Chapter Four
Who Says You Can't Go Back?
Abby bit her lip as her fingers flew across her keyboard, her eyes scanning the screen in front of her just as quickly. Along with the speed, she was meticulously thorough. She knew she was good at what she did. She'd always been fascinated by science, and she'd subsequently learned computer skills because the two went hand in hand. What she was doing now – a background check on Admiral Montague's son – was basic, but if it came to digging deeper into his financial holdings or anything that needed to be hacked – that was more up McGee's ally.
Gibbs asked for her help, so, of course she was going to do it. Abby would do anything for her silver-haired fox, but the fact it was necessary was still irritating. Gibbs sent Tim to Philadelphia with Tony while he and Ziva were doing the background checks.
He and Ziva.
No – Abby was doing them. Gibbs and computers didn't get along. In fact, she was reasonably certain that if you looked up luddite in the dictionary, you'd find a picture of Leroy Jethro Gibbs. That was all well and good, after all, he was excellent at delegating and making use of the skills of others. That wasn't what was bothering her. What was making her steam was the fact she was here in the lab – with other work she could be doing – and she'd been on her own all day. What the hell was Ziva doing? She certainly hadn't been down to the lab to coordinate with Abby or to split up the work.
Abby wasn't exactly sure how she felt about the newest addition to the MCRT. Ziva's personality could be rather… off-putting. Abby missed Kate – terribly – and the Israeli replacement just wasn't the same. Still, deep down, Abby knew that she hadn't been fair when Ziva first joined the team.
Bulldozed her way onto the team, more like, while they were all still reeling from the loss of the agent who used to sit at her desk.
Ziva hadn't been Gibbs' choice, which usually meant an instant boot out the door, but for some reason, the Bossman changed his mind. Abby couldn't help the resentment she felt toward Ziva for taking Kate's place, but she was self-aware enough to know that she would've felt that same resentment towards anyone.
Kate had been her friend – her confidante – and she still wasn't ready to let her go.
Abby wasn't being fair, and she knew it, but she didn't know how to make herself feel otherwise. She couldn't even imagine trying to share something personal with Ziva. Even now, after the wall she put up in her heart to keep Ziva out had weakened, she couldn't imagine talking with her about anything like how she felt.
She wasn't even sure the former spy had feelings.
Ziva was as cold and aloof a person that Abby had ever met. Still, she couldn't deny that she'd been concerned about both Ziva and Tony when they'd been lost in that storage container last week. She'd been frantic to help find them. Being unhappy with Ziva's presence on the team didn't mean she wanted any harm to come to the woman. She wasn't a monster.
When Ziva asked her to attend the team dinner she held at her apartment, Abby almost didn't go out of spite. She'd changed her mind, however, and accepted the invitation. Abby tried very hard not to be a mean person, and she knew their new teammate was trying, so she thought she should buck up and make the effort, too.
When one Very Special Agent was the only one not in attendance, Abby didn't give it a second thought. She knew Tony was struggling with the same feelings, so she just thought he'd decided not to come. She'd since come to suspect there was more going on than she was aware – and Abby hated not being in the know. Things between Tony and Ziva had become even frostier in the past week, and the fact Gibbs sent Tim with Tony today, when in reality it made much more sense for Tim to do the background search, was hinky.
Gibbs always did what was best for the team. But with Tony and Ziva not working well together, perhaps sending Tim was what was best, even if it slowed things down on another end. She knew Gibbs would never outright say, even if she pouted; and Tony kept his true feelings locked up tighter than her choker. That left Tim. He must know something, and Abby knew how to wheedle information out of him, even if he wasn't supposed to tell.
He'd be back tomorrow, and she had a new, super-short miniskirt that she hadn't worn yet. Tim always got distracted if she wore a short skirt. It wasn't really manipulating him – Tim just liked to please her. It was sweet, really. She only hoped that he knew more than she did. With that in mind, she continued looking through Lieutenant Montague's online life.
Abby wasn't certain how much more time went by while she was both lost in her head and simultaneously lost in the work, but she didn't hear Ziva's soft-tread when she suddenly appeared in the lab. Abby started violently.
