Chapter 10
As executive assistant to the director, Cynthia had cultivated a vast network of contacts, both within and outside the agency. Joey downstairs called her to tell her that the FBI had arrived, right after Mellody, the FBI director’s assistant, called to say there was something major brewing and Fornell had stormed out of the director’s office cursing all the while.
Mellody didn’t have any more details to share, but she promised to call when she did and Cynthia extended the invitation of a dinner at Café Atlantico for her help. As with most things, it would be on NCIS’ dime. Thank goodness for her corporate credit card and a director who understood the gossip network.
She buzzed the director’s office, wanting to give him the news.
Morrow looked up when the phone rang and clicked the button, activating the speaker phone. “Yes, Cynthia? Haven’t you gone home for the night?”
“No, sir. Our favorite FBI agent seems to be on the way and…oh, Doctor Mallard…” She looked up in shock as Ducky hurried into her boss’ inner sanctum. Cynthia gently put the handset down and shook her head. After days like today, she was so tempted to ask for a huge raise.
Ducky hurried into the director’s office, paying Cynthia no attention at all this time. “Director, we have a situation here. Special Agent Franks just battered a man we have in custody. Both Ziva and Abigail witnessed it first hand. He was restrained and Mike attacked him.”
“What the hell?!” Jumping from his desk, Morrow called out. “Come on, Doctor. It looks like all hands on deck.”
Striding out of his office, he told Cynthia as he passed. “Call my wife, please. Tell her I’m going to be late. We have a situation.” He knew his wife would want to know more. But she would no doubt find a way to keep herself occupied.
“Yes, sir!” Cynthia sat up taller and dialed Katherine Morrow, explaining the situation as clearly and concisely as she could, despite the woman’s obvious confusion and inebriated state. When she was done, she rubbed a hand over the bridge of her nose. In a short while she’d order some dinner for herself and the agents. Maybe even from Café Atlantico. She was owed and it was going to be a very long night.
Ducky scooped up a first aid kit and a bottle of water from the outer office and followed the director in silence, knowing his expression was becoming grimmer with every step. He could see Mike and Special Agent Fornell huddled together in the alcove and Tony and Timothy were entertaining two other men. Ducky frowned slightly then walked faster toward the group of younger men.
“Sebastian, is that you? My you’ve grown, lad! Aren’t you with Interpol?” Ducky turned to DiNozzo and McGee. “Have you boys met Sebastian Blumenthal, he’s an agent much like yourselves, with Interpol. Sebastian, why are you here?”
“Can’t explain that to you, Doctor,” Ron Sacks replied, giving Blumenthal a warning look. Ducky arched an eyebrow at the FBI agent before turning his attention back to the young man.
“Ducky,” Sebastian said, warmly, extending a hand and clasping the Medical Examiner’s. He looked uncomfortable, Ducky realized. Since Interpol didn’t work with the military, Ducky couldn’t fathom what Sebastian was doing here.
“Dear boy, I’m very happy to have you here with us. Why, I haven’t seen you since…was it when Mother and your grandfather were courting a few years back. How is your grandfather doing? He’s part of my bridge circle, but of course we don’t play in many of the same tournaments and I…” Ducky trailed off then, noting that Director Morrow was looking at him in annoyance. “Ah…very well. We’ll speak later then. Director?”
“Doctor…” the Director warned. There was something going drastically wrong in interrogation, and he needed to be there now, not listening to Ducky. “Doctor Mallard, we need to proceed.”
“Yes. Oh yes. Oh. Of course!” Ducky nodded and hurried down the corridor with the director.
Making his way to the interrogation rooms, Director Morrow burst into the first one. At first glimpse, he took in Abby hovering protectively over a man whose face was bruised, while Ziva stood back a few steps in a clearly defensive posture.
“What in the hell is going on in my agency? Someone had better explain and quick.”
Jet arched an eyebrow at the man who had marched in as if he owned the place. His agency? Must be a bigwig then. He gave the man his most pathetic look and acted as if he was going to extend a hand, only to come up short when he “realized” he was cuffed. He sat back down with a thump and lifted his hands to his aching temple.
It was overly dramatic, but he knew it’d get a reaction.
