Consequences of Love and War: Chapter 26
A/N: Just a quick recap in case you need to be brought up to speed. Tony and Ziva are currently in the Hamptons, where they hope to find an international bad guy, Niko Zajac, who Mossad operative Ezra Hardoon believes might be behind the abduction of Dr. Aachen. The rest of the team is still in DC, running down leads and preparing for Zajac's interrogation from there.
Parties in the Hamptons didn't start until at least 2100; nobody of any significance showed up before midnight. All of that was why personnel from at least three federal agencies—McGee recognized representatives from the FBI and the CIA, in addition to the usual suspects at NCIS—began filing into MTAC at 2030.
"I think this movie would be better with popcorn." He almost jumped at the voice of the person who slid into the seat next to him. Abby Sciuto nodded at the striped 'standby' screen. "It's a bit dull."
"Abby, what are you doing here?" he asked with a frown. "Don't you have anything to do in the lab?"
"Timmy, I'm hurt," she pouted. "I do so much more than lab work!" He sighed.
"I know," he replied on a conciliatory tone. "But that doesn't explain why—"
"It's been, like, forever since I've seen you guys," she interrupted. "I mean, there's zero forensics evidence in this case, so I've been keeping busy working on cold cases and the things from other teams, and you guys have been up in the squadroom doing your thing, and I missed you." She shrugged and turned back to the screen. "Besides, I wanted to see Tony and Ziva all dressed up."
"I'm sure if you asked, they would have taken pictures," he said dryly. She punched him in the arm.
"Be nice," she scolded. He sighed.
"Call DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered as he strode into MTAC, a cup of coffee in hand to openly defy Vance's 'no drinks in MTAC' order. "Need to know what they have planned."
"Sure thing, Boss," McGee replied, glad for the excuse to get up from his seat next to Abby and man the controls.
A minute later, they heard the ringing of the phone over the speakers, followed by the sound of the call connecting. A distinctly female laugh was heard before Ziva answered, "Hello?"
Gibbs rolled his eyes. "It's DiNozzo's phone, Ziva."
"Yes, I know," she replied.
"Can we talk to him?" Gibbs asked slowly when she didn't say anything else.
"You should have just said so," she replied. "He is right here." There was some muffled laughter and light arguments before DiNozzo's voice was heard.
"Sorry about that, Boss," the senior field said. "What's up?"
"Hopefully, a plan for tonight," Gibbs snapped. "Please tell me you two have been doing something up there other than playing grab-ass."
"If you must know, Boss, it was Ziva who—"
"DiNozzo!"
"Right, Boss. You don't want to know." His voice became serious as he got down to business. "Party won't really start until around midnight. We were planning on heading down around then."
"No," Gibbs stated. "Get there early, watch people as they come in. I want to get IDs on as many of the guests as possible. Make it 2200."
"Boss, we're going to look lame if we're downstairs at 2200," DiNozzo protested. "How about a compromise? 2330?"
"DiNozzo."
"Okay, fine, 2300. We'll still see everyone." McGee saw the glare on Gibbs' face, and was glad for Tony and Ziva that they were a few hundred miles away. "As far as the plan for tonight, we're keeping it simple. Ziva will approach Zajac with a business offer. We'll get him away from the party and take him to the East Hampton Police Department. I already spoke with the chief. He's actually a local. We used to play ball together growing up—"
"The point, DiNozzo?"
"Sorry, Boss. Chief Hebdon agreed to let us use their interrogation room. Ziva and I checked it out; they have state-of-the art recording equipment, which is really no surprise when you consider how much East Hampton collects in taxes."
"You doing the interrogation?" Gibbs asked, cutting off what was bound to be another one of DiNozzo's tangents.
"Uh, hadn't decided yet, Boss. We'll see what kind of guy Zajac is, figure out what form of interrogation he'll be most responsive to, but either way, shouldn't be too difficult to send the feed to MTAC." McGee saw Gibbs nod his head absently in approval of DiNozzo's statement.
