A/N Thank-you to all those people who are reading and reviewing this story. I appreciate those individuals who go to the effort of leaving feedback - after packing so many words into each chapter (for example this one is 12,511 words long) it really does help keep my motivation high. Of course, I have a solid core of small but incredibly supportive fans, many who never fail to leave even a word or two of feedback and I appreciate their support immensely. I've said it before and I'll say it again... It doesn't have to be Shakespeare or even a critique - a few words letting a writer know that you enjoyed their efforts is enough. This chapter is unbeta'ed by the way.
Another long chapter with a lot happening. I guess you could say this story is approaching the pointy end of the business, so pay close attention and buckle in. or you could miss something. Well after much teasing and dropping of hints, Tony's undercover identity will be revealed. Let me know if you picked it. Enjoy :)
An Eye for an Eye Leaves Everybody Blind
Chapter 14
Jimmy Palmer: July 15 2012
I came on duty in the ER ten hours ago and while it has been a crazy shift with a mass shooting of six students at a local College and a severe bout of salmonella poisoning of at least 20 diners who all ate at a Japanese restaurant, it was pretty much situation normal. Still, I was finding my stamina was still not what it was before I was shot in the head in Indianapolis. Yeah it was luckily just a graze but I collected a respectable concussion and now six weeks later I was still battling the odd headache, especially when my stress level was higher than normal. People with bullet holes in them, traumatised victims, shrieking friends and relatives and lots of people puking their guts up qualified as pretty stressful in my book even if it was situation normal. So I was trying to ward off the impending headache that I could feel just waiting to strike.
Settling down in the Doctors' lounge on one of the lounges I closed my eyes, stretched out and progressively relaxed my muscles starting at my toes, continuing upwards towards my neck and head. Once I had completed this familiar relaxation exercise, my mind returned to the brunch that I'd had with Dr Mallard earlier that day. He seemed quite down for such a normally ebullient person and to my surprise, had broached the topic of retiring which totally shocked me. I must admit that somehow I'd expected them to have to escort him out of the NCIS Autopsy department at the point of a gun. Or else that the esteemed M.E. would die with his boots on or since he wasn't a cowboy - that probably would be with his scrubs on, I suppose.
Whatever, I was definitely shocked but now that I think about it, I shouldn't be so surprised, not really. When we caught and capture that bastard Samuel Rivkin, it had been party time all round. Okay, maybe we didn't capture him, exactly but the main thing was that he wasn't going to cause us anymore problems, which was all that mattered, surely. Then when Tobias confessed that he had a means of getting a message to Tony, letting him know it was safe for him to come home, he'd been met with a combination of relief and outrage. Abby had pummelled him physically and verbally, screaming, screeching, whining and crying although no one was able to distinguish any actual words. I think he probably preferred the physical assault although if Abby's wrath was impressive, by all accounts, Gibbs was epic.
Fornell ended up with a broken nose and was lucky that was all he walked away with. According to Ducky, it had taken McGee, himself and two feds to restrain him after Tobias made his confession. Even under restraint Gibbs had been beside himself apparently, raging so violently that everyone feared he'd stroke out. Agent Reyes was apparently about to use a tactic that she claimed worked on shocking aggressive dogs that needed to be separated in a fight that involved surprising them with a manoeuvre of a highly intimate nature, inserting digits where the sun don't shine when thankfully, Ducky interceded.
He stepped in and did that Mr Spock pinch thingy that always rendered aliens unconscious and then while he was out for the count, had him in handcuffs before anyone could blink. Abby reckons that Reyes was extremely disappointed. And I missed the stoush of the century, all because I was in the hospital with a damned concussion – as if that wasn't unlucky enough to I missed Dr Mallard going all ninja turtle on Gibbs. Damn it!
Okay so I admit to feeling a bit hurt that Tony had chosen to trust Tobias with his emergency contact information. But I have to admit that I can understand why he picked Tobias – no one would ever suspect – heck we never did. And as Dr Mallard pointed out to Gibbs and Abby, they could hardly blame Fornell for remaining mum about the information, since Gibbs had entrusted his own emergency contact info to Abby when he went Mexican so it would smack of the pot calling the kettle black. Gibbs had countered that it was different since he didn't have an assassin trying to kill the pot.
Then apparently Fornell had gotten pissed off and roared at him and Abby to shut the eff up before he shut their mouths for them. While they were picking their jaws up off the ground – metaphorically – he informed them that his only means of contacting Tony was by an advertisement in the classified section of the New York Times. That did shut them up but Gibbs still grumbled that he should have told them and tried to contact him. Fornell was seemingly still aggravated and informed Gibbs that Tony had been clear about it being for emergencies and that if he abused his trust, it would be the last contact he had with him.
So finally when the whining and pouting and the tantrums and hurt feelings had died down, there was a renewed sense of hope and euphoria that after three interminable years, Tony would come home again. Fornell placed the ad and we started making plans to have a welcome home party for him when he came back. And yes I am aware of the maxim about counting your chickens before they've hatched but in our defence we were all just so relieved that Rivkin had finally been taken care of that we weren't thinking.
So when Tony contacted Fornell – by a burn phone in San Diego - and explained that his reasons for leaving us still existed, none of us were prepared. He rightly pointed out that Rivkin might be dead but Eli David still drew breath and was likely to just send someone else. If he hadn't called Rivkin off in three years he was unlikely to just give up because he was killed. There were plenty more Kid on assassins in the sea, after all.
And when Fornell had relayed his message, it had sounded so damned obvious that I wondered why none of us had thought of it ourselves. I guess if Tony was here he would probably joke that denial wasn't just a river in Egypt and it would be hard to argue. We all had good reason to delude ourselves because we feel guilty and therein lies the truly insidious nature of vendettas that even the pure of heart are left feeling tainted, violated even. For people who have something to feel genuine guilt over, and there were plenty of incidents for individuals to regret, the pain was intolerable. Denial was a much more comfortable state in which to dwell and we'd all been guilty of wallowing in it.
Until we heard that Tony had contacted Fornell that was. Ever since we had heard from him, albeit second-hand, there was a gloomy pall cast over our group, a strong sense of failure and despair intermingled with a heavy dose of guilt which created a depressing atmosphere. It probably hit Gibbs worse than all of us and for the first time since I've known him, he seemed rudderless – like he was uncertain about how to proceed. Truthfully, we were all pretty depressed, so while Ducky seemed morose, I didn't pay too much mind to his dejected manner.
Yet his entrenched melancholy was concerning since he was now contemplating retirement and I worried that if he stopped working, like Gibbs he'd lose purpose. Of course at that time I was operating under several misapprehensions. I thought that Dr Mallard had become despondent after we heard that we were no closer to bringing him home that we were when Rivkin was still alive. That the realisation was that the only way to free Tony was to kill Ziva's father and well frankly, we had a better chance of Abby giving up wearing black than taking out Eli David. Hindsight is a marvellous thing though and now looking back I realise that Ducky had been acting hinky since we killed Rivkin in Indianapolis. Then again, I was nursing a bruised chest and one Hell of a sore head, so I was a little self-involved.
