Last chapter was pretty short, so here's some more...
Chapter Thirteen
February 5, 2011 – 3:07am
Jimmy carefully opened the window and looked out at the parking lot. Empty. He scrambled over the windowsill and pulled the window almost shut again, then took off running. No subterfuge this time – he went straight for the lot where his car was parked, seven blocks away. He was winded by the time he got there, but he only allowed himself a moment to catch his breath before he put the car into gear and pulled out into the street.
He spent the entire drive to the Navy Yard reviewing what he needed to tell them. Seventh floor, Tri-State Bank and Trust. The machine is a Unisys DP500. The guy who put the bomb together was Carl; didn't hear the other guy's name. The guy who planted the transmitter was Garrett. No, I don't know if that's a first or last name. Hayes was the guy who couldn't pack the equipment right, so they had to make a second trip. How do I know all this? You wouldn't believe me if I told you…
When he tried to check in at Security, the guard took his ID and asked him to wait while he made a phone call. Jimmy nodded and smiled, trying to contain his impatience. Of course, Tony could come and go at all hours, but what possible reason could the autopsy assistant have for showing up at – Jimmy checked his watch – 3:30 in the morning? Especially when the medical examiner hadn't called him in…
A minute later, the guard was back. "Someone will be down to escort you up," he told Jimmy, handing his ID back.
Jimmy thanked him politely. Inside, his stomach was churning. Great, I'm bound to have already pissed off Gibbs, and I haven't even seen him yet. He hadn't considered that Security wouldn't want to have him wandering around by himself after hours when he didn't have authorization to be there. Now one of Gibbs' agents was going to have to stop working and escort Jimmy up, like a little kid who couldn't be trusted to walk home from school alone.
"Palmer? What are you doing here?" Ziva walked up to him, looking puzzled. Her hair had been pulled back into a no-nonsense pony tail, and she wore a deep blue sweater, faded jeans – and her hand-made brown leather boots that she'd brought with her from Israel.
I'd know those boots anywhere…
Ziva stepped closer and touched his arm with her hand. "Jimmy, are you alright?" she asked in her accented English. "You look like a ghost."
Jimmy didn't correct her phrasing, because then he'd have to admit that she was more correct than she could know. I feel like I have seen a ghost. Instead, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task ahead of him. "I need to talk to Gibbs," he told her, proud that his voice only shook a little bit.
"It could not wait until Monday? We are working on a case –"
"I know," he interrupted her. "I've got information that you'll need."
A frown drew her brows together. "What information?" she asked, clearly doubting that Jimmy could possibly know anything more about the case than they did already. Jimmy didn't blame her, but he hoped he'd be able to convince them.
He gestured toward the elevator. "I think it'd probably be better to tell everyone at once," he said, although truthfully he thought no such thing. It might be better for them to hear it together; but for him, facing them all at once as he related his crazy tale would be a thousand times harder.
"All right, then." Ziva nodded at the security guard, then led Jimmy down the hall and into the elevator. The ride up was too quick; before he knew it, the elevator doors were opening in front of them. He walked ahead of Ziva as she herded him into the bullpen.
The room seemed more crowded than normal; after a moment, he realized why. In addition to the MCRT, Agents Fornell and Sacks from the FBI were there, standing next to McGee at the plasma screen. The younger agent was utilizing the large screen to display what looked to Jimmy like someone's phone bill; rows and rows of phone numbers filled the screen.
Tony was sitting at his desk, working on his computer. Gibbs had been leaning on Tony's desk, looking over his senior field agent's shoulder; now, the silver-haired man straightened up and glared at Jimmy.
"Care to explain yourself, Palmer?"
That got everyone's attention, especially Tony's; Jimmy saw his lover's head whip around to stare at him. Jimmy froze like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to look away from Gibbs' blue eyes. Now that he was here, he found he was just as terrified of the former Marine's wrath as he had been of being caught by the terrorists in the bank.
Ziva stepped in. "Palmer says he has information about our case," she announced.
Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Well?"
