sleep with her. It'll improve your mood. I mean, look how happy Tim is." Tim choked on his drink. Abby smiled sweetly at Tim who tried to look annoyed with her.
"Hey," Gibbs said sharply. "This isn't going to turn into a bull session."
"Awe," Abby said. "That means I can't tell you about that great thing that Tim does. It's something that every guy ought to know about…"
"Abby," Tim hissed as he flushed bright scarlet. Abby grinned, unabashed.
He made a mental note to ask McGee about whatever Abby might have been talking about. Then he realized how pathetic he must be if he was thinking about asking Tim for advice about sex. Then he realized that for this to be a real bull session that Gibbs would have something to share.
"Wait," he said looking at Gibbs. "So, if you want me to sleep Ziva and Tim and Abby are sleeping together. Then who are you sleeping with Gibbs?" Gibbs turned and stared at him. "It isn't that mysterious redhead I've seen you with on occasion, is it?"
Gibbs stared at him and he got the impression that his answer was no.
"Not her," Gibbs replied icily.
From his tone, he knew that Gibbs was done with this line of conversation. And if he valued his head, he would change the subject.
But it was interesting all the same. Gibbs didn't deny he was sleeping with someone, just not the redhead. Obviously, Gibbs wasn't taking his own advice about not getting involved with a woman while undercover. And now he had a project. He needed to know who Gibbs was pitching woo with.
And it would drive him crazy until he found out.
"The latest batch of names didn't turn up any red flags in the Prohibition Unit or the Bureau," Gibbs said changing the subject as he sipped his Bourbon. His voice was loud enough to be heard in their booth but not outside of it. The crowd noise was just enough to keep their conversation private.
"He's got to be our guy," he said equally quiet. He looked at Tim. "You've spent the last four weeks decoding the ledgers and we haven't found anyone else."
Tim shook his head emphatically. "I don't think so Tony. We talked about this. Some of information can't be coming from Fornell. If he's in the Bureau, this guy is in at the top, probably only a few rungs below Hoover. Fornell isn't that high up."
"He's got a point, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "Fornell couldn't have known about that witness and he wasn't in any position to 'find' that information."
"So, someone in the top brass is on Napolitano's payroll?" he asked incredulously.
"Seems that way," Gibbs replied. "Or it could be a Prohi with connections to the Bureau's top brass. They might be separate entities but they do work together."
"That means we have two moles," Tim said sourly. "And at least one of them is willing to give up the location of a Bureau safe house."
"Huh?" Abby asked.
"The Bureau has been investigating the uptick in violence between the Frog and Napolitano," Tony replied. "Word is that they picked up someone who knew Naps ordered the hits on La Grenouille's men and he flipped to save his own skin."
"You're kidding?" Abby asked. "Going to jail is safer than flipping on Napolitano."
"I'm sure he knows that now," Tony replied. "At the time, it probably seemed like a good idea."
"They moved him to a safe house," Gibbs said. "But when the agents came to change shifts, they found the bodies of three highly respected G-Men and the witness was missing."
"Who was it?" Abby asked. "The witness."
They looked at Tim. He shrugged. "I'm not certain. Mr. Napolitano's been pretty tight-lipped about it. Whoever it was, he was high up in the ranks."
"Come on, Tim. You don't have any clue who it was?" he asked knowing that his partner had an educated guess. And he'd take on of Tim's educated guesses any day.
Tim shrugged. "I'm not certain but I'm pretty sure it was Frank Pilato."
"Frankie P," he mused. "He was one of Napolitano's lieutenants. He get cold feet?"
"Dunno but I'll bet you he's got cold everything now," Tim said. He examined his partner. Tim spoke about a man's death like he was talking about the weather. For a man who had been bent on rescuing the man who would have killed him, he found it strange. "Or if he doesn't, he probably wished he was dead. It's times like these that Naps keeps Boone on the payroll."
"You know he was given to Boone?" he asked.
Tim shrugged. "Not for sure, but after the safe house was raided, Jimmy was talking with Little Ricky. He told his son that traitors are no better than thieves and should be dealt with accordingly."
"Pretty close to confirmation that he was given to Boone," Gibbs said.
"And now the only witness that could link Napolitano to the murder of La Grenouille's lieutenants in retribution for Grenouille's attempt on Quicksilver is gone and likely dead," Tim said as he sipped his drink.
Abby frowned. "I still can't believe that Napolitano killed eleven men because of my club," she said.
"Too bad one of them wasn't Trent Kort," he muttered as he rubbed his arm. His arm had healed well but it was still sore at times.
"Fifteen men," Tim said.
"How do you get fifteen?" he asked.
"Eleven of La Grenouille's men, three BOIs and the witness," Gibbs supplied. He nodded, his mouth forming a perfect 'o.' "Although you know there were more indirect casualties in the turf war between the Frog and Napolitano." Abby nodded.