Likewise, I figured that Gibbs was feeling flat after his grand scheme was a resounding success and yet it failed to achieve the result that it was supposed to. It wasn't til sometime later that I realised that there was a lot more to Gibbs' remorse than I'd realised. But at the time we were all trying to come to terms with the reality that there was nothing that we could do to change what was such a patently unfair situation.
You'd think I'd have become reconciled by now to the fact that when people demanded revenge instead of justice that everybody was a loser. And I know that all too well… intellectually anyway. But my heart was screaming out loud and clear that Tony had done nothing to deserve this.
IT WASN"T FAIR!
An Eye for an Eye
Methodist Hospital, Indianapolis. 25th May 2012
Dr Donald Mallard decided to go for a walk and stretch his legs again since he found that squishing his posterior into those stupendously uncomfortable hospital chairs in patients' rooms did all sorts of very uncomfortable things to his not so young body any more. He knew that many people thought that hospitals deliberately chose uncomfortable chairs so as to not encourage visitors to dally too long and get underfoot with the medical staff trying to care for the patients. As a former physician he knew that the truth was much more prosaic – it came down to the bean-counters not wanting to waste money on something as trivial as the comfort of visitors.
Which frankly he found to be a very myopic point of view since there were plenty of medical studies that indicated that when seriously ill patients had plenty of support from family and friends, their healing time was shorter and they also frequently required less analgesic measures. Additionally, many visitors were happy to take on simple caring tasks for their person, including help with eating, drinking and help getting in and out of bed that otherwise fell to the nursing staff and orderlies. So it made much more sense to make hospital visitors feel welcome than saving a few dollars on chairs. But then, hospital administrators were not known for thinking laterally. Ducky rather suspected that they thought that Edward de Bono was the former singing partner of the 70's singing duo – Sonny and Cher.
So Ducky resigned himself to take regular constitutionals around the hospital grounds as his old bones were well and truly revolting against the plastic moulded monstrosity in Mr …Dr Palmer's…James' hospital room. Hopefully their young doctor would be released later this evening and they could retire back to their much more comfortable hotel room. He would rest and recuperate for a few more days before flying back to DC.
Ducky had already organised with the Director to take the rest of this week off so that he could stay with his former protégé and keep him out of trouble when the rest of their contingent had to return to DC. He was sure that James would also be much more comfortable at the hotel room in a proper bed with healthy food. Honestly, hospital food was another example of the short-sightedness of medical administrators – how were seriously ill people supposed to heal speedily with the seriously innutritious fare that was provided? For James, the subject was even more pertinent since he had to keep his diabetes under control and with the processed garbage they served up, since it was convenient and cut down on catering staff, it was extremely problematic.
As he stepped outside he stretched out his legs, welcoming the sun on his face as he breathed in air that was fresh not recycled, he noticed idly that most of the media delegation had cleared out from the front of the hospital. There still a few stragglers around so when he was approached by a personable and rather strapping young man, addressing him by name, he wasn't unduly concerned. Although after his initial greeting, being issued a request for him to help a friend most definitely set his hackles up.
"Dr Mallard?"
"What can I do for you, young man?"
"Well this is awkward sir but a good friend of yours needs your help."
Ducky frowned and checked his surroundings, comforted to see that other people were close by, not within earshot but if he yelled out loud he would attract attention. "Indeed, and who might that be Mr…"
"My friends call me Jack, Doctor and I'd rather not say who your friend is, not in public but he said to give you this." And handed over a piece of paper from a notepad.
Ducky glanced at it hoping that it wasn't a trap. It read:
Hi Ducky,
Sorry for the clandestine approach but Mrs Mallard's Italian furniture- moving gigolo has a small problem similar to when the Israeli ninja and I got locked in that metal box not long after she joined us. I'd ask you to say hi to the Autopsy Gremlin for me, but it is safer for everyone, if no one knows that I'm here.
TTYL
Go Buckeyes!
XXXX
As Tony sat stoically on the bed as the elderly doctor attended to his arm and even as his young friend Leyland who for some reason preferred to be called Jack, watched on protectively, he could hardly credit that he was here. Here sitting in front of him was the object of a three year long intensive search that had been totally fruitless and heartbreaking and yet Anthony had found him. Life was certainly ironic.
Looking at his friend carefully, he saw a lifetime of pain and suffering in his eyes that couldn't be obscured. Oh Ducky suspected that to someone who didn't know him well, he would do his usual splendid job of using deflection – smoke and mirrors as some people had called it – and think that he was handling things well. Ducky knew better, though. Still he knew him well enough to know that if he asked him he would declare that 'everything was fine.' Ducky was of the opinion that even a hairsbreadth away from death, his abhorrence of being viewed as a burden would see him proclaiming that he was just peachy. Sighing, he turned his attention to Anthony's injury. It seemed despite the passage of time, his propensity for attracting trouble remained unchanged.
"Dear Boy, how did you come to acquire such a nasty gunshot wound?"
Tony shot a resigned yet affectionate look at Ducky before glancing at Jack. "You know me Ducky, always managed to get into trouble, it's a talent."
Ducky shot him an equally affectionate but firm look and Tony, sighed. Smiling wryly he asked a question in lieu of answering the medical examiner.
"Is Jimmy okay? It looked bad, Ducky. What the Hell was he doing there anyway?"
His elderly friend smiled gently. "He is going to be fine, Anthony, quite fine. A bruised sternum and a concussion which has given our young doctor a renewed respect for you and Jethro, my Boy." His expression sharpened as he realised the implications of what Tony had said. "Oh my! You were there too? That's how you got shot?"
Tony nodded silently.
"How did you know? Was it you that took out that monster?"
Again, Tony simply nodded without speaking.
"Oh Anthony! Didn't you realise how dangerous it was to go to the cemetery? Of course you did." He answered his own question, shaking his head in astonishment.
I couldn't let you all risk yourselves for me, Ducky. You should have let well enough alone. It's bad enough that so many people have died already. If something had happened to Jimmy or anyone else, I don't know what I'd have done," He faltered. "You have no idea how close Samuel came to killing them all…" His voice quivered, only now willing to acknowledge just how close they had come to ending up on Ducky's autopsy table.
"Yes well, as they say in the movies, my Boy… all's well that ends well. Now you are able to return home to your family where you belong. We've all missed you a great deal. Young Abigail will be beside herself."
"Unfortunately Ducky, that won't be happening. Killing Rivkin hasn't changed anything. Eli David will still want me dead…it isn't just the Mafia that understand the meaning of a vendetta. He'll simply send another assassin to hunt me down. You all placed yourselves in danger in vain because it isn't safe for me or you to come back." Seeing that Ducky was preparing to argue with him he overrode his objections.
"C'mon Ducky, he was firing at Jimmy, Gibbs and McGee. Also at your stand in and Abby's too so don't tell me that it would be safe for you if I came back. My double wasn't anywhere near the team – they were merely collateral damage to Rivkin, trying to throw the FBI off their game."
He stared at Ducky's crestfallen expression. "Please Ducky, I know that you are supposed to report GSWs but I'm asking as a personal favour for you not to do it. It will just make things so much more complicated and I can't bear to say goodbye to everyone a second time. It was hard enough the first time. Easier for everyone concerned that they never know that I was there." He pleaded.