"Ziva!" she said, clutching her chest. "Don't do that."
Ziva blinked curiously, silently staring for a prolonged moment. "Do not do what, precisely? I just arrived."
"Exactly. I didn't hear you come in, and you startled me," Abby said, taking a deep breath to slow her racing heart.
Ziva smiled with pride. "I was trained as a spy by the Mossad. It is second nature to be stealthy."
Her clear feeling of superiority rubbed Abby the wrong way.
"I suppose that's all well and good in the field, but in my lab, making me jump could be disastrous if I'm carefully pouring lethal materials," she said huffily.
"Were you pouring lethal materials?" Ziva asked, amused as she looked at Abby sitting at her computer.
"Well, no… but that's not the point. I could've been. Where have you been? I thought you were supposed to be helping me with the background check on Lieutenant Montague," Abby said, irritated by the attitude.
Her heart was still thumping painfully.
"I have been in contact with many of my international sources, but they have not shared anything worth noting on Lieutenant Montague. He is not… what do you say… involved in anything suspicious," Ziva said.
"Then what is he involved in?" Abby asked.
Ziva frowned. "Pardon?"
"Well, he's not involved in anything your spy sources know about, but he still has a life. Gibbs will want to know about it," Abby said, feeling vindictively pleased by the confusion on Ziva's face.
"Why will he want to know if there is nothing worthy of knowing?" Ziva asked. "He was obviously targeted for his knowledge of the military projects he has worked on."
Abby signed patiently. "You haven't worked here all that long, but I can assure you, Gibbs will want to know everything about him – his strengths and his weaknesses."
"This seems like a waste of time. McGee could have gathered all this intel in moments. I do not understand why he went to Philadelphia, and I was left here to look for inconsequential nonsense," Ziva said, frustrated.
Abby shrugged. "I wondered why this wasn't left to McGee, too, but it wasn't, so we need to do our best."
"I am sure Tony is behind it," Ziva sneered.
"Why do you say that?" Abby asked, turning back toward her computer so Ziva wouldn't see her face.
She knew the other woman would be able to see that she wasn't being sincere. Everyone always knew when she was lying, and she did think the fact Ziva was left here had something to do with Tony. He wasn't nearly as comfortable with Ziva's presence as Gibbs and Tim were.
"What do you know? Why did Tony want me left behind?" Ziva whispered, so close that Abby could feel her breath on her ear.
Ziva leaned in, crowding Abby's personal space, so she automatically leaned away. Abby's spine stiffened, feeling unreasonably threatened by Ziva's close proximity. Her mind flashed on all the concealed weapons she knew Ziva carried at all times.
"I don't know anything," she squeaked. "I just know we have to get this background check done before Gibbs comes looking for it, or there'll be hell to pay. Gibbs can be scary when he's angry."
Ziva paused a moment. Abby could see her staring intently from her peripheral vision. She swallowed convulsively, thinking Gibbs wasn't nearly as scary as the Mossad officer.
At least she knew Gibbs would never hurt her.
"Very well," Ziva replied, turning on her heel and leaving the lab as quickly as she'd come.
/* /* /* /*
Disinterested, Tony watched the scenery pass as he sped along PA 291 towards Philadelphia. Although he kept up a constant stream of chatter that he knew was annoying his Probie passenger, his stomach was clenched in a tight knot. A knot that was growing more and more constricted the closer they got to the city he'd once called home.
He'd left without looking back, without a word to any of the people he'd grown close to while living there. The corruption rampant in his former precinct – in several of the precincts around the city – proved too much to stomach on his own. He doubted he'd be welcomed back if he ran into any of his former supervisors. Unfortunately, Murphy's Law usually did like to fuck with him.
He kept this to himself, however, instead regaling McGee with stories of the seedy underworld and risqué clubs that thrived within the city. He'd been low man on the totem pole then, but he'd also worked his first undercover operation. He suspected he'd only been thrown in because he was expendable, but he'd thrived while adopting another persona. He'd been doing that all his life – it was a necessary survival skill for someone who was shuffled around so much – but his superiors didn't know that. He'd even caught the attention of the FBI, although he didn't like to remember anything about that time. The one good thing that did come out of the whole mess was the birth of his reputation as an extraordinary undercover operative.