Jimmy licked his lips nervously. "I – I –" he stuttered. Gibbs took a step forward, and Jimmy immediately took a step back, trying to keep a safe distance. Don't forget, Palmer, he's a sniper – he's just as dangerous far away as he is at close range. The thought was not comforting.
He took another step back, and bumped into Ziva. The former Mossad officer grabbed his shoulders firmly – not painfully so, but enough to remind him that pain was always an option. Now he was trapped between the sniper and the assassin, which did nothing for his confidence.
Gibbs lost his patience. "We don't have all night, Palmer!" he snapped. "Either give us something useful or get out of the way!"
We don't have all night… Instinctively, Jimmy's eyes flicked to the clocks on the wall. It was already 3:38; they were running out of time. He looked back and saw –
An orange watchband, on Gibbs' arm. A tan trenchcoat, thrown across the back of McGee's chair. A black wool coat, likewise on the back of Tony's chair. His eyes flashed to Fornell – he couldn't remember what the older man had been wearing, but he did remember the blood, the bruises, and the white of the bone poking out of his arm. Sacks he didn't remember seeing at all. Either he hadn't been there, or he hadn't been found before sunrise.
He looked again at the people around him, still alive, still whole, and from somewhere, he found his courage again.
"I know where the Freedom for America people have set up their bomb." And with that, the dam broke.
Gibbs, Fornell, and Tony all started speaking at once, but Jimmy ran right over them. He gave them names and locations. He described what he'd seen while hiding across the street; he told them about the boobytraps, and the safe access into the building. He even had McGee pull up the Google Earth street view of the building so he could point out the correct window. He sketched what he could of the bank processing center's floor plan and marked the location of the sorting machine.
He was acutely aware of the disbelieving looks he was getting from everyone, especially Tony, but he resolutely ignored them. If he stopped for even a moment, he was going to lose momentum, and this time he knew he wouldn't get it back.
But it couldn't go on forever; finally, Jimmy ran out of things to say. He stood next to the plasma screen with its view of the building, nervously twisting his fingers together, and waited for the first blow to fall.
It didn't take long. "Palmer, how the hell do you know all this?" Gibbs stormed, eyes blazing.
This was the part he'd really been dreading. "I… I can't tell you," Jimmy mumbled, looking down at the floor.
"The hell you can't," Sacks argued, stepping closer and looming over Jimmy. They were close to the same height, but he managed to loom all the same.
"Watch it, Slacks." Tony's voice held a threatening tone.
"Boss, I can verify at least some of Palmer's story," McGee called out from his desk. Everyone looked at him. "There's a Ronald Garrett on the Chief of Staff's… uh, staff… and his file shows that he's due to be terminated at the end of next week."
"And there's a Carl Howard on the suspect list that the ATF provided," Ziva added.
"There's a Carl Richards in Girard's unit," Tony commented, holding up a file folder. "Could be either one."
"Or neither," Sacks pointed out. "Are you seriously telling me you're just going to take his word for it? How the hell can he know that much without being a part of it?"
"Whoa!" "Hold on, there!" "Hey!" The shouts came from three different directions.
Gibbs didn't yell. He just calmly stepped up and stared at Sacks until the FBI agent looked away. Then he turned to Jimmy, silently demanding an explanation.
An explanation that Jimmy couldn't give. Even with the team's confirmation of some of the details from Jimmy's account, they still didn't quite believe him. If he told them that this was his third Saturday morning in three days, he'd lose all the precious ground he'd managed to gain.
Gibbs watched him a moment longer, then shook his head. "Go sit down, Palmer," he ordered, turning away. "McGee, I want –"
"– Background check on Garrett including phone records, got it."
"Ziva –"
"– Background on Carl Howard, and cross-reference phone records with McGee."
"Tony –"
"– Likewise with Carl Richards. On it, Boss."
"Right. Fornell, my office." Gibbs jerked his head toward the elevator.
Jimmy watched the two lead agents walk away. He was just realizing whom Gibbs hadn't given an order to when he suddenly became aware of Agent Sacks standing too close behind him. He tried to turn around, but the other man grabbed Jimmy's arm and twisted it up behind his back, effectively immobilizing him.
