“Shepard is dead.” Gibbs stated bluntly the moment LaFiamma answered the phone. He called from the airport. In half an hour he, McGee and Ziva would be headed back to DC.
“You kill her?” The question was not the least bit judgmental. If anything, Gibbs would have classified it as hopeful.
Gibbs grimaced. It would certainly have been neater if he had been the one to shoot her. At least then he could say it was finished.
“Wasn’t me.” Gibbs admitted quietly.
“Who?” LaFiamma’s tone was sharper now. It wasn’t anger, at least not yet, but Gibbs could tell the younger man was making an effort to hold on to his temper.
“We don’t know yet.”
There was a drawn out moment of silence. Clearly that wasn’t what he’d been expecting Gibbs to say. “I think you should run the numbers for me. Please.”
Gibbs blinked, mildly surprised by the polite please. He recapped quickly what he’d already told LaFiamma what he, McGee and Ziva had found before heading for LA. He gave him a rundown on what they’d discovered at the diner. He didn’t gloss over the details but didn’t expound on them either. Whatever happened in the diner, they knew for sure now that their suspicions about it being linked to the case Gibbs, Shepard and Decker worked together were confirmed. He told him about Franks and the insurance policy Decker had.
“Any idea what those numbers mean?”
Gibbs sighed. “No.”
“I’ll see what I can dig up on my end.”
Gibbs bit down on the instinctive knee jerk reaction to tell LaFiamma to stay out of it. This was an NCIS case, his case, and he hated having other people interfere. But it hadn’t started out as strictly an NCIS case; it was too late now to tell LaFiamma to steer clear when he already knew as much as Gibbs did. It wasn’t like the younger man would listen to him anyway, not when he still had a vested interest in the outcome. And LaFiamma’s contacts had turned up useful information before. He might just find something Gibbs and his team wouldn’t.
“You going back to DC?”
“Bodies and evidence are being shipped there.” Gibbs took a breath. “I’m going to need Abby and Ducky to head back.”
“Pretty sure they aren’t going to be happy to hear that.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Gibbs ground out between clenched teeth. He wanted someone from the team to be there with Tony, and knew they’d prefer to stay until Tony was released from the hospital, but he needed Abby and Ducky’s expertise. He didn’t know who Abby had gotten to fill in for her, and he had no intention of trusting this to a stranger. He needed Ducky as well--not that Palmer wasn’t competent, but this was the death of the Director of NCIS they were looking into; politically it wasn’t something you could pass off to anything less than the best.
“You want me to tell them?”
Gibbs hesitated, tempted to let LaFiamma take the brunt of bearing bad news. It wouldn’t be fair and he’d never shirked his duty before, no matter how unpleasant. He shook his head. “I’ll do it.”
“You want to talk to Tony before you take them on?”
“He’s awake?”
“No, I offered to let you speak to him because he’s asleep.”
Gibbs rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to ask that. “Put him on.”
“Hey, Boss.”
Gibbs smiled, pleased by how strong Tony’s voice sounded. “You doing okay, DiNozzo?”
“I’ll be doing better once I can get out of here. How much green jello is a guy supposed to take? Why the hell anyone would even want that stuff is a mystery. It’s just gross.”
Gibbs stifled a chuckle. He knew full well LaFiamma was probably still sneaking in meals for Tony and Lundy. He doubted Tony had been forced to consume any jello, much less the lime flavor he detested.
“You aren’t leaving until the doctor clears you,” Gibbs said firmly.
“Like Joe would let me.” Tony snorted. “He wouldn’t even let me go the bathroom by myself yesterday.”
Gibbs’ jaw clenched. “What the hell were you doing out of bed?”
“Dr. Kline said I could.” Tony sounded defensive and just a little smug. “And Ducky agreed. He said it would be good for me to be upright. That it would help keep my lungs clear.” Tony muttered quietly, “Would rather do that than those damn breathing exercises.”
“He let Lundy up too?” Gibbs asked, wondering if the other man was improving at the same rate as Tony.
“Not yet, but Levon tried to made a break for it.” Gibbs could picture Tony grinning. “Got to the sitting upright stage and one foot on the floor before Joe caught him.”
Gibbs was betting there were some fireworks over that. He was almost sorry he’d missed it. He sighed silently. He should be there.
“So how are things in California?” Tony asked quietly, all sign of good humor and teasing gone.
