Ziva David sat in the dimly lit hull of the ship swaying with the motions, the sound of the engines humming in the distance as it made its way to Somalia. She was surrounded by Michael's Kidon squad, a group of highly trained operatives who had welcomed her with open arms and offered her the leadership position left vacant by their deceased teammate. It had been a day of intense preparation, and now they were finally underway, departing from Haifa, Israel on a 17-hour journey by boat to Port Sa'id, Egypt. As the ship navigated through the choppy waters, Ziva's mind began to wander. She thought about the mission ahead, reviewing the steps they would take before reaching their destinations. They would leave their ship shortly after docking and head in the middle of town to pick up their supplies. A Sayan, a Mossad helper, had volunteered to house them and feed them until the arrival of Damocles, the Jordanian freighter heading to eastern Africa. The intel they had received from Mossad indicating that their upcoming ship would stop at Berbera, Somalia, where a few containers would be transported to Bosaso and eventually make their way to Saleem's terrorist training camp. It was a complex operation, and Ziva knew that they had to be careful if they were going to succeed.
But as she sat in silence, reviewing the maps of the terrorist camp, Ziva's thoughts turned to her past. She felt a surge of anger and frustration, remembering how she had been pulled back into the world of Mossad by her father. She had tried to leave it all behind, to start a new life in America, but it seemed that she was destined to be a part of this world forever. The memories of her time at NCIS flooded her mind, and she couldn't help but feel bitter about the lies and pretenses of care that she had received from some of her colleagues. Tony, Gibbs, and Vance - they had all pretended to care about her, but in the end, they had just been using her for their own purposes. The thought of them filled her with a deep sense of resentment. But as she thought of Abby, she couldn't help but smile. Abby's exuberance and warmth had been a breath of fresh air, and Ziva had grown to appreciate her quirks and hugs. Jimmy, on the other hand, represented the innocence and optimism that still existed in the world. He was a reminder that there were still good people out there, people who genuinely cared about others. And when she thought of Ducky, she was transported back to her childhood, remembering the wise and smiling face of her elder, the warm greetings and the comforting cups of hot tea. But as she delved deeper into her mind, Ziva's thoughts turned to Timothy McGee. Thinking of him reminded her of simpler and happier time with her family. She remembered her mother, Rivka, and her sister, Tali, and the happy times they had shared. She thought of Ari and her Abba singing Shavat, of Hannukah and the laughter and smiles that had filled their home. She remembered the concern and care that had once been a part of her life, the sense of belonging that she had lost when she joined Mossad.
As the ship continued on its journey, Ziva rolled up her maps and took out her knife sharpener. She needed to focus, to concentrate on the mission ahead. She couldn't afford to lose her edge, not now, not when she was so close to justifying Michael's death. The saying in Mossad echoed in her mind - "Knives don't run out of bullets, but they can lose their edge." Ziva was determined not to let that happen, not when she had come so far and sacrificed so much. With a newfound sense of determination, Ziva began to sharpen her knife, the sound of the blade scraping against the sharpener filling the air. She was ready to face whatever lay ahead, to use her skills and training to complete the mission.
Back in the bustling city of Tel Aviv, Mossad Director Eli David sat in his office, surrounded by the trappings of power and the weight of responsibility. His eyes scanned the reports of intelligence collected by his Tzomet, the elite Intelligence and Counter-Intelligence operatives who worked tirelessly to gather information and carry out missions. However, his mind kept wandering back to the last few days and his first personal interaction with the NCIS team. Eli had severely underestimated the Major Crime Response Team, which frustrated him to no end. He couldn't believe that he had been outmaneuvered by a group of agents who were supposed to be inferior to his own highly trained operatives.
Anthony DiNozzo, the cocky and sarcastic agent, was a particular thorn in Eli's side. The young man was incredibly intuitive, able to guess with a high degree of certainty Eli's motives and intentions. For DiNozzo to be able to force the truth out of him in regards to Michael's missions in the U.S., pertaining to both Saleem's terrorist cell and his daughter, had been unexpected. Eli was tempted to kill him right there, in the interrogation room, but he couldn't afford a war with NCIS, especially not with Leon Vance, one of the few men in the world who knew him intimately.
Meeting Ziva's team leader, Marine Sniper turned Federal Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, had filled Eli with a sense of cold unease. Gibbs and he were extremely similar, in demeanor and in skills. He had immediately recognized Gibbs' ability to influence and manipulate others with words, and Gibbs had easily discerned the shrewdness of his mind. They were both men driven by duty and revenge, both respected and hated, having lost enough to kill a lesser man, and yet striving for a future, a destiny only they could see. In his mind, Leroy Jethro Gibbs was the only man alive whose threats he would take seriously. He could not afford to underestimate the veteran marine, who had seen and experienced things that would break a lesser man. There was a saying about being wary of old men in professions where the young die, and Eli couldn't help but think that it applied to Gibbs. Anthony DiNozzo and Leroy Gibbs' proficiencies with words had forced Eli at a disadvantage, making him more honest than he would have cared to be when talking to his once partner Leon Vance. He spoke of Saleem Ulman and his plans to kill him, and he spoke of the information collected by Michael Rivkin and the personal nature of his mission. After the men of NCIS left, Eli could think, he could understand how they were able to draw his daughter away from him, how they could get her to question her loyalty to him.
As he glanced at the picture on his desk, pictures of his three older children, Eli David was glad that he still had Ziva, that she was heading to Somalia to perform her Aliyah. Eli David didn't lose his daughter and never will, he thought to himself, trying to reassure himself that he still had control over the situation. Perhaps he would have lost her had he faced all the men of NCIS, including the youngest member of the MCRT, who was depicted in the Mossad profile as a full-fledged polymath, highly gifted and, trained by the right people, potentially more dangerous than even DiNozzo or Gibbs. Eli David returned to his report, thanking Yahweh for small mercies. He knew that he had to be careful, that he had to stay one step ahead of the NCIS team if he wanted to keep his daughter and protect his interests. He couldn't afford to underestimate them again, not when they had already proven themselves to be a formidable opponent. As he delved back into his work, Eli couldn't shake the feeling that he any fight against the Major Crime Response Team would be a long and difficult fight, one that would test his skills and his resolve to the limit.