Tom Morrow had been reading through lies and bullshit for more years than he cared to admit. And this one was laying it on pretty thick; the bullshit anyhow. He doubted very much the cuffs and bruises would have been that big of a deterrent to someone like the man in front of him, despite his feeble look.
He’d let the man play his game, for now, and would wait to see where the suspect would take it and how far. Director Tom Morrow was many things, but impulsive and reckless were not on that list.
“Sciuto! David! Someone had better start explaining what the hell is going on!”
Knowing that Abby wasn’t in a state to be objective, Ziva stepped forward to make her report and debrief the Director.
“Director,” she began in greeting. “We apprehended this suspect, known as Jet Brooks, through Franks’ op this evening. On the way here, he was Mirandized and detained. However, no charges were given to him, as per orders from Franks. When we arrived, I was instructed to bring him here and to guard him. Ms. Sciuto arrived to print him, which I allowed her to do in private.” For reasons Ziva was not going to disclose. She would leave that to Abby. “She was safe, protected as I can hear through the door, and the suspect was cuffed.”
Taking a deep breath, she began to describe the more…unsavory part of the entire occurrence. “When Franks returned to interrogate the suspect, he became enraged at finding Abby inside, alone with Brooks. He quite lost control of himself when he went inside the room. He charged the suspect, grabbing him by the clothes and striking him twice. The second hit caused Brooks to lose consciousness and fall to the floor. When confronted with his behavior by Abby, as I stood behind her in support and protection, Franks became more enraged, threatening her, and claiming he was going to have her transferred, among other things. When neither Abby nor myself backed down, he left.”
The more details Ziva gave him, the tighter Tom’s eyes became. The situation had gone exceedingly too far. Though why Mike would behave like that, Morrow was still confused about. “Why in the hell would Franks strike a suspect?”
Getting up from her chair next to Jet, Abby walked over to the director. “He says it’s because Je…Brooks assaulted me and was threatening me when he came into interrogation. He also said that Brooks hit himself. None of that is true, Director.”
Ducky was impressed that the girls didn’t hold back. It must have been hard for them to explain what Mike had done in this fashion. “Well done,” he whispered, looking at the women and then the suspect, assessing his physical injuries.
No changes, which was bloody good. Brooks’ eyes remained clear and focused, and his attention was clearly on the proceedings. He didn’t appear to be groggy in the least. Ducky breathed a silent sigh of relief for that. The last thing any of them needed was an injured suspect.
Jet just watched as things unfolded. This had to be the NCIS director, Morrow. He nodded slightly at the realization, coughing back a growl as his head started throbbing even worse. Ziva impressed the hell out of him with her frank assessment of the events. It was never easy to call a superior out on their behavior.
He didn’t dare add anything to the conversation, so he turned in his chair slightly, watching the other man’s body language and every move, body coiled in case he needed to defend Abby or Ziva. He knew the man had to have seen through his act, but it was done to get a reaction, not to maintain that it was truth or any BS like that. These were trained investigators. He could pull one over on them if he wanted to. But he wasn’t interested in trying yet. The name confusion would do just fine until or unless anything changed.
Hearing him cough, Abby turned and saw Jet flinch, though barely. “Ducky, do you have those aspirin and some ice?” Seeing a first aid kit in the doctor’s hand, Abby assumed the items were in there. Grabbing it, she looked through it and said, “Thanks Duckman.” Going back to Jet, she sat in the chair and pulled out the pain meds and a small bottle of water. Handing them to Jet, she waited for him to sip the water and take the pills.
Morrow shook his head at Ziva’s explanation, running over it and coming up with questions. “That’s all well and good, but that still doesn’t explain why Franks would come in and hit a restrained suspect. There had to have been some provocation.”
Jet took the water and pills, putting his hands back on the table and barely resisting the urge to touch Abby. He looked at the older man and shook his head. “There wasn’t. I was sitting right here…” He trailed off, knowing that while this fight involved him, it wasn’t really his fight. But he couldn’t help adding something else.
“I didn’t assault her.”
“Director, other than causing an…unexpected reaction in Abby, the suspect didn’t have time to do anything.” Ziva hoped that Morrow wouldn’t press for what had happened to Abby. If and when it was time to do so, she hoped either Abby would tell or she’d at least have some privacy. Ziva hated to disclose information about friends, despite her rundown of Franks’ behavior.
