Gibbs watched through the one way mirror as a uniformed officer escorted Kort’s girlfriend into the interrogation room. Her dirty blonde hair had escaped the small jeweled clips that had once held it in place in a style that was no doubt intended to be chic and sophisticated but now looked disheveled and messy. Her white blouse had been pristine once, Gibbs was sure, but that was some time ago. It now sported soot stains and wrinkles. There was a tear in the knee of her slacks and scuff marks on her designer pumps. Obviously she’d been close to the action when the bust went down.
Gibbs frowned. It was going on three days since the bust went bad. Why was Kort’s girlfriend still in the same clothes? Why hadn’t she at least showered, combed her hair?
"Is there a reason you have not allowed her the opportunity to clean herself up?” Ziva asked before Gibbs could voice his own question.
"Oh we offered,” Dewing’s tone was mild, not taking offence at the implied criticism in Ziva’s question, “but Ms. Sofia Loire was insulted by the choice of clothing offered and lack of expensive name brand personal hygiene products.”
“Not a jeans and Safeguard sort of lady,” the tech specialist manning the recording equipment offered with a smirk.
He and Dewing shared a smile. Dewing’s blue eyes positively danced with humor before once more meeting Ziva’s. “Since, she refused to make use of what was offered the first time, we haven’t seen fit to make the offer a second time.”
“It is rude to refuse hospitality when it is offered,” Ziva said quietly, her tone suggesting she shared in their amusement. “She should not have been so picky.”
Dewing dipped her head. “Exactly.”
“You bet on when she’ll crack and demand a shower and a change of clothes?”
Dewing grinned in response to Gibbs’ question. “Natch.”
Gibbs smiled in spite of himself. It wasn’t strictly vindictive, nor was it truly petty, but there was no denying they were enjoying deliberately making Loire’s life uncomfortable. Dewing had mentioned earlier cuffing and gagging Loire when she got mouthy and aggressive. He wondered if that was before or after she’d been offered a chance to clean up.
Little things like that would probably make her crack as well as any form of torture, and it would never even leave a mark. Gibbs had to give the Houston team credit for making the most of their options. He was reminded of Beaumont’s earlier comment, ‘Playing by the rules doesn’t mean you can’t play to win’. Obviously her people took that to heart.
“Tell me about her,” Gibbs directed, sipping his coffee, pleased to find it the way he liked it.
“As far as we can tell she is really who she claims to be…Sofia Loire, native of France with dual citizenship in Canada. She isn’t married. Never has been married as far as we can tell; so no ex-husbands out there to worry about. She has no children or siblings. Mother is dead, father is alive but she doesn’t’ appear to be close to him.”
Dewing brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. “Loire graduated from college in Quebec fifteen years ago with a degree in business administration. Two years later she went to work for Rene Benoit and worked for him until his death last year.”
“What exactly did she do for him?”
“Best way to sum it up, I’d say she was Pepper Potts to his Tony Stark.”
“What?’ Gibbs blinked, not understanding the reference.
To his surprise it was Ziva how answered. “They are characters from a movie based on a comic book hero, Gibbs. Tony Stark was an industrialist who made weapons for the US Military before being wounded in Afghanistan and building a suit of armor that allowed him to fly becoming known as Ironman. Pepper Potts was personal assistant. His Girl Monday.”
“Friday,” Gibbs corrected her. “It’s Girl Friday.”
“Friday, Monday, whatever.” Ziva waved a hand in dismissal. “She did whatever he needed done from balancing his checkbook to setting up business meetings and reading his e-mail.”
“Ironman?” Gibbs asked, his tone dry, both eyebrows rising.
Ziva looked away, a blush staining her cheekbones. “Tony insisted I go to see it. I am not a fan of comic books and did not think it would be worth watching. I was surprised to find it better than I expected. Robert Downey Jr. acted rather well in the hero role, which I suppose is not too surprising given that Tony Stark was a rich playboy with alcohol issues. I am sure Downey’s own personal experiences served him well there. Jeff Bridges as a villain was a bit surprising since he has never really struck me•“
Gibbs gave her a dark look in lieu of a head slap to stop her rambling commentary. It had been months since he’d heard anyone use a movie to explain something. And no one but Tony ever spouted off details about actors and characters. Gibbs didn’t know if it was simply seeing Tony that prompted Ziva to do so, or it if it was Dewing starting it with the initial reference. Either way, Gibbs didn’t want any more, his look making his feelings on the matter clear. If anyone was going to drive him nuts with that sort of thing it would be Tony.
