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Chapter Twenty-Nine

Thriller

"Gibbs, with me," Tobias Fornell barked, leading the way toward the conference room.

Puzzled, Gibbs rose from his borrowed desk and followed the FBI agent. He stared expectantly rather than asking, knowing Fornell would spill whatever was going on.

"Local PD found a gun in an ally last night," Fornell said. "It matched the ballistics on the weapon used to kill Matt Evans."

"Registered?" Gibbs asked.

Fornell shook his head. "It was reported stolen about three years ago in New York City, but it had connections to several of the arms dealers who Barrows and Warren supposedly have connections."

That wasn't surprising. Although their suspects hadn't been using firearms until recently, the team already knew about their connections in the arms dealing market.

"Why didn't you just say that?" Gibbs asked, annoyed.

There was no need for a conference room for that bit of information. There was nothing confidential about it.

Fornell shrugged. "I just like to order you around and watch you following my lead."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, frowning as he went back to his desk, Fornell's laughter ringing in his ears. As expected, the Medical Examiner confirmed that Evans' death was due to a GSW to the back, missing his spine and hitting his heart. The killer knew how to use a gun.

Of the four suspects, they determined Sonny Warren was most likely the culprit. His previous conviction included assault with a deadly weapon. Ziva and Sacks were out canvassing the area where Evans body was found to see if anyone recognized his picture. McGee was checking the limited security footage available, and Abby returned from NCIS with the requested evidence successfully retrieved.

For her safety, Gibbs didn't want her to bring it back to the Philadelphia office, so he arranged to meet her at the hospital. He didn't really think Ziva would do anything to Abby, but Abby might alert Ziva they were up to something. Gibbs also hoped letting DiNozzo be somewhat involved would alleviate his building restlessness. Tony never did hospital stays well, and the longer he was able to stay awake, the more he complained about being confined.

Gibbs left Abby visiting with Tony while he returned to the office to hand off the cassette and flash drive to Tina. He'd also filled Fornell in on what they were attempting to do. Surprisingly – to Gibbs, at least – Fornell took the news in stride and offered his assistance with anything they needed. He showed no reluctance to believe Ziva was involved in something nefarious.

"She has a bad attitude, and her whole position seems fishy. Why does NCIS need a Mossad liaison? That sounds like something better suited for NSA."

When Gibbs called him on it, enquiring why he'd never mentioned anything, Fornell simply said it was none of his business. He didn't have to work with her.

Someone definitely slipped snarky pills into his morning coffee.

Since he was in the office anyway, Gibbs thought he'd get some work done on the case while also keeping an eye on Tina. If she discovered anything important in Tony's evidence, he wanted to be the first to know about it. And… truth be told, he needed a break from DiNozzo. The younger man was fed up with both the hospital and his injuries. He rebelled at any assistance that made him look weak, but he wasn't nearly ready to be released. He was trying to hide his exhaustion and how little he was eating, yet it was impossible not to notice. The alarming sound of his wheezing brought back disturbing memories of blue lights and helplessness that made Gibbs feel uncomfortable. DiNozzo didn't want to hear the medical reasons why he needed to stay in the hospital.

Not that Gibbs could blame him for how he felt – he'd be the same way – had been the same way on numerous occasions when he'd been the injured party. Still, it didn't make DiNozzo's surly attitude any easier to be around.

Abby would have more patience with him, and the last thing DiNozzo needed right now was Gibbs' boot up his ass because his admittedly short patience fuse had been pushed as far as it could go.

He became involved in assessing the known facts of their case when his phone rang. He automatically picked up the landline on his desk before realizing the ringing was coming from his pocket. Reaching inside, he pulled out his cell phone and managed to answer before the caller hung up.

"Gibbs."

"Gunny – this is Commander Greg Fisher from the USS Delaware. We have a mutual friend who directed me to you."

As soon as the Delaware was mentioned, Gibbs was instantly on high alert. "Who would that be, Commander?"

