Note: I'm back from a wonderful vacation, and I hope you're all still with me.
Chapter Ten
Kokomo
With a flourish and a sultry smile, Tony placed two drinks in front of the lovely ladies sitting across from him. They giggled and chorused their thanks, tucking a generous tip into his hand as he moved to the next customer. He was aware they were watching his backside as he walked to the other end of the bar. He'd worn the tight-fitting jeans for just that reason. Falling into his alias's life came easy, and he found he was enjoying it. The atmosphere was fun, and the scenery wasn't bad, either. He'd noticed that in the week since he'd started working, the female customers sitting at the bar had nearly doubled.
His employers had noticed it, too. They seemed quite pleased with his presence since the more women a club attracted, it guaranteed the men would follow. Tony was always up for playing to a crowd.
That's not to say he'd forgotten the real reason he was there, but he did like to exaggerate the flirting when either Sacks or Ziva was observing in the crowd. Needling them was so enjoyable. He could practically feel Ziva's eyes boring a hole into his back every time he focused on the women, and if one happened to slip a phone number into his pocket, well, that would just make steam blow out her ears.
There had been three card games in the back room during his week at the club, but they'd kept him well away from them. A pair of the waitresses were assigned to running drinks back and forth, so Tony wasn't able to overhear anything. He carefully observed those entering the room, however.
He'd worked undercover long enough to know that the first and most difficult step was always to earn the trust of his mark. It took skill and finesse – but most of all patience – to tweak circumstances in his favor. He always enjoyed playing the role. Hollywood didn't know what they were missing when he'd decided to enter law enforcement. It's why he generally approached undercover work with eager anticipation and a touch of anxious trepidation. Things could go pear-shaped in a hurry.
He knew he'd gone into this assignment with more anxiousness than he should, but he couldn't help dwelling on the fact that in the week he'd spent earning some trust, it was a week that Sully remained captive.
If he was still alive.
Tony had to tamp down on his instinct to rush. It wouldn't do Sully any good if he moved too quickly, but the thought of what they might be doing to his former mentor was keeping him up at night with a sick feeling of dread in his belly.
There was a homestyle diner not too far from the club where he'd made a habit of grabbing a bite to eat before his shifts. When necessary, Gibbs, Fornell, or Tina would meet him there covertly, so he could hand off the list of names he'd taken from credit card receipts. So far, there hadn't been a lot to go on. He could feel Gibbs' impatience growing – his boss never did waiting well – but he also sensed his concern.
He hoped Gibbs' gut wasn't telling him anything disastrous was coming. More likely, it was probably apprehension from previous undercover work Tony had done since joining NCIS. He did have a knack for getting into trouble. Just recently, he had the crap beat out of him when he'd been posing as a married assassin, and there was always that fubar when he'd been on the run with a serial killer. Of course, they hadn't known Jeffrey White was a killer then. The focus had been more on his partner, Lane Danielson, as the bigger threat.
Tony's palms grew slick just thinking about it. One of the two art thieves had drugged him the night he'd spent with them, and to this day, he didn't recall anything until he woke up the next morning. Usually, he didn't sleep deeply when he was undercover, and he never would've accepted a drink from Danielson if he could've avoided it. What escaped prisoner would turn down a shot after gaining his freedom though? Danielson waited there and watched him swallow.
Tony tried to convince himself that it was White who'd put the drugs in the booze in order to kill Danielson without Tony ever being the wiser. Still, it tickled at the back of his mind that it could've been Danielson who had other things in mind.
He shuddered, supposing he'd never know for sure, and it was better that way. He couldn't continue to do his job if he dwelled on a past mistake. Sully deserved more than that. He pushed the lingering disquiet from his mind, and focused on the here and now.
Another card game was scheduled. He'd seen a number of customers enter the room, including Vito Santino, the man Sully identified as a regular. Tony hoped he'd get the chance to slip inside. His employers had certainly relaxed around him due to the fact he was drawing in business. The owner of the club, Dave Barrows was also in-house, but Tony hadn't seen him re-emerge after he'd entered the back room.
"Hey, Cody, can you give me a couple towels? I spilled a drink," Lola Garcia, one of the waitresses asked, using his alias.