“You two done?” Dewing asked, lips curling upward in an amused smile. “Or should I give you more time to discuss how the movie ends?”
Gibbs shifted his glared to Dewing. “Carry on.”
“Okay then.” She continued, unfazed by his glare or his tone. “For all he was suspected of, no one was ever able to pin anything on Rene Benoit. In spite of her role within his organization or maybe because of it, no one has ever pinned anything on Ms. Loire either.”
“She’s never been charged with anything?”
“Not even so much as a parking ticket. Doesn’t look like she’s ever been hauled in for questioning either. At least not that we can find.”
Dewing took a sip from the water bottle she held. It looked like some sort of flavored crap that Tony had mentioned a preference for. Gibbs wondered if Dewing got him started on it, or if it was the other way around.
“When Benoit died,” Dewing frowned, and then waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, “was murdered, committed suicide…however you want to characterize his abrupt departure from this world, Loire went to work for his successor, your good buddy, Trent Kort.”
Gibbs bit back a snarl at her reference to Kort as his ‘good buddy’. He might not have hated the man but he sure as hell didn’t like him.
Dewing pursed her lips thoughtfully, watching Loire through the one way mirrror. “I have a feeling that Loire was actually what you’d call key management material. She wasn’t in charge, but she probably knows more about how things are done than anyone else in the organization. Kort would have kept her on, doing the same job, even if they weren’t an item before Benoit died. And if she hadn’t been useful, I can’t see how he’d have kept her one regardless of how good she was in bed.”
Dewing sipped her water again, her eyes tracking Loire’s movements as she tried to restore some order to her hair. “There were some rumors that she might be the Lady Macbeth in this little drama. She and Kort working together to kill the king, and seize the throne.”
She gave Gibbs a slant-eyed look. “Of course, we know that’s a crock of shit, but the rumor has such a nice poetic ring to it.”
Dewing sipped her water once more. “The real question here is if she was in on taking out Kort or just caught up in it like the rest of us. Nothing in what we’ve found pegs her as being ambitious enough to want to run the show, but Benoit’s death might have shown her options she hadn’t considered before. And there are other female big name players in that arena so it isn’t like she’d be the first one to make a bid at playing in with the big boys.”
Black Rose, Gibbs thought, was a good example of that. She had nearly out bid La Grenouille, and was no slouch when it came to the international arms trade. She might have seen Benoit’s death as an opportunity to expand her own operation. And she could have thought taking out Kort was one way to ensure she’d be able to. Wouldn’t be the first time one rival offed another. But Gibbs doubted that was the case, but it might be something else to have McGee and Ziva look into.
“Even if she wasn’t part of some plot to take Kort out…she no doubt has a good idea about who would want him dead. I can’t honestly tell how she felt about him.” Dewing sighed softly. “Loire hasn’t seemed overly devastated by Kort’s demise, but then she could be a reserved sort not prone to dramatic displays--”
“Or she could be a stone cold bitch.” Gibbs finished the sentence for her.
“Yep.” Dewing shrugged one shoulder. “Can’t really tell you if she knew he was CIA or not. All the digging we did on Kort, even knowing who and what he was, didn’t turn up that connection. His cover should have been rock solid, and so far as we know, it was… right up until he got shot in the head.”
She finished her water, tossing the empty bottle into the nearby trash can with an easy hook shot Tony would have appreciated. “Mendez has her laptop and blackberry. Hopefully, he and McGee can get something off that which will tell us more.”
“Encrypted?” Ziva asked.
“Probably.”
“You don’t know?” Gibbs frowned. “Why haven’t you people already powered it up and started working on it?”
Dewing’s pointed look made it clear she wasn’t happy with his inference they’d been lazy or careless. “Between the explosion and the fire we were lucky to recover them at all, Special Agent Gibbs.”
Full use of his title made him wince internally. He seemed to be constantly putting his foot in his mouth around this woman.
“The armor plating in the car she and Kort arrived at the scene in protected the electronic equipment to some degree, but I’m not sure how much. I have no idea if they even work much less what sort of security measures may be in place. Mendez has been working on it but it’s not his area of expertise. Hell we don’t have anyone on staff who could claim to be an expert at that shit. Maybe your wunderkind will have better luck.”
