Gibbs put Viggo’s cell phone on the antique desk that had belonged to Shepard’s father. He turned on the desk lamp, highlighting the phone while leaving the rest of the room in shadows. McGee was hiding behind the door, silently waiting for Svetlana to arrive. Gibbs couldn’t see Ziva, but he knew she was checking the rest of the house.
He poured himself a shot of bourbon from Shepard’s liquor cabinet. He didn’t intend to actually drink it; the drink was little more than a prop. It added to the illusion he had gotten careless.
He took a deep breath and released it slowly, remembering the last time he was in this same room. Shepard had stood not far from where he was standing. Rene Benoit had been asking for help, for sanctuary, for a chance to escape from his life of crime. She’d denied him, sent him on his way knowing full well he wouldn’t survive without help. It was ironic that she’d felt the need to kill him herself. If she’d been a little more patient one of his enemies or someone from the CIA wood likely have done the deed for her.
Gibbs sat down in the desk chair. He debated for a moment whether or not he should pull his weapon before deciding not to. He wanted Svetlana to think she was in control. It would be up to McGee and Ziva to take her out if it came down to that. Gibbs wasn’t worried. He’d trusted Ziva to watch his back before, and she hadn’t let him down even when it meant killing her own brother. McGee was a competent agent, and had grown up a lot since taking over for Tony as Gibbs’ second. Gibbs was confident his life was in good hands.
“So, you really did wish to meet.” Svetlana’s English was heavily accented but understandable. She stood in the doorway, a gun trained on him.
“I told you I did.” Gibbs ignored the weapon, trying to appear relaxed as he waited for her to come closer.
Ice blue eyes studied him. “I have looked for you for a long time.”
“I know.” Gibbs arched an eyebrow. “After ten years, I thought you’d have given up.”
“I loved Yuri.” She almost snarled at him. “It could have taken me a hundred years. I would never stop looking for his killer.”
“How did you finally put together the pieces?”
“Oh, you covered your tracks well. But not everyone was so circumspect.” She smirked, stepping further into the room. Her gun was still leveled at Gibbs. “An old name reappeared. One I had not heard in years.”
“Nikita Druyiev,” Gibbs said, knowing Shepard’s alias had to be what she was referring to. He wasn’t really surprised to find that had been the catalyst.
“Da.” Svetlana nodded. “She was meddling in my business again. Although, since she was helping to take out a rival, I did not care so much about that.”
Gibbs’ jaw clenched. It wasn’t much but what she said certainly confirmed what Nunes’ story. Shepard was working to eliminate Kort and using old names and contacts to do it.
“I knew Nikita Druyiev was not a real person. I had looked too long for her to not understand she was only a phantom. Smoke and mirrors. But it wasn’t until a little birdie told me about Decker that I found out just who she might really be.”
Both Gibbs eyebrows rose. “Little birdie?”
Svetlana shrugged. “I suspect he was an agent of the CIA, but for all I know he could have been KGB. I did not care. He had information I wanted.”
“And what happened to him?” Gibbs was hoping for a name, another lead.
She gave him a cold look. “The same thing that happens to anything that is no longer of use.”
Gibbs cursed mentally. Another person was dead. He wondered if the CIA cared at all about the operatives they employed.
He stood up. Svetlana tightened her grip on her gun. She eyed him warily but did not step back.
“You kill him?”
“Not me, no.” She smiled. “Although, I did pay to have him killed. The same way I had Decker killed once he told me what I needed.”
The confession wasn’t something admissible in court but Gibbs liked knowing the truth just the same. He eyed the gun she still held. “You planning to kill me?”
She raised her chin, meeting his challenge. “That is what I came here for.”
“You’re not a killer,” Gibbs argued. “At least not when it comes to doing it yourself. Jenny couldn’t kill you. She wasn’t a killer either.”
“She might have been weak then, but not so any more.” Svetlana’s expression was hard and confident. “As Nikita she was soft, but as your Jenny Shepard she learned how to do what needed doing. She is no longer so hesitant to get her hands dirty.”
Svetlana sneered. “I know Trent Kort did not kill La Grenouille. He does not have the balls for that. And he’s too smart to be so stupid.”
Gibbs noted her use of present tense when referring to Kort. She clearly didn’t know he was dead. “You know who did kill The Frog?”
“No one knows, do they?” Svetlana snorted derisively. “But everyone in my circle knew Shepard was after him. She was not subtle in her pursuit. She was not nearly as careful as you.”
