Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Gibbs enters MTAC at speed but slows when he registers the picture of Antonio Gallo up on the screen.

It’s a surveillance picture.  Gallo is talking with another man at some champagne event, flute in hand.  The tall blond man opposite Gallo looks scared. 

He should be.

Gallo is a dangerous man even if he looks all grown-up in his tuxedo.  Underneath the tux is still the sharp-smiling streetwise Mafia shark that Franks and Gibbs had come across in Philly.

Tom Morrow gives Gibbs a nod.  He waves at the other two men in the room.  “Director Weaver, Agent Fornell, I think you’re both already acquainted with Gibbs.”

Tobias winces when Gibbs gives him nothing more than a curt nod, but it’s a lot more acknowledgement than he would have gotten if the Directors of their respective agencies weren’t present. 

It’s not that Tobias had fallen in love with Gibbs’ ex-wife.  It’s that Tobias chose Diane’s side in their divorce because he fell in love with her.  Not Gibbs’ side, Diane’s.  Gibbs figures Tobias deserves a little frostiness for his stupidity.

“What’s this about?” asks Gibbs, ignoring the picture of the Mafia hitman on the screen.

Morrow glances at Weaver who nods once and take the lead.

“You’ve come across Antonio Gallo before,” Weaver states.  “Case of Sergeant Bridges who was on leave and who was found shot, one bullet to the back of his head in a Philly warehouse.  You and Agent Mike Franks investigated.  You found out that Bridges had spent his vacation stalking and abducting his old girlfriend, Michelle Deringo.”

Gibbs gives a brisk nod in response. His gut rolls in remembered disgust.  Bridges had been a waste of humanity. 

“You stated in your report that it was highly likely that the Lieutenant had been executed by Gallo but there was not enough evidence to bring a charge, is that right?” Weaver adds.

Gibbs nods again, shifting weight impatiently.

Weaver gestures at Fornell.

Fornell turns and motions at the tech assistant sat off to the side.

The screen changes to a file picture of an FBI agent. 

Gibbs swallows hard at the sight of the fresh-faced handsome man, suited with a plain tie and a swept back hairstyle.  He’s the archetype FBI agent, straight from central casting except for one thing; there’s a certain innocence shining from the young agent’s face that the twinkle of mischief in his green eyes can’t repress entirely.  It makes Gibbs suddenly furious.

“Anthony DiNozzo,” Fornell states gruffly.  “He joined the Academy after we spotted him on a corruption case in Peoria. He helped us put cuffs on the State Governor for dealing drugs back onto the street. He aced the Academy and went straight into organised crime investigations.”

“And you sent him straight after Macaluso?!” Gibbs bites out.  He resists the urge to curl his hands into fists, but it’s a close thing.

Fornell sighs.  “Tony’s the best undercover agent I have ever met, Gibbs.”

Gibbs remembers back to the interrogation.  Franks had taken it, eager to crack the rising star of the local Mafia mob, show the LEOs how it was done.

Gallo – DiNozzo had tapped dance around the older agent like Fred Astaire.

They hadn’t been able to get anything out of him before the Macaluso lawyer had turned up and put an end to the questioning.  Gallo had walked out of the police department a smirk on his face and a spring in his step.

“How long has he been under?” asks Morrow quietly.

“Ten years,” Fornell says.

Gibbs and Morrow exchange the same look of consternation.  Ten years is a long time.  Gibbs makes the calculation in his head.  DiNozzo had maybe been under for three years when the Bridges case had happened.

“Is he rogue?” asks Morrow sharply.

Fornell shakes his head.  “About five years ago, Tony got the smoking gun on Mike Macaluso that got Mike and his two older sons sent away.  We were meant to pull Tony out as part of the sting, but then Macaluso begged Tony to marry Guido.”

Gibbs and Morrow stare at Fornell.

“What?” asks Gibbs sharply.