Gibbs grimaced. Technology was such a fickle thing. He sighed silently, regretting his earlier question but unwilling to apologize for it. He should be grateful Loire didn’t keep notes on paper. Those would have been reduced to ash.
“If there is anything on them, McGee will find it.”
“Good.” Dewing’s tone was curt. “I’d hate to think all that bragging about his skill was nothing but hot air.”
Her cornflower blue eyes measured him. “We haven’t just been sitting on our hands, Special Agent Gibbs. In addition to looking out for our injured, finding out what I just told you about Loire, identifying the dead, collecting evidence from the crime scene and analyzing it, we’ve also been careful to keep all the details out of the papers. Beaumont got them to run the story as a case of arson. They think Major Crimes is involved because several bodies were found in the rubble.”
The muscles in Dewing’s jaw flexed as she clenched her teeth and then relaxed them. She huffed out a breath that seemed to disperse her earlier anger. Gibbs knew she hadn’t forgiven him for his stupidity, she’d just elected to let it go. He had a feeling she wouldn’t let another faux pas on his part pass again so easily. He made a note to tread more carefully in the future.
“We’ve made sure to keep the DEA out of this. What went down is clearly not in their purview even if they were a part of it initially. The last thing we need is a federal agency riding roughshod over things.”
Gibbs had forgotten they were even involved at the outset. He mentally slapped himself. Those were not the sort of details he should be losing sight of. Being worried about Tony was no excuse.
“I’m not sure how long we can keep the CIA out of the loop. Kort is in the morgue as a John Doe for now. We aren’t going to put his prints in the system for an official ID until we got a few more answers as to what the hell happened and why.”
Putting Kort’s prints in the system would be like waving a red flag. The CIA would know someone was running an ID search and would arrive in short order to do whatever damage control they thought the situation needed. Having them show up would mean the case was beyond Houston PD’s control, and even NCIS. Just digging into Loire’s past had probably already alerted them that something was ‘hinky’.
Dewing grimaced. “The agency is bound to come looking for their lost lamb eventually. And someone had to know he was coming here. We’re running out of time to put the pieces together.”
“Tony said interrogation was what you do best, Gibbs.” Dewing pointed toward Loire. “How about you get us some answers.”
Gibbs nodded. He swallowed the last of his coffee, tossing the empty cup as he left the observation room. Ziva followed him, on his left and a step behind. Even after months of her taking what had been Tony’s place Gibbs still wasn’t used to her being there and not him.
Gibbs took a breath before entering the interrogation room, releasing it slowly. He kept his face impassive as he opened the door abruptly, ignoring the way Sofia Loire jumped slightly at his entrance. She recaptured her poise easily enough, looking down her nose at him in a superior manner.
“You aren’t my attorney.” Her accent made it clear English was not her first language.
“Nope.”
“I thought I made it clear I wouldn’t be speaking to anyone here without legal representation. Perhaps my English is not as good as I’d thought.”
Gibbs ignored her comments, taking the seat facing Loire. Ziva remained standing, off to one side. For Loire to look at her, she’d have to turn her head. It was a standard ploy, one that would make it difficult for Loire to focus on both of them at once.
“Perhaps it is not my English that is the problem. Maybe all the police officers here are deaf and stupid,” Loire sneered.
“I’m not a cop.”
She frowned, eyeing him warily. “What are you then?”
“I’m a federal agent.”
She nervously licked her lips. “Who are you?”
“I’m Special Agent Gibbs.” He deliberately left off out what agency he worked for, waiting for her to draw her own conclusions. He didn’t introduce Ziva either. Not knowing who she was or her affiliation was another way of keeping Loire off balance.
Loire’s eyes narrowed. “I sincerely hope you’re with the FBI. I’ve been kidnapped.”
Referencing the FBI was a shot in the dark. Gibbs could see it in her eyes. She didn’t think he was with that agency, but she was hoping he was. If he was FBI, then he wasn’t CIA. Gibbs wasn’t absolutely certain she knew Kort was an agent, but he his gut was rumbling toward that conclusion.
“You have not been kidnapped, Sofia,” Ziva said softly, drawing Loire’s attention to her, deliberately using her first name knowing it would further throw the other woman off balance---especially when she had no idea who Ziva was.
Loire stiffened. She could have been upset by Ziva contradicting her assertion. But Gibbs had a feeling her outrage was due more to Ziva’s use of her first name---it was a familiarity Loire likely didn’t grant to strangers.
