Gibbs and Tony entered the El Paradiso Motel—and both about gagged at the stench.
"Doesn't exactly smell like el paradiso," Tony muttered, drawing a bemused half-smile from Gibbs, who approached the counter hoping to get a room number and then get the hell out of there.
He stopped, though, deferring to DiNozzo when he saw the clerk was a Hispanic teen with a small child on each knee and a textbook in front of her on the cracked, flamingo-pink countertop. The children jabbered away in Spanish, and Gibbs saw Tony steadfastly avoiding looking at their small smiling faces and happy animation.
Gibbs wondered if Kevin would forever haunt Tony's interactions with kids, much like Kelly haunted his. He hoped not, feeling an odd flash of fleeting premonition: Tony's kids calling him "Uncle G" at a backyard barbeque.
"My name is Tony," DiNozzo said in Spanish, looking directly at the young woman and flashing a charming smile. He nodded at the little boy on the left without looking at the child. "I think your little brother needs a diaper change."
The girl's eyes went wide as she blushed. "I'm so sorry," she said, answering in the same language. "I have this cold and I can't smell anything…"
Tony grinned. "Lucky you."
The girl smiled back, setting the boy on his feet. "Go find Mama, okay?" she said, barely stopping herself from giving the boy a pat on the rear end to send him off to a door behind the counter. She was still smiling—and still blushing—when she turned back to Tony. "My name is Lucia. How can I help you?"
DiNozzo pulled out a color copy of the Jordans' drivers license photos, their twin features printed side by side on the single sheet of paper. "Have you seen either of these men?"
She blinked at him, her eyes dropping to the textbook in front of her before coming back up to meet his with confusion. "Is this a trick? They're the same," she said, looking back and forth between the agents.
Gibbs didn't speak, only half-understanding the foreign words. But he didn't ask them to switch to English, either. He figured the girl spoke it, considering the textbook, but he also trusted Tony to get what they needed.
"They're twins," Tony said, his smile reassuring. "Have you seen them? Either of them? Or both?"
Lucia's nod had both agents' pulses picking up, and Gibbs didn't need to know the language to understand the quiet fear in the girl's eyes as she realized they were law enforcement looking for a suspect—one that she had interacted with.
"He's in room 208," she said quietly, shifting the remaining child in her lap to retrieve a key from a pegboard beside her. "He checked in alone," she said, leaning forward to place the key in Tony's hand and study the photos more closely. She met Tony's eyes again and said, apologetically, "I don't know which one."
"It's okay," Tony said, giving the girl's hand a squeeze as he took the key. He kept smiling, even as he felt something twist hard inside of him at the sight of the small child who would grow up to experience everything Kevin Harris wouldn't. It made him wonder if he would always feel this way around kids. "Did the man have a scar? Here," Tony said, pointing to the location of Ryan's.
Lucia frowned. "I couldn't tell. He wore a hat both times he came in here." She shuddered, obviously scared—though slightly curious, too—of what the man had done.
Tony didn't tell her he was a murderer. Instead, he said, "Don't worry about it. Can you tell me how he was acting when he came in?"
Another frown tugged at Lucia's full lips. "Nervous. He didn't say much, and he kept looking out the windows."
DiNozzo noted the old-fashioned register book—and lack of a computer—and he thanked her, glanced at Gibbs to see if he wanted to add anything and got a shake of the head in return. The agents started toward the door.
"Wait," Lucia said, biting her lip and looking so nervous Tony wondered if she was going to ask for his number. But then she glanced at Gibbs and switched to English. "He checked out already. About ten minutes ago."
Tony swallowed his curse at the thought of their quarry being so close—and now gone.
But Lucia continued, "He came back, though. He said he forgot something in his room. You just missed him but he has to be in the room. He hasn't brought the key back yet."
Tony felt his suddenly pounding heart jump up into his throat as his eyes went from the window to the little boy in Lucia's lap. He moved toward them so quickly that Lucia jumped in surprise as he took her arm and walked her to the door she had sent the child through earlier. Tony kept his body between them and motel's entrance as Gibbs went to look out of the window.
"Is there another exit?" Tony asked urgently.
Lucia nodded in wordless fear.
"I need you to get your family out of the building," he said, speaking calmly but firmly. "Get everyone out from back there but don't go knocking on guests' doors, okay? Call the police. Tell them NCIS has an armed suspect in room 208 here at the motel, okay? Can you do that?"
Lucia nodded.
"Lucia?" DiNozzo said, making sure she was still with him.
"Yes," she said. "Call the police. NCIS. Armed suspect. I got it."