Ducky pursed his lips. He didn't like it but he also had to agree with the conclusions that Anthony had drawn, unpalatable as it may be. "But there will be an investigation into Mr Rivkin's premature demise and the rest of the team will be alerted to your involvement. It is inevitable, I fear." He protested.
"Taken care of Ducky. A friend…a really good friend will say that he took the kill shots. So that way I can remain underground and not put anyone else in more danger than can be avoided. But you have to convince them to let it go. Next time they decide to stage an intervention we might not be so lucky. There is nothing anyone can do Ducky. The die was cast a long, long time ago. Long before I killed Ziva and one day Eli David will claim his pound of flesh because like the Mafia, he won't ever give up."
XXXXXX
Jack watched the defeated posture of DiNozzo. Even in his sleep he looked distraught and the medic finally understood how hard this crappy situation – no his life – must be on Tony. And conversely just how juvenile his own emotions and behaviour had been in the face of how much the former federal agent had paid for the actions of others who'd shattered his life. How arrogant of him to feel offended for being kept in the dark when everything that Tony valued had been snatched out from under him. He felt ashamed and resolved to apologise to him when he woke up.
Honestly, it had been heart-wrenching to watch the reunion between Dr Mallard and Tony. When he had read the note that Tony had given him, the ME had been filled with joy and anticipation and although naturally concerned about his friend's condition had been jubilant when reunited with him. Tony on the other hand had been curiously reserved, flinching imperceptibly when the elderly doctor hugged him emphatically. Even though he smiled and made all the appropriate gestures, said all the right things, there was an ambivalence that confused Jack. It was like he was deeply conflicted over the reunion taking place.
When Ducky, as he insisted on being called – and Jack thought there was a certain irony there since he steadfastly refused to call him by his preferred appellation, preferring to address him a Leyland – prattled on whilst tending Tony's wound with an elegant deftness of a surgeon, had brought a soft sentimental smile to his features. Jack had found Tony's behaviour rather confusing but it wasn't until he had persuaded him that it was impossible for Tony to return to DC with him and that they needed to stop looking for him that he started to comprehend. Once they had said their farewells, knowing that they would probably never seen one another again, he saw the desolation and indescribable loneliness in Tony's eyes and his initial ambivalence made sense.
He'd merely been trying to protect himself because he already knew how much it was going to hurt when he had to say goodbye and once again Jack felt embarrassed by his own petty behaviour. How dare he act like such an ass when he had his identity, his friends and family, he had his life? Sighing as he decided to make them a meal, he wondered what it would feel like to have to walk away from his life to protect friends and family. To know that such a powerful man as the Head of Mossad wouldn't rest until he'd killed him. It would probably break him to never see his family again. No wonder Tony was so devastated when Ducky left and he had been so reluctant to call him in for help in the first place.
Heading to the kitchen, he decided to heat up some cans of soup and fix them some toasted sandwiches. There was some slices of turkey breast in the refrigerator alone with some salad greens and camembert cheese – someone with a fussy palate had done the shopping – probably Croc. It was the sort of stuff he liked to eat, right down to the sour dough bread and cranberry condiment. Still if some fancy- assed groceries helped cheer him up Jack was all for it. Damn it, he'd do anything he could to take away the desolation he saw in Tony's eyes when Dr Mallard said his goodbyes.
After heating up the soup he woke Tony and dragged him to the table. While they ate, Jack made small talk sticking to safe topics like sports and movies, both topics that Jack knew were passions of Tony's and the mood was much less tense. As they finished up their meal, Tony shot him an appreciate look and suggested they grab a cup of coffee so they could talk.
Sitting down on either ends of the sofa, Tony kicked the conversation off. "Thanks for the grub Jack." He sighed deeply. "Look I'm sorry for lying to you but…"
Before he could continue Jack jumped in. "Forget it, Tony. You don't owe me anything…I had no right whatsoever to act like a pissy little schoolgirl, Man. You did what you had to do to survive and I get it now. But if you want to talk about it, I can't deny that I am curious about how you did it. As Croc would say…it was bloody brilliant, mate!"
Jack even though he was reconciled to being conned by an expert, was incredibly inquisitive about how he'd pulled it off. After all, he was Special Forces trained and no dummy. Where before he felt emasculated by the con, now he'd had time to readjust his attitude he realised what a flawless job it had been. He was desperate to know how Tony had done it because he hadn't had a clue.
Tony gave him a grateful smile. "Well I guess you already know I'm an undercover specialist?" He looked at Jack who nodded his assent. "So when I had to disappear because I had pissed off the Director of Mossad who sent a failed Kidon assassin on my six, I went to ground. I had worked Vice back when I was a young cop in Philly PD and I quickly learnt that the people that live on the streets are invisible. People ignore them even when they get right up in people's faces, panhandling, soliciting, shooting up or drinking themselves into oblivion. The hookers, the runaways the addicts the mentally ill and the homeless – no one wants to acknowledge how many people have slipped through the cracks in this land of opportunity. So much easier to pretend they don't exist, to pretend that they deserve it, to pretend that they choose to live like that or have brought it on themselves."
Jack nodded, not wanting to interrupt Tony now that he was talking.
Tony smiled grimly. "It was the perfect place to hide, on the streets if not the most welcoming, but I was safe, relatively speaking. Apart from running the risk of being mugged or murdered because the murder rates are astronomical for street people, I was able to blend in and get lost. Nevertheless, I didn't stay anywhere for longer than three or four weeks and then I'd move cities. I was pretty numb… I'd just shot and killed my team mate of almost five years. I didn't really care what happened to me except that I didn't want Eli David to win." He frowned obviously lost in horrific memories.
Jack couldn't imagine the pain of having a close team mate try to kill him and be forced to kill to defend himself. It would be devastating!
"He is a monster," Tony confided bitterly. He had a kid with a Palestinian doctor, apparently for the sole purpose of siring a Hamas mole. He brought him up with his two daughters and taught him to kill, educated him in the U.K. He went to the same medical college as Ducky in Edinburgh. He sent him into Hamas but in an oedipal twist because Eli arranged for his mother's death, the son turned against his father and tried to kill him via a surrogate father figure. So he ordered Ziva to kill her half-brother and like the dutiful assassin he'd brought her up to be, she killed him. Little wonder she didn't think twice about getting rid of a mere team mate. He screwed over both his surviving kids and turned them into assassins and monsters like him."
He sounded outraged, irate and sad and Jack could tell how much it hurt to talk about all this ancient history. He wondered if he should tell him he didn't need to know all this crap or if it was cathartic for Tony, even if it was painful to talk about.
Before he had a chance to voice his concern, Tony continued. "So I was living on the street trying to fly under the radar…"
"What did you do for money?"
"I busked with an old guitar that I picked up in a pawn shop. And sometimes I played piano or guitar in clubs and bars and often people would pay me in meals."
Jack nodded, thinking that it would have been tough making enough to get by on, because he couldn't afford to leave a trail for Rivkin to trace him.
