"Stan, we've had an explosion!" Bryn Fillmore shouted across the bullpen.
"Where?" Stan was moving to see the screen.
"Restaurant, downtown, Zaytinyas," Bryn said in shock, looking at Tim, realisation spreading across his face.
"He's had me under surveillance."
"Tim?" Stan questioned.
"I was there Saturday night, some guy knocked Cassie. He must have been a plant, acting on orders from the traitor." Tim's mind was whirling, his mom and sister now entrusted to a man Tim once trusted and respected. "Stan, if I don't go, any money other bombs will go off, in places that are linked to me in some way. The farmers market, the theatre district. Stan, I have to go." Tim was moving for the stairs.
"Tim, I can't let you leave."
"If you don't, the body count is going to go up. Monitor me on CCTV, any money the guy has a tracker on my car somewhere, so he knows I'm coming. Tell the White House, I've been there quite a bit. Lock it down." Tim moved to leave, hearing Bryns voice once again.
"Second explosion, Zaytinyas. My God, he's taken out the first responders, we have ambulances and police cars down."
"Tim, go, we'll send backup." Stan ordered, knowing he was ordering the man to his almost certain death. "Get me the White House!"
Secret Service Agent Calvin Murs hung up the phone to NCIS Special Agent Stan Burley, watching the carnage at Zaytinyas. He began barking orders at his team.
"People, we have a suspected bomb somewhere on the grounds. We are moving Eowyn, repeat we are moving Eowyn. Converge on the Citadel!" Murs was taking no chances.
"Third explosion! Mackenzie and Allens!" shouted out Ian Warch, standing at the operations desk. Ian Warch wondered how many people were in the suit makers at this time on a Wednesday.
"I need everyones locations! NOW! Evacuate via the Treasury Tunnel!"
"We have dogs on the grounds, but nothing so far!" Kelly Wilson was monitoring the feeds from the White House CCTV.
"Lock this building down, now! Move to the Citadel! Increase to Condition Omicron! Transfer control to Citadel! Confirm?"
"Confirmed. Signal away. Transfer is complete. Lockdown has been initiated. Stations reporting Omicron Status."
"Confirm locations and statuses of all Alpha Whites, Greys and Blacks."
"We have confirmed reports already in, all Alpha Whites confirmed, awaiting on Greys, all Blacks confirmed."
"Who hasn't confirmed?" This was not good.
"Alpha Grey Sierra and Alpha Grey Yankee." Definitely not good.
"We need to know where Shepard and Vance are, and if they have been compromised." Calvin Murs had one mission now. To get President Anna Elliott into the Citadel, located ten meters below the Situation Room, a steel bunker surrounded by concrete. He only hoped she would go willingly. He had once threatened to carry her, if he had to, he hoped that threat would not need to be carried out today.
"Tim, you cannot be serious?!" Ben Oswald was not happy right now. "This guy has killed two of my guys, along with God knows how many with his bombs."
"If I don't go, he will set off more bombs and kill my sister and mother. What would you do?" Tim asked, moving quickly for his car.
"The same," Ben admitted. "Here, take my car." Ben offered, worried about Tim driving his own,
"No, he's got a GPS marker on my car, he's going to be tracking me all the way there. You can follow me on CCTV, I have back up on the way, as well." Tim hoped his six was covered.
"Tim, I'm going to send agents to cover you from a distance. I'll get snipers in the building covering you."
Ben watched as Tim drove off, not knowing if he would ever see the brave young man again.
"Oh, Tim, you are so predictable." Michael DeLa Tour sat in his blacked out SUV, Sarah and Alice McGee sat in the back, handcuffed, their mouths covered in tape. He reached for his phone, calling his best friend. "Jacques, the Director is yours to do with as you wish." He ended the call, not caring about his former boss. "Well, ladies, it seems your family genius is on his way. I have no doubt that DoN snipers will be in the buildings minutes after he arrives, but they won't be there quick enough."
Jacques Benoit, aka Jack Chapman, could see Tims apartment through the spotter. The curtains were closed, but that was not a problem for him. He would soon be able to see into the apartment, and he would watch Jennifer Shepard, his fathers murderer, die. He mounted the launcher to his shoulder, taking aim at the balcony floor, wanting to cause an explosion and create as much debris as possible. He could easily fire a hundred bullets into the apartment, but then she would die quickly. The debris and impact from the explosion would tear her body apart, causing a lot of pain before her death.