There was almost a note of respect in her voice as she eyed Gibbs. “When you took out my Yuri, no one knew anything about you. Not your name, where you came from, where you went or why you killed him. A ghost you were. You left not tracks to follow.”
“But Shepard,” Svetlana clucked her tongue, “her chasing the Frog was like trying to swat a fly with a tank. She had people everywhere looking for him, chasing his shadow and making noise. Always she was pushing, drawing attention to people and places better left alone. No one was happy with all this attention. It was bad for business. I do not know if she was unaware of this or simply did not care.”
She shook her head. “Everyone knew she wanted him dead. And most were happy she finally got what she wanted and left the rest of us alone. We could get back to doing what we do best without so much attention.”
“What you do is illegal.”
Svetlana shrugged. “It is a living.”
It was the usual pragmatic approach he expected from a Russian, but Gibbs felt compelled to point out, “It’s wrong.”
“It is not your concern, any more than it was hers.” Her pale blue eyes met his. “Besides, you will be dead soon and none of this will matter.”
“You aren’t going to kill me.”
“Oh, but I am.”
“NICS,” McGee said quietly from behind her. “Put it down.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. There was no surprise in her expression, and there was no hesitation as she responded to his order with a firm, “No.”
“Put down the gun,” McGee repeated. Gibbs silently took a step and then another away from Svetlana, shifting his weight so that he presented a narrower target.
She looked away from the younger man and back to Gibbs. The smile she gave him was resolute, cold and bitter. In Russian she said to him, “I should have died with Yuri, but taking you with me will simply have to do.”
The sound of two guns firing within seconds of one another in the room was surprisingly loud. Gibbs had ducked reflexively, instinctively trying to dodge her shot, realizing after the fact that it was unnecessary. McGee had aimed for Svetlana’s head, taking a kill shot, and effectively spoiling her aim. She’d pulled the trigger as a reflex action, the bullet imbedding harmlessly in the wall to Gibbs’ right.
Ziva stepped through the doorway as Svetlana’s body crumpled to the floor. She nodded to Gibbs. “The rest of the house is clear. She did not bring anyone with her.”
Dark eyes went to McGee. “Well done, McGee.”
McGee swallowed reflexively, slowly lowering his gun. It was only then that Gibbs realized McGee had never had to make a calculated shot like that before. He’d responded to being shot at by returning fire, had even killed once or twice in reaction, but deliberately shooting someone who was not actually threatening him was definitely a new situation for the younger man.
“You did good, McGee,” Gibbs assured him quietly. He briefly wished he’d thought to put Ziva in the study and assigned McGee the task of checking the rest of the house.
“She was going to kill you.”
“Yes, she was.” Gibbs knew the confirmation would help assure McGee he’d done the right thing.
McGee nodded slowly. He holstered his weapon. He squared his shoulders. “Should I call for back up?”
“And how do we explain what happened here?” Ziva asked, a frown furrowing her brow. “The rest of the office thinks Shepard is on leave. Only two other agents besides us and Acting Director Vance know she died in California. Not to mention…” she waved a hand in an elegant gesture of frustration, “everything else she was involved in. How do we explain this?”
“You let me handle that, Officer David.” Vance said, surprising all of them with his presence.
Gibbs had been reaching for his gun when he heard movement beyond the door, but stopped the motion when Vance spoke and he recognized him. Ziva had never holstered her gun, and pointed at Vance for a moment. Her gazed narrowed as she studied him, but she lowered the weapon after a moment. McGee had jumped, whirling to face the new threat, mouth open in surprise and then closing with an audible snap.
“What are you doing here?” Gibbs didn’t so much ask as demand.
“I had Ms. Sciuto run a trace on Viggo’s phone when I realized it was missing from evidence.” Vance gave him a pointed look. “I thought you were going to keep me in the loop, Gibbs.”
Gibbs kept his face impassive. He knew Vance wasn’t expecting an answer. He didn’t have one to give the man anyway.
Vance looked to the body on the floor. “This is the woman that hired the men who killed Director Shepard?”
“Yes.” Gibbs grimaced. “Shepard was supposed to kill her ten years ago, but obviously she didn’t.”
“So we have a woman who’s death was sanction ten years ago.” Vance nodded slowly. “A little late, but better than never I suppose.”
Gibbs’ jaw clenched at the cavalier attitude, but didn’t argue. Vance wasn’t wrong. Svetlana should have died a long time ago. And it wasn’t as if she was a complete innocent. She was an arms dealer who was in the country under an assumed name and had hired four men they knew of to commit at least two murders and possibly more.