“He didn’t, Director. He didn’t have the time or the means, even besides being cuffed. Ziva was outside and plenty able to get to me if I needed her. I wasn’t threatened in the least.” Sitting as she was by the table with Jet between her and the rest of the group, Abby found herself to be weaker than Jet. With one hand supporting her on the table, she let the hand closest to Jet fall to her lap. With her pinky, she traced a light pattern on his pants, unseen by anyone in the room or in observation.
“So, you’re telling me my senior agent came in here and assaulted you with no more antagonism than Abby being alone with you?” Morrow turned his gaze on the suspect. He was having an incredibly hard time believing that Franks would be that stupid. But hearing it from so many witnesses, he didn’t know what else he could believe.
Jet nodded, shrugging. What could he say? “That was how we all saw it, Sir. Maybe we’re all wrong…” But he knew they weren’t. He wanted to stand up, yank the damn cuffs off, and start ranting but that’d get him pinned against the wall or worse.
“Unless you’re leading a conspiracy against Franks, I highly doubt three witnesses could all be mistaken.” Morrow started pacing the room, trying to figure out how to spin this. Stopping in front Ziva, he asked the two girls, “Do you two have any ideas what the hell went wrong with Franks?”
“It was my fault, Director,” Abby admitted as she stood up. “I think Mike had it in his head that I needed to be protected, that somehow my being alone with the suspect was putting me in danger.” Swallowing, Abby hesitated before admitting the last part. Her reaction to Jet and her subsequent behavior when they first met was embarrassing. But to save both her guys " and she did consider Jet one of her guys now " she would have to admit it all.
“Director, I…when I first came in contact with the suspect, with Mr. Brooks,” she began, hating that she had to make it sound so impersonal, despite her strange, growing feelings for Jet. “I’m afraid I was a bit… overwhelmed by the situation, by him. I’ve never been in a position like that, and I was more attracted to him than I thought. It shook me up. I think Mike saw that as me being threatened,” she finished quickly, shuffling her feet as she felt her embarrassment stain her cheeks red.
“So, it was my fault. I’m sorry,” she tried, before plopping back down in her seat and lowering her head to the table. She was too mortified to look at anyone then, especially Jet, too embarrassed to have behaved as such an idiot. Bet Ziva would never have acted like that, Abby thought to herself.
“Abby, it wasn’t your fault,” Jet said quietly but forcefully. He knew he had to give the man something, so with his heart hammering in his throat, he began speaking. “Sir, many years ago Mr. Franks investigated a crime against someone I know. We met then… but I was not a suspect,” he emphasized. “He may have had me pegged as a problem in that investigation because it was a long time ago…”
He trailed off before looking back into the older man’s eyes. “I will not discuss the specifics of the investigation with anyone. That is the only information you’re getting about it.”
“Jet, it was my fault,” Abby whispered to him. “It was and it still is. If I had known how to handle the op, had had more experience, then I wouldn’t have taken the stun gun to you. And now, I wouldn’t have seen you alone, no matter how much I needed to see you…it all goes back to experience, right?”
“I deserved the damned stun gun,” Jet insisted. “You did the right thing. I could have hurt you.”
“I didn’t do it because I felt threatened,” Abby argued, hating that she’d have to admit this one last detail. “I did it because I thought you were after the jewelry, not me. I thought you were a thief and…I got pissed,” she admitted.
“Good…” Jet said softly, knowing he needed to expand on that as soon as the word was out of his mouth. “You got feisty, you got pissed, and you struck out. Good to know you have spirit and soul, Abby.” He carefully didn’t admit to anything.
Abby smiled wryly at his comment. “You have no idea just how feisty I can get, Jet. I’ve got spirit and soul in abundance.” She wasn’t so naïve that she missed his avoidance of anything mentioning the jewelry. But with everything else that had happened, his needing to keep his secrets was not something she wanted to worry about.
“Can’t wait until you let them come out and play then,” he shot back, halting when the doctor gave him a warning glance. He was playing with fire here and he needed to rein himself in. He gave the man a look of acknowledgment and of silent thanks. He had to get back on track for all of their sakes, especially Abby.