“Shepard is dead.” Gibbs wondered if he said that often enough it would eventually less the impact. If, after awhile, it wouldn’t sting to know she’d called Franks rather than him. He hoped it would eventually not bother him that she’d gotten away with murder. Maybe some day it wouldn’t piss him off know she died before ever grasping the full extent of the damage she’d caused or really understood how misguided and dangerous her actions had been.
“Yeah, I heard that.” Tony’s voice grew soft. “Sorry, Boss.”
Shepard had been selfish, thoughtless, and stupidly focused, but she’d been someone Gibbs had cared about once. She’d been a friend. A partner. A good agent. His supervisor. Regardless of how things had played out, nothing changed those facts. Gibbs appreciated Tony understanding that and being sorry for what he’d lost when Shepard died.
“Yeah, me too.” Gibbs cleared his throat. “We’re heading back to DC. I’ll need the full team on this.”
“I figured that.” Tony sighed. “Abby is going to be upset.”
“I know.” Gibbs wished there was something he could do about that. He wished there was a lot he could have done about a great many things. If wishes were horses, every beggar would ride, he thought, unconsciously remembering what his father often said about such things.
“You said something to Joe about Decker having an insurance policy?” Tony asked.
“That’s what he’d told his girlfriend to tell Shepard.” Gibbs repeated the numbers he’d gotten from Franks.
There was a paused followed by a thoughtful, “Hunh.”
Gibbs gaze narrowed. “What?”
“Sounds almost like a case number.”
“Case number?” Gibbs frowned.
“I know we code them differently now but when I was looking for that case Franks worked on, operation something …fire…flame…explosion…Got it.” There was the sound of snapping fingers and satisfaction in Tony’s voice. “Operation Sunburst. It had a similar code. It was thirteen digits too.”
Tony paused, and Gibbs could hear him taking a breath then release it. It sounded like he was stifling a cough at the same time. Gibbs waited, unsure if Tony had more to add, but willing to give him the time he needed to get his breath back if he did.
“I thought the number was weird. Must be why I remembered it at all.” There was another brief pause before Tony continued. “Our cases got labeled by year, month, day and then case number. That one was like the number was assigned separate from anything related to the case. Kind of like they do bank accounts. They must have changed the whole process but I don’t know when they did.”
Gibbs nodded slowly. Back when he’d started at NCIS, cases were referred to by a name while actively being investigated. They weren’t assigned a number until they were closed. That number was more for the filing clerks who would later record and store the evidence. It was supposed to make things easier to file sequentially rather than alphabetically and eliminate errors related to cases having the same or similar names.
“I’ll have McGee look into it.”
Tony’s guess was the only guess they had; there was no harm in checking. A case number and corresponding file would make sense. Whatever Decker had would, in theory, have been kept indefinitely in a secure facility.
“You think they might be after you too?” The question was hesitant, cautious. Gibbs got the impression Tony wasn’t leery of the answer as much as he was Gibbs possible reaction to his having asked.
“Only reason I ask…Abby seems pretty convinced they might be after you.”
Damn. Gibbs thought she’d calmed down about that. She didn’t need to be getting Tony wound up. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, DiNozzo. You know Abby can get a little excited.” It was a monumental understatement; one Gibbs hoped Tony wouldn’t call him on.
“Levon and Joe agreed with her.”
Double damn. Those two should have known better than to even bring it up, but then they tended to share information openly. They didn’t seem inclined to keep secrets from each other---which ordinarily he’d have considered a good thing, but in this case, Gibbs wished they’d been a little more circumspect.
“I can handle it,” he assured Tony.
“Never said you couldn’t. Just don’t…don’t go all lone ranger, okay? McGee and Ziva don’t swim as well as I do.”
Gibbs winced recognizing what Tony was referring to. It was stupid to have left his team out of the loop then. It nearly cost Maddie Tyler her life. His being a moron, and failing to show some gratitude over having his own life saved, had been one of the reasons Tony left the team.
“I’ll be careful. I’ll make sure I have backup.” Gibbs made it sound like the promise it was. He’d worked hard to regain a level of trust with Tony; he wasn’t going to mess it up now. He wasn’t going to mess up with his team again either. He’d learned his lesson. Going out on his own was riskier than keeping them in the loop.
“Thanks, Boss.”
Not something you should thank me for, Tony, Gibbs thought. “I’ll call as soon as we have something.”
“We’ll be here.”
Gibbs ended the call. He wouldn’t have minded talking a bit longer, but he knew Tony would think something was wrong if he drug it out too long. It was stupidly sappy to think, let alone say aloud, that he was just glad to finally be able to have a real conversation with Tony.
