Gibbs scanned the baggage claim area looking for anyone he might recognize. Joe hadn’t said who would be picking him up; he’d only said someone would be there. Gibbs expected it to be someone from Tony’s team, and he’d met all of them the last time he was in Houston.
Gibbs grimaced thinking about that last trip. Tony’s team hadn’t exactly welcomed him with open arms. Not that they had any real reason to•Gibbs had come bearing news the FBI thought Tony was a viable suspect in Rene Benoit’s murder. That was hardly the sort of thing to warrant a warm and fuzzy greeting from any one, much less a bunch of cops.
Even if Gibbs had only been stopping by to visit, they wouldn’t have been happy to see him that first time. The stories Tony had told LaFiamma and Lundy about his experiences with NCIS hadn’t exactly painted Gibbs, his team, or the agency as a whole, in a positive light. It still bothered Gibbs that the initial hostility he had encountered wasn’t without merit.
He sighed. It was best not to dwell on that. Nothing could be done to change the past; he and the team had made amends, and Tony had forgiven them. They were still making amends, working toward a better future and that was what mattered. It was a future that might not be cut short if Tony didn’t---Gibbs forcefully shut down that line of thought. Tony would be fine. Any other alternative was unacceptable.
Gibbs scanned the area again. He hoped it wouldn’t be Tony’s partner, Roberto Mendez, who was picking him up. Other than LaFiamma, the Hispanic cop had been the most openly hostile toward him. Gibbs didn’t really want to deal with him.
All he wanted was to get to the hospital and make sure Tony was okay. He wanted to make sure Lundy was all right too. He was too important to Tony for Gibbs to simply ignore that he had been injured as well. Someone had better be prepared to fill him in on what the hell happened.
All LaFiamma had told him was the bust went bad. Gibbs snorted. That was one hell of an understatement. Bad didn’t even begin to cover it in Gibbs’ opinion. What he wanted was details. He wanted to know just whose ass needed kicked for Tony getting hurt.
A break in the mass of moving bodies revealed Carol Dewing to Gibbs’ line of sight. The tall female detective was leaning casually against the wall. She was watching people milling about as they gathered their luggage, scanning them the same way Gibbs had been.
As Gibbs approached her he couldn’t help noticing a large bruise on her cheekbone that stretched up toward her temple. She had a butterfly bandage suturing a cut on her forehead as well. Most women would have tried to hide such injuries, disguising them with make up or wearing their hair to hide as much as possible. Dewing had done neither. Her face was free of make up and her long blonde hair was swept back from her face, held securely in a single large silver barrette.
She gave him a polite, distant smile when she spotted him approaching. Her blue eyes were blood shot and there were faint lines around her eyes and mouth that hadn’t been present the last time they’d met. The button down shirt she wore was clean and tucked neatly into her jeans, but from the wrinkles in it and the small tear at the knee in her jeans it was clear she’d simply grabbed whatever happened to be handy with little thought to her appearance. She looked, Gibbs decided, as haggard and worn as a beautiful woman could look and still look beautiful. Gibbs knew she had gotten even less sleep than he had.
She held out her hand. “Hello, Gibbs.”
Gibbs shook it. “Dewing.” He gestured to her cheek. “You okay?”
“I’ve had worse.” She nodded to his carry on bag. “That all you brought?”
“Yes.” It wouldn’t have mattered if he planned on staying for two days or two months, Gibbs never packed more than what would fit in a carry on.
Dewing nodded, accepting his answer and started walking toward the exit, silently gesturing for Gibbs to follow. Gibbs noticed she limped slightly, but chose not to comment on it. He had a feeling she’d just brush it off as unimportant anyway.
“Do you have an update on Tony and Lundy?” Gibbs asked, striving not to sound as anxious as he felt. He’d called the hospital several times but since he wasn’t family, and there was an ongoing investigation, no one would tell him anything. He tried playing on his status as a federal agent, but that had only gotten him passed off to an agent with DEA. Gibbs had hung up rather than talk to someone he was sure would just give him the run around.
LaFiamma’s cell phone had been going to voice mail since three AM so calling him hadn’t been any more helpful. Gibbs suspected someone had taken it away from him based on what was being said in the background when he’d called to give LaFiamma his flight information at one that morning. He still wasn’t clear on whether or not LaFiamma had been injured as well. If he had been, it didn’t seem to be as serious as those injuries sustained by Tony and Lundy.