After a pause of a few seconds, Jet spoke again. “Given the circumstances, the entire team reacted quite reasonably. They saw one of their own shaken up. They protected their own, someone who isn’t used to being in that circumstance.” He fixed the man with a severe glare. “And they reacted.”
Ducky worried his lower lip between his teeth. “Director. We have Ziva and yourself in here and though Abby and I are not armed, we are capable and able. Might you remove the gentleman’s handcuffs? He has been through quite the ordeal and I don’t think he’s up for an escape. And even if so, he’d never make it to the gates before the entire base was on lockdown.”
“Please, Director. We don’t even know if he’s done anything wrong. Please let him go,” Abby begged. And somehow, she knew that despite appearances, if Jet wanted to escape and disappear, he was more than able.
~*~
Sebastian Blumenthal tried to remain less imposing and looked at the younger man’s computer, letting the two NCIS agents and Sacks fight things out. He could do bad cop, unobtrusive cop with the best of ‘em. When the computer flashed up a hit on something they didn’t want discovered, he leaned on the keyboard, clearing the search. If either of the men were computer gurus, they could pull up the details quickly, but if not he might have bought them some time. He gave Sacks a brief nod. This was the one thing they’d been tasked to do. At least they weren’t Fornell, who had to make contact…
And they might have gotten away with it. At least until the computer beeped…
“McGee!” Tony peered around the guy Ducky knew, nudging him out of the way. “You and Sacks stand over there, near those two desks.” Tony pointed toward Ziva’s desk area. He leaned over McGee’s shoulder, staring at the screen. “McGeek? Can you get back whatever was there before he did what he did?” Tony asked urgently. “Mission Impossible it up if you have to. Something fishy going on here.”
“Oh it, Boss…I mean, Tony.” Inwardly, Tim head slapped himself. He hated it when he slipped up and called Tony “boss.” It always went straight to the other man’s head. Quickly clicking away on his keyboard, he worked to bring up whatever information Agent Blumenthal had erased.
“Did I do something wrong?” Sebastian asked, winking at Sacks before leaning against one of the desks. He didn’t much like working with the FBI but his superiors had insisted that they work this case together and with a minimum of frustration and turf wars. Ron Sacks wasn’t too bad and Fornell had a Napoleon complex but he could deal and work with the man just fine.
“Not buying the innocent act.” Tony muttered, squeezing McGee’s shoulder. “Deliberate?” he questioned, whispering into McGee’s ear. Even though they’d been bickering beforehand, whenever anyone threatened the team, they tightened ranks.
What the hell was Interpol doing here anyway? Brooks was big trouble. At least he’d be out of their hair soon with the Feebs and Interpol playing along with NCIS. Tony had seen enough turf wars and he knew much as Mike might want to, there was no way he’d win this battle.
“Deliberate,” McGee confirmed as he worked his way through the computer system.
Tony nodded, leaning over the keyboard alongside McGee, keeping half his attention on the two looking ever so innocent. “Bastard,” he muttered for McGee’s benefit.
“Finally,” Tim said annoyed. The deleted search was the latest one he had been running on Franks’ request. Having started a search on past cases Franks had been involved in, plus the search elements from earlier, he was pleased to see something come up. “Got something, Tony. Old case Franks worked on. It doesn’t list a Jet Brooks, but a Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Marine. Jet could be an abbreviation. Both wife and daughter were killed. Wife was a witness for the prosecution. Drugs. There’s a picture.”
Pulling up the photo, it showed a young Jet Brooks as a Marine, but with the name of L. Jethro Gibbs, Gunnery Sergeant. “Its like Franks was growling about, but the facts were wrong. Brooks/Gibbs was the husband and father of the victims, not the murderer.”
“Leroy Jethro Gibbs?” Tony asked, incredulously. Nobody could have heaped a name on a kid that was that bad. Leroy Jethro? It sounded very…Green Acres, very Beverly Hillbillies. Tony couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The guy they’d collared was in a designer tux, hair military short but pristine. The guy had screamed urbane elegance. Not…Leroy Jethro??
