Chapter 7

Five days later...

Thomas was walking to the club when Jaron approached him.

"We need to have a discussion," he said.

"My place or yours?" Thomas asked.

"Mine."

"All right." He took a step, purposely stepped on his shoelace and bent down to retie them. While he was down there, he surreptitiously removed the earwig from his ear, cutting off a new round of people questioning his decisions and slipped it into his shoe. Mentally, he made a note to clean it before he wore it again.

"Hurry up."

"Don't want me tripping, do you?" Thomas asked. He grinned as Jaron gave a long-suffering sigh. "Don't worry. We'll get there on time. I have long legs."

They headed off in a southerly direction, away from the club, walking for about a block before a car stopped beside them and Jaron indicated that Thomas should get in. He shrugged and did as requested.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He keeps taking out the earwig," Tony grumbled.

"He does not want to get caught, Tony," Ziva said reasonably. "If they found that, they would know that he was not what he seemed. It is overly-cautious perhaps, but it makes sense."

"They've picked him up in a car. Headed south to the downtown area."

"You want us to come as backup, Boss?"

"No. Stay there for when he reconnects."

"If he does. I hope Abby's little watch thingy works."

"It will work," Ziva said. "Do you think Abby would risk McGee?"

Tony grinned. "I guess not. She wouldn't want her little computer geek getting banged up because the machinery failed."

"Are you two finished?"

"N-Yes, Boss. All done."

"Good. Shut up."

Tony and Ziva watched as the blip marking Tim's position moved slowly southward.

"He'll be fine. Probie's been doing pretty well the last few weeks."

"Yes, but this will be the real test. Charming a good-looking woman is much easier than fooling people whose entire existence depends on being suspicious."

"Yeah...and look how long it took him to get comfortable with that. These guys won't give him a second chance."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The car came to a stop at a restaurant.

"If I had known you were going to feed me, I wouldn't have eaten such a big lunch."

"I find it hard to believe that you over-indulge in food," Marcus muttered.

Thomas smiled, catching a glimpse of himself in a window. The scrawny look wasn't something he'd had since he was a teenager. He liked it. At his age now, it made him look edgy rather than gangly. "Perhaps. There are other arenas where over-indulgence is much more entertaining."

"Inside," Jaron ordered.

"Yes, sir." He walked through the doors into a small restaurant, slightly upscale...and quiet at this time of the day.

"This way," Marcus said, heading through the restaurant to the back.

Thomas caught a glance of Devon and nodded to him, but when he realized that this wasn't his final destination, he grafted a professional expression of general ennui. They went into a small office.

"Head office is pretty cramped," he commented.

"You don't need a lot of space if you work it right."

Thomas allowed just a bit of surprise to cross his face when he saw the woman sitting in the chair. She was dressed in a business suit with clean lines...a conservative haircut...and she was good-looking in an understated way. He openly looked her up and down, locking the details in his memory, pretending to leer slightly. He decided that he liked Jewel better.

"Seen enough?" she asked.

Thomas smiled and took a risk, knowing it could be dangerous. "Nope. I'd have to see you naked to see enough. You have a nice build. You must work out."

He felt Marcus stiffen behind him and the woman's expression hardened for a moment before her lips turned upward in a parody of a smile. It didn't reach her eyes.

"Maybe we can arrange that sometime."

"Anytime," Thomas said. "I'm assuming that's not why you asked me to come here, though."

"You assume correctly. Consider this a job interview. You have passed the first round. This is the final...weeding-out phase."

"Really. And I suppose I can assume that if I'm weeded, my body will turn up somewhere?"

"No. They won't find your body."

Thomas considered that and then nodded. "All right. Ask away."

"You're not worried?"

"If I didn't think I'd succeed, I wouldn't have tried. You need me."

"That remains to be seen."

Thomas laughed. "Oh, maybe for you. Not for me. I've seen what's happened to your last few shipments. All intercepted at various points. Whoever is running the drugs for you isn't doing a good job. You've also had publicity because of your product. Bad for business. You need someone who can clean up your image."

"And you're that someone?"

"Exactly. You won't find anyone better than me, not among the people willing to do your dirty work anyway."

"You're saying no one is smarter than you?"

"I'm saying that no one running drugs is smarter than I am. There might be a few outside of this area who surpass my intelligence, but I'm the big fish in the drug-running pond."

"People eat fish, you know."

"Or they keep them as trophies when they've outlived their usefulness. ...but not until then."

"You're not worried?" she asked again.

"I think I'll outlive you."

Another tense pause. Then, she laughed.

"Sit down, Mr. MacKay. Let's talk."

Thomas nodded with a satisfied smile. Bluster was the easiest way of getting on these people's good side. It didn't seem to matter if it was real or not. They were so easily impressed. ...which was their downfall. That was why Thomas knew he'd outlive them. They never seemed to consider the fact that, if he was smarter than everyone else, that included his employers...all of them. He was definitely smarter than this woman, than any of her hired help. He looked on them with total disdain, but they didn't see it because of their own inflated self-importance.

"That works for me," he said as he sat in the indicated chair.

"You think you can run our drugs without them being discovered by the Navy? Even with the current level of scrutiny?"

"Yes."

"That simple?"

"No, but I don't think you'd understand the technical explanation. ...would you?"

"Probably not. How about a demonstration? You show me how you can hide a shipment of say...weaponry. One of my people has been tracking a shipment of ammunition coming into Norfolk. We'd like to...appropriate it."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Drop the fancy words. It's so cliche. You want to steal it, plain and simple. You want me to make it disappear so they don't even know it's gone. I can do that."