Vance looked at Gibbs, then Ziva and McGee. “You can go. I’ll handle this.”
“Handle it how?” Gibbs asked.
“That is not something you need to be concerned with, Special Agent Gibbs.” Vance told him, his tone firm and uncompromising.
Gibbs instinctively bristled. That was twice in less than ten minutes two people told him things were not his concern. He took a breath and held it for a moment. He wanted to belt Vance one, but the man was now the one in charge. He’d been Acting Director with Shepard in LA, and with her death, he was now in command until the SecNav said otherwise.
But the real deciding factor for Gibbs though was that there were no other leads to follow. Shepard had gotten away with murder, and there was nothing he could do to prove it. With Kort dead they couldn’t refute his official statement that he’d killed Benoit. All the physical evidence was circumstantial at best. And none of the investigating agencies involved were looking to reopen the case.
They tracked the money as far as they were able to. All they could prove was that Shepard had misappropriated funds. They couldn’t definitively say what she’d used them for. And with her death, they couldn’t really prosecute her for that crime.
Decker’s insurance policy had been destroyed. There was no way to know for certain what it had contained or if it would have been useful. And with Decker dead, they couldn’t find out what he’d kept hidden for so long.
Kort and another unnamed CIA agent were dead. Short of tackling the CIA, which Gibbs knew wouldn’t end well, there was little more they could do on that front. Even Kort’s girlfriend wouldn’t give them much leverage. She might know about Kort and Benoit’s business, but Gibbs doubted she would have information on anything they could use.
Nunes was a drug dealer who was looking to expand his operation. He hadn’t known Shepard’s real name or how she fit into the scheme of things. There was nothing to tie him directly to her. And the team in Houston would see to it he was going down for Kort’s murder.
Gibbs nodded to Ziva and McGee. “Let’s go.”
McGee hesitated, looking uncertain. “Boss, are you sure"“
“I’m sure.” Gibbs wasn’t happy about any of this, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He felt the same way he had when he watched helplessly as a ship exploded on the MTAC screen.
“I’ll expect all of you to be at the office tomorrow at the usual time,” Vance said as they headed for the door.
Gibbs stiffened, but didn’t say a word as he followed McGee and Ziva out of Shepard’s house. He told Ziva and McGee to head back to the office. He wanted them to check in with Ducky and Abby, make sure they were okay.
“Thinking you don’t want us to write up a report on any of this.” McGee said tiredly, blue eyes reflecting a jaded cynicism that hadn’t been present a year ago.
Gibbs patted his shoulder. “From the sounds of it, Vance is going to make it seem like none of this happened. There won’t be anything to report on”
McGee glared. “It’s not right.”
“No, it isn’t.” Gibbs agreed. He sighed softly. He felt every one of his years. “If you got any idea how to make it right, sing out McGee. I’m all ears.”
The younger man swallowed hard, and looked away. Gibbs nodded. No help there, but he wasn’t really expecting there to be. McGee was smart. He could weigh the options and evidence just as quickly and accurately as Gibbs had.
“What will you tell Tony,” Ziva asked.
“The truth.” As much as Gibbs hated having to admit he couldn’t achieve what he’d set out to do, couldn’t accomplish the mission, he wasn’t going to lie to Tony. Hopefully Tony would forgive him for failing.
“It would be best, I think, to have that conversation in person,” Ziva offered diffidently.
“Vance wants us at the office tomorrow,” McGee pointed out.
“So what?” Ziva snapped at him. “Tony told me people in hell want ice water but they are not getting it either.”
Gibbs chuckled wryly. He had no trouble picturing Tony saying that.
“What will Vance do to me if I’m not there?” Gibbs asked, lips curling upward in a smile. The worst he could threaten was to fire Gibbs. And he couldn’t really justify doing that unless he was prepared to explain why a senior agent with plenty of leave time on the books taking a few days was grounds for dismissal.
“What will he do if you aren’t there?” Gibbs looked at both of them, letting them make their own choice.
McGee looked at Ziva. They shared a smile before turning back to Gibbs. McGee cleared his throat. “I think I feel a cold coming on.”
Ziva grinned, and then coughed dramatically. “I must have come down with it as well.”
Gibbs cocked his head. “You well enough to book a few seats to Houston, McGee?”
“I can handle that, Boss.”
“Good. Get it done.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
Gibbs confronts Svetlana.