3 days until the explosion
"We've got a problem."
"Good morning, Brent, how was your weekend?" Tim knew if the problem was very serious he would have been paged to come in.
"I say 'we've got a problem', and you ask about my weekend?" Brent was stunned at Tims response.
"If the world is ending, Brent, at least I die knowing the people around me are happy," Tim grinned cheekily at him, eliciting a smile from the older man.
"It was fine, thank you. This the part where I ask about yours?" Brent asked, just as cheekily as Tims grin.
"Next time, start with good morning and the pleasantries, then move on to the dire news. What's the problem?" Tim asked, climbing the stairs, bypassing the elevators in order to get a bit of extra exercise as well as avoid people who wanted to speak to him over something he didn't care about.
"There is still chatter about Ma'lblis and Awwal Ibn Ma'lblis, but where this new cell is, we can't figure it out. There is no chatter about location." Brent was worried about this chatter, very worried.
"That could mean the cell is in location, awaiting the go code." Tim and Brent crossed the Intel floor, moving for Tims office. "We need to get Sam Stevens on the line." Tim grabbed the phone, using his secure line to speak to Camp Lemonnier in Djibouti.
"Tim, you have any ideas on who the Devil and his son are?"
"Not yet," his mind whirring into gear over those words. "SAC Sam Stevens, please. This is SSA McGee...Thank you," Tim covered the mouthpiece. "Brent, think about that last sentence, focus on the words 'his son.' Sam, the interrogations, I need you to focus on Ma'lblis and Awwal Ibn Ma'lblis, the Water Devil and the First Son of the Water Devil...Thanks, Sam, I need updates every hour going forward, thanks...Bye, Sam." Tim ended the call, keeping his eyes on Brent. "Close the door." Tim grabbed the coffee he had come in with, moving to his conference table, gesturing for Brent to join him. "Repeat your last sentence."
"Do you have any ideas on who the Devil and the First Son are?" Brent said.
"No, that wasn't what you said. You said 'the Devil and his son," stressing the 'his'. "Go over every report we have, but I'm pretty sure its always been the first son, not his son. You've studied foreign languages, you know how bad words can be mistranslated. We are saying first son, what if we look at it a different way."
"What way is that, Tim?" Brent asked, not following Tims line of thought.
"The first-born child, in a lot of cultures, is also the heir. What if by removing the Water Devil, the First Son is the heir, the one to take over. Like say, the first officer of a navy ship." Tim was doing his best not to panic right now. "Go over every piece of intelligence referring to these phrases, I want to know every time its been used. Get your guys together, use the conference room for it. I'll speak with Frank." Tim was out of his seat quickly, moving onto the floor and heading to the Middle East desk. Tim spotted Frank Green, sitting with one of his younger analysts. Tim knew Frank preferred the hands on approach for training and review, rather than telling them what he wanted.
"Frank, I need a word," Tim gestured to the edge of the floor with his eyes. never stopping to see if the Head of Section was following him, just expecting it. When he turned, the man was practically on top of him. "Frank, you speak nearly every Middle Eastern language. I need you to retranslate some reports for me. The ones I need are the ones that include the words Ma'lblis and Awwal Ibn Ma'lblis. I don't need the direct translation, I need a context interpretation." Frank Green just nodded at his boss, moving back to his desk without saying a word. Tim now made his next house call on Tabitha McGuinness. He saw she was talking with Ziva, the Israeli woman still with her hair even longer, the waves of her hair flowing over her shoulders.
"Tabitha, can you take over for a while? Ziva, cover Europe for me." Tim was walking to the door when he was called back.
"Tim, get back here now." Tabitha McGuinness called him back, standing there with her hands on her hips and promises of pain in her eyes. Tim walked back to the two women standing there, Ziva smirking at him. "I will do this as you are my boss, but first, speak with Ziva." Tabitha walked off, knowing Tim deserved to hear what Ziva had to say.