“They both made it through surgery.”
Gibbs breathed easier hearing that. It didn’t mean they were completely out of the woods; he knew better than to assume surviving surgery meant everything was just fine, but it was certainly a good sign.
Dewing smiled. “Levon’s tough…like old boots. Most of the office is already taking bets on how long it will take for him to be trying to get back on his feet. Long shot is two weeks. I went with three days. I’d have gone for one day if the nurses had let Joe give Levon blood like he wanted to. God knows that man has enough energy and determination to spare. Pint of his blood would get anyone up and moving faster.”
She shook her head ruefully. “I don’t know how they managed to get him to take no for an answer. Pretty sure someone somewhere got an earful over that.” She shook her head again, muttering quietly, “better them than me. I’d have just taken a pint from the stubborn son of a bitch and shut up about it.”
It was on the tip of Gibbs’ tongue to ask why the nurses didn’t think LaFiamma should donate blood, but he remained silent. He wanted to hear about Tony first. Dewing bit her lower lip, frowning as she eyed Gibbs. It was clear she was hesitant to talk about Tony•and that could mean only one thing, bad news. But Gibbs needed to know. He had to hear it…no matter how bad, he had to know.
“And Tony?” Gibbs asked, his tone leading.
“He’s not quite as tough as Levon.” She sighed softly. “He broke half a dozen ribs. Breaks would have been bad enough on their own but the bones cut things inside. They didn’t know how much or how bad until they operated.”
She swallowed hard. “They had to take a piece of his liver. As long as the organ stays healthy, doctors say it will grow back in time.”
Gibbs frowned. He didn’t know that was even possible. He’d have to ask Ducky about it.
“They took out part of his spleen as well, but from what they said that doesn’t grow back. He’ll have to be more careful around infections and the like since what he’s got left won’t work as well as it used to. Not that he didn’t need to be a little more careful than most of us anyway. You already know that, I’m sure.”
Gibbs nodded. He knew that. Hadn’t fully appreciated what it meant, but he knew it.
“Worst of his injuries was the puncture to his lung. They got it repaired, but they…ah …they put Tony in a coma.”
Gibbs nodded again, keeping his expression neutral. He’d talked to Ducky before leaving, describing as best he could the younger man’s injuries. Ducky had mentioned Tony the doctors might put him in a drug induced coma. A respirator would take some of the pressure of his damaged lung, breathing for Tony, and allowing him to heal. Ducky has also mentioned a chest tube would be left in place for a day or two to make sure the lung would stay inflated on its own.
“Being unconscious for that is likely a blessing, Jethro,” Ducky had said. “A chest tube is far from a pleasant experience.”
In his mind, Gibbs could readily picture Tony hooked up to all sorts of machines, and he tried hard not to think about it. He wished Ducky had been able to get on the same flight. Not only did he know a lot about Tony’s medical history, he knew how to cut through any medical jargon and boil it down to plain English. He wouldn’t be intimidated by all the machinery keeping Tony alive, and Ducky could confidently assure Gibbs they were necessary and nothing to worry about.
Unfortunately, there weren’t enough seats or time for anyone but Gibbs to make the five AM flight. Ducky would be arriving until early evening. By then Gibbs would have seen Tony for himself and he hoped to have good news for him. Gibbs had ordered Abby, Ziva and McGee to stay behind. They weren’t happy about it, but someone had to take care of business. Ducky at least had Palmer to do whatever needed done in the morgue, the others didn’t have back up to handle their cases. And Gibbs couldn’t see Shepard approving leave for his entire team to just pick up and leave…not for Tony.
Shepard had never said so directly but Gibbs’ gut told him there was still some animosity toward Tony on her part. Whether it was over his quitting or something else, Gibbs didn’t know. Regardless of why she was pissed, Gibbs had no doubt she’d use the fact that Tony wasn’t an NCIS employee or blood relative to deny a request for leave. It was one of the reasons Gibbs hadn’t actually asked for leave. Forgiveness would be easier to get than permission. He wasn’t going to let her deny him the chance to be there for the one of the few people he thought of as family since Shannon and Kelly were killed.
“Is there anything else about Tony’s condition I should know?” Gibbs asked, hoping the answer was no.