"So what else are you hiding, Palmer?" Sacks snarled as he pushed the younger man toward Gibbs' desk.
"Let him go, Slacks!" Tony ordered as he, Ziva, and McGee all shot out of their chairs to converge on the lone FBI agent.
Sacks shoved his captive so that Jimmy ended up half-sprawled across Gibbs' desk, knocking his keyboard to the floor. Holding him in place with a hand pressed between his shoulder blades, Sacks kicked Jimmy's feet apart. "Not til I know he's not carrying a weapon," he countered, using his free hand to pat Jimmy down.
Jimmy closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, trying to focus on anything other than Sacks' humiliating treatment of him. He knew better than to struggle; the other man would probably use it as an excuse to further restrain him. Instead he offered no resistance as the agent searched his pockets and felt for any hidden weapons Jimmy might be carrying.
Finally satisfied that Jimmy was no threat, Sacks pulled him up roughly by the back of his shirt and shoved him toward Tony, who caught Jimmy as his lover stumbled. McGee and Ziva took another step closer to Sacks, who had Gibbs' desk behind him and couldn't back away.
"Was that entirely necessary?" Ziva's voice was low and dangerous; her brown eyes smoldered as she glared at Sacks.
Sacks returned the look. "Tell me you wouldn't do the same, if he were one of ours."
"But he's not, Slacks," Tony growled. "He's one of ours." The unspoken implication there was: and you're not.
McGee smiled grimly at Sacks. "Why don't you take a walk, Agent Sacks?" he suggested in a deceptively mild tone. Jimmy had heard about the time McGee got to interrogate a bully; he imagined this was very much what it had looked like.
Sacks knew he was outnumbered, and his position was deteriorating. "Just make sure he's still here when I get back," he warned them as he made his exit, heading for the stairs since Gibbs' office was still in use.
As soon as he was gone, Jimmy staggered to Gibbs' desk and leaned against it, his legs none too steady after the unexpected encounter. He didn't dare lean on Tony in front of the others; they couldn't afford to risk giving anything away in front of Tony's teammates. Drawing a shaky breath, he looked at the three agents gathered around him. "Thanks, guys."
Tony continued to glare in the direction Sacks had gone. "Bastard," he muttered under his breath. Then he shook his head and turned to the others. "Probie, Ziva, you two get back to work," he suggested. He looked at Jimmy and nodded his head toward the stairs leading up to the mezzanine. "Palmer, campfire."
Jimmy followed as Tony led him, not up the stairs, but behind them. From here, they couldn't be seen from the bullpen. He was mentally congratulating Tony for finding a way for them to talk privately that wouldn't arouse suspicion when the other man grabbed him by his shirt with both hands and pushed him up against the wall. "Jimmy, what the hell is going on?" he demanded, his voice a mixture of concern and anger.
Coming on top of Sacks' assault, it was too much. Jimmy grabbed onto Tony's forearms in an attempt to stay upright even as his knees buckled and he began sliding down the wall.
"Jesus, Jimmy –" Tony eased his lover to the floor and went down on one knee beside him, his arm automatically circling Jimmy's shoulders. Given the circumstances, he could still pass that off as a gesture between friends, should anyone see. "Jimmy, it's okay. Just tell me what's going on."
"I can't." Jimmy stared straight ahead, unable to look Tony in the eyes.
"Why not?" When Jimmy didn't answer, Tony put his hand on Jimmy's cheek and turned the younger man's face to his. "Jimmy, I can't protect you from Fornell and Sacks if I don't know what's going on. How do you know what the FFAF is planning? You didn't even know who they were until tonight – did you?"
"No." Jimmy could at least answer that honestly.
"Then how –"
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs' voice startled them both, but fortunately, it was coming from the bullpen, out of sight. "Grab your gear!"
Tony hesitated. "Jimmy," he whispered, as if afraid that Gibbs could hear them even from so far away.
Jimmy's hand came up to pull Tony's hand away from his face, but he held onto it for a moment. "Tony, do you trust me?"