"Then one day Mike was chasing a bail jumper down in San Diego and he literally fell over me." He saw Jack smirk. "No I mean it Jack, the klutz fell over my guitar case when I was busking. He sprained his ankle and ended up with his butt stuck in my guitar case and the clumsy oaf cracked the lid." This time the former Delta's snort turned into an unadulterated chuckle and Tony found himself joining in as he remembered his friend standing up with the guitar case stuck to his ass. When he composed himself he continued with his story.
"And of course with my luck he recognised me straight away and insisted on rehabilitating me. Thought I'd fallen on hard times and needed saving and wouldn't take no for an answer," He groused, exasperatedly. "So I had no choice but to tell him the truth about why I was hiding out, so he'd give up and let me get on with it. But the big butthead refused to let me go. Insisted that I needed saving and that I needed his help. Bloody stubborn Aussie wouldn't take no for an answer." He said affectionately.
"So anyway… we put our heads together along with Stevie Wonder who had been working with Mike for six months or so. Mike suggested that I assume Gus' identity since we were both cops and that I join him and Steve. That's when he set up Elite Retrieval Services and you guys came on board six months or so later. Steve got my fingerprints and DNA removed from the system or quarantined or lost. Actually… you know I'm not sure exactly what he did but then we swapped them out with Gus' so I could get ID in his name."
"Wait, you're saying that Gator is a real person?" Jack asked, feeling relieved that he hadn't been completely faked out by a figment of his team mates imaginations. He couldn't understand how they had inserted August Kaderson's records at RIMA without him detecting the deception. He prided himself on being the team's Intelligence expert after all and had been really miffed at the thought he'd been played for a fool.
"Tony stared at him. "Yeah Jack, I told you - the four of us were tight at RIMA. Depending on the staff member and what we were into, they either referred to us as the Four Musketeers or the Four Stooges. Gus was 14 and Steve was 16 when they enrolled at school and I was 15 and Steve was 16. Steve and Mike were both determined to have a military career and Gus wanted to be a cop… and I wanted to be Magnum PI minus the island paradise. I hate Hawaii." He commented offhandedly.
Although Jack was intrigued by the apparent non-sequitur, he decided not to pursue it right now. I mean who in their right mind didn't love Hawaii and besides, what was Magnum without Hawaii?
"But Tony, wasn't that a bit dangerous impersonating Gus? What if he wanted to come and visit? I am assuming that he was okay with you pretending to be him but still it was a risk. What if someone who knew him in Australia happened to cross your path?"
Tony looked indescribably sad. "First off, Gus worked most of his career as a cop under cover so he was constantly changing his appearance and didn't work with many of the rank and file of the AFP or use his own name. And second Gus is dead… well to be accurate MIA presumed dead. He disappeared while he was undercover on a joint operation with several Australasian countries trying to cut the ties between radical terrorists and the drug cartels. Since it was a long term cover and the mission is ongoing - and there was just the slimmest of chance that he was still alive, the powers that be decided not to announce his disappearance officially. So it was a risk but a pretty small one to be assuming his identity."
"Where did Gus disappear, Tony?"
"Well he was posing as a drug trafficker going back and forth between the popular tourist traps. He was flitting from surfing beaches in Bali in Indonesia, and Phuket in Thailand, Bamboo Island in Cambodia and Siargao Island in Philippines which apart from having great surfing beaches were hotspots for drug trafficking or terrorists. He was last seen getting off the plane with his surf board in Manilla but he never made it to the resort in Siargao Island. There was an unconfirmed sighting in Vietnam late last year but it turned out to be a false alarm."
"Wait, that's why you, Croc and Steve took off for a surfing holiday to Kuta Beach last year in such a hurry? You weren't surfing, you were looking for Gus?" Jack asked as he put the facts together.
"Yeah. It wasn't the first and probably won't be the last needle in a haystack trip to track down sightings. Unfortunately, lots of tourists disappear while back packing or travelling in these places since crime is rife and the people are poor. Tourists from first world countries are prime targets so it is hard to tell if Gus was just in the wrong place in the wrong time or if his disappearance is connected with his undercover Op." Tony explained sombrely.
They were both quiet for a while. Jack was trying to process all that Tony had told him and Tony was physically and emotionally exhausted. Finally Jack got up and made a cup of hot chocolate for Tony and a coffee for him since hot chocolate wasn't in keeping with his image as a big bad former Delta Force even if he preferred hot chocolate, too. It reminded him of home and his childhood. As they sat sipping the hot beverages he cleared his throat.
"Ah Tony… um was it a great idea for Croc to be trying to get a Reality TV deal when you were hiding out from the Feds, State Department, cops not to mention that lunatic Rivkin and Mossad?" He asked, tentatively.
"Absolutely not, but then who would expect me to be hiding out with such an in- your-face, media attention seeking whore as Croc," Tony chuckled.
"So what… that was all an act?"
"Well yeah, Jack. No one in their right mind would expect me to be hanging out with Croc. It's Undercover 101 – hiding away is always suspicious. Hiding in plain sight is much more effective. And Mike's OTT ockerish/ Bogan act kept reinforcing that he was an Aussie and by extension so was I, but I played the understated mild mannered Aussie and flew under everyone's radar while he courted the attention and kept reminding everyone he wasn't from the US." He failed to point out that even with their closest colleagues, they had managed to fool the two former Rangers who weren't exactly the most naïve or unsophisticated of individuals and Jack mentally thanked him for his discretion.
"You had plastic surgery?"
"Nope, coloured contacts and a bit of cosmetic work done with fillers, nothing too drastic since facelifts can look fake and people talk. Grown my hair so I look like that guy on Dr Quinn Medicine Woman and lightened it up a bit and add some highlights. Plus all the surfing Mike and I do in LA and an Aussie accent and well don't forget I was a cop before I became a Fed. It was pretty easy to assume Gus' identity."
He thought for a while before offering more. "Assuming a new identity is all about understatement. Less is more and subtlety is key. It's about immersion, thinking, feeling, being the undercover identity. You move differently, speak differently, think differently – sort of like Method acting - which is why long term undercover operatives can lose themselves in their false identity if they aren't careful. Even surfing built up different sets of muscles that subtly changed my appearance, helped me move differently.
Duck was hard pressed initially to recognise me and he probably knew me as well as anyone when I was at NCIS. And that was even expecting to see me after you handed him my note. So that makes me feel more secure cuz there is an NCIS office in LA and even though Los Angeles is a damn big place I worry about running into NCIS agents, especially from the Office of Special Projects since they are a bunch of undercover operatives. But after Ducky's reaction, I think my disguise is enough to stand up to a casual encounter, just not the sort of investigation that Croc, Steve and Jono are being subjected to right now."
They were both silent as they considered the situation.
Jack looked at the furrowed brow of his team mate and guessed his thoughts. "The office hasn't heard anything but still they say no news is good news…I could try to hack into the FBI field office and see what I can find out," He offered even though he didn't think it was such a good idea.
"Yeah, I'm sure you could too Jack, but probably not such a good idea. We have to stick to the plan and trust the guys that they can handle Fornell and his agents. He's no dummy."