Tony took in the rest of the information and leaned in when McGee pulled up the picture. Young guy, probably late twenties, dark hair, even though the picture was black and white, Tony had the impression that those eyes were ice blue.
Franks had it wrong? Tony pulled in a breath, looking around. At some point, Mike and Fornell had left. They were probably in interrogation. “Interrogation, McGee. Let’s bring our guests along.”
Tim’s gut twisted as he realized the man in interrogation wasn’t a perp, a dirtbag as Tony had labeled him. He was a Marine. Looking up at the agents watching them, he asked, “He’s FBI, right? That’s why you’re here.”
Sebastian wasn’t admitting to anything but when the two men started to make their way out of the squad room, he stepped in front of the younger looking one. “Don’t draw conclusions here.”
“Conclusions? I haven’t made any conclusions, just trying to investigate what’s happening, otherwise known as my job,” Tim shot off. “But if you know something, you’d better tell us before the FBI comes out of that interrogation room looking incompetent.”
Heading after Tony, he called out, “On your six, Tony.”
Sebastian turned to Sacks and shrugged. He knew when to back off. “Got popcorn? Watching Tobias’ head blow off should be pretty entertaining.”
~*~
Martin Fletcher had an understanding relationship with many of the directors of agencies that fell under the DOD and DOJ. Many of them had gone to prep school together or were in the same networks at their universities. He’d known Tom Morrow the longest and considered him a close friend. When his assistant passed on the news that Fornell was heading over there, Martin knew he needed to call Tom. Two emergencies later, he was dialing Tom’s cell number, hoping he’d beaten Fornell to the punch but knowing in his gut that he hadn’t.
Morrow watched Abby and Brooks, still trying to formulate a response and game plan, when his cell started ringing. Not checking the caller-ID, he answered, “Director Morrow.” He motioned Ziva to stand guard and then stepped into the hallway and a few feet away from the interrogation room doors for privacy.
“Tom, it’s Martin. Got a bit of a problem and you’re going to have a couple of visitors from my agency. Treat ‘em well, will ya? You know Tobias Fornell and Ron Sacks and I’ve got a man your boys collared called Jet Brooks. He’s an agent deep undercover for me. Make sure you treat him well, Tom. He’s a good man, the best.”
“Hey Martin. It’s good to hear from you,” Morrow said in greeting. As his old friend explained about his undercover operative, Morrow felt the stress clamp around him. “So, you’re telling me the guy my people nabbed tonight is actually an undercover FBI agent? And just how far will your man go to keep his cover? How deep is this, Martin?”
“You got Brooks, that’s him.” Martin’s voice got very serious. “He’ll stay as deep as we need him to. What’re the charges? Does my guy have to see jail time? He’ll do it, Tommy. He’s as good as they get and he won’t risk the op unless he knows it is authorized from me. If you can promise me his cover will remain secure, tell him that I said I want him to tell you about getting the boat out. He’ll understand.”
Fletcher chuckled. “Wish I could be there when he gives Tobias the cold shoulder. Toby thinks he runs this op, but Brooks knows all orders come only from me. You scratch my back on this one and I’ll scratch yours. Call me back later and debrief me and we’ll see if we can’t help each other.”
“Getting out the boat? Interesting phrase. No one has been able to tell me what charges, if any, he’s being held on. I’ll probably be able to spin this, but I’ll let you know. And as always, I’ll keep this information to myself, or at least tell only those who need to know and who can play it close to vest. And I’m sure, since they’re all in interrogation now, there may be something for you to watch later.” He laughed. “Sounds good, Marty. Tell the wife I send my best. And think about getting together this weekend and grilling up some steaks if things cool down with this situation.”
“I expect a DVD, Tom. He’s a good guy but they don’t make ‘em much tougher. He’s my best undercover. Don’t let your men screw anything up. Fornell is his handler, but he’s a fairly senior agent, Tom. He knows his stuff…and he’s good.” Martin chuckled. “I’ll have mine call yours tomorrow for lunch and you come over on the weekend.” Hopefully Katherine Morrow wouldn’t be drunk or on her painkillers and they could actually socialize.
Martin looked at his Rolex and tapped his desk a few times, considering something. Look, Tom, he is my best and I want him protected at all costs. I’ll get over there. Give me twenty minutes. Maybe we can work together to get some answers and keep his cover intact.”