“I’m being held against my will.” Loire glared at Ziva, daring her to contradict her.
“You are a material witness.” Ziva’s statement was matter-of-fact.
Loire rolled her eyes. “Oh please, I can’t tell you anything.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Loire’s jaw tightened. She tapped her nails against the table in obvious frustration and discomfort. “You have no right•“
“Sure we do.” Gibbs’ cut her off, forcing her to face him again. “You’re not just a witness, you’re also a suspect in multiple homicides.”
“I didn’t kill anyone.” Loire vehemently declared.
“But you were there when they got killed.”
“You can’t prove that.”
Gibbs leveled a disbelieving look at her. Her grasping at straws annoyed him.
“You were pulled from a burning building where a gun deal went bad. You don’t honestly expect me to believe it was just some sort of freaky coincidence, do you?”
"It doesn't prove I saw anything." Loire lifted her chin. “I could have simply been in the area.”
“You always spend time loitering around warehouses?” Gibbs arched an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t have thought you were the type.”
“She could be just that type,” Ziva gave Loire a suggestive look, laced with innuendo.
“Maybe she was slumming, Gibbs.” Ziva’s smile was hard, nasty. “Perhaps she was looking for a good time guy for the night. Is that right, Sofia? You had an itch to scratch. One Kort could not quite reach for you. You wanted someone cheap. A little rough and dirty might have been just what you needed.”
“How dare you!!” Loire moved to stand up, outrage adding color to her face. She looked ready to scratch out Ziva’s eyes.
“Sit down.” Gibbs snapped out the command without raising his voice.
Loire sat. She made eye contact and then looked away.
“I am not interested in playing games.” Gibbs leaned forward, his voice even more biting for its lack of volume. “We know you worked for Rene Benoit. After he died, you went to work for Trent Kort. Both of them sold weapons they shouldn’t have been able to get to people who aren’t supposed to have them. You aren’t some innocent bystander, so cut the crap.”
Gibbs sat back. “Tell me about what went down at the warehouse.”
“I will not discuss anything without my attor•“
“People are dead and I want answers.” Gibbs slammed his hand on the table making Loire jump. “You aren’t going to get to speak to your damn attorney until you tell me what I want to know.”
She spat out something in French too fast for Gibbs to catch it all. He assumed there were some statements regarding his parentage and more than a few curse words. Ziva put a hand on Loire’s shoulder; she squeezed none too gently if the look on Loire ’s face was anything to go by. Tony had always referred to it as ‘Ziva’s Vulcan Death Grip’. Gibb wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he did know it worked. He wasn’t sure what Ziva whispered in her ear, but Loire froze reminding Gibbs of a rabbit that knew it had been spotted by a hawk. She paled, her mouth closing with an audible snap.
Knowing she was close to cooperating, Gibbs leaned forward again, invading her space without really crowding her. “You can start by telling me what Trent Kort was doing in Houston. I need to know what got him killed.”
Loire made eye contact with Gibbs. She looked tired and worn down. She wasn’t exactly a tough nut, at least not when on her own. Gibbs suspected that if Loire thought she had any sort of support, any back up at all, she’d hold out for as long as it took. But she didn’t have balls enough to stand on her own for long. Dewing had already done a fine job of whittling her down just by denying her things she’d taken for granted, restricting her movements and her choices, emphasizing how alone she was by surrounding her with hostile and indifferent strangers.
“They told me he was dead.” Loire’s hands clenched into fists, knuckles white with tension and strain. “You say he his dead, too. Is that…is that true?”
It was possible in the chaos of what happened Loire might not have seen Kort get shot in the head. No one had said exactly where she was when the deal went down, just that she was there. She’d never even left the plane on the one deal Gibbs had witnessed with Benoit. Loire might not normally get a front row seat for the action.
For all her dealings with the sale of weapons, she might never have actually fired one or understood how lethal they truly were. She might have thought the police had lied to her to make her cooperate, to get her to turn on him and provide incriminating information. She been holding out this long thinking Kort might still be able to get her out of this mess.
“Yes, he’s dead.”
She swallowed hard. “He always told me not to worry. No matter how ugly things seemed, he told me he would be fine. He always had an escape plan. A way out.” Her gaze shifted, and she focused on something only she could see. “He said he was like a cat and he had plenty of lives.”
Loire cleared her throat. “It would not be the first time the CIA manufactured someone’s death to give him a new lease on life. I had hoped that might be the case here.”
