CHAPTER XII: The Aftermath
Avram was alive, only it turned out, once Abby had processed his fingerprints, that he was really Shiriq al Shiriqi. Tony's shot had completely shattered his left shoulder. The doctors at Bethesda had stabilized the shoulder and were planning to do major reconstructive surgery the following day. When DiNozzo and McGee interviewed him later that night, his arm was hanging from a traction harness, and he was almost giddy from painkillers.
But he was still awake. And he was arrogant and unrepentant. And he wanted to talk.
The agents learned that he was originally a citizen of Saudi Arabia. His father and uncles were friends of the family of Osama bin Laden. The young al Shiriqi admired Osama to the point of hero worship. When he was 17, he begged his father to let him join bin Laden's al Qaeda. bin Laden welcomed him warmly, recognizing that he had the talent to become an outstanding terrorist. He was given language lessons, at which he proved to be unusually adept, picking up Hebrew and English as though they were native tongues. He also became an expert shot with many types of weapons and learned basic bomb-making and a host of other skills useful to terrorists.
And when he turned 21, al Qaeda fitted him out with an Israeli identity and sent him off to become a Mossad agent. He arrived in Israel with a letter of introduction from bin Laden to Ari Haswiri, who made sure that his entrance into Mossad was facilitated.
Because of Shiriqi's ability to learn and the skills he already possessed, he advanced rapidly in the organization. When the Israeli government had signed the contract for the backpack bomb, Shiriq/Avram was one of the agents assigned to oversee the project at the research facility in Washington.
He had loved living in Washington despite his intense focus on his task. In his off time, he became an avid tourist, visiting all the landmarks and attractions in the area, but he thought the Americans were soft and stupid, especially about the injustices Middle Easterners suffered because of the Israelis. He often socialized with Ari when he was in town and had the chance to meet the other man's extremely attractive half sister. It was no surprise when he learned that Ari had arranged for her to become his Mossad control officer.
In the meantime, the bomb project was going along quite smoothly. Learning that the first prototype was almost ready for delivery to the Israelis, he contacted al Qaeda. His instructions were to use whatever means possible to divert the shipment.
"I almost made it," he bragged to the two agents listening with rapt attention to his confession.
Then he wanted to know what was going to happen to him.
DiNozzo told him that he would charged with two separate offenses, one for terrorist activities and another for murder and kidnapping. Conviction for either would mean he would spend the rest of his life in an American prison at the very least.
DiNozzo had returned to NCIS very late, but he still had to interrogate Ziva David. She had been waiting in an interrogation room for him for hours, and by the time he finally entered the room, she was at a peak of nervousness.
He stared at her for several long minutes while she squirmed under his gaze.
"Why, Ziva?" he finally asked.
"It was an assignment," she replied in a small voice. "I was his control, just like with…." Her voice trailed off.
He let the silence continue.
"I didn't know he was an Arab."
"So you put your trust in not just one, but two men who both turned out to be traitors? Both double agents for your country's enemies?"
"Yes, I guess so," she said in a low voice, gazing at her hands.
The silence continued until she couldn't stand it any longer. "What's going to happen to me?"
"I don't know," he said honestly. "I don't know if you'll be tried here in the U.S. or sent back to Israel. Or even if you'll go to trial, and if so, for what. I think I can guarantee that your days at NCIS are over, and probably at Mossad too."
DiNozzo thought she was guilty of being at least an accessory to murder, because she had known Avram/Shiriq had killed three innocent people but did nothing to report it or try to stop him. She had allowed him to give her vague and unbelievable reasons for his actions. Despite her training and her intelligence, Avram/Shiriq had played her for a fool.
DiNozzo asked her a few more questions, but she had no more useful information to give. When he left the interrogation room, she was sitting hunched over the table, pathetic, defeated, nothing at all like the vibrant, sexy person he had known since her arrival at NCIS.
He trudged back to his desk and began the paperwork. The next morning when the director arrived in the bull pen, she found him sprawled sound asleep in his chair.
She woke him up, asked for a brief report, and then sent him home to sleep.
Later that evening, after waking up and taking a shower, he went to the temple to spend a little bit of time sitting shiva with Benjamin Meissner's family. He spoke briefly with Sarah Meissner, trying to assure her that her husband's death had not been in vain.
"It might have been senseless," he told her. "It was the random, criminal act of a terrorist, but it fit a pattern that he created out of arrogance, and because of that our team was able to track him down. He will be punished."
Then he knelt down to the eye level of young Benjamin Junior. "You're the man of the house now. Take good care of your mom and sister." The young man was awed at being so close to a federal agent—maybe not FBI but the next best thing. Tony invited the family to visit headquarters when their mourning was over.
The next day was Friday. After several hours of rest, DiNozzo arrived at work feeling re-energized and ready to deal with the aftermath of the case. He talked for almost an hour with Detective Delbart, learning that two terrorists died in the shootout at the warehouse in addition to the one Tim had shot down from the helicopter ladder. Four other Islamic terrorists were working undercover as Israeli scientists at the bomb research facility; somehow they had passed all security checks. All the work computers had been seized, and between Metro P.D.'s computer analysts and McGee and Abby, a whole network of terrorists, both in the U.S. and elsewhere, had been identified and were being pursued. All of the ones found in the U.S. would be put on trial for their various crimes, as DiNozzo had predicted to al Shiriqi.