“If you’re on your way, I’ll hold out on exposing his cover until you’re here. And like I said, we’ll bring in only the people we have to. This Interpol guy, he one of yours too?”
“Working with us on this op. He’s okay too and he’s read in. I’ll see ya soon, Tom.”
~*~
Tony paused, looking between the door to interrogation and the observation room. Fornell was nowhere to be found and Franks was just entering the observation room. Tony followed him in, angling a glance at Tim.
“Mike? Probie’s IDed that guy.” Tony wouldn’t say anything more, letting McGee take credit where it was due.
“Yeah?” Mike asked, whirling around. “Was I right, McGee?”
Giving Tony a dirty look for hanging his neck out alone, Tim replied. “Kinda, Boss. I guess you worked with him like eighteen years ago.” Showing Mike the file and picture he had quickly printed off before coming to interrogation, Tim handed over the case file and picture of Jet Brooks, aka Leroy Jethro Gibbs. “But he wasn’t the perp, Franks. He was the husband and father of the victims. A Marine sniper.”
Mike stared at the pictures, the memory coming back to him. “Pendleton. Woman witnessed a drug deal.” He nodded, feeling like crap all of a sudden. “He was fighting in the Middle East. Desert Storm. Hurt real bad afterward. Came to see me after they were gone… Druggie dirtbag caused an accident. Shot my agent, car accident killed the woman and girl but the dirtbag shot ‘em up anyway.”
Mike’s gaze sharpened and focused even more on the man. “Did he go bad? What’ve we got on Leroy Jethro Gibbs, McGee? Job? Credit history? When he last took a piss? It all in here or did you come running in here half baked?”
Mike knew he was being unfair but now he was even more pissed off. At himself.
“Thought you needed to know ASAP, Mike.” Tony shot back. “Don’t blame Probie.”
“Sorry, Boss. I just thought you’d want to know right away. I can go back and find out what I can…” Tim said, hesitating as he turned to go.
“Do it. You go with him, DiNozzo,” Mike growled. He didn’t want them to see him pound the wall in frustration. That guy had been a good man once. If he still was a good man, Mike had miscalculated and beat up someone he had no business hurting. If he was bad…he was going down hard.
Mike remembered the family well. Redheaded wife. Beautiful little girl. Wife had taken a year off from teaching in order to come to Pendleton from DC. He shook his head sadly, vowing to get answers.
“Okay, Franks. We’ll get it to you as soon as I have something.” Tim hurried from the room, assuming Tony would be following him.
Blumenthal and Sacks stepped back as the NCIS agents walked out. Sebastian could tell things were falling apart and this was going to be a very long night.
“Days like this, we need hazard pay,” he muttered to Sacks as they shadowed the NCIS agents.
~*~
Mike stormed out of observation and went in search of Fornell, who he found outside the bathroom. “They’re in Room One, I’ll be in observation.” Mike strode into observation and made sure the audio and video recording devices were turned on. He wasn’t gonna miss a second of this.
His ass might be in a sling after today but he’d dodge this bullet. And if Gibbs/Brooks had gone bad, as Mike suspected, there wasn’t anyone in this agency that would fault his reaction.
“Nice party NCIS is throwing,” Tobias said as he entered the room, seeing the Director of NCIS, Doctor Mallard, the Mossad assassin and the forensic scientist all conferencing with Brooks. “Mind if the FBI joins?”
Ducky’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of Fornell in one of their interrogation rooms. This wasn’t any good at all. “Special Agent Fornell, lovely to see you. Am I to assume you brought Sebastian Blumenthal along with you? Fine boy.”
Jet looked at the newcomer impassively. “Not a party when the guest of honor is cuffed,” he muttered, rattling the cuffs for emphasis.
“Good to see you, Ducky. Yes, Agent Blumenthal is with me.” Seeing his agent, albeit undercover at the moment, cuffed and appearing to be beaten, Fornell growled out. “What the hell is going on here?”
Jet gave him a ‘don’t ask me, I’m just the suspect’ shrug. He’d been deep undercover for a long time, which meant he and Tobias hadn’t spoken much. But Toby knew him, knew how he ran his ops. Knew this wasn’t standard behavior or operating procedures.