"Major John Schrager. He and I go way back, and he said you would be the one to talk to if I thought I had something where NCIS should be involved," the Commander replied.

Gibbs recognized the name. "We served together in Kuwait. What can I do for you?"

"I called the Navy yard, but I was told you were away on a case. I hope you don't mind that John gave me your number, but I have something of a… delicate nature to discuss," Fisher said.

"And what's that?" Gibbs asked, suspecting he already knew.

"One of my sailors came to me, troubled. He said he'd been contacted by another sailor that he'd once served with, and this man asked him if he'd be interested in getting back at someone in the Navy who'd done him wrong," Fisher said.

"Getting back how, sir? Gibbs asked, his body tensing.

"My man nixed the offer, but he was unclear about the details. He said he suspected this former sailor was going to cause some harm," Fisher replied.

"I have a hard time believing you didn't press for more, Commander," Gibbs said sternly.

"I did press, Gunny. My sailor insisted he didn't know the details, but it had something to do with a weapon system. When he began to get nervous, the other man disengaged from the call, so he never got the full story," Fisher replied.

"I need this sailor's name," Gibbs demanded.

"I don't know if there's anything to it, and I wanted to see if NCIS has heard any scuttlebutt before I get this sailor in a bind," Fisher said.

"Commander, we have intel that there is an imminent threat to a Navy vessel. I need his name. Now!" Gibbs said.

"Seaman First Class Deion Robinson. He's on leave at the moment. He came to me with this yesterday before disembarking," Commander Fisher answered immediately.

"I'll find him," Gibbs said.

"Do you know which ship? Was it this one?" Fisher asked, concerned.

"Keep your eyes open, and all security measures in place, Commander. I'll be in touch," Gibbs said, disconnecting the call.

There was no need to cause a panic on the Delaware, it would only alert their perpetrators that they knew about the contact. This marked the first time they'd managed to get a step ahead of Barrows and Warren, and Gibbs wanted to keep it that way. Still, he'd given the Commander enough to note anything suspicious and report it without delay while also quietly watching for any sign of trouble.

"McGee!" Gibbs shouted to his agent, who was sitting at a desk across the squad room.

McGee jumped, and he met Gibbs eyes warily, his face paling. He'd been skittish since the whole FUBAR at Vault Tavern.

"I need a location on Seaman First Class Deion Robinson, stationed on the Delaware," he said.

Fornell's head shot up as he listened.

"Sure thing. How soon do you need it?" McGee asked, busy with the other search.

"Yesterday," Gibs snapped.

McGee swallowed convulsively but nodded, his fingers flying over the keyboard. "On it, Boss."

"What's going on, Jethro," Fornell asked.

"I think Sonny Warren contacted him," Gibbs said.

"Because he needs someone on the ship to sabotage the weapons system," Fornell said, deducing what Gibbs hadn't said.

They'd previously discussed this likelihood, but they hadn't been able to pinpoint which one of Warren's old shipmates might be an accomplice. They'd suspected he already had someone willing to betray his country or at least someone who also bore a grudge. Maybe he assumed everyone was as disgruntled as him.

"Got it, Boss. His family home is in Richmond, Virginia, and his cell phone pings as being there. He was written up several years ago for conduct unbecoming, but his record has been clean since," McGee said.

"Richmond's about a four-hour drive," Fornell said. "Up for a road trip? FBI has a satellite office there. We can have them pick him up," Fornell said.

"No. I don't want him tipped off, and I want to question him myself," Gibbs said.

"They can put the house under surveillance until we get there, then," Fornell said.

Gibbs sighed, wishing Robinson lived closer to Philadelphia. He wouldn't get back until very late.

"McGee, go stay with DiNozzo until I return. Don't leave until I do."

"Yes, Boss," McGee said, already beginning to pack up his laptop.

"You driving or am I?" Fornell asked.

Gibbs scowled and ignored the question.

"Right," Fornell said, handing Gibbs a set of keys. "With you behind the wheel, we can probably make it in three."