“Do you want to look at his body?” Ziva asked, the question far more gentle than Gibbs would have expected. But then Ziva knew going to see his body wouldn’t be pretty. Getting hit at point blank range in the head tended to do a lot of damage, but if Loire needed proof Kort was dead in order to talk to them, Gibbs had no problem showing her his body.
Loire shook her head slowly, her expression resigned. Evidently their willingness to show her proof was sufficient for her to believe them. Her eyes were a bit brighter than they’d been a moment ago. Maybe she really did care about the man.
“You knew he was an agent?” Gibbs asked, sure of the answer based on her earlier comment, but wanting confirmation. It always helped the case to have things clearly stated and recorded.
“Yes, I knew.”
“He told you?”
“No.” She smiled sadly. “He never trusted me enough to share a secret that big. Rene told me shortly before…before he died.”
Gibbs considered her answer. It made sense for what he knew of Kort and Benoit. Kort would naturally protect his cover at all cost, revealing no more than absolutely necessary regardless of how he might have felt about Loire. And Benoit, looking to retire and knowing his relationship with Kort was going to end and likely not on good terms, had probably felt some obligation to at least warn her, to give her some idea of what to expect once he left.
“Why was Kort in Houston?”
“We have been doing business for years with men in Columbia. They were looking to force out their competition. They wanted expand and take more direct control of the market in the United States. They insisted the sale to take place where distribution of the product would be easier to accomplish. Accommodating a long standing client is just good business.”
Gibbs bit back a snarl at her casual reference to ‘long standing client’, ‘distribution of the product’ and ‘good business’. She made it sound like they were selling something innocuous like produce or toys. Like there was nothing wrong with selling death wholesale. He wanted to slap her. Gibbs took a deep breath and shoved away his anger.
When he could speak evenly, Gibbs asked, “These men from Columbia , were they drug dealers?”
“I never asked where their money came from.”
Ziva snorted delicately. “But you knew.”
“They were Columbians with a lot of money.” Loire’s tone wasn’t quite sarcastic but it definitely had an edge. “It’s always drugs with them.”
“Who were you meeting?” Gibbs asked.
“He called himself El Cato.” Loire rolled her eyes. “Not terribly original.”
Gibbs nearly snorted. Like “La Grenoille” was a title with panache?
“Do you know his real name?”
“Adriano Nunes.”
“You said you’d dealt with him for years?”
“Well…Rene had dealt with him for at least three years. It would have been Trent’s first meeting with him.” She took a breath, letting it out slowly. “That was another reason for his agreeing to complete the transaction in Houston. He wanted to make a good impression.”
Kort hadn’t expanding Benoit’s operation by coming to Houston, Gibbs thought. He was simply maintaining an existing relationship. Probably looking to cement himself further in Benoit’s place. And letting someone like Nunes set the tone for their first meeting might have made him seem easier to work with than his predecessor.
“Did Nunes seem at all reluctant to do business with Kort?”
“Mr. Nunes did not seem to care who supplied what he wanted, as long as he got it.”
“Was there anything unusual or different than when Nunes dealt with Benoit?”
Loire frowned. “Two hours before our scheduled rendezvous he called. He changed the time and location.”
Gibbs realized that could mean someone had tipped Nunes off about Kort’s identity. Or it could have been because DEA and Houston PD’s surveillance of the area had been spotted. Dewing said there had been several possible sites they were trying to keep an eye on. The fact that DEA and Vice hadn’t been able to narrow it down was the reason the Major Case Squad had been called in to help out in the first place.
“Did Nunes say why he wanted things changed?” Gibbs asked.
“I did not ask.” She shook her head. “Many clients are paranoid. It is best not to ask too many questions.”
They have good reason to be paranoid, Gibbs thought. And her not asking wasn’t just being respectful, asking too many questions would be like painting a bull’s eye on her forehead.
“Did you notice anything different about the meeting place?”
Loire paused, considering his question. “There were more people present than usual.”
Gibbs’ eyes narrowed. “More people?”
“Typically there are a handful of men around. No more than necessary. They check the merchandize; we get paid, and leave. Very simple, straightforward.”
Loire bit her lower lip. “After Nunes changed things, Trent requested two more men come with us. Usually, it was just me and him. But when I saw all the extra people Nunes had, I thought Trent had simply wanted the meeting to be more balanced. All that grandstanding and bravado stuff men do sometimes. I thought it was a way for them to show off their authority. A display of force to impress one another.”