"I still don't see why we were in such a rush to leave. Lieutenant Montague doesn't even get out of work until six, and we're supposed to discreetly meet him afterwards. We could've helped gather background information for a few hours," Tim said for about the tenth time.
He clutched his laptop tightly, as if for dear life, as Tony suddenly switched lanes.
"Isn't that what you're doing anyway?" Tony asked, switching lanes again just to mess with him.
"Will you cut it out," Tim said, holding tightly to his precious computer.
Tony knew he tended to take his frustrations out on McGee when he was upset, but the Probie's thin-skinned defensiveness made it way too easy. He wished McGee would fight back like Kate used to do, but he tended to sulk instead, and that did nothing to relieve Tony's pent-up tension. It just made him feel guilty, which made him became even more annoying.
It was a vicious cycle.
Tony knew McGee's mind was back at the office where Gibbs and Ziva were supposedly doing all the computer work to track Lieutenant Montague's life. Tony was certain it was really Abby doing the bulk of the work. It was the kind of thing McGee thrived on, and he obviously could do a much better job, but Gibbs had chosen to send him along with Tony instead.
Although Tony's anger hadn't totally dissipated, he appreciated the gesture. It would've been more efficient to send Ziva and let Tim get started on a background trace. Both junior agents emphatically tried to point that out, but Gibbs ignored them like only Gibbs could. It meant he was taking Tony's concerns about Ziva into consideration. Tony knew his boss would never outright say it, but he always showed more with actions rather than words.
And taking action that had the potential to slow things down – something that was in direct opposition to Gibbs' impatient nature – was the equivalent of a soliloquy from his taciturn boss.
"I can't get any real work done traveling like this, and I keep losing my connection," Tim said, grumbling. "It would be more efficient if we'd waited a few hours to leave."
Tony tilted his head from side to side and rolled his eyes as McGee spoke.
"Have I turned into Bill Murray in Groundhog Day? You keep repeating the same thing, yet it changes nothing. Gibbs said go, we went," Tony replied.
Although he knew Gibbs sent Tim as a conciliation to Tony, he wouldn't have sent them early at all if he didn't expect some results. He'd never put anyone's feelings above a job – particularly one that could involve National Security.
"Besides, you think Gibbs sent us just to have lunch and an easy afternoon? He wants us to take a look at the bar where Lieutenant Montague was approached," he added.
McGee's head snapped up, blinking owlishly. "He didn't say that. I was right there when he told us to go," he said.
Tony's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "So, when we get back with Montague, you don't think Gibbs will ask what we know?" he asked, half amused, half irritated.
McGee frowned, slowly nodding. "No. He'll want results. He always wants results."
"Bingo, McPadawan," Tony said.
The last thing he wanted was a free afternoon in the city. There were way too many landmines there that he'd have to avoid without alerting McGee he was doing it. Lieutenant Montague had insisted he was going to finish his work day since he didn't know how long he'd be away once they began unravelling the case.
"It'll be late when we get back. Think Gibbs and Ziva will have found anything by then?" Tim asked.
"You mean Abby, right?" Tony replied, grinning.
A slow, reluctant grin spread across Tim's face. "Right – Abby. That's why I don't get why he didn't send Ziva with you. I could've been much more productive back at the office, and Ziva's better in the field."
"Oh, yeah. She's something else in the field," Tony said dryly. "Maybe he wants you both to work on different skills."
"If the Admiral wants this looked into quickly and quietly, I really don't think this is the case to switch roles," Tim said huffily.
"You can tell Gibbs that when we return," Tony said, mindful Tim would never consider doing any such thing.
The Probie, at least, could follow orders.
They drove in silence for a few more minutes, Tim growing more and more frustrated with the unsteady computer on his lap. Tony was grateful that in his frustration with the current assignments, Tim hadn't brought up the Superglue incident that morning. Tony had been looking through Ziva's computer again, but he'd run out of time. He was certain there was something on there, he just wished he had the skills to find it. Luckily, he'd kept the Superglue in his pocket just in case he got caught.