"Good plan, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, surprising McGee. Usually he only offered praise when he felt his agents needed it, which wasn't often; they had all learned in the years they had worked with him that if he wasn't being critical of their work, he approved of it. "Think of this as practice for when you get your own team." McGee blinked in surprise at the words, and he could tell by the sharp intake of breath that was obviously from Abby that she was just as taken aback as he was. Looking back, he was wondering why he hadn't been able to see the clues. Tony had been more independent the last couple of years, following up on leads without running them by Gibbs, learning Arabic when he thought nobody was paying attention, sitting in on some of Ziva's MTAC conferences. At the time, McGee had thought it was just DiNozzo's way of inserting himself into Ziva's life, but now… Now he knew it was about something bigger than that.
He just wondered if Ziva knew what Tony was doing.
---
Tony DiNozzo grumbled as he fumbled with his cufflinks. Trust good 'ole Dad to be the one guy in the Hamptons to host a black-tie event. The mission would have been so much simpler if the old man was content with the beach-party type gatherings typical of the area.
Of course, formal has its advantages as well, he thought, his cuff-links forgotten as Ziva re-entered the room. The low-cut dress was vaguely reminiscent of the one Vesper Lynd wore in the casino scene of the more-recent Casino Royale, but Eva Green had nothing on Ziva David in an evening gown. He was briefly distracted by thoughts of playing James Bond, and wondered if the McGeek could make him a watch that contained a wire garrote or a pair of suspenders with a grappling cord. Or maybe he could just order a martini shaken, not stirred. He knew he must have drifted off into his daydreams when he saw Ziva looking at him with an amused expression on his face. "Where'd you go?" he finally asked.
"I was placing cameras and microphones throughout the estate," she replied, still sounding amused. "As well as a solex agitator and industrial laser cannon."
He grinned at the evidence that Ziva had been paying a lot more attention to his James Bond movies than she claimed. "Anyone see you?"
She shook her head. "I was discreet." She walked over to him and began fastening his cuff links for him. That complete, she reached for his bowtie and expertly tied that.
"Where would I be without you?" he joked.
"Standing half-naked in the guestroom of your father's East Hampton estate," she answered matter-of-factly. He chuckled at the knowing smile on her face.
He lightly touched the necklace he had given her the evening before. "Looks good," he said, "although maybe we should have grabbed the camera necklace from Abby before we left."
"I like this one," she replied with a smile. "Besides," she said as she reached into her bag and pulled out a small box, which he instantly recognized as the carrying case for a camera lapel pin and its recorder. "We already have a camera."
"Wow," he said with a laugh as she affixed the gold Ohio State 'Block O' to his jacket. "Haven't seen this in awhile."
"About two years," she replied. He smiled thinly, trying not to think about the similarities: undercover—or somewhat undercover—missions, acting like people they weren't, mixing their personal and professional lives so completely that they couldn't tell one from the other.
Some of their best moments as a couple—including becoming a couple—happened while they were working.
"But I thought this just recorded, not transmitted," he said, bringing himself back to the moment. Ziva smirked.
"Abby fixed it," she informed him.
"Of course she did," he said with a grin. "Abby can fix anything. Do they talk to us, or is this a one-way conversation?"
"Strictly one-way," she said. A smirk crossed her features. "You do not have to worry about Gibbs' voice in your ear."
"Just in my head," he muttered. She leaned forward to kiss him.
"You are more than qualified to run this mission. And a team." He smirked.
"Since when did I run anything when you were around? I don't even get to fold my own socks the way I want to."
"That is because you do not so much fold them as stuff them all in a drawer."
"That's because they're socks!"
She smiled and kissed him again. "It is almost 2300." She didn't give him a chance to say anything to that before she pulled out her cell phone and dialed a familiar number. "Hello, Gibbs," she said, still looking at Tony. "We are about to begin."