"Two and half," Gibbs replied.

/* /* /* /*

Tina looked up when Fornell poked his head inside her office to inform her that he and Gibbs were traveling to Richmond. She'd been sequestered at her desk for most of the day, attempting to find any incriminating evidence that Ziva might've hidden on her laptop. She had one of her brightest and most trusted employees in the tech department aiding her, attempting to decrypt some of the files Tina already located.

Since she didn't speak Hebrew, she'd given the recording Agent DiNozzo made to one of her former colleagues from when she'd still been a practicing Psychologist. They'd worked in the same building and were friendly at the time. As often happens with old work friends, the distance and lack of common experiences caused them to drift apart. She still saw him at the occasional conference or funeral of a colleague, but nothing that would turn up should anyone be digging into her life.

When investigating a Mossad officer, one couldn't be too careful, and she didn't want to put anyone in harm's way. Her colleague was retired now, but he'd been delighted to have something to work on. All that was left to do was wait.

Tina was impressed by Agent DiNozzo's thoroughness, and the precautions he'd taken to keep his findings hidden. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd consider jumping ship once this case was finished. NCIS didn't sound as if it was managed all that well, and with the level of betrayal DiNozzo had experienced, he might need to get away. She hoped she could lure him into accepting an offer here in Philadelphia. Investigators who could think outside the box were a rare and valuable breed.

When she'd tentatively broached the idea to Fornell, he mentioned that he'd also offered him a position once before, but DiNozzo scoffed at joining the FBI. Of course, Fornell and Gibbs were clearly… friendly. Most likely it would be awkward to work for one and then the other, and Agent Gibbs didn't strike her as one to accept a defection lightly.

When the MCRT first arrived in Philadelphia, Tina couldn't understand why Agent DiNozzo respected the gruff, older man so much, but he clearly did. Once DiNozzo was threatened, however, she could see that Gibbs cared about his people – DiNozzo in particular. That didn't mean they had to work together for life, however. Tony could do very well at the FBI.

Her phone rang, interrupting her musings. Actually, the phone didn't really belong to her. She'd borrowed it from lock-up. It was a burn phone from a previous bust. They'd all used them when they didn't want a number to be traced, but she didn't actually sign this one out. Again, she didn't want to leave any trace for Mossad to find before they were ready.

"What did you find?" she asked.

The only two people who had this number were her former colleague, and Casey down in Tech.

"Hey, I managed to get into one of the files. It's an email thread between your suspect and an Eli David at Mossad," Casey said, sounding rather gob-smacked. "He's the director."

Tina hadn't filled her in on exactly who they were investigating when she gave her the assignment, only that it was need to know, and it was of the highest priority. One of the reasons she'd chosen Casey for this job was her ability to remain discreet.

"What does it say?" Tina asked, her heart rate increasing.

"It seems to be several large files being transferred. Those files have encryption like I've never even seen. It's going to take me longer to get through it than I estimated," Casey said.

"So… we've got nothing," Tina said, feeling let down.

"Not exactly. Do you know who Agent Caitlyn Todd is?" she asked.

Fornell filled Tina in on how Ziva came to be placed on the MCRT, so she recognized the name.

"Yeah, she was a former agent who was killed in the line."

"Apparently, this Eli David ordered the hit," Casey replied.

Tina reared back into her chair, processing. So, not only had Ziva convinced the director of NCIS to place her on the prestigious MCRT, her father created the spot that needed filling. Tina couldn't imagine Agent Gibbs would take that well.

"Document everything and keep it secure. Let me know when you find anything else. I'm going to reiterate – this is to remain in the strictest of confidence. Speak to no one but me concerning any of it. Is that clear?" she asked, concerned for Casey's safety.

"Clear. I'm having fun. I love digging into this stuff, and this is some of the best I've ever tried to crack," she said, sounding like the eager, excitable young woman she was.

"That's because the people behind it are some of the most dangerous we've ever seen," Tina muttered.