"Of course."
"Then trust me now." Jimmy squeezed Tony's hand tight. "I can't tell you how I know, but I swear that everything I said is true. You have to believe me."
"But why? Why are you doing this? If Sacks has his way, you'll be arrested as a co-conspirator!"
And my only defense will be an insanity plea.
"DiNozzo!"
Tony looked desperately at his lover, but Jimmy merely shook his head, lips pressed tightly together.
"Jimmy –"
"You have to go, Tony." Jimmy hated saying it, but it was true. "Just please come back to me." The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Tony stood up and pulled Jimmy to his feet. "Always." He wrapped his arms around the younger man. "Listen, don't say anything else. When I get back, we'll figure something out. I know a couple of good lawyers. We'll get you out of this."
Jimmy nodded mutely and let Tony guide him back to the bullpen. Gibbs and Fornell had returned, as had Sacks. Everyone had their coats on and gear ready, but to Jimmy's surprise, Gibbs didn't seem angry at the delay.
"Tony, grab your gear," he said quietly. "Palmer, you stay here til we get back."
Jimmy nodded; he hadn't expected them to take him along, so he'd planned on waiting until they left, then following in his car. To disguise his intentions, however, he played along with Gibbs' request, grabbing his coat from where he'd tossed it on the floor and laying it across the back of Tony's chair before sitting down behind the desk. His choice of seats shouldn't give their secret away – no one would expect him to dare to take Gibbs' or Ziva's chairs, after all, so that just left Tony's and McGee's, and Tony's was closer. He shared a brief look with Tony as the agent retrieved his backpack from behind his desk, but now that they were back into 'public' mode, the intensity was carefully throttled back.
Finally everyone was ready – except Sacks. The younger of the two FBI agents stood next to Tony's desk, playing with the stapler. "Hey, DiNozzo," the man said casually. "You lock the drawers on this thing?"
"Uh, yeah," Tony said slowly, eying the agent whom Jimmy suspected was his least favorite person in all of law enforcement. "Why?"
In one quick move, Sacks pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt, behind his back. Before Jimmy could react, Sacks slapped one cuff closed on his right wrist. The other cuff went through the handle of Tony's top desk drawer and snapped closed, trapping Jimmy behind the desk.
"Hey!"
McGee and Ziva both grabbed onto Tony's shoulders before their senior field agent could commit homicide and career suicide together in the same move. Gibbs, on the other hand, calmly folded his arms across his chest and turned to Fornell.
"Can't you control your sidekick, Tobias?"
To his credit, Fornell matched Gibbs, look for look. "He's got a point, Jethro," Fornell pointed out. "Until Palmer comes clean and tells us how he got his information, he's still a suspect. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and wait until we're back before formally arresting him – unless, of course, he's ready to talk by then." He looked straight at Jimmy as he spoke those last words.
Jimmy swallowed and looked away. An arrest – even if he was never convicted of a crime – would still taint his record and ruin his career prospects for the rest of his life. He likely would never be able to work as a medical examiner – and that was assuming that he wouldn't be kicked out of medical school before obtaining his M.D. It doesn't matter, he told himself resolutely, ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes. If I tell them the whole story, it'll cast doubt on everything else I've told them. At least this way, they have a chance of surviving. That's all that matters.
As Jimmy suspected, Gibbs really couldn't argue with Fornell when the man was actually being quite reasonable, given the circumstances. "Fine," he conceded. He gathered his team to him with a look. "Let's go."
They headed toward the elevators, casting sympathetic glances back at Jimmy. Tony contrived to be the last one out. Sorry, he mouthed silently, before using the small amount of sign language Abby had taught him to tell Jimmy, I love you.
With one hand trapped at desk level, Jimmy couldn't answer the same way, even if Tony could understand everything he meant to say. "I love you, too," he whispered, knowing that no one was in range to hear him. Once they started to board the elevator, he didn't dare say anything else, not knowing if Gibbs could read lips as well as Abby could. When the doors finally closed, he finished the thought, even though it was too late for Tony to hear or see. "Come back to me."