He sat in the living room………..waiting. He heard the car draw up and the door slam He poured out a shot into the spare glass he had on the table, and smiled.
“Nice to see you Kort,” Gibbs had said as he entered the lounge, to see Trent’s feet on the coffee table, the bald head tanned in the late evening light, “One thing, all joints on tables in this house are usually carved.” As he brushed Trent’s feet from the table and switched the TV off.
“Thought you might need this?” Kort said in his half cockney accent.
“Glad to see you brought your own.” As Gibbs took the glass to his lips and sipped, “Duty free, you don’t get a Scotch like that here.”
“Gibbs, don’t let Dr. Mallard hear you call it Scotch, that is the best malt whisky Scotland has to offer, well in my opinion, The Laphroaig.”
“So what you want? And don’t give me the “I was passing” tone.” Gibbs replied removing his personal weapon from its holster, and placing on the table.
“We need to talk.” Kort replied, “Never did thank you for your assistance.”
“Do we? About what?” Gibbs questioned.
“Old times,…….and old friends.” Trent answered.
“We have no old times,……..or friends.” Gibbs answered.
“Oh no? You ever read that file on Director Vance?” Trent enquired
“Nope. Read the one on Duks. You said old friends?” Gibbs answered.
“Director Shepard.” as Kort sipped the malt.
“Jen?” Gibbs’ eye twitched, this was personal.
“Director Shepard and I go back a long, long way. Before, you were history Gibbs. Ever wonder how she got that boat? The one you, Dr Mallard and she escaped from France? Things never cross your mind about her father and La Grenouille?”
“The Frog? What’s he got to do with this.” Gibbs replied, things were serious.
“Everything, and nothing.” Trent continued, “Remember when you were acting Director? Enjoy the experience Gibbs?”
“Nope, but what are you leading up to?”
“Director went off radar. Off piste, want to know where she went?”
“Nope but you’re gonna tell me anyway.”
“Moscow…….nice place, but then you know that…….what was her name Stephanie…………Yes Director Shepard….gave her tickets to Moscow to visit a friend of her fathers.”
“What do you want Kort?”
“To talk……Callen sends his love.” Trent smiled as he sipped the whisky, “You knew him in Moscow too.”
“Callen, what has he got to do with conversation. Tell me Kort, what are you……where do you come from? You got a past, or did you just crawl from some slimy rock pool?” Gibbs asked.
“Gibbs, that’s not nice.” Trent replied.
“Maybe you emerged from a chrysalis then. Kort, where did you come from, what is your past?”
“You said you never read that file on the Director, so you want my life story?”
“May be interesting, but you got another bottle, it may be a long night. I’ll make some sandwiches.” As Gibbs rose and went to the kitchen. He watched as Trent poured another shot.
-oOo-
“Where do I start?” Kort smiled.
“Usually at the beginning, I find good.” Gibbs answered.
As Trent sipped the malt and watched the flames in the grating, he began, “You found out my name………well my fathers, Gavin O’Reilly.”
“Good Irish name, O’Reilly.” Gibbs added.
“My parents………well my father, was British Foreign Office. He had many postings, throughout what was the Commonwealth. Ever looked at an old world map and wonder why so many countries were pink? I was sent to boarding school………..Langley in Norfolk. The Broads. Not my happiest time of my life. One PT instructor, name of…………”
“Marcin Jerek?” Gibbs interrupted, “We got that from the file yes….”
“Gibbs…………. P.T. as children like to call it, “Physical Torture”, not Physical Education as girls so gently put. Yes Marcin Jerek………… aka Mr Pain. I excelled in languages…………mainly,” as he sipped the drink, “With my parents travelling, my fathers’ job.”
“Then what, Kort?” Gibbs now asked.
“Went to Oxford,……to study languages. Not that I needed but I always thought maybe a teacher.” Trent replied.
“So what happened?” Gibbs now questioned, as he stoked the fire, before sitting back down.
“Degree, a first……..Linguistics with European Politics, had to be really.” Trent continued.
“Glad you were first in something.” Gibbs replied sarcastically.
“Applied for the Foreign and Commonwealth Office…….” Trent continued, ignoring the remark, “Foreign Language Analyst, MI5, before moving to Intelligence…..”
“Sounds like an easy move to MI6.” Gibbs now added.
“Coming to that Gibbs…..don’t be impatient. More malt?” as he offered the bottle to Gibbs.
“Sandwich?” as Gibbs passed the plate smiling.
Trent smiled back, either the whisky was starting to talk, or the two men were beginning to relax in each other’s company.
“Was, spent time in Paris, and then Marseilles, the Consulates, before back to the Embassy in Paris. It was while I was in Marseilles I first met a young American Field Agent from NCIS. It was, as you so rightly said, an easy move to MI6. I had to prove myself. The British sent me to “spy” on an arms dealer by the name of…….”
“René Benoit?” Gibbs butted in.
“Yes…..your junior Agent…..one Jenny Shepard. She believed that Benoit had killed her father. That was the reason she joined NCIS, to track him down.”
“Don’t tell me,” as Gibbs sipped the drink and ate, “You got talking. You sleep with her?”
“Hell Gibbs…..I wouldn’t, she’s not my type……but then she was more yours. No I got information, I gave her information. You arrived in Marseilles, your stake out……….I watched from afar.” Trent added.
“Voyeurism, always knew you had a kink.” Gibbs smiled.
“Gibbs……purely professional,” Trent laughed, “No, I watched and waited until you went back to Paris….”
“Then the voyeurism?” Gibbs smiled.
“Your botched assignment…….I gave Jen the boat. I knew your Dr. Mallard too. We met in Gibraltar….before your body snatching antics.”
“You are well informed.” Gibbs now added.
“Gibbs…..you were also on your own in those days. But before I continue, may I use the boys room?”