/* /* /* /*

Tony padded around his hospital room, tugging the stupid IV pole with its attached oxygen tank, bored out of his mind. He wanted out of this hospital, and he wanted out now. Today.

Realistically, he knew he wasn't ready, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. His chest remained consistently heavy and tight, bringing on that panic-inducing feeling when he couldn't catch his breath. It was all too familiar for comfort and made the hospital feel like a prison.

There was a stool in his shower. A damn stool – like for an old person or an invalid. What made it even worse – no matter how determined he was not to use it – he couldn't get through a full shower without his legs shaking and little spots appearing in his vision so he had no choice.

The last time the doctors were in, his oxygen level had actually been down, instead of up. He'd tried to tune out their words after that, but the gist was that they were considering a second surgery.

Although his kidney was recovering nicely, and his bones were mending, the doctors were concerned that the rib which punctured his lung was still causing some unneeded pressure. It wasn't necessarily dangerous, as the rib was strengthening, but his already damaged lungs were making them jittery.

Tony had lost count of the number of medical students who attended rounds in order to learn from his case. It was just his luck to be brought to a teaching hospital. He'd phoned Keshawn to thank him for his help and to catch up once he'd regained consciousness. Gibbs told him how essential Keshawn's actions were. Tony was happy to hear how well the once-troubled youth was doing; he'd been in a really bad situation once upon a time. It was good to see some of his former efforts weren't in vain and that at least one thing he'd done here made a difference. It was why he liked being a cop. He wished Trixie's story could've turned out just as well. He asked Keshawn to get her a message, but the young man regretfully told him that Trixie hadn't been seen since Tony's rescue.

It was a familiar pattern with her – she always disappeared after one of their encounters, whenever he tried to intervene or to get her some help. Sometimes, no matter how much you wanted to fix it, the one in trouble needed to want help. Keshawn did. Trixie didn't. It was a lesson he struggled with to this day.

Still, he was glad he'd thought to call Keshawn earlier. Right now, he just might berate the kid for bringing him to this particular hospital. They were driving him insane.

They wanted him to stay in bed – all the time. Tony simply wasn't built that way. So, at meal times, when whoever was staying with him went out to get something more palatable, leaving only his FBI guard stationed at the door, Tony would get up and attempt several laps around the room – as many as his lungs would allow. It was the only way to relieve some of his pent-up energy. Thank God Abby was kind enough to bring him a pair of dorm pants so his ass wasn't hanging out for all to see – even if they were covered with fanged snakes and skulls.

Sheepishly, he knew the exercise was the reason his oxygen levels dropped. They'd come in to do the test right after he'd finished another impromptu workout – but he couldn't tell them that.

Tony knew they were overreacting with talk of a second surgery. His lungs were working extra hard, but there was nothing wrong. Just as he'd already known well before Brad came into Isolation that something was seriously wrong with him, he knew this time it was only because he was pushing it.

He needed to move, or he'd lose his mind. Pacing relieved some stress and had the added benefit of tiring him out enough to build a little bit of an appetite. That way, he could choke down a few morsels. His minders tended to get twitchy, otherwise. Abby even threatened to call Ducky to have him monitor Tony's food intake.

Tonight, Gibbs called to say McGee was on his way to take a shift. At least Tim usually brought video games so they had something to do, but he wondered why Gibbs wasn't coming. He always enjoyed down time with his boss when the rigid man would let his guard down a little, but after so many days with just the two of them, even Tony was running out of things to talk about. Gibbs was perfectly content to sit in silence, ever vigilant of potential danger. The long silences grated on Tony's nerves, though.

Of course, everything grated on his nerves lately. He was in a really bad mood, and the only thing that would make it better was to get out of this place. He'd sent Abby to get some Chinese food for dinner. He wasn't hungry, but he had an ulterior motive. The restaurant was the furthest distance from all the other take-out spots, so it gave him a little more time to regroup and get his steps in. Maybe his pacing would put him in a better mood.

