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The next day Gibbs was on the laptop again at the crack of dawn. From his position on the couch, Tony squinted at his boss.

"What are you doing on that thing?"

Gibbs looked up briefly. "What? You think McGee is the only one with computer skills?"

Tony lay across the couch and stared at a crack in the ceiling plaster. "No. I'm sure there are hundreds of other MIT graduates that really think the only thing you can do on the internet is research."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "And what is it that you spend all your time on the internet doing then?"

Tony laughed nervously and backpedalled quickly. "Oh, Gibbs, you know me- work, work, work..." he trailed off.

Gibbs just smirked.

Tony flexed his hands and looked back up at the ceiling. "So what is you're doing then. I mean, you may think you're good with computers, Gibbs, but the truth is I'm surprised you even found the 'on' button."

There was a moment of silence, in which Tony waited for an inevitable head slap. Instead, Gibbs pressed a couple more keys and then looked up.

"Contacts."

Tony furrowed his brow. Gibbs continued,

"Ziva has contacts. Vance has contacts. I have contacts. When you work with enough people in high-pressure situations you gain certain rights," Gibbs said. "You'd never call these people friends, but they are more than acquaintances. You don't trust them, but you don't distrust them. Contacts, Tony."

Tony shrugged. "So? How is that going to help us?"

"Over the past few days I've been rallying as much support as I can. We're going to need it if we intend to storm a terrorist training camp."

"And what exactly will these people do? How far does their input go?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Some are less willing than others. Some are prepared to go with us."

Tony gave a low whistle. "Got a death wish?"

"Are you saying we're going to die, DiNozzo?"

Tony was saved from replying by the shrill sound of Gibbs' cell phone. Glad for the reprieve, he watched as Gibbs put the phone to his ear. One of his illusive contacts? Tony wondered.

When Gibbs hung up the phone and spoke, however, Tony was filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. It took a moment for it to fully sink in.

"We got a location, DiNozzo. You better be ready for one hell of a fight."

Tony grinned and turned his gaze back to the crack in the ceiling as Gibbs went over various plans. He sure was.

Meanwhile, McGee was following a lead of his own. Fresh out of hospital, but still unable to undertake fieldwork for quite some time, the you agent went in search of Roy, NCIS' resident mailman.

"Hey! Roy!" The mailman stopped and turned around, smiling when his gaze fell upon McGee.

"Hey Tim. Sorry, no mail for you today," he said, hoist a bag full of letter higher onto his shoulder.

McGee didn't bother with formalities. "You know that envelope you delivered to Gibbs a few days ago?"

Roy shrugged. "I deliver a lot of envelopes."

"It was large, the Manilla kind," McGee clarified.

Roy tilted his head to the side, deep in thought. Then he snapped his fingers. "Oh, yeah, I remember now. What about it?"

"How'd you get it?" McGee asked, breathy from running.

Roy shrugged. "Normal channels. I can't deliver anything that hasn't gone through security, obviously, being a government building and all. It just appears and I deliver."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Tim," Roy said, before furrowing his brow. "Hang on..."

"What?" McGee asked, impatient.

"Well," Roy murmured thoughtfully, "I was walking into the building when I was stopped by this older guy. He held out an envelope to me. Said I dropped it. I didn't think anything of it. I mean this bag isn't really the sturdiest of bags." He held up his satchel. A letter fell to the floor as if to reinforce his point. His expression turned to one of fear and worry. "Did something happen?" His tone was urgent.

"Nobody was hurt," McGee said evasively. Not directly anyway. "Can you describe the man to Abby- maybe get a sketch?"

Roy shook his head. "No need. Don't they have cameras out the front of this building or something?"

McGee almost head-slapped himself. "Of course! Come with me."

Roy followed anxiously.

Three Caff-Pows for Abby later, Roy finally pointed out the man on the screen. If he'd been more sure of the times, they could have found him ages ago, but Roy didn't seem a very 'all together' kind of guy.

"You sure?" McGee asked, more than tired.

Roy nodded. "That's him. I'm positive."

Abby sighed gratefully and began a search on the man. "Finally..." she said. "Now to relax."

Four hours later a result came in. Abby squinted at the screen with wide eyes, her blood running cold. McGee walked into the lab and took in the screen.

"Oh, you got a result. Good," he said. Then he saw the name.

"What the hell..."

Flashing on the screen, as if in warning, was:

98% match- Michel Bashan, Mossad.

Abby tore her gaze from the screen. "Mossad sent the necklace and photos? Call Gibbs. Now!"

McGee was already dialling. He got an automated message in return. "Crap!" he yelled, kicking at nothing. "Out of range!" He looked at Abby desperately. "They were in range this morning!"

"Why would they have moved?" Abby asked worriedly.

McGee dropped down onto a chair. "I gave them a location," he muttered softly.

"Where did you get-"

He didn't let her finish.

"Director David." He paused. "Mossad."

The look on Abby's face mirrored his own.

Oh, they were screwed.

A/N: Dun dun dun. Hope no one's confused by the storyline. If you are just tell me and I'll try to clear it up. I'm not sure how good this is.

Anyways, review and tell me what you thought. Good? Bad? So-so? Any improvements in mind?

Thanks!