"Thank you," Tony said, continuing to shield her and the child from the entrance. "Go."
The door closed behind them, and DiNozzo followed Gibbs out of the office, both agents running to try to catch the suspect before he left the motel room and put an unsuspecting guest in danger. They knew Lucia could have checked in the innocent brother, but the agents weren't taking any chances as they ran up the stairs and down the exterior corridor, stopping to flank the bright-pink door to room 208. Tony was crouched at the window but he pointed to his eyes and gave Gibbs a negative shake of the head, telling him he couldn't see inside. It was also possible the killer had seen them enter the office and had taken off, but Gibbs just gave DiNozzo a nod.
Tony reached up and slid the key soundlessly into the lock while Gibbs slowly turned the knob. They swept the small, empty room quickly, their eyes meeting upon seeing the closed bathroom door. The agents moved to the door, stepping carefully over snack wrappers and empty soda cans as they came to stand at opposite sides of the door.
"Federal agents!" Gibbs called. "You in there, Jordan?"
They were met with silence, but no words were needed to agree that someone was in the room. Tony tapped his nose, and Gibbs nodded, indicating he smelled the blood, too. Gibbs put his hand on the knob as DiNozzo crouched as low as possible with his long legs.
Tony took a breath and realized he was suddenly terrified their suspect had somehow grabbed the little boy from downstairs and was now holding him hostage—or had already killed him. Heart racing, Tony squeezed his eyes shut, feeling Gibbs' gaze on him. Green eyes snapped open and Tony nodded at Gibbs, who nodded back just before shoving the door open, the thin wood slamming against the perpendicular wall of the bathroom with a bang.
DiNozzo's relief at finding no small hostages in the tiny room was quickly cut short by the boot that slammed into his temple as he peeked around the corner to sweep the small space. Fireworks burst in front of his dazed eyes as he felt hard metal collide with his wrist, banging his hand against the wall and knocking his gun loose from his grip. He tried to hang on to it, but white-hot pain raced up his arm as he tried to squeeze and his fingers refused to obey his brain's repeated orders. The weapon clattered to the floor as Tony was hauled up against a male body, his own suddenly a shield between his attacker and his boss, who stepped into the room and leveled his gun at what little of the suspect's head wasn't blocked by his sudden hostage.
Through the dizziness and pain spiking through his head, Tony could feel the man's breath on his ear, and the agent braced for Gibbs to shoot and put an end to this. He wondered if he would feel the killer's blood spray his face, feel it mingle with his own, flowing freely from a cut in his left eyebrow.
But then the man spoke.
"The Internet sent you, didn't it?" he wailed, jamming the gun hard into Tony's bleeding temple and wrapping an arm around the agent's neck as he held him in place. DiNozzo reflexively reached up with his uninjured left hand to try to ease the choking pressure on his throat, his long fingers digging into the man's forearm as he struggled to breathe.
"Get your hands off me," the suspect screamed, sending stabbing pain through Tony's aching head. "You touch computers with those hands, goddammit. I know you do."
DiNozzo let his hand drop to his side, even though everything in him was screaming to pry the arm from his windpipe. He managed to get his eyes open and focused, and he found Gibbs holding his stance, the gun steady in his hand. The room tilted and black fog crept in at the edges of Tony's vision so he closed his eyes again at the sudden, overwhelming nausea.
"He can't breathe," Gibbs' calm voice came through the haze and pain.
If anything, the crushing pressure on Tony's throat increased and he felt his knees go weak.
"You kill him and you lose your shield," Gibbs pointed out.
Or I pass the fuck out and you shoot this bastard, Tony thought wildly, unable to speak and wondering if he would ever be able to—if he made it out of this. But then he realized if he dropped, Jordan would likely turn the gun on Gibbs. The grip loosened and Tony drew greedy lungfuls of air, not particularly caring that it made his bruised chest flare with pain on each deep inhalation.
"We're here to help you, Ryan," Gibbs said, watching the man closely for his reaction to the name.
"No!" he screamed, obscuring whatever that reaction had been—just as his hat obscured the location of Ryan Jordan's scar.
Gibbs watched Tony flinch violently away from the scream and that, combined with the blood oozing thickly down the side of his face, made him figure his agent was fighting a serious concussion to stay on his feet. Gibbs knew as well as his partner did that if DiNozzo passed out, Jordan would likely turn the gun on the remaining agent.
Gibbs just wished he knew which Jordan he was facing.
