Chapter Four
Star-Crossed
Bought and sold like property
Sugar on my tongue
All We Are, Matt Nathanson, s5e2 Family
Special Agent Timothy McGee felt good. He was serving as point in the control center for a security detail for some high-ranking Navy officials under the orders of the SecNav himself. Tim was hoping for a chance to finally highlight all his capabilities. He'd been with the highly accomplished MCRT for five years now, and his technology skills were well known within the agency. On this mission, he was the center of communication between the entire team and Abby back at NCIS. This was where he excelled, and he was so sure this was the opportunity he'd been waiting for, he could practically taste the accolades.
He'd been more than a little irritated by the way he was constantly overlooked for special assignments. Whenever any kind of distinctive op came up, it was always one of his teammates who were selected for the mission. Of course, there was Ziva with all her international contacts and mad ninja assassin skills. She could probably come up with nine ways to kill a person with her barrette. Tim knew that was something that he'd never be able to compete against.
Then there was Tony, who was often touted as an expert at undercover operations – but Tony was just a cop. Tim had been an investigator for years now with far more education. He felt as if he could do at least an equal job if given the experience that Tony had.
It didn't mean that he didn't know Tony was good at what he did. Gibbs valued his ability to connect random dots that no one else could see, but Tim also felt that came down to experience. How was Tim ever going to be able to develop these skills if he was never given the opportunity to sharpen his edges? He might even be able to surpass his colleague because he'd put in far less effort towards obscure movie references and more towards his work ethic. Tim always believed that when Tony went on an undercover assignment, he just pretended he was the leading man in one of his films.
Given, it was a strategy that seemed to work for him, but it wasn't the only way. Tim wanted to prove his skills but felt as if he was constantly overlooked. He was more than just a computer guru. He'd thought his chance might've finally arrived with this detail, especially since Tony's last undercover mission had been such a disaster. Tony had committed the huge faux pas of falling for his mark. While Tim didn't think of himself as an opportunist, he was aware of the fact that his partner had messed up, and that could be just the opening Tim needed.
All he wanted was a chance, and he knew Tony would take advantage of the opportunity if the situation were reversed.
"McGee! Answer the phone," Abby said through his headset, sounding impatient and exasperated.
He shook himself, realizing he'd become lost in his thoughts and hadn't noticed the ringing of the hotel phone.
"McGee," he said, grabbing the phone with such force it almost fell off the desk.
"Hello Agent McGee, this is the front desk. I just thought I should let you know that two conference attendees have arrived late but are on the way up. Apparently, one of them had some difficulties with flight delays," a woman's voice said. She sounded cute.
"All right, thanks. I think they've already missed dinner, though," he said.
"The kitchen staff will still send out a plate since they paid for the meal. It's all included in the attendance package," she said, sounding like a sales representative.
"I'll watch for them," Tim replied before hanging up.
He knew Tony was stationed near the ballroom entrance, so he pushed the microphone switch connecting to his headset.
"Tony, I got a call from the front desk that there are a couple of late conference attendees coming up in the elevator," he said.
"All right, I'm on it," Tony's voice came from his headset.
Although Tim was pleased to be the one in the control center, he envied Tony's ability to stretch his legs. Tim's were beyond cramped sitting in the same position all day.
"That's nice of the hotel. They're still in time for the opening remarks," Abby said. "I wish someone would bring me a dinner. Or a CafPow."
Tim was about to agree when he heard the ding of the elevator bell through his headset, and his senses went on alert when he heard Tony inhale sharply.
"Whose life are you here to ruin today, Tony?" a woman's voice asked coldly.
"Jeanne," Tony whispered, sounding quite unlike his usual, obnoxious self.
Uh oh – this was trouble. The woman Tony had been involved with during his undercover operation had been called Jeanne, and she was a doctor. It seemed like too much of a coincidence, but then again, weird things always happened to Tony. The doctor who'd treated him when he had the freaking plague was also here. Leave it to Tony to know several guests on a random security detail – one in which SecNav was taking particular interest.