The woman hidden behind the curtain had caused him so much pain. She had sent a man undercover to seduce his sister, leaving her heartbroken, had his mothers home bugged. Due to his change of name, and his unknown loyalty to his father, he had never been tracked by NCIS and the woman who had hurt his family. Now he would repay her for all the pain she had inflicted.
Lifting the launcher, he brought the target to his eye, seeing the apartment through the cross hairs. His mind wandered, wondering if the woman could feel the target on her. He pressed the button, launching the rocket propelled grenade into the apartments balcony. He watched as the balcony exploded, the force of the explosion blowing shrapnel and concrete through the broken windows. This was the last thing he saw as a bullet tore through his head, breaking through his skull to embed itself in the floor behind him. Jacques Benoit would never know if the woman was dead or not.
The sniper looked through his magnifier attached to the rifle, watching as the man fell down dead. He was too late, the launcher had been fired. He began moving quickly, knowing there was little time to lose. He hit the preprogrammed number, waiting to be picked up.
"He's dead, he fired a rocket launcher." He ended the call, knowing focus was key at this point.
Tim got out of his car, armed with nothing but knowledge. The message from Sarahs phone told him to come to this play park, where the only other car was SUV. He knew that the traitor was in there, along with mom and little sister. He hoped his backup was there.
"Hello, Tim, its been awhile." Michael DeLa Tour was now blonde, his eyes now green instead of their previous blue, Tim guessed at coloured contact lenses. "You look good, my friend, been hitting the gym. Cassie must like her man with some muscle." Michael never forgot the pleasantries.
"Traitor, how is the knee? Any problems I can make worse?" Tim smiled at the man, knowing he was about to die.
"No, the doctors seemed to do good work in patching me up. Tell me, Tim, do you know what day it is today?" Michael wondered how much Tim remembered about him.
"It's your birthday," Tim replied. "Don't look so shocked, I've been re-reading your file over the last several weeks, ever since you got set loose by your crazy friend."
"Now, Tim, I've have been respectful to you, please do not insult mon cherie, Jacques, when he is not here to defend himself. Most impolite, I thought your father would have taught you manners." Michael had been raised to always be courteous to your enemies, just because you had to kill them did not mean being uncouth.
"He taught me manners, but traitors aren't human, so why treat them the same?" Tim saw him, walking the dog. "Tell me, how did you find out so much about me? Too much has changed since we last saw each other."
"You know many people, Tim, some you speak to, others you don't. Abigail told me much about your life, even if she didn't know what you do now." Michael enjoyed the look of pain that passed over Tims face.
"If she is dead, you will be soon."
"I made Abigail a promise not to kill her, and I did not. Infact, as a captor goes, I was very reasonable, gave her food and water, treated her injuries, and even informed the police of her location. I wonder if she will watch the videos of her interrogation, watch as she gives up everything about you to stop the pain." Michael smiled, egging Tim on.
Tim was using every calming technique he had picked up in therapy, knowing he had to keep his distance from the traitor in front of him. "You are going to die, traitor."
"Tim, please, call me Michael, you used to call me Michael, remember?"
"I used to call you my friend, things change." Tim caught the movement to the side, knowing it now or never. "Tell me, Jacques Benoit, where you and he just friends, or when you were imprisoned, did he lose his boyfriend?"
"Jacques is my best friend, don't try to use our friendship against me."
"Oh, I'm not, I was just wondering, when we bury him, do you want to be buried with him, or next to him, your choice." TIm watched as the fear blossomed in his eyes.
"He's alive."
"He was alive, he's now lying in the apartment block near mine with a bullet in his head, he didn't even get to fire the rocket launcher."
"You're lying, how would you know that? You came straight here, I watched the GPS tracker. He would have seen DoN snipers in the buildings."
"You don't learn, do you? You play the system, I play the people. Benoit should be honored, it's not everyone that can call Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs out of retirement. He died by a bullet fired by one of the best snipers the Marines ever produced." Tim knew it was time. "Now its your turn." Tim ducked as the bullets impacted the traitors torso, bursting through, from back to front. Tim looked as the body fell forward, blood pouring out of the wounds. He looked up, watching the man walk towards him. He reached for the hand offered, letting himself be pulled up. Looking his backup in the eye, he saw none of the disdain that was once there.
"Thanks, Tony."
"No problem, Probie."
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