She looked flustered and rather harassed, wisps of wavy brown hair escaping from her ponytail. Lola tended to drop a lot of drinks, but she also was a big flirt, and the customers liked her. Tina warned him that Lola was close to Sully while he was undercover, so she was one to watch.
"Sure," he said, reaching under the bar yet coming up empty. "Hang on, I need to restock."
He jerked his head at one of the other bartenders, indicating he was going into the stockroom. Once inside, he reached up to a higher shelf in order to grab a large stack of hand towels. He nearly dropped them when he felt a hand cup his backside as he stretched to reach.
Lola had followed him.
"Did I tell you that you have a nice ass?" she asked, grinning impishly.
Tony could imagine the outrage on both Ziva and Sacks' faces and what they thought was happening in the stock room. As Tina's hand slid around his hip and came closer around front, Tony quickly turned and held the towels between them, giving her a few off the top of the stack.
"Do I now? Are you an ass-woman, L-O-L-A Lola?" he asked, leering.
"I can be anything you want," she purred, lowering her eyelashes. "I owe you one, anyway."
If he wasn't undercover, he might've appreciated the attention. There was something about her that didn't quite sit right, however. He suspected she was involved with the club's owner, but he often saw her leaving with customers. Just the night before, he'd stopped one who'd grabbed her arm and wouldn't let go despite her struggles. She'd been his best friend ever since. There was something going on with her, but he wasn't sure it was connected to their case.
"What the hell is taking you so long?" Matt Evans, the lead bouncer asked, storming into the stockroom. He was a huge, bulking hulk of a man with a jagged scar down one side of his face. "We've got a load of customers out there."
His eyes darted back and forth between Lola and Tony suspiciously. She still had her hand clasped possessively on his arm.
"I just needed a towel, and Cody reached them for me," Lola said nervously, taking her towels and scurrying out of the room, giving Matt a wide berth.
"Sorry, man," Tony said, shrugging while smirking guiltily.
Matt's demeanor relaxed, and he grinned. "Do it on your own time, man," he said.
Tony followed Matt back into the noisy bar. No harm in letting him think they'd snuck back there for a tryst; Tony could use that cover later if he got caught anywhere that he wasn't supposed to be.
As he retook his spot behind the bar, he noticed Ziva and Slacks conversing at the far end. Ziva's jaw clenched, but otherwise they kept their cover of bar patrons. As he continued to make drinks, Amused, Tony imagined the tirade Ziva would unleash upon after the night was through, particularly since he knew she'd seen Lola follow him into the stockroom. For a trained spy, she let her emotions rule far too easily.
Tony knew McGee was also somewhere in the crowd sinxw he'd seen him when they first arrived. Those three along with several other FBI agents had been rotating shifts so they had eyes on Tony every night. He knew that at least one of the agents inside the club would have an earwig so the agents stationed outside could alert them of any potential suspects entering. It had been a dull week, and he hoped it didn't mean the detail of agents were letting their guard down. He knew it tended to happen when progress slowed. The two at the bar were certainly paying close attention, however.
Although Tony had his issues with Ziva, he wasn't thrilled with Sacks as a back-up, either. It hadn't been all that long ago that the FBI agent stood outside Tony's cell, leaning against the wall, and taunting him about his predicament. Sacks was convinced he was guilty, and apparently, he really had a thing against dirty cops. He was elated after Tony was arrested, gleefully informing him of the gruesome fate of cops once they were incarcerated.
Tony was already stuck in his own head without Sacks' input after being locked up for two nights, and the taunting did nothing for his state of mind. He'd forever hold a grudge against the other agent for that. Thankfully, now that he'd been cleared and released, he had the whole wide-open future to torture the FBI flunky.
And he delighted in doing it.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the door to the back room close, and he figured the game had begun. He needed to find a way to get inside that room. Keeping an eye out, he worked his way down the bar, refilling drinks and charming the ladies. At last, he reached the end where Ziva and Sacks were seated. Sacks raised his glass, indicating he needed a refill. On the nights they were there, Tony gave them water rather than the vodka they ordered.
"Ready for a refill?" he asked cheerfully.