Gibbs’ eyes narrowed. Had the changes tipped off Kort to something not being right? The added men could have just been his being more cautious. If he really thought the deal was going to go sour, why show up at all? Maybe his CIA handler wouldn’t let him back out? Or more likely, Kort thought he could handle the situation. He certainly had ego enough to believe that.
Loire sighed. “I should have realized something wasn’t right by the way Nunes’ men openly displayed their weapons. Everyone is always armed, I know that, but usually they are more discreet. Rene had his jackets tailored to hide his. Trent did the same. Most of their clients were equally circumspect.”
Dewing said the team wasn’t surprised by the number of people present. But then they were expected a drug deal involving gangbangers. The rules for those were clearly different than selling weapons. Gangbangers rarely put in much effort hiding their personal arsenal, preferring to display the guns when preparing for any sort of confrontation, often coming with more people than strictly necessary as a show of force.
It was enough for Gibbs’ gut that the deal wasn’t ‘normal’. There had to be a reason for Nunes changed the time and location. Coming prepared for a fight meant it was far more likely Dewing was right that someone had tipped off Nunes to Kort’s real identity. There was no good reason for that sort of firepower if Nunes ever intended to do the deal and let Kort leave. If he simply wanted to double cross the man, there were better and easier ways to do it. To be there to kill Kort himself suggested this was personal on some level for Nunes.
“How did Nunes contact you?”
“Initially we communicated via e-mail. After the first few deals, it was over the phone.”
“He called you or Kort?”
“It was my job to handle those things.”
“I’ll need your contact information, and his.” Gibbs pulled a small pad from his jacket pocket and a pen. He offered both to Loire.
“I can give you mine easily enough.” She took the pen and tablet, writing with quick, neat movements. “I don’t have Nunes’ memorized. It should be on my blackberry.”
“Is it encrypted?”
“No.” She smiled wryly. “It did not seem necessary to secure it overly much. It has little more than a calendar and contact information. Nothing in is truly incriminating, and all of it could be easily explained away with very little effort.”
Her laptop might well be another story, but since she didn’t mention it, Gibbs opted not to ask about it. No point in telling her they’d recovered that as well. Or that they had people capable of hacking into it. He really wasn’t sure what they’d do with all the incriminating evidence they found on it…if they found anything at all.
Houston PD and NCIS weren’t truly in a position to bring down all the people Benoit and Kort had done business with. Not that the CIA would even consider letting them. The goal here wasn’t to stop the sale of weapons; it was to bring down the bastards who had hurt them and theirs.
“You will need my login ID and password to access my blackberry.”
“And those are?”
“My login ID is Fleuve.”
River, Gibbs translated silently. It was hardly subtle or original. She shared her name with a well known river in France.
“My password is Vallee123.”
“Thank you.” Gibbs took back the tablet, and stood up. “You’ve been very helpful.”
They knew who the players were now. If Houston PD didn’t have any contacts they could use to find out more on Nunes, Ziva just might. Between the drugs and guns there was bound to be someone else who’d been keeping an eye on him.
They should be able to use Loire’s phone log to get Nunes’ number even if the blackberry was useless. With any luck a search of both logs would give them something they could use that would indicate who tipped off Nunes to Kort’s real identity. Knowing who would lead them to why.
Gibbs needed to check in with Abby and Annie Hartung. They might have found something by now that could help narrow the field as well. Where the weapons came from was another clue as to who all was involved.
“Can I can now?”
Loire’s question stopped Gibbs as he was headed for the door. He turned to look at her. “No.”
“But I cooperated. I told you what you wanted to know.”
“Yes, you did. But I may have more questions. And you are still a material witness. Nunes was not among the dead or wounded. He may not be satisfied with simply killing Kort if he knows you are still alive.”
Loire paled. She obviously hadn’t realized until that moment that her life might be in danger. Or what her assisting the police would mean to her clients. She’d never been a target for them, but there was never any reason for her to be before. And she always had someone to look out for her. It was a whole new world for Sofia Loire.
“If he didn’t want you dead before, he sure as hell will now that you’ve cooperated with us. It would be best if you stayed under police protection for now.”
She spat a curse at him. One Gibbs had no trouble translating. He smiled. Oh yes, he was a bastard. And damn proud of it.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Gibbs gets to interogate Kort's girlfriend.