"Right now?"

"Do you have a secure linkup with high speed connection?"

"Yes."

"What's the transmission rate?"

The woman gestured to her computer. "Have at it."

"You trust me not to go looking through your files? I'll bet you couldn't have any sort of protections I couldn't break through."

"If I find something amiss, I'll kill you. Is that blunt enough?"

"Plenty." Thomas sat down and dramatically cracked his knuckles. He looked at the specs on her computers. "This will do, although I'd prefer faster connections."

"We have faster elsewhere. You're not hired yet."

"I'm expected to do this for free?"

"If you do what I've asked you to do, you'll get paid. If not, you'll be dead and won't need the money."

"All right. Here we go." Tim felt a slight twinge. This wasn't on the list of things he was authorized to do while undercover. No one had mentioned that he could steal ammunition from the U.S. Navy and put it in the hands of drug dealers. ...but he couldn't back out now. He had no other choice than to continue. Thomas started to work. As he delved into the inner workings, he had to be careful not to draw attention to himself. No message he could send right now could possibly explain what he was doing. He'd have to do what she wanted. No tricks. Yet.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs waited outside the restaurant, hoping against hope that everything was going all right...but that it wasn't going too well. He was worried that Tim really would fall into the trap all too many undercover operatives had: forgetting who he was and doing the work of a felon, becoming a felon, giving up on his work. He'd seen enough small moments that he felt his worry was justified, but not enough to say that they'd pull out. Tim had been right. They didn't have enough yet to take down the whole group. Tim would have to do his best.

He just wasn't sure it would be good enough.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Done. I've arranged for a portion of the shipment to be stored in this location," Thomas said, pointing out the location on the map. "You can get access to it and arrange for its transfer."

"Why only a portion?"

"That's your problem. You think that in order to get what you want, you have to have all of it. If you want to win, you give up parts now to get more later. Then, they still see the ammo. They don't see that some of it is missing and so they don't look for it."

"That's not what I told you to do."

"I thought you wanted me to succeed. ...or was this a plan to let me fail?"

The woman stared at him for a long moment.

"Innovative. Willing to go out on a limb. Takes risks. Backs up bravado with real skill." She looked up over Thomas' head. "I think he's a keeper."

Thomas followed her gaze and saw the camera. He smiled and waved.

"So...since I got you what you wanted, when will I get paid?"

"Right now." She opened a drawer of the desk and although Thomas tensed for a moment, she simply drew out a stack of bills, counted out a few and handed them over. "Once you get started, we can talk about regular compensation."

"When will that be?"

"We'll be in touch."

"Then I can go?"

"What do you have to do?"

"Well...since you're unlikely to get naked for me, I have a girl back at the club who will. I don't want to keep her waiting."

"Maybe some other time."

"Maybe." Thomas got up and was escorted out by Marcus and Devon.

"So...do I get a ride back or am I on my own?"

"We'll take you back. Just keep your mouth shut, okay?"

"Fine by me."

"Yeah, right."

Thomas laughed and got in the car. He didn't say a single word the entire trip. They let him out at the same place he'd been before. He thought about reporting in, but wanted to see Jewel more. So he continued on to the club and spent some quality time in the back room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim bent over and reluctantly pulled the earwig out of his shoe. It had been so nice to spend the day without their annoying voices in his ear, without having to confront the irritating comments, the questioning of his abilities...all of it. He hated it, but they'd be chomping at the bit. He was surprised they hadn't called him already. Then, he looked over at the counter and, with a small amount of chagrine, noticed that his phone was sitting there.

Oops.

Still, he wasn't sticking something that had been riding around in his shoe all day right into his ear; so he took the time to clean it off first. Then, he put it in his ear and braced for the onslaught.

"Have a nice time, Probie?"

"Since when did you get the idea that this was a vacation, McGee? You should have reported back right away."

"You are taking too many risks, McGee. What if they had decided that you were expendable?"

Tim sighed, trying to keep his anger in check.

Don't keep it in check. They don't deserve to have you hold back. They aren't even letting you explain! Let them have it!

"Do you want to hear what happened or just blather?" he asked.

A pause.

"In person, McGee. Tomorrow morning. Early. Come here and don't try to delay or try to stay out of contact. You get here by 0600. Got it?"

"Yes, Gibbs. I got it," Thomas said, nearly grinding his teeth. Why was it that drug dealers gave him more respect than his teammates? "If you don't mind, I'm going to shower...or did you have more to say first?"

"Did they like you, Probie?"

"They loved me, Tony. Thanks for asking." Tim took out the earwig, knowing they'd be upset at the cut off again...and taking a perverse pleasure in knowing he had irritated them. Why couldn't they see just how much good he was doing? Now...how was he going to tell them that he had helped steal from the Navy?

Don't tell them. They don't need to know. You're supposed to maintain your cover at all costs. That means that you have carte blanche when it comes to making decisions. ...even if they won't believe it.

Tim walked into the bathroom, turned on the water...and then punched a hole in the plaster wall. Trembling with anger, he looked at his fist. The knuckles were bleeding but not broken. Good thing this was a cheap apartment building. The anger got rid of all the tension, the worry he'd felt as he'd been alone in that room with people ready to kill him if he failed.

By the time he got out of the bathroom, he had decided not to mention his theft. They didn't need to know what had happened.

They didn't deserve to know. ...and they wouldn't bother asking because they didn't care unless he messed up.