"We have been ready for quite some time, but it took you forever," Ziva said, enjoying the opportunity to give him a hard time.
"Sorry, ma'am – the bar is really hopping tonight, and I can only be one place at a time," Tony replied, fully aware how much Ziva hated being called ma'am.
Her eyes flashed furiously. The bar was crowded and noisy, so they most likely wouldn't be overheard, but Tony used their agreed upon code, letting them know he hadn't gained access to the back room yet.
"Yes, it is quite the crowd. Is there something special happening here tonight?" Ziva asked.
"Not that I'm aware, but people like to celebrate occasions," Tony replied, wiping the bar in front of them.
Pretending to pay for their drinks, Sacks put some money in Tony's hand, along with a small, black object beneath the bills.
"Yes, with the crowd it's hard to hear ourselves think," he said in a low voice, alerting Tony that Fornell had decided he wanted ears in the room.
Tony knew their patience wouldn't last for long. Both Fornell and Gibbs were results driven. He held up a few napkins, raising an eyebrow at Ziva.
"Yes, I'll take one, just stick it somewhere," she said, smirking.
Tony grinned. "I know just where I'd like to stick it," he said, waggling his eyebrows and moving away from them.
As he put the cash in the register, he palmed the small, unobtrusive device and slipped it into his pocket. It wouldn't do any good if he couldn't get into that room. Perhaps he could make Lola spill another drink and take her place serving them the next time she placed an order.
His opportunity came about an hour later when the owner, Dave Barrows emerged and strode purposefully toward the bar.
"Cody, we have quite a crowd tonight, and I need someone to man the bar inside the card room," he said.
Tony nodded. "I'm on it," he said, following Barrows back through the mystery door.
The room was better lit than the bar and filled with people around a large card table. There were stacks of poker chips stacked in front of the players. High stakes. Tony covertly calculated which players were winning and which were losing. He slipped behind a small drink stand and began filling orders. As he did, he noticed there was one man with whom Barrows was attempting to have an intense conversation, but he kept being interrupted by the man's date. She repeatedly tried to draw the other man's attention back to her with her inane chatter. Barrows was clearly frustrated with the interference.
Aside from the game at the main table, there were several other, smaller tables, most likely used for private conversations. He could see the bouncer, Matt Evans, arguing with a midshipman at one of them. He was leaning over the table with a fierce expression, intimidating the sailor. Looking sour, Vito Santini walked away from them both and rejoined the main table.
Tony didn't recognize the man Barrows was trying to engage from any of Sully's photos, but he instinctively knew why he'd been asked to come inside the room. He brought a drink over, leaning between the man and his date.
"Don't you look lovely tonight," he said, giving the woman his winningest smile.
Her eyes lit up from the attention, and she immediately fumbled with her purse, dropping it on the floor in her haste. Tony knelt down and picked up her scattered belongings. How did she manage to fit so much in such a small bag? While he was doing so, he succeeded in sticking the small listening device to the bottom of the table. The darkness of the wood camouflaged it perfectly.
"Here, it's all dirty. Let me wipe this down for you," Tony said consolingly, taking the purse and gallantly steering her toward the drink stand.
He made a show of wiping the dainty bag, chattering with her all the while. From the corner of his eye, he saw Barrows give him a slight nod.
Tony knew he couldn't leave the device there for long, but it would be easy enough to pull it off once it was time to clean up. It would be too risky to leave it considering it was the first time he'd been invited to the back room. That would be too much of a coincidence if it was discovered. Hopefully, Gibbs would hear something relevant tonight.
"I don't know why Pete insists on playing cards all the time. It's sooo boring," his vacuous guest pouted. Her lips were painted a bright red, and her wide blue eyes stared up at him beseechingly.
"I can't understand how he'd rather look at cards when he has someone as pretty as you to look at instead," Tony said, handing her back her purse.
She beamed. "I'm Stephanie. I haven't seen you here before."
"Cody, but you can call me Code Red," he said, winking. "I just started last week."
"Code Red, huh?" she asked, giggling. "That fits since you came to my rescue."
"Do you come to the card games often?" he asked.