Jack nodded his agreement. It was just that waiting was hard. Looking at the exhausted man before him he realised that he need rest. "Time for you to hit the sack, Gus. I'll set up the IV antibiotics to run once you get into bed and I'll hang about till it finishes, "He ordered firmly, slipping into medic mode knowing they couldn't risk further contact with Dr Mallard. Apart from it being dangerous for everyone involved, he really didn't think Tony could survive another goodbye with the eccentric old doctor who'd treated him so paternally.
xxxx
Tony nodded and smiled gratefully, not missing the fact that for the first time since they'd arrived at the safe house, his team mate had called him by his undercover persona. It looked as if, unlike his other team at NCIS when he worked undercover, Jack had forgiven him for the deception.
It felt good to know Jack wasn't angry with him anymore since it had been decidedly chilly since their arrival and his acceptance and empathy would make it easier to let their final team member in on the secret. It would just be almost impossible to keep it from Jono under the circumstance. Tony really hoped he hadn't endangered another two innocents, exposing them to the mad psychopath that wanted him dead. Too many people had already paid much too high a price trying to protect him and he wasn't worth it. As he lay in the dark, pretending to sleep, he thought about what Ducky had told him about the team – about the people he'd always regarded as his friends and family. He had destroyed all their lives and he felt sick at heart knowing how much pain he'd caused them, even if it had been inadvertent.
According to Ducky the team was decimated. Gibbs had resigned from NCIS and had spent three years crisscrossing the country looking for him. For HIM, Anthony DiNozzo and he couldn't for the life of him understand why he would do that. After all he had destroyed Gibbs team. He'd killed his surrogate daughter, the apple of Gibbs' eye and shattered his mentor. He knew that for sure since he had heard Gibbs with his own ears and there was one thing you could bank on when it came to Gibbs – he never lied.
So, while he never intended to kill Ziva or destroy Gibbs that had still been the inevitable consequences of what he'd done. Oh sure, Gibbs still had Abby as a surrogate daughter, he conceded but somehow Gibbs had just clicked with Ziva. They had so many things in common and he understood her in a way that he never could ever hope to with the forensic scientist. As much as Abs was childlike and craved her silver fox's affection, she didn't need him, not the way Ziva had. Perhaps because she had no difficulty in admitting that she needed love and affection – she never saw it as a sign of weakness to need people. Ziva though was loath to admit that she needed anything or anyone – she was a lone wolf – so like Gibbs in many ways and that was probably why he felt so drawn to her.
That and he was a sucker for a damsel in distress. He felt compelled to protect. While many people thought Ziva had been perfectly capable of looking after herself, like everybody, when it comes to parental expectations she was vulnerable, despite her impressive ninja Mossad skills. No one was able to inflict damage on psyches' like one's parents' as Tony understood only too well and Eli was a real hard case. Plus he and Gibbs had clashed big time over how he'd reared his daughter. Tony had long suspected that there was a part of their complex father daughter relationship that Gibbs derived much pleasure at being able to flip the bird at the Mossad director for having more influence and authority over Eli's daughter than her biological father did. He wondered in a contest, who she would have chosen.
And let's face it, Gibbs lived to piss off the powers that be. Yep his relationship with Ziva was such a heady, complex amalgam of protectiveness, simpatico, rubbing 'it' in Eli's face and feeling needed that Abby simply couldn't ever hope to compete with all that. For all she could be utterly juvenile and needy, loud and demanding, demonstrative and prepared to command admiration, love and attention, she would never be able to vie with the dark commonalities he'd shared with Ziva.
Although people had joked that Abby was Gibbs favourite, Tony knew better. He knew what made Gibbs tick better than anyone, probably even Gibbs himself and his surrogate daughters were like the dark and light sides of his beloved daughter – the yin and yang aspects of Kelly Gibbs. Abby was like a perverse caricature of Kelly Gibbs as a child in all her enthusiastic, childish innocence, intelligence and affection even if she was a similar age to Tony chronologically. While Ziva had been like the dark adult version of how Gibbs must have envisaged Kelly if she had achieved adulthood based upon what he was at the same age. The lethality, the iron will, the determination, self-reliance and self-belief. Ziva never needed to be taught Gibbs rule six- mainly since like him, she didn't ever seem to consider she was capable of being wrong or if she did, she certainly would never admit to it.
And like her surrogate father, she never seemed to experience regret for anything that she did, her defence mechanism like his was obviously that there was nothing to regret. With so much in common, it wasn't surprising that he could related to her over a sig or a Kate in a way that he and Abs never would. Sure they could discuss the ballistics and yeah she fired the weapons in the lab and was intimate with them in a way that Ziva and other field agents never would. But she didn't have the frame of reference to know what it felt like to aim and fire them at other human beings and have their bullets piece flesh, wound and even take life and Tony hoped fervently that she never did. But Ziva had that knowledge and dark experience, and as much as Gibbs hated her father for doing it to her, it still was a common denominator between them that was undeniable.
Little wonder he had shattered Gibbs life when he killed her and left him feeling a truckload of guilt and regret for not having chosen her that was probably on par with losing his family the first time around. He must surely hate Tony for what he had done but because he was a Marine, an honourable man who didn't leave his people behind, he had dragged ass all over the country searching for him to try to keep him safe instead of leading the MCRT. Even despite what he had done – even if he really wasn't part of his team, not like the others - he had still done what he believed was the right thing.
Oh Tony had never really been under any illusions that he was on Gibbs' team under sufferance – especially when Cate with her profiling and protection skills was offered a place and McGee as the computer genius, joined them soon after. It had been clear when Ari had begun to haunt Gibbs, just how ineffectual he'd been in capturing Haswari and how indispensable the young computer specialist had been to Gibbs. After all, Gibbs had said as much, even before Ari had come onto the scene when he thought he'd been killed by Vanessa, the serial ex-girlfriend of Major Sacco and Gunnery Sgt Atlas.
Tony had been kidding with his tough Marine boss after he'd come to his rescue when he'd screwed up by letting himself get drugged, about how much Gibbs had missed him while he was lost. Okay so truth be told he had been joking but hoping secretly that Gibbs might have admitted to being just a teeny bit worried in a playful way and Gibbs had teased him back too. He'd caught him by surprise taking his face in his hands and telling him he would have been missed if he'd died.
Of course even though he knew that Gibbs was just pulling his leg about being irreplaceable since he hadn't been saying that earlier, he made the stupid rookie mistake of showing how excited he was to hear that piece of information. Idiot!
But Gibbs was nothing if not scrupulously honest – he never lied. His mentor always prided himself on not saying things he didn't mean. Never beating around the bush when the harsh truth needed to be stated – the epitome of a straight shooter and when Gibbs realised Tony probably hadn't understood he was joking about being irreplaceable, he stepped in immediately to set the record straight. He let him know that he had already given his job to McGee because of course he was replaceable – there wasn't anything special about Tony and being the fair man he was, Gibbs wouldn't ever want to mislead him otherwise.
When Ziva took Cate's place on Gibbs team, Gibbs again made it plain as day that Tony wasn't really a part of his team. He'd made a special effort to attend a special team dinner that Ziva had even though Gibbs hated all that sort of team social crap. He'd made an exception for her though but he and the rest of the team had made it quite clear that he hadn't be welcome or invited. He was on the team before the others and Gibbs was too honourable to throw him away, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't prefer for someone better than he was to be on the team instead.
