Car accident, work, screwed up wrist, work, Season 9 episodes begging to be tagged, planning a family trip to Disneyland, 20K words of a random sci-fi plot bunny, and work!
There is the incredibly abbreviated excuse of where I've been the last two months...my apologies for the long delay but I'm back now and dedicated to giving this story the finish it deserves. Thanks to all those who stuck in there on my hiatus. :)
Small reminder: this takes place fall of 2010, meaning Season eight (and specifically Enemies Foreign/Domestic) never happened.
Ducky okayed Ziva's continued presence at the Navy Yard, but Gibbs strongly suspected that he did so under duress or following an impressive guilt-trip from a very persuasive probationary Agent. In any case, she had quickly typed up her ROI and escaped Gibbs' watchful eye by offering to help Abby process what discouragingly little evidence they had. Tony was hovering close by, and she would have yelled at him for being Gibbs' spy if she wasn't so grateful for his comforting presence.
She was squinting at a bag of minute, rusty metal shavings scraped from the soles of al-Fulan's shoes when she heard Tony's phone ring. He squinted down at the caller ID, confusion evident on his face, before answering with a simple: DiNozzo. From her periphery, she saw his expression freeze and turned to stare at him. His eyes never left hers as he said a few curt words and then held the phone out.
"For you."
Her brow furrowed as she took it and offered a terse, "David."
"Ziva."
Recognition came instantly, and she stood too quickly from the stool, wincing as the movement pulled at the stitches in her side. "Amit?"
He spoke in low and rushed tones; she found her native tongue comforting at the moment. "I do not have long before your father is back. Tali's kidnappers just made contact with Eli and are demanding the release of a dozen different prisoners in exchange for her life."
"Eli will never agree to that," Ziva said, anguish creeping into her voice.
"No, he will not. He is desperately trying to find her, but he is also keeping the circle tight and therefore our resources are limited."
"But why?"
"You know why," Amit said hurriedly. She ran a tired hand over her eyes and nodded to herself; of course she knew. Eli was first and foremost a strategist. If word got out that the Director had sacrificed his youngest daughter at the hands of terrorists - however reluctantly and in the name of the 'greater good' - it would irreparably tarnish his reputation.
She grimaced, pacing back and forth as Tony and Abby watched in confusion. "What can we do?"
"The ransom demand came on your father's secure phone. They will be making contact again in three hours for confirmation that the demands were met. We haven't been able to back-trace the number, but perhaps you will have more luck."
A prickling desperation filled Ziva. Three hours. She only had three hours until her sister died. It wasn't enough time. "Our people are good, but we can't hack into Eli's cell that quickly."
"You can if I give you the number and access codes."
She stopped pacing abruptly. "Amit...if he ever finds out…"
"Ziva," his voice was suddenly unsteady, regretful. "I knew. About Tali. I was the one who helped your father set up her new identity. We thought we were protecting her, but I turned a blind-eye when Eli used it to his advantage. I saw how it destroyed you, and I saw that it was a mistake. I will not stand by and let you lose her again."
Ziva bit her lip. She had grown up with Amit Hadar nearby. He had started as a bodyguard for the family, moving quickly up the ranks to Eli's right hand man. He had been there for Tali's birth, their mother's death, Ziva's training. Outside of Michael Rivken, he was the man she had trusted most at Mossad, including her father.
But she would never forgive Amit for Michael. And she would never forgive him for Somalia. During those long weeks spent bleeding into dirt and concrete, she held out hope that he would find her long after she had given up on Eli. So afterwards, she wrote him off as just another man from her old life, someone who had valued her skills and discarded her without thought.
Until now.
She shook away the thoughts and hurried to Abby's side. "I'm handing you over to Abby; you can give her all of the information. And Amit...thank you."
"Good luck, Ziva."
The knock on the door was perfunctory at best; Gibbs was already speaking as he strode in and thrust a paper on the Director's desk. "Need your permission to commandeer MTAC for the day."
Leon looked up curiously, but no further explanation came from the mute agent. "For?"
"Some new intel came in on Talia's kidnapping and McGee and Sciuto need more powerful networking computer doo-dads to process the information. Don't want to trouble you with the details."
Vance leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his lap. "Considering it's one of NCIS' most powerful assets, I need more than new intel and doo-dads Agent Gibbs."
Gibbs scowled impatiently. "We need to hack into the Mossad Director's personal cellphone to try and trace the source of a ransom demand."
Vance nodded politely and fought hard to repress his smirk. "That's it?"
"Should do it."
He studied Gibbs for another long moment. "So, in other words Agent Gibbs, you are following a credible lead on a Hamas terrorist cell that is responsible for killing a federal agent, wounding another, and kidnapping a witness in the murder of a United States Marine?"
The corner of Gibbs' mouth twitched upwards; leave it to the Director to find the politically correct spin. "Yes sir, that about sums it up."