"Not by choice. I'd much rather stay out in the bar and dance. Pete never wants to dance," Stephanie huffed.
"How'd you meet Pete?" he asked.
Tony kept one eye on the card table while distracting his chatty guest. He knew his excessive dating habits would come in useful one day. It wasn't as if he had to do much to entertain her. She talked non-stop – even more than him. All he had to do was nod and sympathize on occasion. As the night progressed, a few other patrons approached the bar stand, and Tony engaged them in conversation, including Stephanie as well. He could tell that Dave Barrows was pleased with his performance.
Hopefully, that would lead to future admittance into the exclusive back room.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Matt Evans leaving with the sailor, pushing him along if he faltered. There was no way Tony could get closer to that conversation, however, so he hoped Sacks and Ziva would take notice once they entered the main bar.
When closing time eventually rolled around, the card games came to an end. Stephanie gave Tony a peck on the cheek as her date finally paid attention to her again. He gave Tony a cold, calculating stare before the pair left the room without a look back. Tony's trained eye noticed the weapon that briefly flashed when Pete stood up.
"You did well. I appreciate the distraction so I could get some business done," Barrows said briefly, clapping Tony on the back. He turned and began guiding some of the other lingering guests from the room.
Picking up a damp towel, Tony wiped down the bar stand, then moved over to the gaming table, careful not to draw attention. While he wiped it down, he was able to surreptitiously reach underneath and grasp the listening device he'd planted there. Before he was able to slip it into his pocket, however, he felt a hand grasp his bicep.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Matt Evans asked, his hulking frame uncomfortably close.
Heart hammering, Tony remained outwardly calm, curling his fingers over the device. It felt as if it were burning a hole in his palm.
"Uhm… I'm wiping down the table," he said as if it were obvious.
"Not in here. Go out and take care of the main bar," Matt said gruffly. "Boss wants everyone out of this room."
Tony nodded, keeping the listening device concealed in his hand as he left. He felt Matt's eyes still watching him, so he took particular care not to hurry. Once he was back in the main bar, he released the breath he'd been holding. He could see that the customers had been cleared out already. He glanced over to the spot where Sacks and Ziva had been. They were gone, but he could see a handbag resting in the corner next to their empty bar stools.
He'd never seen Ziva use a handbag in the few months he'd known her, but he'd bet it was there so he could get rid of the listening device. Most likely, Ziva would return to claim her missing bag. The trick would be placing the bug inside unnoticed. As he began strolling towards it, one of the other bartenders noticed it and picked it up.
"Got another one," he said, moving toward the stockroom where they kept a box for lost and found items.
Tony continued in the direction he was going so he wouldn't raise any suspicion and began clearing bottles from several of the tables. He managed to slip the bug in his pocket, but he felt as if it was a beacon drawing imagined attention to his hip. He had to get rid of it. After he'd spent some time cleaning like the rest of the staff, participating in the after-hours chatter that typically happened while they prepared to close, he managed to slip inside the stockroom unnoticed.
Breathing out his rising tension, he pulled the listening device from his pocket. He found it ironic that such a small, unobtrusive device had the potential to wreak such havoc.
"Pete Warren," he said in a low voice before slipping the device inside Ziva's bag, giving them the full name of the gambler Barrows had been engaging. Stephanie gave him more info on her boyfriend, but he figured as long as they had the name, McGee could do a background check.
Tony smirked. "With the number of handbags I've held tonight, I should've had a role in Clueless," he mumbled.
Wanting to get back to the bar before anyone noticed he was missing, he moved quickly toward the door. Before he reached it, however, he heard a low moan coupled with a rough, scratching sound coming from behind some shelving.
He paused, his body on high alert as he tried to block the sounds from the bar and focus only on his immediate surroundings. A low groan filled the room.
Checking to be sure no one was about to enter the stockroom; he moved in the direction of the sound. As he rounded the corner of the shelving, he heard it again, and it sounded as if it was coming from the floor beneath a large, wooden, whisky barrel. Putting some muscle into it, he slid the heavy barrel out of the way. The outline of a trap door was revealed on the scuff-marked floor.
Glancing around cautiously, knowing his absence would be noticed at any minute, he pulled the handle and felt his heart drop into his stomach.