Quickly, Tim pressed the microphone switch for Gibbs' earwig "Boss, we have a problem. I think the woman who just got off the elevator is Jeanne Benoit," he said.
"Damn it," Gibbs growled.
"You've got to be kidding," Abby said, her voice two octaves higher than normal.
"Shhh," Tim said, trying to listen to the conversation.
"What are you doing at a medical conference?" Jeanne asked. "Are you passing yourself off as a doctor now?"
"Security detail," Tony replied.
Since when was Tony ever succinct?
"Jeanne, do you know this man?" a male voice with a thick accent asked, and Tim assumed it was the other guest who'd arrived with Jeanne.
"Unfortunately, I do," Jeanne said, and Tim couldn't quite control his smirk. Tony had a knack for pissing people off.
"You can just go about your business and pretend I'm not here," Tony said, and Tim could vividly picture him pulling himself back together and putting on his business face.
"That's what I've been trying to do for the past few months, but you keep turning up," Jeanne said, sounding a little unhinged.
"Well, since the last time it was you seeking me out by accusing me of murder, I'd say it was you who keeps turning up," Tony said, and McGee was surprised she'd managed to get under his skin so quickly. Tony usually went back and forth a lot longer before his temper showed, if ever. Then again, he supposed accusing someone of murder was going to leave a mark.
"As it's a medical conference, I think I belong here more than you. I really don't know where you belong," Jeanne said.
"Definitely not in prison," Tony snapped hotly.
"DiNozzo! Stand down," Gibbs barked when he joined them in the hallway. "Go ahead and join your party. Dinner is almost over."
There was silence from the transmitters for a moment until the newcomers had apparently entered the ballroom.
"McGee, keep an ear on Ziva. She's alone in there," Gibbs said.
Tim knew Gibbs was about to ream Tony's ass, and he briefly wondered if he should turn his mic off. He knew he wouldn't want anyone to overhear if it was him, but Gibbs had reamed Tony publicly plenty of times in the bull pen, and this time, McGee was supposed to be monitoring.
Ziva's mic was silent at the moment, so he waited for the explosion. He was therefore more than a little shocked by the gentleness in Gibb's tone.
"You all right?" he asked.
"Fine," Tony replied, yet something in his voice contradicted his words.
Gibbs sighed. "Look, DiNozzo, I know this is hard, but we've only got about another hour to go. I'm going to pull you from this assignment tomorrow and have someone else take your place."
"I can do my job, Boss," Tony said, sounding as if he was gritting his teeth.
"I know you can, but now you have a personal connection with two attendees, and that's against SoP. It's not that I don't have faith in you, but SecNav is going to be watching every step," Gibbs said, still in that same calm, cool tone that sounded as if he was speaking to a spooked animal. Tim didn't know what to make of it – he'd expected Tony to get a slap on the head, not Gibbs being nice. Tony usually hated it when Gibbs was nice.
"Copy that," Tony said stiffly. "I'll try not to do anything to disappoint SecNav during my last hour."
"McGee, two of the Turkish doctors are missing. Did Ziva say where they went?" Gibbs asked, back to his usual brusque tone and causing Tim to jump.
"Er… no, she hasn't said anything," Tim said, a little flustered by Gibbs abrupt turn.
"Well then ask her," Gibbs snapped. "Have you got their names yet?"
Tim winced. He had found their names on the guest list, but with all the drama of Jeanne Benoit's appearance, he'd forgot to report it.
"Yes, they're Hamza Demir, Adem Sahin and Mustafa Yldimn," he answered. "They work at different hospitals but have all been on relief missions in Africa recently."
"There are four of them, not three," Gibbs snarled.
Tim's heartrate was accelerating. It always did when he had to report to Gibbs, even if he had the answer. "I know that. The fourth attendee was supposed to be a woman, but they changed it at the last minute. I've got the conference center at Bethesda looking for the replacement's name, but it's after hours in the office now."