Fornell shoves his hands into his crumpled overcoat and shoots a look at Weaver.

Weaver clears his throat.  “Guido is and was the white hat in the Macaluso family.  Back then, he was the clean public face of the family business.  We had nothing on him or the youngest girl, Carly.  We had enough to put his father and brothers away for life.”

“There was a Russian, Vladimir Rostov, lurking in the wings to take over as soon as we broke the Macaluso organisation,” Fornell says. 

“Macaluso was a gentleman’s Mafia Don,” Weaver continues, “Rostov was a thug.  He beat up Bettina Macaluso, Mike’s second ex-wife, Carly’s mother, to send a message.  Macaluso was furious and got sloppy in a way that he had never been before.  He and his sons killed the three men who had assaulted Bettina; they beat them to death and dumped them on Rostov’s porch the same way they’d dumped Bettina.”

“We all knew moving in on Macaluso meant Rostov would move in,” Fornell sighs. “Didn’t know how to stop it.”

“Macaluso’s lawyer approached us,” Fornell says.  “He said if we arranged for Macaluso to speak to Tony off the record that Macaluso would change his plea and provide information on a Mexican gun cartel operating out of the city.”

“You made the deal,” Gibbs states angrily.

“We gave Tony the option of not doing it,” Fornell shoots back.  “He was already extracted and in a safehouse.  Macaluso had seen him arrested along with everyone else, but we’d put a story round that he was being sent back to Baltimore for a murder there which trumped his accessory charge in Philly.”

Morrow frowns.  “Was he involved?”

“Macaluso had Gallo on guard duty looking after the injured Bettina,” Weaver replies.  “Macaluso confessed the whole thing to him when he visited later.”

“So Macaluso knew the accessory charge was trumped up,” Morrow notes.

“We arranged the meet,” Fornell redirects them back to the explanation.

“Macaluso told DiNozzo that Rostov had sent him a threat,” Weaver grimaces.  “First, Mario was knifed in the prison yard by a Russian inmate; bled out before they could get him into the infirmary.  Then Macaluso gets word: either Macaluso arranges for Rostov to marry Carly and take over or both Guido and Carly would be killed at the end of Mike’s trial to make way for Rostov’s rule.”

“Carly Macaluso was sixteen at the time,” Fornell says, disgust written all over his face that Gibbs shares.  “Rostov trafficked girls like Carly.  She would have been lucky to have survived a year.”

Morrow waves at Fornell.  “I’m not sure I understand how this gets to an agent spending ten years under.” 

Gibbs figures he knows what Fornell and Weaver are going to say.  He’d seen Antonio Gallo in action.

“Macaluso knew Rostov feared Gallo, DiNozzo’s cover,” Weaver confirms. 

“Gallo is known as a ruthless operator,” Fornell says.  “I’m sure you saw how good he was back when your paths crossed.”

“He executed Bridges,” Gibbs states with certainty.

“He made it look like he did,” Fornell corrects sharply.  “Truth according to the kid is that Francesca Macaluso killed Bridges with an ornament during an altercation where she was trying to save Deringo.  Deringo was her best friend.”

“Francesca being…” Morrow asks.

“Guido’s twin sister,” Gibbs supplies.  “There was a rumour she and Gallo were knocking boots.”

“She died a year before the take-down in a car accident,” Fornell adds.  “Macaluso had been angling for her and Tony to marry before she died.”

“Accident?” probes Morrow sceptically.

“Really was an accident,” Fornell confirms.  “Multiple pile-up on the highway just North of Philly.  Her car was right in the middle of it.”

“So Macaluso figured if Gallo was heading up the family, the Russian would back off,” Gibbs says impatiently.

“Essentially,” Weaver agrees.  “Only Gallo isn’t a Macaluso unless he marries in and Macaluso knew Tony well enough to know he wouldn’t touch someone of Carly’s age, so Guido was his only option.”