McGee grunted, pushing his laptop aside. "Lost the connection again. How much longer until we get there?" he asked.
"What are you, eight? Are we there yet?" he asked in a high-pitched, squeaky voice.
McGee's face went red.
They drove by NSWC about fifteen minutes later, passing the security checkpoint. "I doubt the bar will be open at this hour, but we can canvass the area," Tony said, pulling into a spot on the empty street.
There were a few stragglers walking along, bundled up against the frigid air, but the bar was closed and sealed tighter than a drum. It looked more like a nightclub than a bar, and a classy one at that.
Tim and Tony got out of the car, checking both the main door and the supply door around back. There were no windows that would allow them to look inside.
"This is a waste of time, DiNozzo," Tim said irritably. His breath was coming out in puffs of smoke as he spoke, and his hands were stuffed deeply in his pockets as he hunched his shoulders against the cold.
Before Tony could respond, a raspy voice sounded from around the corner, "Dino? That you?"
Tony's head turned sharply, his hand automatically reaching for his weapon. A vagrant stumbled around the building into view. He wore a dirty hat with ear coverings pulled low over his head, and a cigarette butt clutched in one hand covered with fingerless gloves. He was grizzled with lines covering a face of indeterminate age but well ravaged by a hard life.
Tony relaxed, striding toward the man, and reaching out to shake his hand, grinning. "How are you doing, Chico? Still haunting street corners, I see."
Chico shrugged; his hangdog expression unchanged. "Gotta make a livin' somehow. Where ya been? Haven't seen ya in abou' a year."
Tony rolled his eyes. "Try seven."
Chico's eyes glazed, looking confused for a moment before they cleared, widening in surprise. "Seven? No shit. Time flies. Got anythin' fer me?"
Tony shrugged, amused at how quickly they resumed their former roles. "I think that's my line. What do you know about this place?" Tony asked, jerking his head toward the bar/nightclub.
Tim moved closer, glancing curiously at Chico, who looked the Probie up and down speculatively.
"Who's the rookie? Got yerself a new partner, Dino? What happened to the hottie?" Chico asked.
"It's been a long time," Tony said, ignoring the question about his old partner. He glanced at McGee. "Chico here is an old informant. He's one of the good ones," he said, knowing the praise would make the other man more malleable to sharing what he knew.
As expected, Chico puffed out his chest. "How come ya ain't in uniform? You off duty?" he asked, frowning.
"I'm always on duty – you know that. Now, what can you tell me about the clientele who frequent The Vault Tavern? What kind of unsavory things happen inside the vault?" Tony asked, raising his eyebrows up and down.
"What's innit for me?" Chico asked shrewdly.
"You know the deal – some hot food, no cash, Chico. I can't make that fly, but I know you must be hungry. Coffee probably wouldn't hurt, either," Tony said, remembering all the times he'd run through this routine before with various informants.
"And a pack of smokes?" Chico asked, cajoling.
"You make it worth my while, and I'll get you two," Tony said.
A crooked smile blossomed across Chico's ragged face. "Always did like ya, Dino. Okay, what d'ya want to know?"
"McGee, there was a convenience store about a block back. Go pick up a hot coffee, an extra-large breakfast burrito, and two packs of cigarettes for my friend here," Tony said, handing Tim some cash.
"Marlboro's," Chico clarified.
"Second pack is still under negotiation," Tony said firmly.
Tim didn't look happy about it, but he took the cash and turned around. As soon as he was out of hearing distance, Chico began to speak.
"Fancy place, fancy people. Big crowds, easy ta pick some pockets unnoticed," he said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Some bad ass regulars, though."
"What do you mean by bad ass?" Tony asked.
"Not bad ass like you – I mean fer real bad news. I hear things – people disappearing if they ask too many questions. Regular street crowd don't go too close – even when it's friggin' freezing," he said, shivering dramatically. "Think it might be a mob or somethin,' but not the regular mob. Even Bruno's boys don't come 'round here."
"Bruno still the man in charge?" Tony asked, surprised. The local mafia hadn't changed much since his days patrolling a beat in the city.
"He's getting older, but his boy runs things mostly now. He ain't as smooth as Bruno," Chico said.
