Part 1.
It had been a long flight from London, sleep was a distant memory and coffee was an essential traveling companion. John Drake disembarked from the airplane and located his minimal baggage. The airport had been a complete mad house and the taxi driver was a deeply unhappy person. His attitude had been strongly reflected in his tip.
After showing his ID to the security guard at NCIS HQ he had been directed to the office of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Thus far the conversation was not going well.
He was standing in front of Gibbs' desk with a look of total disbelief on his face.
"What the hell use have I got for British Intelligence?" asked Gibbs.
"Perhaps your superiors feel that British Intelligence is better than none at all?"
Behind Drake both Tim McGee & Tony DiNozzo looked at each other and sought cover behind their desks.
Gibbs smiled very slightly, looked at Drake and said, "Look, I have all the help I can deal with at the moment. But if you want to help us there is a parallel agency in this building that could profit from your help." Picking up a pen Gibbs scribbled on a piece of paper. "Go see her, tell her what you told me, if you include the last part I'd duck if I were you."
Drake stood wondering if this was some sort of joke.
"DiNozzo! What have you got for me?" Gibbs barked. Pausing, he looked at Drake. "You still here?"
"No, I suppose not," answered Drake picking up his hold all and heading for the elevator.
As the elevator door opened, Dr Mallard walked almost headlong into Drake.
Ducky looked at Drake, "John? John Drake? I haven't seen you for…too long." Clasping Drake by the hand and shaking it vigorously, he asked, "What the devil are you doing here?"
Drake, unable to hide his pleasure at seeing an old friend, briefly explained, "Those higher up sent me to assist NCIS in the tracking down of one Ari Haswari."
"That bastard..." adds Ducky.
"Yes, I am aware of his reputation and many other things about him. But Special Agent Gibbs feels that my help is surplus to requirements and has sent me off to something called ‘NCTC'?"
"National Counterterrorism Centre, headed by Gillian Roberts." Ducky translated. "They have an office in this building you know."
"Yes, well I'm going to check in there now. Then report to my home office, to see what they think. Perhaps we could catch up later Ducky, some real food and a drink perhaps?" Drake handed Ducky a card and rushed to the elevator before the doors closed again.
Moments later he walked into an open plan office. There were two young female agents working at their desks, one with a stuffed duck on her desk.
"Um, excuse me, who is in charge here? I have a letter of introduction…" The women looked at each other then at Drake
"I'll understand if you don't want me around, but you could read my letter then tell me to PO and I will." Putting his bag down, he handed the letter over and waited for a response. Lack of sleep and jet lag were doing their work in unison.
Since Drake had come direct from the airport no arrangements for accommodation had yet been made and the last coffee he had drunk was on the airplane. In short he felt like he could sleep on the edge of a razor blade, since sleep did not appear to be an option any where.
"Ok, I'll let you two discuss what to do about me in private." He said shifting uneasily from one foot to another. "Can you tell me where I can find a decent large cup of coffee? And a phone or computer I could use? Would you two like coffee?"
He felt like a schoolboy that had just asked the teacher if he could be excused.
After receiving instruction as to the location and formulation of coffee required Drake made for the elevator, which proved to be a very good place for meeting people. As he entered he found himself face to face with a vision of Goth loveliness and for once in his life he was almost speechless.
"Hi, I'm John Drake." He said as smoothly as he possibly could.
"Oh, you're Ducky's friend." She said.
"Err yes, you have me at a disadvantage. You are?" he enquired, entranced.
"I'm Abby Sciuto." She introduced herself brightly.
"It is a very great pleasure to meet you, very great." The elevator stopped and the doors opened.
Drake found it almost impossible to take his eyes off of Abby, but he forced himself to put one foot in front of another and walked straight into Ziva. His train of thought was totally derailed by the scalding hot coffee spilled down his leg.
"Officer David, it is a pleasure to meet you face to face finally," said Drake looking into Ziva's eyes.
"Commander Drake, long time no see. Sorry about your trousers." She replied with a smile.
"Think nothing of it, coffee is supposed to wake one up and it's just John Drake these days. I have retired from the Navy." He replied in an attempt to appear casual.
"Sounds like an Intelligent thing to do," said Ziva stepping into the elevator as the doors were starting to close.
"Damn! That's all I need. Bloody Mossad. This day is getting better and better." Drake stormed out of the building mumbling under his breath.
Some time later he returned to the building in a slightly better frame of mind carrying three large coffees and a bag of chocolate chip cookies; it never hurts to ply women with chocolate. The elevator doors opened as he was approaching and there in front of him was Abby & Ducky. "Hi you two, how's it going? You spending the day in the elevator today Abby?"
"No it just feels like it. I did spend a day in the elevator once." She said in a matter of fact sort of way.
"Was it stuck?" asked Drake.
"Nope." She answered.
"Have you found somewhere to stay yet John?" asked Ducky.
"Not yet, I've only just worked out where the coffee is at," replied Drake, unable to disguise his tiredness.
"Then you must come and stay with mother and I. She will be so pleased to see you again." insisted Ducky with a twinkle in his eye.
"Is she still…? In a world of her own?" asked Drake uncomfortably.
"Yes. But there will be a lock on your bedroom door this time. You should be safe." Ducky handed him a card with his address and phone number. "See you later then."
Abby and Ducky got out of the elevator on NCIS & Gibbs' floor and Drake went on up to NCTC to discover his fate.
He was told he would be tolerated for the moment and there was a desk in the corner he could use. The coffee and cookies were received with some gratitude, but not much.
"Life, don't talk to me about life," he muttered sitting down and picking up the phone. After a relatively short conversation with his boss in London, John Drake concluded that he had seriously upset somebody above him in British Intelligence. He had clearly established that the person he was sent to help did not want his help. The people he had been foisted onto as help were definitely considered well down the pecking order as far as Federal and Law enforcement agencies were concerned. In short he felt like somebody was trying to get rid of him but could not be bothered to shoot him. All in all not a good start to a new assignment.
His new desk was spartan but adequate. If he leaned back in his chair he could see a window even if he could not see out of it. He was tired and his trousers were suspiciously stained.
"Damn that Ziva!" He grabbed his bag, announced to who ever wanted to listen, "I'm going to get some sleep I will be back in the morning." He looked at the time and added, "Ok later this morning." He left the building and went to find a cab at 2 AM.
His body clock was shot, but he had phoned Ducky from the cab and thankfully the Duckman was waiting for him with a large scotch.
They sat and talked for a while then Ducky showed Drake to the guest room and left him to organise himself and get some sleep. After showering Drake checked that his bedroom door was locked and then put a chair on an angle under the door knob, better safe than sorry…
Story Notes:
Sci-fi & popular myth.
Author's Chapter Notes:
British secret sevice agent John Drake is sent by his superiors to Washington DC to help NCIS track down a terrorist. Things do not go according to plan.
Chapter End Notes:
Sci-fi & popular myth.