"What did Ziva say?" Gibbs asked.
Gibbs was really impossible to please sometimes. Tim was a great multi-tasker, but he couldn't talk to two people at once. He pressed the button on Ziva's mic, feeling the sweat trickling down his back.
"Ziva, Gibbs wants to know where the other two Turkish doctors are," he said.
"Bathroom. I could see them entering from here," Ziva said at once.
McGee returned to Gibb's mic, taking a breath to steady his voice. "They're in the bathroom, Boss."
"DiNozzo, check the men's room," Gibbs said.
"On it," Tony replied.
McGee could hear the feedback as the microphone on the raised platform in the ballroom was switched on. The ceremony was obviously about to begin.
He was startled when Tony's voice suddenly called out loud and clear, "Hey, what are you doing there? Freeze! Federal agent."
The loud ping of shots being fired caused McGee to cringe as the loud, screeching sound from the electronics pierced his eardrum.
"I said freeze," Tony repeated using a commanding tone.
More shots were fired, and now Tim could hear startled voices and some screaming coming from the ballroom through Gibbs' and Ziva's mics.
"McGee, I have one terrorist down, but the other ran back into the ballroom. They are heavily armed. Repeat, heavily armed. Someone in the hotel is working with them. Weapons must've been in the bathroom, but I know it was cleared earlier today. Call for reinforcements. Now!" Tony shouted, breathing hard as if running.
McGee stared at all the monitoring equipment for a moment in stunned disbelief. Even DiNozzo wouldn't joke about something like that.
He heard another voice coming across all three earwigs. "Nobody move, and I won't have to shoot you," the male voice said calmly.
/* /* /* /*
Heart racing, Tony checked for a pulse on the terrorist he'd shot, knowing he'd administered a kill shot but verifying anyway. He knew McGee would've already put in an S.O.S. He removed the weapon the dead man had been carrying and quickly hid it behind a large, potted plant before another one of the Turkish doctors emerged from the ballroom aiming a semi-automatic weapon at him.
"Why don't you come back and join us," he said, his voice heavily accented. This wasn't the same one who'd returned to the ballroom after Tony had shot the dead one, yet he also had a weapon.
"Oh, hey, that's okay. I'm fine out here. I needed some air, anyway," Tony said, keeping a wary eye on the man.
Still reeling from the shock of seeing Jeanne again, he'd barely pulled himself back together before he'd seen the two, armed men emerging from the men's room. One of them had opened fire as soon as he'd identified himself, and he'd barely managed to duck out of the way.
Keeping his gun trained on Tony, the terrorist walked over to his dead companion, pressing him lightly with his foot but getting no response. "Where is Adem's weapon?" he asked tightly, his eyes glancing nervously up and down the hallway.
"What weapon?" Tony asked, feigning nonchalance as his heart beat madly. He knew the terrorist was concerned that Tony wasn't alone, and a nervous perp with a gun was always a bad thing.
"I am not in the mood for your games. Slowly place your own weapon on the floor. One false move and it will give me great pleasure to shoot you between the eyes," the man said.
Tony didn't have a choice, visions of the neat little hole in Kate's forehead dancing across his mind. He slowly knelt down and placed his Sig Sauer on the ground. He then lifted his hands in the air as he stood back up.
"Look, we can work this out. No one's been hurt, and you'll be able to walk away from here," Tony said, keeping his voice calm and reasonable.
"Where is Adem's weapon?" the man repeated, moving to stand beside Tony yet keeping his gun firmly aimed. He carefully bent down and picked up Tony's gun, never taking his eyes off his target.
"How am I supposed to know?" Tony asked, hoping for some sort of distraction so he could make a play for the gun. It would be great if McGee's back-up arrived about now.
The man backhanded him so hard Tony's head snapped to the other side, and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth.