Daniel had already pretended to be his brother once, and Gibbs knew it was highly unlikely that Ryan had conquered his fear of the Internet to look up this motel. But Gibbs knew it was also possible that Daniel had brought Ryan here, or made plans to meet him, all the while feeding his paranoia and setting up a shootout with the authorities. Because Daniel didn't know Samantha had identified him as the shooter, he would think he could serve up the "killer" and with Ryan no longer around to defend himself, Daniel would be free. And so would his mother.
There had to be a way to tell them apart.
And then Gibbs realized there was.
"Take off your hat," he commanded, wincing when Tony jumped at the sound of his voice, his dazed, hazy green eyes blinking open and then squeezing shut again as his left hand pressed to his belly. His right hung limply, uselessly at his side, his fingers swollen like sausages. "Take it off," Gibbs barked when Jordan didn't move.
The man shook his head slowly, pitifully. "I can't," he said, his voice fearful as a child's. "It's the only thing keeping the Internet out of my head." He pulled his arm tighter across Tony's neck, seemingly unaware that he was choking the agent again as he lifted the edge of the black knit hat, revealing silvery duct tape on the inside. "See?"
Gibbs nodded carefully, watching Tony's face go red again as his airway was cut off. "Okay, I see," he said quickly but calmly—or as calm as he could manage to sound with Tony bleeding and choking right in front of him. Jordan moved his hand back to its previous place, and both Gibbs and DiNozzo breathed sighs in relief.
But Gibbs still didn't know which Jordan was standing there—the devious, cold-blooded killer or the mentally ill man who thought the Internet had sent the agents to get him.
But Gibbs did know that he was running out of time. DiNozzo's eyes were unfocused, his breathing ragged, the blood starkly red against skin pale once again now that he could breathe.
"I want you to leave!" Jordan wailed suddenly, stepping forward so that no more than two feet separated his human shield from Gibbs.
Gibbs was so close to Tony that he could smell the blood running down his agent's cheek.
And that made him realize why they had stormed the bathroom in the first place. Gibbs' eyes darted around the small room, landing on the blood-smeared sink beside him.
Jordan followed his eyes. "See? You think I'm Daniel, don't you?" he cried, frustration choking his voice. "He brought me here and he hurt me! Like he always hurts me. I hate him! My name is Ryan and I'm not him!"
Gibbs watched, feeling sick and helpless as Tony tried to twist away from the shrieking in his ear, only to have Jordan tighten his grip again, hard enough to make Tony gag.
"Where? Where did he hurt you?" Gibbs asked urgently as his eyes swept over what he could see of the man. He found no injury and Jordan didn't answer. "I want to help you, Ryan, but you're hurting my friend. And if you keep hurting him, Ryan, I'm not going to be able to help you."
Gibbs watched Tony's bleary eyes pop open at that, his eyes rolling slightly as he opened his mouth to speak. "But—"
That was all he got out before Jordan pulled his arm viciously across Tony's throat, choking off the words—and his precious air.
"He is not your friend," Jordan snarled at Gibbs, pressing the gun harder against the agent's bloody temple. "You are agents, sent by the Internet! And I want you to leave. right. now!" he screamed wildly, tapping the gun against Tony's head with every emphasized word.
"He's just my friend," Gibbs said, his soft words not belying the desperation he was starting to feel, watching the agent who really was his friend choking in front of him. Tony was either mouthing unintelligible words to him—or trying desperately to breathe. Gibbs realized it was the former and said, "Ease up on him and let him tell you."
"If I do that, will you leave?" Jordan whined, still cutting off DiNozzo's air.
Gibbs was about to say no when he caught Tony blinking rapidly, giving Gibbs a slight nod.
"Sure, Ryan," Gibbs said, not understanding what his partner was doing but going with it anyway. He wasn't sure if Tony really trusted him again after the devastating results of their miscommunicated code, but Gibbs trusted Tony with his life. Literally, in this case, because if Tony passed out, they were both dead. "Just let him breathe."
The arm loosened once again and Tony coughed a few times before he could speak. "Just friends," Tony reassured, sounding as hoarse as he had after spending half the night trying to talk Harris down.
"I don't believe you," Jordan spat, cutting off whatever else Tony would have said. "You're agents. You hurt people and you read their minds and you take them away and lock them up!"
"No, we don't," Gibbs said, watching Tony's eyes slowly losing focus again. "We hang out on Sundays and we drink beer and bet on football games. DiNozzo! Who's your team this weekend?"
Tony's head snapped up at his barked name and he met his boss's steady blue gaze.
"Redskins, by a touchdown."
Gibbs fired without hesitation, his bullet hitting Daniel Jordan right between the eyes.