“That’s all of it,” she said softly. “Think that’s more than enough, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” It was more than enough. Gibbs swallowed hard and reminded himself Tony was young and healthy. He’d survived surgery. He would be okay, eventually. Gibbs would see to it. He wasn’t sure how exactly but that was simply a detail yet to be worked out, not a real obstacle.
Stepping out of the airport into the heat and humidity of Houston was almost a physical blow. Gibbs winced, squinting in the glare of the bright morning sunshine. Dewing pulled a pair of sunglasses from her shirt pocket slipping them on with the practiced ease of a long ingrained habit. Gibbs noticed her sunglasses were the same expensive designer brand Tony favored, Ray Bans.
Gibbs suddenly regretted giving away Tony’s to that brat of a boy years ago. It didn’t matter that Tony replaced them in less than a day. He shouldn’t have had to. And that kid hadn’t deserved them.
Dewing led him through the parking deck to an extended cab truck similar to the one Lundy drove. Gibbs tossed his bag in the back seat before sliding into the passenger seat. He was silently impressed with how easily she handled the large vehicle, navigating her way through the parking deck and merging smoothly with traffic out of the airport. She neatly forced a smaller sedan to give way, taking ownership of the lane she wanted with little fuss or fanfare. Ziva couldn’t have done that without swapping paint, Gibbs thought with an internal smile. Maybe he should see if Dewing would give Ziva driving lessons.
Gibbs waited until traffic opened up a bit before asking, “Can you tell me what happened at the bust?”
He wanted to demand answers, but knew better than to push too hard. He was still an outsider here. He had no real authority, particularly with regards to an ongoing Houston PD case. And he wasn’t sure if she still regarded him more as an enemy than an ally. She’d been polite so far, helpful even, but he knew that was likely more for Tony’s sake and that of her teammates than out of any real sense of obligation to Gibbs.
Ducky was fond of telling him he’d get a better response from people if he were less abrasive. “More flies with honey, Jethro,” Ducky said to him even as he was leaving for Houston. Gibbs thought now might be good time to try it.
“What did Tony tell you last week?” Dewing asked.
Gibbs blinked, surprised by the question. “You knew he called me?”
She turned her head to give him a look. Even with her sunglasses on, Gibbs had no trouble identifying the expression being leveled at him. He’d gotten it enough from his three ex-wives. It could be translated several ways. ‘You’re an idiot’ was the most popular, followed closely by ‘Don’t be stupid’ and “Did I not just say that”.
Of course, Tony mentioned talking to his old teammates. There was no reason he wouldn’t. Gibbs found the thought Tony wasn’t hiding his staying in touch comforting. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of, or a secret that had to be hidden.
“He said your team was supposed to be extra eyes and ears on a joint operation. He said he’d be out of touch until it was finished, but Tony didn’t give me anything specific on what you were doing.”
She nodded. “A little over two months ago, a lot of better than average quality cocaine started showing up on the streets. Word was a new dealer was making a play to take over established territory and he was going to do it by selling better smack at lower prices.”
Dewing checked the rear view and the passenger side mirrors, changing lanes and accelerating as she continued to fill Gibbs in. “Vice was working with DEA to pin down who it was and where the drugs were coming in from. They’d narrowed down the location and the players, but couldn’t pinpoint things. They asked for our help because even with things narrowed down the area was just too large to cover on their own. They needed help to cover all the bases.”
She shook her head, scowling. “Levon said the whole thing reminded him of shooting prairie dogs.”
Gibbs frowned. “That some kind of good old boy term for a snipe hunt?”
“No.” She chuckled. She changed lanes again, missing a Volkswagen Beatle by a few inches. The Beatle’s driver laid on the horn and she flipped him off without even really looking at him.
“Prairie dogs are rodents that live in colonies. Mostly, you know where they are because they trim the vegetation short and have holes all over the place. But you can’t tell which holes are active, or which one they’ll come out of. So you just have to be patient and wait for them to pop up.” She shrugged one shoulder. “That’s what DEA wanted us to do. Watch and wait for the newly arrived varmints to come out of their holes.”
“Were you supposed to engage?”
She nodded. “That was the plan.” A muscle in her jaw flexed. “But the varmints we were expecting weren’t the ones who showed up. We didn’t get a drug deal we were there for.”
Gibbs took a breath, eyes narrowing. “What did you get?”
“We got guys selling military hardware.”
Gibbs’ jaw dropped. “What?”