“Have we met?” Jet asked, keeping his cover intact. He wouldn’t break it unless directed by someone much higher up than Tobias. “I know the doctor, the agent, the forensic scientist, and this guy must be the big cheese, but who are you?”
Hearing Morrow snort in amusement at being called the “big cheese,” Fornell shook his head. “My name is Agent Tobias Fornell, I’m with the FBI.”
“Hello, Agent Tobias Fornell. Are you as special an agent as the NCIS agents? They’re good with their fists. Do I lodge a complaint with you or the big cheese?”
“You lodge it with me, Brooks. The FBI has no standing in this case so far.” And in that Morrow was telling the truth. Until Martin gave his operative the go ahead, Morrow was forced to keep the information separate, for now. But if things got even more out of control, he’d have to force Fletcher’s hand.
“Your agent attacked me. Three of them actually, not counting the stun gun treatment from the forensic scientist here.” He winked at her, hoping she knew he wasn’t lumping her in with Franks. “Agent…Tim? The young one. He jammed a gun into my abdomen when I was already cuffed and subdued. The other one. Tony, was it? Bashed my head against a wall. And then the older guy, Mike Franks. He decked me in here while I was cuffed, as your two employees mentioned before the FBI guy arrived.”
Jet glanced over at Toby for a split second, letting his gaze flicker over the man instead of meeting his eyes.
“And they still haven’t told me what I’ve done to get this treatment. What are the charges?”
“Are you telling me they all attacked you in one form or another? Even Abby?” he asked, glaring at his forensic scientist at that news. Franks, he could expect. Ziva and Tony, if provoked. And even Tim if he got pushed into a corner. But Abby? “I haven’t been told of any charges either.”
Bellowing since he knew Franks was in observation, Morrow called out, “Franks! Get in here and tell me what the hell is going on and what charges you’re planning on bringing!” He was hoping that, through intimidation, he could get Franks to drop whatever bee was in his bonnet this time.
“Not Abby and Ziva,” Jet insisted. “But the two guys and their boss. Abby has been…” He gave her a small smile and a wink. “Amazing. And Ziva has been a warrior of honor.”
Abby gave him an unsure smile, still convinced the entire evening had been her fault. If she had been able to handle herself better, she’d never been shaken up, would have been better able to handle even Jet. Or at least, that’s what she was telling herself.
Franks stormed in and looked at the director and then the man, being pissed enough to show his hand and blow this wide open. He slapped the file on the table, quietly impressed when the other man didn’t even flinch. “Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Gunnery Sergeant, 1/1 company. Served in Desert Storm, Panama, Columbia, and many other places. Damned good sniper, weren’t ya? MP before then. Wife and daughter died along with one of my best damn agents. When you went bad, you went real bad, Leroy.”
He turned to Morrow then, triumph glittering in his eyes. “Director, I remembered why the suspect looked familiar.”
Hearing Mike burst in, Abby took a defensive pose next to Jet. She wasn’t going to let him hurt a shackled man, especially this shackled man, ever again. But when her boss threw down the bombshell about the murders of Jet’s family, she turned back to him, her hand clasped to her mouth in shock. “Is it true? Did someone kill your wife and daughter? Oh God, Jet. I am so sorry.”
Jet winced, looking away. He didn’t want to discuss this in front of her, in front of the one woman who had caught his attention since…her. And he wouldn’t give Franks the satisfaction. Instead, he lifted one hand and signed ‘yes’ to her before he looked away, eyes fixed on a spot above her ear.
It hurt her when he turned away, even though he signed to her. But she could understand, they barely knew each other. And something like that must be the most painful thing in the world. Abby couldn’t imagine the grief he must have lived through, must still be living through. And for his troubles, he got electrocuted and beaten.
Turning to the supervisory agent, Fornell growled out, “Do you think you could brag about it anymore, Franks? How ‘bout it? Or you must think the man likes to have his wife and daughter bandied around simply because you finally figured out how you know him?” He didn’t like how the man went straight to making the cuffed FBI agent the bad guy, trying to make up for his treatment of a prisoner.
Mike shook his head at a loss for words again. “I…recognized him,” he finished.
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