“Trent, as you were in my home before I arrived, I’m sure you know where it is.” Jethro answered, as he watched Kort stand and make his way upstairs.
-oOo-
Trent returned and sat himself back down. “Know something wish I could rub my eye.”
“Itching in the stitching?” Gibbs enquired smiling.
“Something like that. Ever tell you I ran track at Oxford? Couldn’t do it now, but going back to Jerek. He couldn’t feel pain, just kept pushing us forward it was always the "Destiny of students to disappoint their masters" so to speak.”
“That what happened to MI6? Or did you just get bored?” Gibbs now questioned intrigued.
“Benoit, offered me a job……couldn’t very well turn it down. British Government said run with it….only trouble I liked it too much. I knew too much. There came a chance, I was seconded to CIA. There had been a big case going down, they needed a Brit……so…..”
“You swopped one Langley for another.” Gibbs smiled.
“Very witty Gibbs, very dry…….but yes. Also I was now on the payroll of Benoit. The British and the Americans wanted to know as much as they could. They opened a training facility, that would be the Black Ops……Frankenstein…..it was called,” as he sipped the amber nectar, “but we know that now. Basically it was set up to protect wealthy foreign leaders, or anyone who had the money. I knew Jerek. He actually called me, wondered if we needed assistance. He said he could help. We said yes…….but his methods were just that little bit OTT. That was when he told me about Dr Mallard.”
“How did Duks name come up?” Gibbs now asked.
“Your Director Vance….Leon…..but he wasn’t Director then, he was still a field agent trying to make his name. Now we know he did. You really should read that file on Vance, but continuing…..Jerek told us of methods he used in Afghanistan, how he had used physiological mind games on a young British Doctor of the name of….”
“Dr Donald Mallard.” Gibbs answered, staring into the embers of the fire.
“Yes, that was before Dr Mallard came to the States and decided to retrain as a ME. We did kind of help him…..that would be MI6 and the CIA.” Kort continued smiling, “Although I was only 12 at the time.”
“So how did you come to know Callen?” Gibbs now enquired.
“When Vance was over in L.A. got a call from Ms Lange she wanted me to continue the operation I was leading. A former Iranian Intelligence Officer was looking for the millions that vanished. He wanted to buy weapons to retake Iran……..but now Iran has nuclear power but it is still in its infantile state. That makes the country even more dangerous.” Kort continued, refilling the two glasses.
“Going back to Paris. You were there, you gave Jenny the boat? Dr Mallard he came up from Gib.” Jethro continued. “I got arrested, but let off on a technicality, but that would be CIA intervention.”
“Actually no, MI6. I told Jen to make her way to Calais, and the Café Folkestone, she would find someone who would lend her the boat. Knew you could sail so no problem there. I just didn’t envisage Dr Mallard pushing the local Gendarme off the cliff. But you made it to Folkestone eventually and then London.” Trent continued, sipping the whisky.
“So then what, you hitch a ride to back to America and Frankenstein” Gibbs asked.
“Yes and no……….I needed to see how the facility was going, but then Vance had taken over……..well him and SecNav…….they were going to expand……..I wished them luck and returned to the Med. Morrow went on to become Deputy Director of Homeland Security, ever wonder why…….he never got on with the CIA you know, it was one of the Agencies he hated. He still plays golf on a Thursday you know.”
“He ever get his handicap to Scratch?” Gibbs smiled, “He did invite me once for lunch,……never did go.”
The two men fell silent, Gibbs he was thinking back to Paris, he tried to remember if he had seen Kort there.
-oOo-
“Trent, this wasn’t really a social call was it? I mean, am I on your Christmas card list?” Gibbs now enquired.
“Gibbs, I don’t send cards….but I might in this instance. I’m going to Tel Aviv…….I know, didn’t tell Ziva. Her father and I have unfinished business. I also have to take Ray Cruz………..in hand so to speak. Lets’ just say he is becoming unreliable.”
“And you always were?” Gibbs now asked.
“I never let down the person I was working for……………unless you mean "Le Grenouille", yes he was becoming tiresome………..he had outlived his usefulness………..to whom Gibbs? Everyone. He knew he was on someone’s hit list. He just didn’t expect the CIA.”
“And Director Shepard?”
“Her gun yes………..she gave it to him remember, but who did fire the shot………case closed I think. Now there is something I want to say…………I have no family, no friends………..only acquaintances and enemies. In Britain, they may have no legal definition, but I want you to be my Next of Kin. You don’t really have to do anything, just if anything should happen to me…………..”
“I just sign the paperwork?” Gibbs added.

“Got it in one.” Kort replied, “So I take it you will…..will” as Trent smiled, “Do that for me?”

“Kort……yes. When do you leave?” Gibbs now asked.

“There is a flight out of Bolling in the early hours of the morning. A USAF flight, to Germany, Ramstein Air Base, then I’ll catch a flight to RAF Akrotiri in Cyprus. I have friends who have a fast boat to somewhere in the coast…….Tell you what I’ll text you.” Trent smiled. “One last thing Gibbs……you can keep the malt……..you may need it when you read that file on Vance. As Kort rose. Gibbs stood, he would have loved, to have just sat there and let Trent walk, but he, Gibbs still had manners.
As he looked at Trent, all he could say was, “Bon voyage, safe journey.” As he saw Trent smile, drain his glass, turn and walk to the door.

“I’ll call you when it’s over Gibbs.” As Kort opened the door and walked out into the night.

The End.