“Deal started going down about the way you’d expect. Some gangbangers in the area keeping watch. A few more that were probably runners, ready to disperse the goods as soon as they changed hands. Had a few guys in suits, the obvious money and power players.”
Her fingers flexed around the steering wheel. “We didn’t realize the deal we were watching go down wasn’t what we thought we were going to see until a cargo truck pulls into the warehouse. No one needs anything that big to move drugs unless they are moving a hell of a lot of them. Nothing in the intell we had led us to believe they’d be getting that much stuff in. It should have been a briefcase, a shopping bag, something small.”
She shook her head. “Then Levon and Joe recognized one of the players.” She pulled her sunglasses off to look directly at Gibbs, tired blue eyes holding his with ease. “Someone you’d know too.”
“Who?”
“Man by the name of Trent Kort.”
Gibbs stared at her. Kort? What the hell was Kort doing in Texas?
Dewing put her glasses back on and turned her attention back to the road. “The DEA wanted us to go in anyway, take them down and sort it out later.” Her voice had taken on a hard, flat edge. “Levon was ramrod for our group. He was in charge. He said to stand fast so we did.”
Dewing shifted in her seat, pressing harder on the accelerator. “We weren’t going to interfere. This wasn’t what we were there for. And the shit in the crates they unloaded was just more incentive to hold our positions.”
“What was in them?” She’d said military hardware earlier, but that covered a lot. He wanted to know exactly what.
“Explosives.” She bit her lower lip. “I couldn’t tell you exactly what, but Tony recognized the labels on the crates and warned us. That kind of firepower tipped the scales. Even Joe was outgunned by that crap.”
“If you didn’t go in•“
“We weren’t going to…and then something soured the deal. I wasn’t close enough to see and hear it all, but near as I can tell, someone there knew Kort wasn’t who or what he claimed to be. I’m thinking he got his cover blown and they knew he wasn’t just some dirt bag death merchant in a high dollar suit. It sounded like someone had tipped them off that he was CIA. There was a lot of yelling, gun waving and people getting twitchy. When they threatened Kort directly, Levon ordered us in.”
Gibbs frowned. Why would Lundy care if Kort got killed? It wasn’t like they were friends. The man had blown up Tony’s car and ruined his chances with Jeanne Benoit by forcing him to reveal his true identity. But then Kort had also stepped up to the plate and taken responsibility for a murder he hadn’t committed, freeing Tony from any suspicion of wrong doing and making it possible for him to go back to Houston. It was possible Lundy thought he owed Kort.
All of that not withstanding, Gibbs figured Lundy wouldn’t let an undercover agent die if he could do something about it. He might not be sure about Kort’s loyalties, God only knew whose side the man was really on, but he was still a federal agent…and that would be enough for Lundy’s sense of duty to try and save him.
“They didn’t react well to our intrusion.” Dewing sighed softly.
Gibbs arched an eyebrow. He forced himself not to respond sarcastically to her statement.
“We were holding our own, initially. Might have been okay…if that kid hadn’t panicked and broken cover.”
Gibbs’ eyebrows pulled together. Was there a rookie cop involved? He nearly growled in frustration. “Kid?”
“Always got a few squatters in those warehouses. Runaways, junkies, homeless…They are just looking for a place to hide, somewhere dry to hold up for a time. We thought all of them had been cleared out, but we must have missed one.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “Levon went after him. He was trying get him back under cover when he got shot.”
“His leg?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “He took one to the chest too, but his vest caught that. Thank God. The kid…he wasn’t so lucky. We didn’t know that until later though. At the time, we were just trying to get Levon and the kid out of there.”
Gibbs silently cursed.
“They had us pinned down at that point.” She swallowed hard. “Some of the gangbangers had assault rifles or something like them. I don’t know anything else that could put out a steady barrage like that. Couldn’t risk going into the open without getting killed. It was like something out of one of Tony’s stupid action movies.”
Joe had said something about not being able to get to Levon right away. Now Gibbs knew why.
“With so much lead flying it was inevitable that those crates they’d unloaded to show off the goods would get peppered.”
Gibbs winced. “They blew up?”
“Like the fourth of July.” She grimaced. “Knocked me on my ass.”
That explained the bruise, cut to her forehead and her limp.
“Some of the flying debris nailed Roberto. It hit Tony too.”
“Is that when he broke his ribs?”