“Your explanation covers why Macaluso begged the man he believed to be one of his to marry his son,” Morrow states turning to fully face Weaver, “but not why or how your Agent is still under nor what you want with this agency, Bill.”

Weaver casts another look to Fornell.

Gibbs raises an eyebrow at him in a silent demand for answers.

Fornell sighs.  “Macaluso knew Tony was a cop, had known for a while apparently.  He’d only confessed to Tony thinking Tony wouldn’t say anything because it was retribution for what had happened with Bettina.  He’d been in the family for five years.  Macaluso considered him a fourth son.”

“Could DiNozzo have taken him down earlier?” asks Morrow before Gibbs can pose the same question.

Fornell shrugs. “Two years in, Tony had enough evidence we could have put them away for a whole host of small stuff.  We took the decision to keep him in play, see if we couldn’t get them for something else, something bigger.”

“Truth was that Macaluso made Philly predictable and kept control of the criminal element.  He was a criminal, but he did protect the city,” Weaver says.  “DiNozzo was regularly turning over evidence on Macaluso’s rivals enabling us to take them down; evidence on wider connections outside Philly we could run down without giving away DiNozzo as the leak.”

“Only he clocked him anyway?” Gibbs asks incredulous.

“No,” Fornell says, “the kid is too good.  According to Macaluso, Tony got sold out by a dirty agent, Eddie Baxter, in his third year after we took down Abraham Hubble, a corrupt Police Chief.”

“What happened to Baxter?” asks Gibbs brusquely.

“Long dead, a few weeks after Hubble’s arrest.  Macaluso hasn’t confessed to that, but the timing is…suspicious,” Weaver allows.

“Macaluso isn’t a fool,” Fornell says, drawing their attention.  “He figured out pretty quickly that Tony was using the information he was gaining to take out other bad guys, Macaluso’s competition.  He also must have figured out that Tony had seen enough to have turned him in already, but from his perspective hadn’t.”

“He thought DiNozzo was dirty,” Gibbs states.

“He thought DiNozzo was conflicted,” Fornell corrects.  “Tony’s a great kid, but he has Daddy issues for miles.  It was easy enough to incorporate that into the Gallo cover.  For all his criminality, Macaluso is a great father and he stepped into that space for Gallo.”

“He counted on the kid’s filial loyalty to him to carry the day,” Weaver agrees quietly.  “And if it has just been Rostov’s thugs, he might have been right that Tony would have handed over everything to us and let us make the call.  But Macaluso was angry enough not to keep the reins on his sons who did some collateral damage that day.”

“Mikey Junior shot a witness, a homeless old woman outside the warehouse,” Fornell states grimly, “and Mario took out a hooker they found with one of the guys.”

“DiNozzo called your hand,” Gibbs realises.

“Said he was done,” Fornell agrees, “we either reeled in the fish or cut bait, but either way he was out.”

Gibbs’ estimation for the young agent went up a notch.

“Until Macaluso revealed he knew he was a cop?” Morrow asserts.

Fornell and Weaver exchanged another lightning quick glance. 

“We don’t know exactly what Macaluso said to him, meeting was off the record, not recorded or observed…”

Gibbs rolled his eyes at that because of all the stupid concessions.

“…but Tony reported that Macaluso knew he was a cop and he agreed that rather than a price on his head, he would continue being Gallo until Guido and Carly were safe,” Fornell says.

Gibbs’ eyes close briefly as Morrow swears under his breath.

“You didn’t offer him witness protection?” barks Morrow.

Weaver glowers.  “Of course we did!”

“Tony didn’t want to go down that route,” Fornell says.  “Plus the kid has a plan.”

Gibbs’ agile mind leaps to it.  “He takes down Rostov.”  He freezes as another thought hits him.  “And he’s ready to do so that’s why you’re here.”

Morrow sighs.  “You want to use Gibbs to get your agent out?”