If one of the others had been there when he needed to appoint a SFA of course he'd never would have chosen him, since he was just wasn't up to their standards – he was just an ex- cop. Not a Marine sniper, not a ninja, Mossad spy, not a profiling secret service agent and not a MIT computer genius.
So to discover from Ducky that Gibbs had resigned due to his worthless ass, made him feel even guiltier than he had before he knew about his fruitless search. But to know that McGee who had been on the fast track to becoming the youngest ever director of NCIS as Leon Vance's protégé, had left the agency and become a CIA analyst just floored him. He really didn't know how to react to that news – that his actions had resulted in the whole MCRT ceasing to exist, was a terrible burden to have to bear.
He was sorry that Tim lost his champion, that he must have felt that being associated with the director was simply too damaging to overcome. But he wasn't a bit sorry that Vance had been kicked out. Not at all! Maybe if Gibbs had remained as SSA, Tim would have remained but he must have felt that without Gibbs support he couldn't continue at the agency and turned to the dark side.
Yet, as if that wasn't enough, Ducky informed him that Jimmy Palmer had fled from the job that he loved - working with his mentor – with his father figure. Palmer abandoned the career that he had worked so hard for. He was supposed to take over as the medical examiner of the DC office when Ducky decided it was time to resign. Obviously, Tony's actions had made it impossible for the Autopsy Gremlin to remain working there after he had ruined the team and it fell apart. Frankly, he was surprised that Ducky had agreed to help him and keep his presence a secret – he really didn't deserve such loyalty.
Perhaps it was time for him to stop being such a selfish bastard and to do what he should have done three years ago. Then the rest of the team (even if they were no longer together as a group) could finally put the past behind them and begin to build a bright new future.
An Eye for an Eye
Tel Aviv: Early August 2012
Associate Director Orli Erbaz closed the door to her office and picked up her phone to make the call to the Prime Minister's Aide. She had to inform him that Eli David was going on vacation with one of his latest mistresses but apart from that snippet, there had been no changes in his behaviour. Almost as if he realised he was under close observation and was deliberately not making any moves that could give them cause to get rid of him. Actually that was highly likely since he was as wily as they came, surviving several different Prime Ministers who had come and gone. Usually they appointed their own lackeys to the directorship but Eli had held sway over an astonishing amount of politicians and civil servants.
Orli knew from her own tempestuous affair with the man, many years ago that he worshiped at the altar of J. Edgar Hoover. He had a whole bookshelf of biographies on the FBI director who had held a country hostage for decades as he created his own private fiefdom, while even presidents seemed impotent to remove him from the directorship. It was no surprise he emulated his hero and even in light of his behaviour lately, was proving difficult to extract.
The elite team that Erbaz set in motion was already on surveillance duty on Eli David and preparing to follow him down to Acre for his five day break where he had booked a suite at the Efendi Hotel. The historic walled port-city which had seen continuous habitation since Phoenician times was a popular holiday spot. It would pose some unique challenges in them keeping the Mossad Director under observation but they couldn't afford for anything to get in their way now. They had been waiting a long time for an opportunity to get some dirt on him, and Orli was certain he would make a move to rectify the situation with Anthony DiNozzo sooner or later. Nothing was going to stand in their way of catching him in the act. If they messed it up, then there was unlikely to be another chance any time soon.
Oh, they had known that Eli David had ordered Samuel Rivkin to kill Special Agent DiNozzo after his daughter went rogue and failed in her attempt to assassinate the impediment to her plans. Everybody knew it, it had been the intelligence community's worst kept secret… they just couldn't prove it, unfortunately. Still the Prime Minister and many others had become convinced that Eli was now too much of a liability but he was still extremely powerful. He just too many supporters that made it impossible to get rid of him.
Frankly, the whole mess with Eli ordering Michael Rivkin to sleep with his own daughter to test her loyalty, letting him run amok and failing to recall him when he got sloppy, killing the terrorists from the sleeper cell which alerted the Americans that he'd been operating on their turf was plain amateurish. It was downright embarrassing since at the very least Eli should have pulled Rivkin out at that stage but instead the stubborn old coat, left him in situ. It resulted in a US federal agent being killed because he'd got careless, no doubt because he was drunk, and the fed caught him/Mossad spying on its allies. Not a happy State Department.
Such a mess all round and then Ziva David exacerbated the situation by covering it up, badly. Trying to protect her lover who was really spying on her as well as the Americans too, for her mistrustful father. Not to mention, the Americans also discovered she'd been passing classified Intel back to Mossad without authorisation, making a bad situation into what the Americans referred to as a Custard Funk. Even forgetting the tantrum Eli had thrown, insisting that Anthony DiNozzo be dragged to Tel Aviv and tortured to get him to falsely confess to murdering Rivkin which was a woeful failure, or the fact that his out of control daughter attacked DiNozzo out in public, David was becoming a liability.
He was starting to become a rogue element that the Prime Minister simply couldn't afford to tolerate anymore. Not even, factoring in his power and influence. And that was even without taking into account this latest mess with the Americans and Samuel Rivkin.
The problem was that Eli was becoming increasingly erratic and beginning to make far too many mistakes. Too many of his protégés had going rogue. They couldn't afford to go around advertising that they spied on their allies or operated clandestinely in their allies' country, rather than informing them of their presence. While they had no intention of changing their Modus Operandi when it came to how they fulfilled their purpose, basically because they couldn't afford to, it was just sheer idiocy to go rubbing it in the Americans' faces, either.
Hearing the familiar voice of Jakob Levinson greet her she focused on their conversation. "Shalom Jakob."
"Shalom, Orli. It is good to hear from you. Do you have some news, my friend?" The aide inquired hopefully.
"I do but nothing all that significant, I'm afraid. My sources tell me that Eli will be spending the next five days at the Efendi Hotel in Acre. This is the vacation that Eli was planning on taking just after the death of Samuel Rivkin that had to be postponed due to the Syrian crisis. He is going with one of his mistresses."
"Have you set up surveillance in case he meets anyone down there?"
"I have, Jakob. I think he will do something soon and we will be ready. Assure the Prime Minister that we won't fail him."
"What makes you so certain that he will try something, my friend?" Jokob asked, curiously.
"Because he made a call a few weeks ago to the former director of Naval Criminal Investigative Services – Leon Vance and then another a few days ago. Vance feels beholden to Eli for saving his life when his NIS minders sent him on a suicide mission to Amsterdam on his very first mission and Eli saved his tokhis. I think that was when Eli first realised how valuable and intoxicating it was to have people in power who owed him favours. Not at first but as Vance made his way up the ranks… I think that's when he might have even become something of a puppet master, using his influence to move Vance into increasingly influential positions of power."
"Sounds like Eli! It's why he is still the director of Mossad, despite his expanding list of failures," Jokob observed cynically. "So you think that he is really going to make another attempt to have DiNozzo killed?" He asked hopefully.
Orli smiled even though she knew that Jacob couldn't see it. "I do."
"I need to brief the Prime Minister. Is everything in place?"
"It is."