When he reached the window, sweat rolling down his back, chest tight, and ridiculously winded, he turned to take another lap. A brief flicker of movement caught his attention. Ziva stood in the doorway, motionless, her dark eyes silently observing him, as if measuring an opponent.

His FBI guard stood behind her, peering into the room questioningly, looking to see if Tony was all right with this visitor. Curious why she was here, he nodded minutely, indicating she could stay. Gibbs was going to kill him. The guard stepped back into place outside the door.

It was reckless, but that's exactly how Tony felt.

"Why are you… here?" he asked in lieu of a greeting.

There was no need for faked cordialities. He'd told Gibbs his suspicions, along with the fact he'd never be able to trust Ziva to have his back again. He knew Gibbs wouldn't send her, so this was her idea. It raised the hackles on the back of his neck, but his curiosity, too.

"I came to check on my partner. You are up and about, I see. Why are you still here?" she asked, her eyes roaming over the room, checking each crack and crevice.

"Oh, so I'm your… partner, now, huh? How conveniently… you seem to… switch that on… and off," he replied, wishing he didn't look so God-damned weak, gasping and hanging onto the fucking IV pole.

Ziva frowned, seemingly puzzled by his hostility. "We are partners, yes? Both members on Gibbs' team," she said.

"The MCRT," Tony clarified.

"Which is Gibbs' team," she said, and he could read the first flicker of annoyance.

She really was too easy to rile. For Mossad, she had absolutely no control over her emotions – and it could be used against her.

He shrugged. "At the moment."

"What is that supposed to mean? You think you would be better? That is laughable. There is no one better to lead the team than Gibbs," she said, glaring at him through half-lidded eyes.

"I mean, that's true… now, but once Gibbs… retires or moves on, the MCRT… will remain. It's the… constant. Not any… of us," Tony replied, as if the thought of Gibbs no longer being there didn't tighten his chest even worse.

He leaned casually against the edge of the bed for support. At least, he hoped it looked casual. His side was throbbing, as if molten-hot flames were licking at his insides. He really didn't have the energy to deal with her after exercising. He struggled to keep his voice steady despite the fact he couldn't catch his breath. He didn't want her to realize how bad off he was, but he couldn't resist the temptation to rile her up. She'd sold him out, and he wouldn't soon forget it.

"I am a part of the team. Gibbs wants me here, and I have no intention of going anywhere," she said, narrowing her eyes and raising her chin.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Right. You're here… because you were… forced on us – you were never… one of Gibbs… recruits like the rest… of us–"

"Gibbs and I share a connection that you can never hope to have," she said interrupting hotly.

He sighed, so weary of her superiority. "You've been playing… your power games, trying to assert… your dominance since… you got here. No one is… buying it, Ziva. You're simply… a piece of the puzzle, no more, no less, so… get over yourself."

"You are jealous," she spat.

"Of what? Why would I be?" he asked.

"You cannot stand the fact that Gibbs trusts me and appreciates my vast skills," she said, nearly spitting.

"You mean killing… and torture? Yeah, you've got me… beat there. Those skills… aren't required in… Criminal Investigation, funnily enough," Tony said, smirking because he knew it infuriated her when he made fun of her training.

It was probably foolish to antagonize a Mossad assassin, but he really didn't care. It was mostly her fault that he was stuck in this hospital feeling miserable in the first place.

"You better be careful, Tony. You are already useless on this investigation. It will not take much for Gibbs to notice how unnecessary you really are," she said.

"And that's your… real game, isn't it? Unfortunately for you, Gibbs knows… I'm the only one… with actual investigative… experience on this team," he said, well aware that as he taunted her, she was gradually inching across the room, coming closer and closer to where he stood – well, where he leaned.

His knife was hidden beneath his pillow, out of reach, but he could always call the guard if needed. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction, though.