“Tony remembered you,” Fornell says.  “Figured in the aftermath of the FBI arresting Rostov and his crew, it would be the perfect time for you to sweep in and arrest Antonio Gallo for Bridges’ murder on the basis of new evidence.”

“Macaluso’s going to let him go?” Gibbs questions dryly.

“Tony says he is,” Fornell shrugs.

“Does his husband know the truth?” asks Morrow.  “Or will he come looking?”

“Guido and Carly know Tony is an undercover agent,” Weaver states.

“It’s commonly known that Guido only married Gallo to get protection for himself,” Fornell explains, “he and Tony have cleaned up his father’s organisation in private; in public it still looks like a Mafia operation.  They’re going to play it like Guido gave up the new evidence in order to get out of the marriage once Rostov is gone.”

Gibbs glances at Morrow who quirks an eyebrow at him.  Gibbs shrugs and gives a nod.  He turns back to Fornell.  “Fine.  I’ll arrest your boy, Fornell.”

Fornell’s crumpled face beams with a second of grateful relief before it falls back into its usual cragginess.

“Let’s talk about how we’re taking Rostov down,” Weaver says.

o-O-o

Tony waits.

He’s used to waiting.

Antonio Gallo is a patient deadly predator.

Tony DiNozzo not so much, but he’s learned a lot in the past ten years he’s lived as Antonio.

He’s waiting on a roof, dressed in a long wool coat to account for the chilly Philadelphia weather.  He threads his fingers together briefly, feeling the warmth of the thermal leather gloves Carly had gifted him for Christmas.

The roof door opens and Vladimir Rostov steps out, confident in a dark suit and tie, a camel-coloured wool coat hanging over his shoulders like a cloak or a bear rug. 

Vladimir is bald with a trim beard.  His blue eyes scan across the roof and settle on Tony.

Tony gestures at a seat at the iron-wrought steel table he’d set up just for the meet.  The chairs are iron too; hard and cold.  Uncomfortable.

Rostov looks around the roof suspiciously and walks across to sit down.  His gloves are brown, a shade too dark for a match with his coat.

Tony admires a man who can sit with a coat hanging off his shoulders suavely.  He always loses the damn thing whenever he’s tried.  He sits in the seat opposite Rostov so they are seated at the same time.

“Coffee?” asks Tony politely.

Rostov takes in the full coffee service on the tray on the table.  “I will have what you have.”

Tony pours out a cup of coffee and hands it over.  “Please help yourself to cream and sugar.”

Rostov watches Tony pour himself a cup and pick up the cream.  Rostov ignores the tiny pair of tongs and picks up a sugar cube from the bowl, dropping it into the coffee.

Tony finishes adding cream to his own coffee and stirs it with a small spoon.  “Thank you for coming.”

“I was surprised to get your invitation,” Rostov says.

Tony sips his coffee grateful for the warmth.  “It was time, don’t you think?”

“I am not the one who has ducked this meeting for years, Gallo,” Rostov growls, his Russian accent thick and heavy.

Tony hums.  “Like I said it wasn’t the right time.”

“And now is?” asks Rostov.

“I certainly think so,” Tony says brightly.  He makes a show of looking at his watch.  “Right about now, the FBI should be raiding your warehouses and corralling what is left of your crew.”

Rostov freezes in his seat.

His phone rings in his jacket.

“You’ll want to get that,” Tony advises, sipping his coffee seemingly without care.

Rostov flips open the phone.

Tony’s good at languages but he only manages to follow the main gist of the rapid fire of Russian.

Rostov snaps the phone shut, his want to throw it across the roof evident in the way his hand clenches around the plastic.

“You are a rat!” Rostov snarls and leaps to his feet, his body poised to fight, a knife appearing like magic in his hand, glinting under the pale rays of the Philly sun trying to make its way through the cloud.

Tony remains in his seat, projecting a lack of fear and concern.  He sets the coffee cup to the side and looks sharply at Rostov.  His demeanour is all Gallo. 