There was a set of decaying wooden steps leading down to some sort of wine cellar, and at the top of those stairs was the sailor he'd seen in the card room. He was bloody and beaten, and his fingers were rubbed raw from trying to get the hatch opened.
"Shit," Tony muttered, reaching down, and pulling the sailor out and to his feet.
The man couldn't support his own weight, and he leaned heavily against Tony's side, his head drooping. There was no time to explore what else was in the cellar, because he had to get the sailor out without being seen. If this was their next victim, he knew the man's fate, and he couldn't allow it to happen. He needed to facilitate an escape without blowing his cover.
Tony dragged the semi-conscious man across the floor to the back entrance, knowing it led out to the lot behind the club. He and McGee had canvassed the area before he'd even gone undercover. His labored breathing and the sailor's grunts sounded excessively loud in the stillness of the room.
Tony pushed the door open, cringing at the creak and getting a full blast of the icy air outside. He knew that if he went outside, the door would automatically lock behind him, and he'd be stuck. They'd both end up getting caught that way.
Reaching into the lost and found box that was on the shelf behind him, he grabbed a sweater. It belonged to a woman, but beggars can't be choosers. He wrapped it around the sailor's shoulders as best he could and shook him, bringing him around slightly.
"On your feet, Sailor," he barked, keeping his voice low but firm. "You're going to have to help rescue yourself. You need to walk across the lot and hide behind one of those cars. Help is coming. Can you do that?"
The sailor's eyes opened wide as he struggled to comprehend. His pupils were dilated, but he was used to taking orders. He nodded weakly, seeming to gather his strength. Feeling wretched for doing it, Tony pushed him out the door and shut it tightly behind him. He pushed the wine barrel back into place and again reached into the lost and found box to grab Ziva's purse. He fumbled around inside until he located the bug.
"Medivac needed behind club ASAP," he said urgently, dropping it back inside and hurrying back to the inside door.
Attempting to control his rapid heart rate, he peered around to ensure no one was looking, straightened himself, and emerged as casually as he was able. A pair of arms grabbed him instantly, pulling him around the corner towards the bathrooms and pressing warm lips against his own.
Tony wasn't known for being good undercover for nothing. He immediately realized it was Lola, and he began kissing her back passionately. Not a second later, Matt Evans came around the corner, spotting them once again.
"All right, you two – get a room. We'll finish up, but you'd better be ready to work tomorrow," he said, eyeing them both lasciviously.
He clearly thought he'd once again caught them in a tryst. Tony grabbed Lola's hand and quickly moved toward the front entrance. It would be good to get out of there before the missing sailor was discovered. By leaving while the bar was still full of staff, it put less suspicion on him.
They grabbed their coats and rushed outside into the wintery night air. Tony thought he was going to have to come up with some excuse to hold Lola off, but she surprised him by speaking first.
"You seem like a nice guy, Cody – don't let them put you in a position to owe them," she said seriously.
"Do you owe them?" he asked.
Her expression was incredibly sad. "We're even now," she said before turning and quickly walking away, her heels leaving spiky prints in the snow.
Tony watched her go, debating if he should follow. Something held him back, perhaps Tina's warning that she'd been one of those close to Sully. If she was responsible for his disappearance, she now knew Tony had been in the stockroom, and she already suspected he was up to something.
If she was in on whatever was going on, she'd learn about the disappearance of the captive sailor, and she could blow his cover. It was a huge risk, but one he thought worth taking. He didn't want to be pulled from the assignment, so he decided to keep their run-in to himself for now. He'd have to be on guard when he returned to work tomorrow night. With that, he began the short trek to the dingy apartment he was using for his cover. He never expected he'd be longing for the warmth and comfort of a Holiday Inn.
Note: Originally, Tony's undercover portion of the story was going to be more drawn out, but honestly, I got bored writing it. If I was bored, I think you would've been too. It ended up giving me a huge writer's block, and I wrote virtually nothing for the months of November and December. I suddenly had an epiphany that why don't I just skip it and summarize. Once I did that, the words just flowed again and the rest of the story practically wrote itself. If this chapter seems rushed, that's why.