"Good. Please keep me apprised of the situation," Levinson ordered before breaking the connection.
xxxx
David Steiner boarded the Air Canada flight from Ben Gurion International, flying direct to Toronto. Once there, he would collect his new identity papers and slip across the border to New York. From the Big Apple he would take the train to DC and pick up the second-hand car that one of his minions had purchased for him several weeks ago. Ditching his protection and sending them off with his double Goldblume had been liberating. Eli felt an exhilarating sense of freedom that he didn't have a chance to experience very often these days.
It was true that Eli David had a lot of enemies, even within Israel, so he couldn't scratch himself without protection, unfortunately. Luckily, he had surrounded himself with an impenetrable force of loyal followers who made sure that any threats to his life were swiftly and ruthlessly dealt with. There were, on average, at least two attempts on his life every week, so he understood only too well the necessity for absolute security. Nevertheless, there was a sense of utter abandon to be able to send Benjamin Goldblume off with Dafna Mizrahi, one of his new young mistresses, to enjoy an idyllic tryst at an expensive spa along with his entourage of protectors. Plus the spies of the Prime Minister trying to get dirt on him to blackmail him. Meanwhile, he'd adopted a new persona of a harmless and moderately successful businessman on his way to the US to conduct business.
Settling into his cramped coach class seat (since it was easier to merge into the crowd by sitting with the masses) and who would expect the director of Mossad to sit with the great unwashed anyway, he prepared for take-off. Luckily, he'd scored an aisle seat so only had someone on his left and it was a taciturn businessman. So he wouldn't be forced to make idle chitchat about superficial topics that didn't interest him. Perfect!
It was two months since Samuel had botched the simple job he had given the failed Kidon assassin three long years ago– three interminably long years ago. That was a mistake in judgement that Eli had lived to regret. The idiot had initially killed some inconsequential FBI agent in an unforgivable cockup that had failed to take out Agent Meatball while he was a sitting goose in hospital. For three years the simpleton chased him all over the country, trying to get a shot at him and finally the FBI had gotten pissed enough to trap Rivkin. In retrospect, instead of enlisting the crazy incompetent Samuel, he should have simply let the fuss die down and six months later he could have hunted the khazer* down himself.
Now, after being lured into a trap at a cemetery in Indiana and DiNozzo hadn't even been present which made it even more embarrassing, he got himself ignominiously killed – the putzhead.* But then, again, Samuel Rivkin had proved to be an outstanding disappointment all round and had become a liability when he had refused more than once to return to Israel. It seemed that he was determined to avenge his brother Michael, convinced that his family's honour would not be redeemed until he had taken DiNozzo's life. When Eli had tried to reel him in he'd simply ignored him.
Now, according to Leon, DiNozzo had refused to come back to D.C. and resume his inconsequential and frivolous existence, the cowardly idiot. He claimed that to do so would place his friends in jeopardy and much to the frustration of all concerned, he remained out in the freeze. At least on one point, Eli could agree with him. His continued existence WAS endangering his former colleagues' wellbeing who according to his Ziva, he pathetically considered to be his family after his own father disowned him as a child.
Where they differed opinion wise, was, that Eli could use his Achilles' heel to draw him back in and make him suffer before getting what he'd waited for, for so long , even if he thought staying away was going to slice it. He would make his death as slow and drawn out as possible as punishment, all because DiNozzo didn't have the balls to face the father of the woman he murdered. The fact that he was stupid enough to care about these people was a sign of weakness and Eli David would gladly use it to bring him down.
While he'd cursed the delay after Samuel's death at the end of May in enacting his strategy, there had been one thing after another that prevented him getting away to put his new plan into effect. There had been a terrorist cell to take out in Syria and an assassination to orchestrate of one of Mossad's Top Five Most Wanted who'd turned up in a training camp in Northern Pakistan, for starters. Then there was an anti- Semitic rabblerouser in Buenos Ares, funnelling laundered money to Hamas which turned out to be the son of a Nazi War criminal who had managed to somehow slip under the radar. Taking care of these situations had left him little choice but to postpone his own personal vendetta, although he preferred to think of it as an eye for an eye – the divine right of any loving father. A message had to be delivered that Eli David would not tolerate such an insult to his family – to himself.
In hindsight though, the delay was fortuitous since he was still facing suspicion that he had sent Samuel to kill the pusillanimous DiNozzo. His detractors were constantly poised, looking for any excuse although there was no proof even if the Prime Minister was facing a great deal of pressure to have him removed. One thing Eli had learnt after his enemies in Mossad tried to get rid of him once before when his children were small and he was less influential, was how to guard his back and make if almost impossible to remove him. His heroes Sun Tzu, J. Edgar Hoover and Senator Joseph McCarthy all understood how to make themselves invulnerable to not just their enemies but their allies too because you couldn't afford to trust anyone, especially friends.
One thing that Eli had proven conclusively was the more powerful a person became, the more enemies one collected amongst one's so called supporters and colleagues. He had almost as many adversaries within Israel proportionally, as outside its borders and they would be more than happy to see him removed from his position. Something he had no intention of letting happen, not ever!
Arriving after a boring, uneventful flight to Toronto, he disembarked and cleared customs without incident. He collected his new ID and a change of clothes from his contact, switching slim leather satchels as they drank a cup of coffee, ignoring each other, before heading to the rest rooms to alter his appearance subtly. Eli picked up a Delta Airlines flight to J.F.K Airport in New York and slipped into the U.S. totally anonymously. That was until he had the appalling misfortune to run into someone who recognised him – a journalist - Tyler Wilkes, who was impersonating a naval officer for some stupid, frivolous story. He'd spun him some fantasy about being on a secret mission for peace (which was the truth inasmuch as when DiNozzo was finally taking a dirt snooze he would have inner peace) and lured Wilkes somewhere where he could take care of him quietly and permanently.
As much as it was unfortunate to have run into someone who recognised him, and what were the evens of that happening really? Still as the Americans like to say, 'you couldn't make an omelette without breaking a few legs.' Which was frankly amusing, since an omelette was actually a French dish but there you go, typical of the Americans...they even took credit for a culinary dish.
No matter, colloquialisms were confusing if amusing diversions of those nationalities that could indulge themselves in frivolities. The point was that in order to extract his pound of flesh, it would be necessary to break a few legs or rip out the odd heart. Wilkes was likely only the first of several but really, it was Agent Meatball's fault for not having any honour. If he was a man he would have thrown himself on his sword instead of running away like a rat leaving a sinking ship.
A hack journalist, a silly woman running around pretending to be a little girl and an elderly medical examiner past his prime could not be compared to the loss of his precious child. Her training as an assassin and spy alone could not be quantified in a monetary sense. Her value to Israel and Mossad was irreplaceable. She was supposed to be his eventual successor and with her death he had been forced to groom Ilan Bodnar to replace him one day in the distant future and he couldn't hold a candle to Ziva. He didn't possess the David genes.
Settling into the two and half star motel, he looked around him with distaste. The room was seedy and barely habitable but he couldn't afford to stay anywhere where people paid attention to the guests. These places survived by attracting lowlifes, criminals, adulteries and prostitutes and no one looked too closely at the comings and goings of the residents. And this was what he was counting on – indeed it was SOP for even baby Mossad officers and well- it worked! Humans were incredibly predicable and only a fool chose not to take advantage of it, even if it meant hanging out in an armpit.