"I'm not surprised at all," Tim replied. "Since the Tin Angel closed, Quicksilver has become the crown jewel of Napolitano's night clubs, thanks to Abby's management." She beamed at Tim for his praise of her club. "It's his flag ship. Napolitano couldn't risk Grenouille taking another shot at you, so to speak. He had to make a strong point to Grenouille, to make sure he knew that Quicksilver was off limits."
"And you too," Abby said. "He needed to make sure Grenouille knew you were off limits too." Tim nodded in concession and took a deep drink.
"Should I be worried that you're beginning to think like a gangster, McGee?" Gibbs asked eying him critically.
Tim looked down at his drink, seemingly contemplating the question. Tim had confided to him that he had become disturbingly desensitized to Napolitano's methods of business over the last month. And from his office next to Napolitano, he had been privy to the inner workings of Napolitano's network and his mind.
Still, it was strange to see his young partner becoming acclimated to this brutal business.
"Are you asking if I'm becoming one of them?" Tim asked. Gibbs nodded but he knew the answer before his partner replied. He knew that wasn't the case. Every time something happened, his friend was torn up over it. "Don't worry about that, Gibbs. I've just spent too much time around Mr. Napolitano. I know how he thinks but I still don't like it. I didn't sleep a wink after I heard what happened to the witness."
"I can attest to that," Abby said worriedly as she put her hand on Tim's arm. "Although now I know why."
Tim gave her shoulders a squeeze. He knew that Abby had been a great comfort to his partner this last month.
Tim had been hesitant to trust her after he had admitted that he was a federal agent. They had talked about it and Tim had admitted that he had been right about falling for Abby, that it was dangerous to their mission. And for once, he hadn't felt like gloating. He hated that he had been right and that Tim's true identity would ruin his relationship with Abby.
Tim had tried to push Abby away but day by day, Abby had proved that Tim should trust her that she didn't want to lose him. And little by little, he watched as Tim fell head over heels for her. Abby might not like labels and she might not be the kind of girl to settle down, but that hadn't stopped Tim from falling in love with her.
When he questioned Tim about it, Tim had thought for a minute before he asked if he ever had a best friend that he would do anything for? One that he would give up everything for? One that would do the same for him?
He hadn't answered but he knew what that was like. After living with McGee for five months, he had grown close to his younger partner. They had always been partners during their five years working abroad but now they were friends. He might even label Tim one of the best friends he had ever had. He would do anything for his partner and Tim would do anything for him, including sacrifice their lives for one another.
When he pointed out that he didn't sleep with his best friend, Tim just shrugged and asked if he blamed him. The question had taken him off guard and he had been forced to admit that he couldn't.
"So, what happens to the case now?" Abby asked.
"Well now that their witness is dead," Tim started. "Well, presumed dead."
"So is the case," Gibbs finished. "They've opened an investigation of course."
"Three dead G-men tends to piss off even the agents on multiple payrolls. Napolitano took a gamble with this one," Tim said. "He risks alienating any other members of the Bureau on his payroll."
"If there are any," he interjected.
"They don't want to turn up dead if they piss off Napolitano," Tim finished.
"Well if there are any others on Napolitano's payroll, we haven't found them yet. Local cops, a couple judges and numerous local government employees but no one from the Bureau or the Prohibition Unit. How many more names do you have left, McGee?" Gibbs asked.
Tim shook his head. "Not many. Morrow isn't going to act against Fornell, is he?"
"He doesn't know about Fornell," Gibbs replied to their surprise.
"You didn't give him Fornell's name?" he asked in surprise.
Gibbs shook his head.
"You don't think it's him then," Tim said. "If you did, you would have told Morrow about Fornell."
"I don't know that Fornell isn't the mole," Gibbs said. "That's all I know, McGee. Morrow knows we have a suspect. I told him that much. I managed to hold him off by telling him we wanted an independent confirmation through this list of names."
"You'll tell him who we suspect when red flags pop up," Tony said.
Gibbs smiled slightly. "That's the idea but you better hope we get a hit soon or else we'll have to give up Fornell," Gibbs replied.
"How well do you know Fornell?" Abby asked.
"I don't," Gibbs replied. "When Tim mentioned him when he was recruited, the name was familiar but I couldn't place it. Not until Tony told me about the connection between him and Diane."
"You didn't know your ex-wife had remarried?" Abby asked incredulously.
"I knew that," Gibbs said tightly. "Because I didn't have to pay alimony any more. Didn't know who the poor bastard was though."
"Yeah, but you never asked her?" Abby asked.
"We weren't exactly on speaking terms after the divorce," Gibbs said, clearly uncomfortable.