Ziva, it turned out, was already gone, recalled to Israel. The director, on behalf of the woman who had once saved her life, had pulled as many strings as she could to insure that David's punishment was as light as possible. She would be drummed out of Mossad, of course, but she was unlikely to spend any further time in any kind of detention, nor would she receive any further punishment.
The director also had some words for DiNozzo. She congratulated him on the swift results and overall success of the operation, but she also told him she was concerned about the way he had flouted the rules and not kept her in the loop on how and where he was getting his information.
"I'm not going to put an official reprimand in your jacket," she said sternly, "but I do want you to be aware that such behavior won't be tolerated in the future. Just because Gibbs gets away with it doesn't mean you have leeway."
Then she had smiled, as if to say that what she was telling him was merely pro forma.
He spared some time to write a note of condolence to the family of Petty Officer Jane Adamovsky, in which he told them essentially the same things that he had said to Sarah Meissner.
For the rest of the day, DiNozzo and McGee worked together companionably to resolve all the loose ends of the case and finish their reports. In the afternoon DiNozzo suggested they grab a bite and a beer after work, an offer McGee gratefully accepted.
McGee was surprised when they headed back toward the bomb research facility, but was reassured when they passed it and stopped at the no-name bar a block away. DiNozzo had hoped the boys from the facility would still be there, and he was gratified when he and McGee walked in and were greeted like old pals.
There was much conversation about the boys' surprise at learning DiNozzo was really a cop; they had seen him at the warehouse while he was frantically searching for the professor. They told him that the shipment had finally gone out that morning, and work continued as usual the rest of the day.
DiNozzo offered to buy burgers and beer all around, and once they were settled in front of their plates, he told them in detail about the operation he'd been working on when he first came to the bar.
When he finished his recitation, Ed peered at him through a slightly alcoholic daze. "I sure hope you ain't gonna squeal on us," he said, waving a hand at his co-workers."
"About what?"
About how we told you things we shouldn't have. About the work and what not. Breakin' our secrecy oath ‘n' all. Not that that was bad, ‘cause you're a Fed anyway."
"Nah," said Tony. "That was all strictly between you and me. And besides we caught the bad guys," sweeping his arm out to include everyone at the table.
The boys relaxed considerably, and they spent the rest of the evening trading bullshit. Even Tim seemed to enjoy himself.
On Saturday morning Tony got up early, dressing carefully. He drove across the city to the soup kitchen near the Carter Hotel, where the staff and some of their patrons were holding a memorial service for Homer Algawid. He listened to the kitchen's director telling about Homer's life—how as a young man he had become estranged from his family and his religion, had begun to show symptoms of mental illness that ultimately prevented him from making any headway in his life, had fallen into a life of addiction and petty crime, but ultimately had straightened around as much as his illness would allow and become a treasured member of their little family.
After brief eulogies from others, the director asked Tony if he would talk about the circumstances that had led to Homer's death. Tony was happy to oblige. Once again, he talked about the same things that he had told the Adamovskys and the Meissners—that Homer's death was senseless but not in vain because it had provided vital information that enabled the crime to be solved.
Once the service was over, coffee and pastries were served. The mostly female cooks, casting many admiring glances at the handsome young federal agent, petted and coddled him until he was all but purring. It was hard for him to get away. In the afternoon he flung a duffel into his car and took off for an overnight far away from the city.
Monday morning Director Shepard advised DiNozzo and McGee that they would not be getting any major cases until Gibbs returned and a new team member to replace Officer David had been found. During the week they did get a couple of cases, which they quickly dispatched. They offered to help Abby with her work because they had so much spare time, but she shooed them off, telling them to enjoy their down time. They spent a lot of time together, taking lunch at the same time and meeting a couple of times in the evening to watch sporting events on TV and eat pizza.
They also discussed at length the type of person they'd like to have join their team. They surveyed the other staff members in the squad room carefully, assessing the desirability of each. They finally concluded that Special Agent Heather Dennison was the pick of the crop. Her desk was in the bull pen next to theirs so they'd had considerable opportunity to get to know her. She was attractive without being beautiful, with a dry sense of humor, and she was very good at her job. They agreed to broach the subject with Gibbs when he returned.
DiNozzo had also sought out Professor Bennett and apologized to her for letting her be kidnapped. She had had time to put things into perspective, though, and refused to accept his apology because it wasn't really needed; it wasn't his fault, and she knew he had done everything in his power to rescue her. He was pleased when she invited him to dinner at her little cottage. It turned out that she was a gourmet cook, too, and several of the dishes she prepared for him included vegetables she had grown herself. He had a most pleasant evening with her, discussing favorite books and listening to her play the piano.
The following Monday Gibbs returned to work, suntanned and smiling. As he walked into the bull pen, he paused in front of DiNozzo's desk.
"I hear you did good, kid," he said.
"Thanks, boss," Tony replied.
"Don't let it go to your head," Gibbs shot back.
"Nosir, boss," Tony said with a grin. Gibbs grinned back at him.
Author's Chapter Notes:
DiNozzo solves a mystery the old-fashioned way.