Pulling out one of a dozen burn phones he'd acquired since arriving in the States, he called the individuals he'd engaged to snatch the forensic scientist and the doddering old fool of an ME. Telling his minions that they could proceed with the plan later this evening, he felt buoyed by the rapid progress he had made despite only arriving in the country literally hours ago. The next step in the plan was to establish an alibi just in case he required one.
He should be fine because there wasn't a record of him entering the country and lots of evidence that he was in fact, frolicking with his lover at the resort in Acre but you could never be too careful. Enter stage left Leon and his family who would serve nicely to vouch for him, just in case his presence was discovered. They could swear that they were altogether when the two NCIS scientists were abducted.
Using a fresh burn phone he called Leon, who, since that ridiculous witch hunt by his enemies which cost him his job, was freelancing; mostly working from home advising on computer espionage to corporate America. They'd spoken a few weeks ago and also earlier in the week and Leon had confirmed that Jethro Gibbs' lackey, FBI agent Fornell had established contact with DiNozzo to tell him that Rivkin was dead and he could come home.
So they had some way of communicating with him. No matter because Eli was planning on releasing an anonymous tip to the television stations about the kidnap. Somehow he thought it would be a quicker means of bring his pathetic little nemesis running back to help save his 'family.' He had allowed himself five days to complete the operation and he really wanted to look into DiNozzo's eyes when he snuffed out his life.
Leon was surprised to hear from him again so soon but understood immediately that he was angling for an invitation to dinner. When Leon suggested that they meet at the Adams House, he had explained that he was here incognito on a mission of peace. That it had great import for both their countries so he was trying to fly under the radar but was keen to catch up with Leon, Jackie and his children, who he was sure had grown greatly since last they met. Leon was no dummy, he realised that Eli was calling in one of his numerous markers. If Leon had thought since he wasn't NCIS Director anymore that Eli would tear up his IOUs, he was mistaken. Although the Mossad director was extremely confident that Leon understood the score, now.
Accepting the inevitable, he instructed Eli to come around at 1830 and Eli smirked, amused that Leon still thought in military time, even though he was no longer dealing with the Navy. Quickly calculating the estimated time for the abductions, he agreed. Telling Vance he was looking forward to catching up, he broke the connection, deciding to take a nap since everything was in place and he was jetlagged from the flight. Trying not to think about what might be sharing the bed with him, he lay down fully clothed and closed his eyes after setting the alarm on his wristwatch to wake him in a few hours. Very soon now he would have his revenge!
xxxx
Leon Vance laid down his phone and sighed. He thought that he'd left behind all the crap of 'I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine' when he'd been ignominiously booted out of NCIS and with it, losing any hope of a political career. At least he felt like he could stop looking over his shoulder all the time, since he hadn't reached the top of the food chain at NCIS without making a lot of enemies along the way and also had his fair share of skeletons in the closet. He thought that they were all well and truly buried but Eli showing up like this after three years, proved that he was never going to really be free from his past. People like the Mossad Director had a memory like an elephant and wouldn't allow him to forget what he owned him. Sucking it up, he went out to talk to Jackie.
Walking over to his wife who was seated at the breakfast bar, working on her laptop, he slipped his arms around his beautiful partner – his lover, best friend, the mother of his two kids and took a deep breath. Things had been rocky between them especially over his close relationship with the David family, who she blamed for the implosion of their life. She had identified with that imbecile DiNozzo, been touched by him disappearing in order to protect his team, his colleagues and friends. Called him noble and heroic and was total pissed with Eli, who she blamed for dragging their family through the mud. Furious that Kayla and Jarrod had had to go to school and deal with taunts from the other kids about their father betraying his agents and his agency. It had been really tough on them.
It had almost cost him his marriage and his family and now that they were getting back on track, Eli had to come charging back in and upset his family again. Hugging her because he had a feeling like it might be the last one he got for a while, as he predicted she'd give him the cold shoulder when he broke the news, Leon crossed his fingers and toes.
"Hey Babe, we have a guest joining us for dinner, tonight." He sensed her irritation straight away. "I know, it's short notice but I really couldn't say no."
His gorgeous wife stood up and folded her arms (o-oh that usually meant Jackie was going to kick ass) and regarded him with a stern expression. "Who did you invite, Leon?"
Suck it up, Leon. "Eli David, Babe but to be fair, he pretty much invited himself." He rushed to defend himself, even as he saw the impending storm cloud approaching. Oh shit this was not going to be good.
"So why didn't you put him off? Tell him no, tell him to go screw himself like he screwed our family, like he screwed Agent DiNozzo's life? Why Leon… just give me one good reason after destroying our life and making our children's life an absolute misery. Why you would welcome him into our home?"
Sighing, because he really didn't want to have to get into this with his wife and destroy an illusions about him she may still harbour, he knew that there was no choice. "I owe Eli, Baby, he saved my life."
"And it cost you almost everything you hold dear already, Leon. Haven't you paid the debt in full? How long is that bastard going to hold you accountable for something that happened more than twenty years ago?" His incensed spouse demanded.
"Unfortunately, Jackie to reach the top of the food chain you sometimes have to do things you're not proud of or conversely, not do things that you should have."
"You mean like looking the other way and dragging Tony to Tel Aviv when he didn't do anything wrong?" Jackie demanded, sarcastically. "Not to mention, standing by and let Eli torture him when he was already injured? Is that what you mean Leon?"
"Various things over the years," He admitted, reluctant to specify.
"So what, if you don't put out, he'll rat you out?"
Leon quirked an eyebrow, not really wanting to reply in the affirmative…it made him sound like a cheap whore.
Scowling, she thought for a moment. "I'll throw something together but I reuse to break bread with that monster and he isn't going anywhere near my children. He created two sociopathic assassins from innocent little children – his own flesh and blood. He is corrupt, evil and an utterly sick bastard. No doubt if Tali had lived long enough, he would have destroyed that sweet child, too. Then after I'm done, I'm going to take Kayla and Jarrod and we are going to stay somewhere safe where he can't hurt us. And," She insisted seeing he was going to argue, "If you want your family back again, you will find some way to get him out of our lives. Permanently! If you can't or won't, then I will divorce you and make sure that I get full custody of our children."
Seeing the shock on her husband's face she turned away, determined to protect her family if Leon couldn't or wouldn't. Pulling some Boeuf Bourguignon out of the freezer, she put together a cheese and fruit plate and a simple Greek salad as an entrée. Leon could tell that even that degree of effort was more than she was happy to provide and he was terrified by her ultimatum since he knew that she was utterly serious. The problem was though that Eli was a terrific ally, but as an enemy he was an utterly ruthless, implacable bastard, as his pursuit of DiNozzo had demonstrated so clearly.
Three years and the man hadn't let it go. Leon doubted that he ever would…not until DiNozzo was dead. And the thing that terrified him the most was that Leon wasn't sure how to extract himself out from under the thumb of the Mossad Director. If he couldn't, he was under no illusion that he would lose his wife and children.
XXXX
End Notes: According to Google which kinda guarantees that it's wrong
Khazer* Yiddish for pig
Putzhead* Slang colloquialism for idiot or clumsy but originally translates as an offensive insult 'penis head' or dickhead.