Gibbs stalked down the street, the masses in front of him parting like the red sea. Today was not a good day. He had been called out at oh dark hundred for a dead marine. It was an open and shut case, the boyfriend had thought she was cheating (she wasn't) and had shot her in front of a club. Then there had been a meeting with the director about how he should take on a more active role in training the next generation of agents. He really didn't want any more interns. After that had come the bomb alarm. A visitor had forgotten to remove the alarm clock they had bought the day before from their bag. That spoke loads for the competence of building security. Now it was three in the afternoon and he hadn't had any coffee at all since getting up. The coffee withdrawal had mated with his constant low level irritation brought on by his failure to find out anything more about the white pain in the butt to produce the mood from hell. On his way out of the Navy Yard on his quest for coffee some of the junior agents had actually hid beneath their desks when he walked past. Just one cup of coffee would do loads to increase his mood. Only a few more steps and he would reach his goal.

There was a white stretch limo in front of his favourite coffee shop. That was highly unusual. The kind of people who used that sort of car usually had people who delivered their coffee to them. Cautiously he stepped through the door. His already bad mood got even worse. The current bane of his existence, a white clad spy, sat at one of the table. He obviously had just finished a phone call and was now glaring at the phone as if he wanted nothing more than to set the thing on fire. Seeing the other man like that lifted Gibbs' spirits a tiny bit.

And now he would get some answers. But first he would get coffee.

"If you want to survive talking to me, you better bring me a cup of coffee." Marines didn't yelp. How could that man walk so quietly with a cane? He turned around to see the other man limp back to his table. Was it his imagination, or was the limp worse than the last time he had seen him? Gibbs decided to bring him a cup of coffee. It was easier to catch flies with honey and all that.

Gibbs set down the coffee cups harder than strictly necessary on the table.

"I want answers." He growled.

"And you are going to get some. Likely not everything you want to hear. But first one question. How far do you trust your team?" Somehow, Gibbs thought, he wasn't going to like this conversation.

"I trust DiNozzo. He is smarter than he lets on, nothing slips past him and can fool people into actually believing he is the brainless frat boy he pretends to be. McGee is a good kid, but still very green, even after several years working for me. He trusts authority a bit too much. David. Well, she has American citizenship now and allegedly cut all ties to Mossad. I'm not sure how she would react if push came to shove." His counterpart was looking at him pensively.

"Right now, your clearance isn't high enough to know who I am and what service I work for. There were reasons I pulled those cases from you. The Navy officer had caught a traitor selling information to the Chinese in the act. We knew the information hadn't left the country yet and needed to flush out all contacts. We couldn't let you do that because we were suspecting a leak in NCIS. I took John Bradford Horn from you because by then we knew that there definitely is a mole in NCIS. Somewhere near the top. And I had some personal bones to pick with him." Gibbs was surprised. Not only about a mole.

"A guy like you takes things personal?"

"He kidnapped one of my very few real friends, brainwashed him and had him nearly kill the man that raised him. All in order to steal some piece of equipment that officially doesn't exist." Gibbs swallowed. He didn't know brainwashing could be that effective.

"So, about that mole. Who do you think it could be?" Gibbs asked to steer away from that topic.

"Your director. There were inconsistencies in his handling of the previous leak. He had information that would have led to you suspecting Agent Lee from the start. He withheld it. If you had had access to all information, Agent Langer would be alive right now." Gibbs was shocked.

"How do I know you are telling the truth?" If that was true, Gibbs didn't want to know what could happen.

"Read this file. And tell me what you think." Gibbs took the offered folder.

It took him one hour to get through all the material. It consisted of memos, bank statements, credit card receipts, stills from observation tapes, conversation transcripts and much more. The picture it painted was damning, if it was true.

"According to this Vance was used as bait for a Russian killer. His death would have been used to promote NIS, now NCIS. Vance survived with the help of Eli David. Later, he figured out what was going on and decided to take revenge by selling information to the enemy." Gibbs summed up the file.

"In a nutshell, yes. We lack solid proof, though. That is where you may come in. Next month, your director is holding a conference with everyone that was involved in the mission that almost got him killed. We think he wants to take revenge on whoever hung him out to dry. At the same time, NCIS is supposed to get a new action plan concerning the prevention of attacks on several targets inside the US. If that fell into the wrong hands, it could be used as a road map for terrorists to strike against the White House, among other targets. It will be replaced with a dummy. NCIS will receive the real file when we have found all the leaks. We would like for you to keep a very close eye on Vance, see if he makes a move." Gibbs hesitated.

"What would happen if I agree? And why do you need me?" That was bothering him.

"We need you, because we usually don't put moles into our sister agencies. If the need for inside information arises, we try to recruit personnel of the agency in question. We could do the operation without you, but it would be safer with someone on the inside. If you agree, you would get phone number to deliver information to and could use to call for help. We would also arrange a series of dead drops to exchange information and messages in a less suspicious way." That sounded reasonable.

"What happens afterwards? When the mole is caught?"

"Should you remain with NCIS, I am offering unofficial help for you cases. If you were to run into a stone wall put up by another agency, I could help you get around it. I also have access to databases that would make the FBI salivate. If you retire after this is over, I could provide protection for you. You annoyed many people during your career." Only one question left.

"Why me?"

"You care. For your team. That they always make it out alive. For you, the victims are real people. You ignore politics. No matter who your suspect is, you go after them, no matter how high up the totem pole they sit." Gibbs blinked. That had almost sounded like a compliment.

"I still don't like you."

"I'm not asking you to like me. Will you work with me?"

"Yes." Even if it might cost him everything.