“You threatened Mike with an ultimatum: give over his young daughter to you to ruin or you’d kill her and her brother.  You arranged a hit on his son in the prison yard. You think Mike Macaluso was just going to let that go?”

Rostov stares at him, bemusement written all over his face.

“Oh, you thought him sending me to marry Guido was his only response?” Tony tuts and wags a finger in remonstration.

“You lie!” Rostov says.

And then he blinks.

He blinks again.

And again.

“Feeling alright there, Rostov?” Tony asks dryly. 

“What did you do to me?!” Rostov demands as he staggers a step, his coat finally sliding from his shoulders into a crumpled heap on the concrete roof.

Tony stands up and flexes his hands.  “Everyone knows you have a sweet tooth, Rostov.  You always take sugar in your coffee.  You can’t resist it.  I just laced it with a little something extra.”

Rostov tries to take a swing at him.

Tony sidesteps it easily and steps into Rostov’s space to relieve him of the knife.  He throws it to the side of the roof.

Rostov tries another punch which Tony dodges with ease.  “You coward!  Fight me like a man!”

“You’re having a heart attack, Rostov,” Tony informs him grimly.  “The autopsy will record that as the cause of the death, no doubt brought on by the shock of the news of your small fiefdom crumbling.”

Rostov lurches towards him.

Tony steps back and Rostov lands face first onto the concrete roof. 

“Ouch,” Tony says mockingly, “that had to hurt.” 

He kneels by Rostov and takes off a glove to feel at the thug’s carotid artery.  The pulse is barely there.      

Rostov glares up at him, but he takes a raspy laboured breath.  “Macaluso will kill you when he finds out you sold out to the federal pigs!”

“What makes you think Mike doesn’t already know?” Tony leans in closer.  He holds Rostov’s panicked gaze.  “Mike sends his regards.”  He waits a beat as the realisation settles into Rostov’s eyes that the whole encounter was Mike’s revenge.

Tony stands up and heads over to the small table set-up.  He pulls a trash bag from his pocket and cleans up fastidiously, pouring the remaining coffee over the side of the building, and throwing everything in the trash bag. He wipes down the chairs and table.

He walks back over to Rostov.

He’s no longer breathing.

Tony closes his eyes briefly.  He’s done a lot of terrible things as Gallo. 

Sure, he’s kept his promise to himself to only target the bad guys, his acts are always sanctioned by his superiors and the orders he’s under, but sometimes he wonders if he’ll ever recover his soul.  It’s been easier to create a smokescreen since he’d started running the show after Mike’s incarceration.  Unfortunately taking Rostov out had been a necessary evil.

He takes heart that Rostov will be Gallo’s last kill.

He wipes Rostov’s neck with a handkerchief.  He heads down the fire escape to avoid Rostov’s car and driver parked out the front.

He walks the two blocks to a car he’d boosted from a car dealership that morning.  He throws the bag into the nearby dumpster, just another bag of rubbish.  He gets in the vehicle and drives back to a poorly lit underground car park in the centre of town.  He changes to his own car confident that the car park and surrounding street doesn’t have any working cameras.

He drives.

Mike Macaluso is incarcerated in the State prison near Graterford.  It’s an easy drive.  He makes the visiting time he has scheduled with ease.

He leaves his weapons in the car and heads into the prison. 

He waits in the visitor’s room, a privilege which is funded by a generous donation to the warden.

Mike is ushered through the door as though he’s royalty by a deferential guard.  Tony gets up to hug him. 

Mike sits down one side of the table and Tony takes the other.

“It’s done?” asks Mike.

Tony nods.  “I’ve kept my promise.  They’re safe.”

Mike breathes out and gives a sharp nod.  His warm brown eyes rake over Tony, assessing his state of mind.  “You could stay.”

Tony offers a small smile.  “Don’t let him know I told you, but Angelica’s pregnant. Guido wants to make an honest woman of her.” He shrugs.  He’s never minded the women who’ve drifted in and out of his husband’s bed. 