"Well then that's good enough for me," Vance said simply, scrawling his name on the piece of paper and handing it back to him. "You have full and discretionary use of all resources available to you."
Gibbs simply nodded but paused at the door, glancing back. "You're not worried how some of your friends may react if they find out about this, Leon?"
Vance looked up over his reading glasses and gave a small sigh. "After a while Gibbs, one has to reconsider who he counts as his friends."
Ziva was pacing again; back and forth, back and forth for nearly twenty minutes. Tony stood beside Gibbs and watched her, wondering if she was wearing a literal track in the industrial carpet. The lights were always so low in MTAC, maybe no one would ever notice…
"What is taking so long?" Ziva's curt question shook him from his musings.
"Amit's information saved us a lot of time, but still, the number the kidnappers called from was highly encrypted. We just need another few minutes and we should have something," McGee shot over his shoulder, not pausing in his frenzied typing.
Clearly frustrated with the answer, Ziva turned on her heel to glare at Tony. "Anything on the BOLOs?"
He shook his head and answered quietly. "Just checked them five minutes ago. Nothing new."
She looked ready to say something more, but Gibbs cut her off. "Check in with Ducky and see if he got anything else off the body," he said calmly but firmly.
She scowled at him but strode over to one of the phones and punched in the extension for autopsy. Gibbs sighed and exchanged a knowing glance with Tony. They could see she was about to keel over from exhaustion, could see the small darkened spots on her shirt where her wound was still seeping. It was clear to anyone watching that the normally cool and collected Agent David was a ticking time bomb, becoming more frantic with every passing minute, and neither of them were quite sure what to expect when the timer hit zero.
"Ducky found trace elements of something under al-Fulan's fingernails. Jimmy just brought it to the lab," Ziva reported, hanging the phone up with undue force.
Abby just nodded without looking at her. "Okay, Mr. MassSpec will be done with those metal flecks soon, I'll run those as soon as we break through this last…uh oh."
"Uh oh what, Abby," Gibbs demanded as they all moved to peer over her shoulder.
"Boss, we were able to decrypt the number but it looks like it was a VoIP call," Tim sighed.
"So? Can't you ping the tower or something?" Gibbs prodded and Abby stared patiently at him.
"We've been over this before Gibbs. VoIP calls are nearly impossible to trace, even when the line is active. The phone is switched off right now."
"There has to be something you can do!" Ziva jumped in.
McGee stared at his computer screen for several seconds; they could practically see his brain spinning through the possibilities. "When the line is active again, we may be able to pick up the call when it joins the PSTN and trace it back through to the original provider. But it depends on how many servers they route through."
"Well we have the number, why not call them ourselves?" Ziva challenged, her cellphone already in her hand.
McGee shook his head. "I need at least sixty seconds to run the trace."
"I can think of some way to stall them that long!" She countered.
"No," Gibbs said firmly. "They're expecting Eli; you call and we run the risk of spooking them. They may change phones or move locations."
"But-"
"Or they jump the gun on the deadline and kill Talia."
"Gibbs!"
He silenced her with an impatient glare before looking to his other agents. "McGee, do whatever you need to do to prepare for the trace. They'll be calling back in -" he glanced to his watch "-ninety minutes. Abby, go check in with your machines and see if they've found anything." He turned the full weight of his stare onto Ziva then.
"Take a break. Get some food. Have Ducky check your stitches, and then find a place to put your head down for a few minutes." She opened her mouth but he cut her off with a growl. "You are exhausted and unfocused and I won't have it jeopardize this case."
He could see her anger boiling just below the surface as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "I think my time would be better served running down-"
"It wasn't a goddamned request David! You are no good to me like this! Now get out of here before I have you thrown out!"
"Go to hell Gibbs!" She yelled suddenly, slamming her palm on the desk. Gibbs glared at Tony, who stepped forward and gently reached for her elbow, but she ripped it away from his grasp and stormed towards the door.
"On it," Tony said quietly, trailing after her. Gibbs stared at the empty space left by his two agents for several seconds and tried to ignore the exhaustion gnawing away at the edges of his concentration. He turned around to see McGee's pale and stricken face in the dark room.
"Boss?" he asked timidly.
He just shook his head at the younger man's concerned tone. "Let me know as soon as they call."
McGee turned back to the computer, leaving Gibbs alone to his thoughts. Thoughts of a conversation with Ziva, so many years ago, over another angry and battered agent who craved retaliation. She had said that Paula Cassidy needed a target and an outlet for her anger, and Ziva didn't care if she hated her in the end.
He just hoped that she would remember that when this was all over.
I have the rest well mapped out so it shouldn't take me too long. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts, even if it's to tear apart my incredibly non-technical knowledge of VoIP calls and traces and the PSTN! :)