He hid his smile behind his drink as he met Tim's eye. Tim was trying to hide a smile as well. He had wanted to ask all these same questions and more but after bringing up Diane, he had feared for his head and had cut off the conversation. He might not get away with asking these questions but Abby could.
Suddenly Tim winked and he blinked in surprise. Had his Probie coached Abby to ask the questions they hadn't dared? Tim's small smile told him he was right. He silently lifted his glass to Tim for his ingenuity.
"And before you ask, I'm not planning to talk to her any time soon either," Gibbs said.
"But wouldn't that help get information on why Fornell is working for Napolitano?" Abby asked.
"Or it could get us made," Gibbs retorted. "I wouldn't put it past Diane to turn me in to Napolitano just out of spite." Abby looked surprised and opened her mouth to ask for clarification. "I'm done answering your questions," Gibbs said as he pointed to him and McGee.
"Hey," he said indignantly.
"Can it DiNozzo," Gibbs said curtly. "We've got bigger issues to talk about."
"What's that?" Tim asked concerned.
"They're getting impatient." Tim looked at Gibbs in surprise then glanced at him. He was just as surprised. "Morrow's beginning to think that they don't trust us anymore."
"They think we went native?" he asked with a grin. The thought was amusing. Obviously, they didn't know their team very well.
"Who's 'they?'" Abby asked confused.
"Hoover and the Secretary of the Navy, Charles Francis Adams the third. Aside from Morrow, they're the only ones who know we're under cover," he replied. "What a pretentious name, don't you think?"
"His great-great-grandfather was the second President of this country and his great-grandfather was the sixth, Tony. I think he has a good reason for a pretentious family name," Tim replied drolly.
"Whatever you say McKnow-it-all," he replied rolling his eyes. "Still doesn't explain why they don't trust us."
"Think about it Tony," Tim said looking at him. "You've been under cover for a year and a half and over a year for me and Gibbs. So far, no results. They've got to be wondering if we're still trying to find the mole or if we've given up. You have to admit, we've gotten pretty comfortable in our roles."
"And it doesn't help that we make good money on Napolitano's payroll," Gibbs replied. "McGee makes more in a month than he made in a year at ONI and he's dating the manager of a speakeasy. A fact he hasn't hidden." Tim smiled bashfully as he pulled Abby closer even as Abby protested that they weren't dating. "I haven't provided any new information since McGee got his job and you're making nice with a foreign singer in an illegal club," Gibbs finished, ignoring Abby's protests.
"Ziva and I really aren't dating or anything," he said stammering slightly. "We've just had some really nice conversations." Gibbs glared at him. "Right. Shutting my mouth. I guess I can see how they might think that," he replied. "But Morrow doesn't think we went native, does he? I mean, he knows us!"
"That's why he hasn't pulled us. He trusts us," Gibbs replied. "Besides we're feeding him lists of names. Some of which have very important people on them, which is why he's continuing to allow us to call the shots while he figures out what to with this list."
"He hasn't turned the list over to Hoover yet?" Tony asked surprised.
Gibbs shook his head. "The information Tim unearthed in those ledgers could take down half of Washington. Morrow won't just turn that over at the drop of a hat and certainly not until he has the whole picture."
"But that is why he's defending us to Hoover," Tony mused. Gibbs nodded. "So, he's just looking for a mole right now." Gibbs nodded again. "And he's going to find Fornell."
"I'm certain that it isn't Fornell," Tim said stubbornly.
He stared at his friend. "McGee," he hissed. "We know that Fornell has been passing information on to Napolitano. You know, Prohibition Unit raids, Bureau sting operations and such."
"I know that," Tim retorted. "But he isn't high enough in the Bureau to obtain all of the inside information Napolitano is getting."
"As much as I agree with you, McGee, a gut feeling isn't enough evidence to get Fornell off the hook," Gibbs replied.
"Well can't you test him or something?" Abby asked. They stared at her. "What? Give him something juicy and see what he does with it. If he goes straight to Mr. Napolitano…"
"Then he's our guy," Gibbs said. "But if goes elsewhere he might be square."
"What if he sits on it?" Tim asked as the crowd started to cheer.
He glanced at the stage. The band was back for their second set and Ziva had joined them. She was wearing a deep blue floor-length gown that hugged every curve of her body. She turned around to talk to the band and he saw that there was very little to the back of the dress that plunged to the small of her back.
He knew he was staring, imagining what he had missed out on. The dress was tantalizing to say the least.
Gibbs smacked him upside the head, drawing him back into their conversation.
"Thanks, Gibbs," he said as he reluctantly pulled his eyes from her shapely figure.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," Gibbs replied.
"We're going to need help," he said. "We can't let Fornell see us."
"I'll take care of it," Gibbs replied. "But this is going to require careful planning."