"I'm not going to ask again," the very large man snarled.
"Search me. I don't have it," Tony said, spitting out blood on the carpet.
The terrorist slammed the butt of his gun into the side of Tony's face hard enough to make him see stars. It was the opportunity he'd been waiting for, however. The terrorist didn't have his finger on the trigger while he pistol-whipped Tony, so Tony snaked his arm out, reaching for the man's weapon. The terrorist was significantly wider than him, though, and managed to keep it just out of reach until he could grasp it more firmly and re-aim it at Tony's head.
"Emir," another voice shouted from the ballroom.
Emir poked the gun into Tony's back none-too-gently, and he was forced to start walking. As he entered the ballroom, his eyes moved rapidly to assess the situation. Both Gibbs and a very pissed-looking Ziva were seated on opposite ends of the raised platform along with the diplomats, all under the watch of an armed terrorist who wore glasses. The other guests were huddled in the center of the floor, one of the gunmen, a man with a thick beard and mustache that covered most of his face pacing behind them. Some of the guests were disheveled, others crying, and all looked panicked and afraid. As far as he could tell, none of them had been shot.
His eyes instinctively and almost against his will searched for Jeanne. She was huddled on the edge of the pack next to Brad and her companion. Their eyes met briefly, and he saw hers widen with some vague emotion shining in them before she looked away.
Emir, a huge hulk of a man, kept shoving Tony roughly until he'd reached the platform. "Adem is dead, and this one claims not to know what happened to his weapon. I didn't see anyone else with him. This belongs to the Fed," Emir said, handing Tony's Sig Sauer to the other man who was obviously the leader.
The terrorist on the podium spoke in rapid Arabic, what Tony could only assume was swear words. He met Gibbs eyes and gave a tiny nod indicating he was okay. He could feel both his lip and cheek rapidly swelling and the trickle of blood down his chin, but he reckoned he got off easy. Emir could've just as easily shot him rather than bring him back into the ballroom. The fact they wanted hostages rather than bodies was a good sign.
Using his weapon to indicate where he wanted Tony to sit, the leader turned back to Emir and once again spoke in Arabic.
"What is it you want? What's your end game?" Gibbs asked with authority, despite the fact he was sitting amidst a cluster of hostages.
Tony could relate to Gibbs' frustration. Ziva probably understood what these terrorists were saying as she spoke several of the Arabic languages, but he and Gibbs could only guess and that made it more difficult to form a plan.
"What we want is none of your concern. I'll admit that I did not expect Federal agents to be running a security detail, but we have your weapons and your communication devices. We are in charge here," the leader said confidently.
Tony remained still, his eyes indecipherably looking to both Gibbs and Ziva's ears. He couldn't see their earwigs, although they were designed to be inconspicuous. Still, Emir hadn't taken Tony's, and he didn't appear to be listening to the leader threatening Gibbs. He'd suddenly gone back to the group of hostages. Tony's eyes were drawn to what Emir had also seen. One of the guests had pulled out his cell phone and was attempting to make a call.
Emir shot him where he sat, the man slumping to the ground, his cell phone falling uselessly to the carpeted floor as a blood stain began spreading out around him.
Those around the fallen man screamed and tried to back away. Emir shot his gun into the air shouting, "Silence!"
Muffled sobs were the only thing breaking the quiet as Emir's bulking mass stepped on the cell phone, crushing it.
"I warned you once already what would happen if anyone tried to make a call. I won't repeat myself again," said the bearded terrorist standing on the opposite side of the guests.
"Mustafa," the leader called to him then spoke again in Arabic.
It wasn't hard to decipher what he'd said as Mustafa turned to the terrified guests and said with a thick accent, "All of you toss your phones over here."
"Now you've gone and killed one of your hostages, so that's one less bargaining chip for your chances of getting out of here alive, Hamza," Gibbs said, glaring at the glasses-wearing leader.