"Ziva?" Tim asked worriedly, hoping everything was ok.
"Tim, I know it may come as a surprise, but something has happened. Please be happy for me, well, I hope you will be happy for me, as I think its very good news…" Tim stopped her before it got worse.
"Ziva," placing his hands on her shoulders, "you're rambling." This was one of Zivas bad habits, it came out when she was unsure how to express herself. "Take a deep breath and tell me." Tim encouraged her. He watched as she took a breath, calming herself before her announcement.
"I'm pregnant."
"Oh my god, really?" Tim was grinning so hard his face hurt. "That's fantastic, mazel tov!" he said hugging her. "But I thought that you and Damon couldn't, you know, after the drugs…" Not saying the actual words.
"Well, the doctors said that the chances were very low, but not impossible. I guess they were right." Ziva already had the pregnancy glow that women were said to have.
"Well, does this mean the wedding is going to be moved up?" The wedding of Ziva David and Damon Werth was not planned for another eighteen months. Due to Damons decisions to take performance enhancing medication to make himself a better marine, he had paid for it with his sterility and weakened immune system. While his immune system had recovered for the most past, his lack of fertility was not reversible. Tim knew they had talked about adoption, but he knew that plan would now be put on hold.
"Yes, we have already booked a cancellation. It's in three weeks, you and Cassie will be there, yes?" Tim heard the question, but knew it was more like a demand.
"Of course we will be there. We will talk later, ok? Congratulations, again, but I really have to go, now."
"Go!" Ziva encouraged, her smile having never left her face.
Tim walked into the Directors outer office, noticing three people sitting in the chairs, being glanced at by Gale Trench, her eyes keeping them pinned to the chairs.
"Gale, good morning, any chance of five minutes alone?" Like her predecessor, Gale knew the unspoken coded language of the senior agents and personnel of NCIS.
"She's on a call, go on in," Gale gestured with her eyes. Her eyes moved back to the three people sitting down. They had been waiting for fifteen minutes already, but looking at Gale, they decided not to say anything and just sit there, in silence.
Tim left the three people sitting there as he walked in, opening and closing the door as silently as possible. He saw Jens eyebrows raise as she watched her head of Intelligence stand in front of her desk.
"General Ford, can I call you back? I think there may have been a development in this case? Thank you. The AMI?" Jen asked, hanging up the phone.
"Yeah, there is still chatter about the Devil and the First Son."
"That's what me and the General were discussing. He wants to drop the increased security on the bases. I'm inclined to disagree with him."
"I would. I have Frank Green working on the translations again, but working towards a more interpretational wording of the intel." Rather than using the literal translation of each word, the text would be translated several times, each time using a different word that had the same meaning. "I think we got the meaning of First Son wrong."
"You don't think it means a Navy Captain and his son?" Jen queried.
"It's still possible, but I think it might mean a Navy Captain or Admiral and his 'heir'", Tim made quotation marks in the air on the last word. "If you take out the commanding officer and his next in command, you leave a pretty big vacuum to be filled, it could cause chaos. In some cultures and systems of rule, the first son is the heir, like Prince Charles, the first son and heir to the throne of England. If, by some twist of fate, both Her Majesty and Prince Charles were killed in an accident, Prince William would take over, but it would be pretty devastating for Britain and the Royal Family." As he was speaking, Tims conscious mind was catching up with unconscious. "This could be an attack on POTUS and VPOTUS, or on two people of similar stature. Jen, we cannot drop the threat level." Tim implored.
"Bring me the reviews when you get them. I will press to keep the threat level where it is, but Tim, we need solid intel, not just a hunch. You get the intel and I will keep the threat level where it is. Go." With that, Tim was out of the office, practically running, stopping at the door, to share the good news.
"You spoken with Ziva, today?" Tim asked, smiling.
"No, why?" Jen was confused by that non-sequitur.
"Get her in here, trust me, she has something you want to hear." Tim said smiling, knowing the Director would be just as happy as he was over the news.