"So, if the people running the Vault aren't cutting in on Bruno's territory, what are they dealing?" Tony asked.
"Don't know. Don't wanna know… but…"
"What?" Tony asked sharply.
Chico leaned in close enough that Tony could smell the stale alcohol and nicotine on his breath. "There's a side alley around back, only one way in, so not good for drug deals. There's been screamin' at night – and I don' mean in pleasure."
"Screaming? And you didn't report it?" Tony asked, angry but knowing the answer. No one ever wanted to get involved.
"Not my business, and I ain't going down no alley without an escape route. That's why I'm still alive," Chico said hotly.
"Okay," Tony said, knowing it wasn't a winnable battle. "What about any military types from the Naval Surface Warfare Center? Any of them frequent this place?"
"I suppose some of 'em do. Not like they all wear uniforms over there, and a bunch of hotties in skimpy outfits are always going to attract a lot of dudes," Chico said, leering. "I hear there's some gambling in the back, too."
"Anything else?"
"That's all I got. I might practice light fingers outside, but I don' exactly look like the kind o' people they let inside," Chico said, rather haughtily.
"Thanks Chico," he said as McGee returned with a coffee and a small bag of groceries.
"I put a couple packages of Nutter Butters in there, as well. They're my favorite," Tim said, handing it over.
Chico took the bag, shrugging. "Too bad I'm allergic to peanuts, and it'll probably kill me," he said gloomily, inhaling the coffee.
McGee's face paled, his eyes opening comically wide as he reached to take the bag back. "I'm sorry! I didn't realize," he said, panicky.
Chico pulled the bag out of reach, chuckling. "He's really green, this one," he said.
Tony shook his head, amused. "He's pulling your leg, Probie."
Tim gaped, indignant.
"Which one blacked your eye this time, Dino? Thought I heard they cleaned that place out," Chico said.
"Walked into a door," Tony deadpanned. "Thanks for the info. You didn't see me."
"I didn't see nobody, and nobody saw me," he said, walking away drinking the coffee and whistling in between sips.
"What was that all about?" Tim asked, still disgruntled over Chico's bluff.
"Nothing. Come on, let's check the alley out back while the club is empty. Watch your six though," Tony said, removing his weapon as he began cautiously moving down the alley.
McGee followed closely behind. The alley was narrow and dingy, dark even though it was early afternoon. It widened at the end to a couple small, abandoned buildings, heavily graffitied with all the windows long broken. It smelled of stale urine and old garbage. Tony scrunched his face at the overpowering odor and beside him, McGee gagged, using the crook of his elbow to cover his face.
"Uh, what're we looking for" McGee asked, gasping.
Tony shook his head, not wanting to take a breath to speak. He cautiously stepped inside one of the buildings, carefully glancing around. There was dust and grime on the floor, but it was broken by footprints – a lot of footprints. There was another odor here, older, rotting. He knew that smell. Before he could say anything, his phone rang, the sharp, insistent trill breaking the silence, causing both he and McGee to startle.
Tony didn't recognize the caller ID, but he stepped outside to answer, taking a few steps away from the nauseating odors.
"DiNozzo."
"Agent DiNozzo, it's Eric Montague. I think you need to pick me up now," the caller said, sounding tense.
"Why? What's going on?" Tony asked.
McGee looked up sharply at the tone of Tony's voice.
"My CO noticed Paul wasn't here. When I said I hadn't seen him all weekend, he called the police and reported him missing. They're on the way here to ask some questions," Eric said.
"All right. We're five minutes from your location. Go down to the lobby, but don't go outside until we get there," Tony said, already turning and heading back toward the car.
"Tony, what's going on?" Tim asked, hurrying to keep up.
"We're picking up Lieutenant Montague now. I'm going to take you both to the train station and put you on the Amtrak back to DC. Takes about an hour and a half. I'll have Gibbs meet you at Union Station," Tony said, getting in the car and starting the engine. He peeled away from the curb before McGee had even shut the door.
"What are you talking about? I thought we were driving him back. What are you going to do?" Tim asked.
"I'm going to call the local PD and report the body we just left back there," Tony said.