“Was either then or when the whole place started burning down around us and the catwalk collapsed. Fucking thing broke Roberto’s arm and pinned Tony.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I couldn’t lift the damn thing. Joe could though. Always knew he was strong, but never would have guessed he could lift that damn girder and throw it like it weighed nothing. Burned his hand and arm but that didn’t slow him down much.”
She cleared her throat. “Good thing about how fast the fire was spreading…everyone was eager to get the hell out and stopped shooting at us. Roberto and I got Tony out while Joe went after Levon.”
Gibbs cocked his head to one side. Someone in her recitation was missing. “What about your partner, Chavez? He okay?”
“He better be.” She smiled tightly. “He’s on vacation, visiting family in Mexico. I find out he got hurt down there, I’ll kick his ass.”
At least one of them was unscathed. That in itself seemed like a minor miracle.
Gibbs sat back, closing his eyes. Why would Kort be selling explosives in Texas? It had never been one of La Grenouille’s haunts. Maybe Kort was expanding the business, sowing seeds of his own since taking over. It would make sense. It was the sort of thing the new top dog normally did…throw his weight around and prove he was better than his boss.
Where did the merchandise come from? There hadn’t been any reports of lost or stolen hardware. It could have been Army and not something from the Marines or Navy, but there would still have been information circulated.
“Has anyone questioned Kort?” Gibbs asked, opening his eyes.
“Can’t get answers out of a dead man.”
“He’s dead?”
“I don’t know anyone who’s lived through a forty-five in the forehead. Especially not when it’s fired from point blank range.”
“Damn.”
“We do have his blonde girlfriend though.” Dewing gave him a wolfish smile.
Gibbs found himself smiling back. He remembered her. He wasn’t sure what her role was in La Grenouille’s organization had been. She could have been his lover, his girl Friday, or even another CIA agent. Whatever she was, she’d have some answers.
“You question her?” Gibbs asked impatiently. “She has to know something. Talking to her should have been--”
“We had other priorities.” Her tone was dry, not nearly as biting as Gibbs’ might have been in the same place. Taking care of the wounded was always a priority. And given how nearly every member of their team had been injured, two of them critically, it made sense the case got put on hold.
Realizing he was in the wrong for implying they might not have been doing their jobs, Gibbs uncharacteristically offered an apology. “Sorry.”
She snorted. “Say something that stupid around Joe or Roberto and you will be.”
Gibbs had no doubt about that. Neither man liked him overly much. In less than top form they might elect to simply shoot him rather than try and belt him one.
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“See that you do. I’ve cleaned up enough blood to last me a lifetime.”
Gibbs nodded. Even on his best behavior he was bound to piss someone off, but at least this time he wasn’t doing it deliberately. He wasn’t in the habit of playing nice and he seemed to always be wrong footed with these people. Ordinarily he wouldn’t give a damn, but this was far from an ordinary situation.
He sighed silently, and closed his eyes again. Gibbs decided not to worry about it right now. First order of business was to get to Tony. He had to see him, touch him, make sure he was still alive even if he needed machinery to keep him that way. He needed to tell Tony he was going to live, order him to do so if need be.
After that, he’d check on Lundy. The Houston cop could be a real pain in his ass, but Gibbs liked him and respected him. And damn it, he owed the man for making it possible for him to have any sort of contact with Tony at all. If Lundy hadn’t stepped in that first time, Gibbs would probably never have gotten a chance to even see Tony much less speak to him. .
Then he’d talk to LaFiamma. Knowing more about the case---Kort, the military hardware---it might be possible to bring his team into it to help out. There was a connection there he could use to justify getting involved, but he wouldn’t do that without asking permission first. LaFiamma and the Houston PD could effectively shut Gibbs out if they wanted to. It wouldn’t keep him out completely, no he wouldn’t tolerate that, but it could make getting to bottom of things far more difficult than they needed to be.
Gibbs could hear Ducky saying again, “more flies with honey, Jethro”, and nodded to himself. Making nice might not be his strong suit, but he could do it when he had to…and he was smart enough to realize this time it was in everyone’s best interest if he did.
“How long until we get to the hospital?”
“Half an hour.”
Gibbs nodded, and tried to relax a bit more in his seat. He’d never quite mastered ‘meditation’ the way Tony had, but it wouldn’t hurt to try and get a little rest. He knew he was going to need it.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Gibbs gets to Houston.