Tony wasn't sure when Gibbs had learned the name, but it was another piece of intel to add to the puzzle Tony was forming in his mind.
"If we die for our cause, so be it," Hamza said. "If you die for our cause, that is what you Americans call collateral damage."
Great. Yesterday, all he had planned for tonight was playing softball. Now he was being held hostage by a bunch of zealots along with his ex-girlfriend who'd accused him of murder. He'd seen movies with less of a plot.
Again, his eyes were drawn to Jeanne, needing to check that she was holding up okay. She was whispering to the man she'd come in with, but she had turned in her phone. Tony's fickle heart couldn't help but wonder who her companion was, and if they were colleagues or something more. Despite the direness of their situation, his heart ached with the idea she'd moved on so easily while he continued to struggle. He'd sell his soul to remove her pain since he was the one who'd caused it. He should be happy if she was able to move on, but that didn't mean he wanted to watch her do it.
Maybe that was his punishment.
"Zeki Aras, come forward," Hamza said, voice booming.
Tony recognized that name as one of the diplomats on the list he'd been given to review.
"If you do not come forward on your own, I will shoot the people on either side of you," Hamza said calmly.
A man on Ziva's side of the small group stood up warily. Tony could see his hands shaking. He was Middle Eastern and small in stature, with a Turkish flag on his nametag.
"Come and sit with me. We have much to discuss," Hamza said.
"What is it you want, Hamza?" Aras asked shakily.
So, the diplomat knew the terrorist. Tony tucked that away, as well.
"I want to discuss the recent statements you've made on our policies in Afghanistan. I believe you're attempting to lead our country in the wrong direction," Hamza said as if they were discussing politics over an after-dinner drink.
"What does that have to do with this conference?" Aras asked, clearly as confused as Tony was.
"Nothing at all, but it was easier to reach you here than in our own country," Hamza said.
Tony met Gibbs eyes across the platform, and his boss frowned slightly telling Tony that he was surprised, as well. Tony scratched his head on the same side his earwig was located and nodded imperceptibly.
Gibbs turned away, but Tony knew he understood that Tony's earwig was still live. He couldn't risk saying anything out loud to McGee, but at least Probie had ears in the room.
"Please come and sit," Hamza said, indicating a table directly off the platform. "My colleagues will ensure we are not disturbed."
Although Hamza appeared overly confident and unruffled, the same could not be said for the terrorist called Mustafa. He was clutching his weapon so tightly it was a wonder his hand hadn't cramped. He was also sweating profusely as his eyes flickered back and forth over the hostages.
Of the three terrorists remaining, he was the one Tony was most worried about. His instability could prove deadly – and he was standing behind Jeanne.
Still, it was a large group for only three terrorists to control. Even if he hadn't killed the fourth, it was still a small group. He knew at least one member of the hotel staff had to be in on it with them because someone had brought those weapons up after the bathroom had been swept. He could see some of the waitstaff amongst the hostages, but what about the kitchen staff? Where were they? Had they escaped, or were they part of this? They had to have noticed none of the waitstaff had come back to the kitchen, and some of the tables still had uneaten dinners resting upon them.
McGee must have called the cavalry by now, although Tony wasn't certain why he hadn't heard from him. All the computer equipment had to have let him know that Tony still had an active earwig. Maybe he'd left his post and been able to usher the kitchen staff to safety. If so, Tony assumed the FBI or a SWAT team – whoever Director Shepherd would've called for back-up – would enter from the kitchen.
Gibbs must've come to the same conclusion because he shifted his weight and attempted to rise. Emir trained his weapon on him instantly. "I suggest you sit back down. If you move again, I will shoot one of the hostages," he said.
Gibbs sank back to the floor, this time his body angled more toward the kitchen door. The terrorists were trained enough to know that a Federal agent might put his own life at risk, but he'd never do the same with the life of a hostage.