"You are useless. A dead weight that he feels a ridiculous allegiance. The longer you remain hidden away, out of the picture, the quicker he is realizing your inefficiency," she said, gloating.

Tony smirked insolently. "You keep telling… yourself that, sweetheart–"

"I would never condescend to be your sweetheart. You are nothing," Ziva interrupted, fuming.

"You really do have… an inflated sense of… self-importance, don't you, sweetheart? I can… only imagine how intolerable… it must be that Gibbs has… actually been … concerned, giving his time to me… rather than the case," he taunted, knowing Gibbs continued absence – to be with him, no less – had to be driving her insane.

She physically jerked as if struck. He watched as she clenched her fists, posture tense, her dark, furious eyes continuing to scan the room as she'd been doing all along. He'd noticed that she seemed particularly interested in his window, but he needed to wait until after she left to find out what caught her attention.

She was really enraged, but he didn't think she'd risk attacking him in a crowded hospital with plenty of witnesses – never mind the guard right outside the door. She'd be sneakier than that. She'd think such a blunt show of force would be beneath her vaunted Mossad training. Once he was released, he'd definitely have to remain on high-alert.

She'd had enough of him. Maybe she'd decided dividing wasn't working – she needed to conquer.

"Ziva! What are you doing here?" McGee asked from the doorway, his eyes widening in surprise.

The tension left Ziva's body as if someone pulled a plug. She stepped back, her hostility retreating as she pasted a fake smile on her face. Tony wasn't fooled, he could still see the deadly intent behind her eyes.

"I just stopped by to check on Tony. He has been out of commission for a long time, no?" she asked.

McGee's eyes darted nervously between the two. "Gibbs asked me to check on him. He's gone to question a sailor aboard the Delaware who's currently on leave," he said.

Both Tony and Ziva's started at this news.

"What sailor? Why was I not informed?" Ziva asked.

"Where did he get the lead?" Tony asked at the same time.

McGee hesitated before choosing to answer Tony first. "He got a call from the XO aboard the Delaware. Apparently, this sailor came to him with some concerns."

"Where is Gibbs?" Ziva asked.

"He's on his way to Richmond, Virginia with Fornell," Tim said.

Ziva nodded curtly, and without another word, she stormed from Tony's hospital room.

"What was that all about?" Tim asked.

"She's playing… her superiority… games again. She wasn't… happy that I… wasn't playing… along," Tony said.

He pulled himself off the bed, intending to check the window, but his legs had other ideas. He wobbled and would've tumbled if Tim hadn't reached over to steady him. His legs felt like jelly.

"Tony, you need to sit down," Tim said nervously, guiding him to the side of the bed. "You're trembling."

"Sorry, McGee, you're not… my type," Tony quipped, attempting to cover his embarrassment.

He could barely support his own weight, and his entire body was damp with sweat. He hated appearing so weak in front of McGee, but at the moment, the exhaustion was tugging at him so strongly he could barely keep his eyes open.

"I'm back, and I got you your favorite – Tim! What are you doing here?" Abby asked, stopping short, a large bag of Chinese take-out dangling from her hand.

"Oh, Chinese! I'm starving. Is there enough for me?" Tim asked happily.

If he wasn't hungry before, Tony was even less so now. Any energy he'd had earlier was expended on Ziva's visit. Despite his show of confidence, some of her words hit their mark. He'd been away for a while, and his recovery would take more time than he wanted, no matter how hard he pushed. Gibbs wasn't big on patience, and he'd need someone to replace him until he could return to active duty. Tony was used to being pushed aside, and that inner insecurity was gnawing at him.

He collapsed into bed, breathing heavily, his eyes drooping against his will.

"Tony – you're really wheezing," Abby said, concerned. "Why are you all sweaty?"

She dropped the food on one of the empty chairs and went over to check that his oxygen tube wasn't kinked. Tony wanted to reassure her, but he couldn't get the words to form. He just needed to shut his eyes for a moment. He wasn't even aware as the voices of his team faded and the darkness overwhelmed him.