He called Ducky next rather than Abby. He knew avoiding her wouldn’t work indefinitely but he also knew the ME would be more understanding and less apt to get overly upset about the need to return to DC. And he didn’t want the news of Shepard’s death to be something Abby heard over the phone. They might not have been great friends, but Shepard was still someone Abby knew. She took the death of anyone she knew personally hard. The news wouldn’t be any less painful to get from Ducky, but at least with someone there she’d have more consolation and comfort than Gibbs could provide long distance.
When Gibbs told Ducky about Shepard, the older man responded quietly, “I’m sorry, Jethro.”
“Could you tell Abby?” Gibbs asked.
“Certainly.” Ducky clucked his tongue. “It is definitely the sort of news better delivered in person, particularly to someone of Abby’s sensitive nature.”
“Thanks, Duck.”
“You’ll be wanting us to head back to DC, yes?”
Gibbs really wanted to say no. “I need you there.”
“Anthony will be fine, Jethro,” Ducky assured him. “He is recovering. Joseph will look out for him. Not to mention his partner and teammates. He is in good hands.”
“I know.” Gibbs sighed. “I’d just prefer"“
“To have one of your own doing the looking after.” Gibbs could hear Ducky’s smile. “It is quite understandable, and even commendable, my friend. But in this case, not practical.” There was a small pause. “You do trust Joseph and Levon, don’t you?”
“When it comes to looking out for Tony, yeah.” It was impossible not to.
“Good. It is obvious they care for him a great deal.”
“They aren’t the only ones, Duck.”
“I know.” He could hear Ducky smiling. “And I think Anthony is well aware of that by now, don’t you?”
He damn well better, Gibbs thought fiercely, but refrained from saying it out loud. He knew Ducky meant the question to be rhetorical.
“Now then, I need to get packed if I’m to be ready when the time comes. I’ll have Abby call you with our flight information.”
Gibbs scowled when Ducky terminated the call. He shook his head and smiled ruefully. Ducky certainly knew how to get the last word in.
The boarding call announcement sounded. Gibbs nodded to Ziva and McGee. They got on and found their seats with little fuss or fanfare. He’d have liked for them to fly on a military transport but there were several commercial flights going out sooner. Regular flights between LAX and DC meant there was one going every few hours.
Once they were airborne and it was safe to use electronic equipment Gibbs told McGee to get out his laptop and work on Tony’s hunch the insurance policy was a case number. If it was, hopefully, McGee could find it. Although, given what had happened to the last old case file he’d had McGee track down, Gibbs wasn’t holding out a lot of hope they’d be able to find it even if Tony was right.
He had Ziva double check everything they new about the money trail. Shepard had to be getting it from somewhere. Maybe another look would reveal where it came from and give them a lead on who else might have been involved.
While they worked on that, Gibbs went over what details Baker and Simmons had pulled together on the crime scene. He didn’t know what he expected to find, but there had to be something. Looking at the photos, Gibbs frowned. One of the men was the right height, build and coloring to the man Shepard had taken a picture of at Decker’s funeral.
“Ziva, do you have a picture of Viggo Drantyev?”
“I have his passport photo.” She turned her PDA so he could see the picture.
Gibbs held up the crime scene photo. Ziva studied it for a moment. “They appear to be one in the same.”
“When Shepard took the picture of him he was with a woman. We have any idea who she was?”
Ziva shook her head. “I’ll check the flight information and see who if they have a record of who he was travelling with. Although that may not be very helpful since we know Viggo Drantyev was not his real name, whoever he was traveling with would also have been using an alias.”
Gibbs nodded. There was always the possibility of dead ends, but they had to follow whatever leads they had just the same.
“Check the security tapes from Dulles and LAX as well. Maybe we’ll get lucky and get a better shot him and her together.”
“On it, Boss.”
Gibbs sighed softly. No matter how many times that was said, he couldn’t help wishing it was Tony who was saying it. McGee and Ziva were good, no doubt about it, but Gibbs worked with Tony longer than he had anyone else, and he missed the easy connection he’d had with him. He’d missed the younger man’s eagerness, his willingness to do whatever Gibbs asked of him, the banter and stupid movie references, the practical jokes and outrageous stories, the odd moments of insight and bright smile. Gibbs sighed again. He just missed Tony.
He rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the headache forming. Too little sleep, too much coffee, too many unanswered questions were getting to him. He was starting to think a long vacation was in order. A real long vacation.
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