Tony swiped at the blood still flowing down his chin. His cheek bone, where he'd taken the second blow, was throbbing and had swollen significantly – enough that he was having difficulty seeing out of his left eye. There was nothing he could do about it, but he hoped the cavalry arrived sooner rather than later.
From the corner of his good eye, he saw one of the hostages on his side of the room attempting to inch his body closer to the main entrance. He'd managed to pull himself slightly away from the huddled group, but Tony knew the door was too far for him not to be noticed soon – even with only three gunmen monitoring the room.
Sure enough, Emir, the tallest and most vicious of the terrorists, raised his weapon. "Move back to the center of the room," he said with deadly intent.
Tony knew what the man was going to do and was powerless to stop it. The terrified hostage jumped to his feet, trying to make it the five steps it would take to reach the door, but Emir shot him in the leg before he'd taken the first step.
The man fell, grasping his thigh which was spreading blood all over the ballroom floor. More screams and shouts from the terrified hostages filled the room. Jeanne stood up and took a step forward.
"Sit back down," Mustafa said, looming over her.
"He needs medical aid, and I'm a doctor," she said, raising her chin and not backing down.
Tony's heart was in his throat. He was reminded of her defiance against a drug dealer in a morgue shortly before their romance was blown to hell. She'd been stubborn then too, and he feared her bravado was going to get her killed.
"She's right – that man needs medical attention unless you want another murder rap," Gibbs said before Tony could open his mouth to breathe, never mind speak.
He glanced over at his boss whose icy eyes were glaring back at him, demanding he stay put. That was easier said than done when Mustafa grabbed Jeanne by the arm and dragged her across the room, shoving her toward the injured man so that she stumbled down beside him. She yanked her arm away, rubbing her bicep defiantly.
"You, assist her," Mustafa said to the man who'd come in with Jeanne and had been sitting next to her.
The companion looked over at Jeanne uneasily. Apparently, he didn't want the attention on him, but he got up slowly and moved to the other side of the ballroom where Jeanne was already using the injured man's necktie to tie up his wound. He shouted in pain as she fastened it tightly around his leg.
"We will need some of the napkins from the tables to stop the bleeding," Jeanne's companion said.
He had a Nordic-sounding accent, but Tony couldn't place it.
"Get them, but move very slowly. Even a step towards the door, and I will kill both you and your patient," Emir said, grabbing Jeanne's hair with his gun-free hand and forcing her head back as he watched her companion walk.
Tony tensed, watching the scene play out. He would guess Jeanne's companion was a doctor since he was here, but he didn't know for sure. Judging by the shifty way he was looking at the exit, Tony wasn't certain his Hippocratic oath would stop him from bolting.
Tony could feel Gibbs' eyes burning into him, but he couldn't look away from the unfolding drama. He let out a shaky sigh of relief when the man picked up several unused napkins from one of the tables and returned to Jeanne and the injured man. Tony felt his whole body deflate, and he finally managed to drag his eyes away and look over at Gibbs.
Naturally, Gibbs was glaring at him. Glaring at him so intensely it was as if he thought he could keep Tony in place with the force of his stare. Tony couldn't help it; despite the severity of the situation, the thought amused him, so he flashed a toothy grin at his boss – not an easy thing to do with his lower lip all swollen and a mouthful full of blood that he was sure was staining his teeth. Gibbs scowled, but his posture relaxed minutely.
They all startled when a voice amplified by a bullhorn echoed through the ballroom. "This is the FBI, and we have you surrounded. Release the hostages and come out with your hands in the air."
Author's Note
Melinda's NCIS Rule Number One: Always leave a comment – it keeps the author motivated. Thanks very much to all who take the time to share your thoughts. I thrive on the feedback, and it always makes me want to write more.
I'm beyond delighted by how many folks have commented or sent me a PM telling me how much they also enjoyed the Tony/Jeanne pairing. I'll admit, before posting I wondered if there would be an audience, but the story wouldn't get out of my head, so I had to write it down.