Their marriage is one of convenience.

“A grandbaby?” Mike lights up.  “Well, it’s about time one of my kids gave me a grandbaby.”

Tony snorts.

Michael Junior has conjugal visits with a pen-pal lady he’d started seeing two years ago.  His former wife had ran the minute Junior had been sentenced.  Tony thinks Polly is a prison groupie and is actively trying to get pregnant so it’s pretty likely Junior’s shooting blanks.

“So, stay, marry someone else and give me another one,” Mike continues.

Tony sighs.  “Guido deserves to be free of me.”

Mike grunts, but nods slowly. 

Tony gets to his feet.  “Well,” he says, emotion bubbling up inside him, “I guess this is it, time to…”

Mike hugs him.

Tightly.

Tony hugs him back.

“Thank you for staying and keeping the family safe, il mio bellissimo figlio,” Mike whispers.  “Even if you had to lie to your bosses about my threatening you so you could stay.  For coming up with the crazy plan to marry my Guido and raise my daughter; for being their shield all this time.”

Tony presses his face into Mike’s shoulder for a long moment, catching his breath as he refuses to let out the sob that wants to crawl out of his chest.  He lifts his head.  It feels like a huge effort.  He eases back. 

Mike kisses his forehead and lets him go.

“You’re the best father I ever had,” Tony says genuinely. 

“I still am,” Mike says firmly.  “You are part of our family, Anthony DiNozzo.  You want to come back to Philly?  You come back to the family any time.  Guido agrees.”

Tony nods sharply, but he knows he’s never coming back.  “Goodbye, Pops.”  He leaves before he can’t.

The house he shares with Guido is out at the edges of Philly.  He parks his car and enters the side door.

Carly is almost on top of him before he gets into the hallway.  She’s hugging him almost as tightly as Mike had.  Guido joins them.

For a long moment they’re just hugging each other in the hallway.

Guido is the first to step back.  “You say goodbye to Pops?”

Tony nods.  “What happened with…”

“It’s all over the news,” Carly says blithely, pushing her caramel hair back over her shoulder.  “Total take down of Rostov’s crew by federal agents.  Well, except Rostov.  They’re saying he was on the top of some building downtown when he got the news and had a heart attack.”

“It’s over,” Guido says, his eyes glitter with a question he won’t ask, and Tony won’t answer.

Junior and Mario always thought Guido weak, but Tony knows he’s a good man.  He runs Macaluso Holdings cleanly; has a hold on the remnants of Mike’s old criminal organisation giving them the illusion of criminality while ensuring everything is by the book behind the scenes.

“Everything set for tomorrow?” asks Tony.

“I don’t know why you can’t stay!” Carly protests before her brother can answer.  Her dark eyes so like Mike’s flash angrily.

Tony reaches out and tweaks a curl falling over her eye.  “Your brother needs Gallo to die, Bella.”  He sighs, letting some of his tiredness show through his mask.  “So do I.”

Carly responds by throwing herself at him and into another hug.  “I’m just going to miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Tony says.  And he will.  He loves her.  His wilful little sister.  He’s seen her through high school and college; through first loves and broken hearts.

Guido reaches out and tugs at Tony’s hand. “Come on, Tony, let’s go eat.  We got your favourite.”

Carly sniffs and releases him.  “I’m going to put on like twenty pounds just looking at the extra cheese on that pizza.”

Tony smiles.  He tucks her hand around his arm and lets Guido lead him to dinner. 

One last dinner.

One last night as Antonio Gallo.

And tomorrow is showtime.

o-O-o

Gibbs pulls the rental car up to the outside of the Italian restaurant and gets.  He doesn’t wait for Pacci in the passenger seat to catch up with him, trusting that he will.  He strides through the front door.

The décor is fake Italian with wooden tables, bright red checkered tablecloths, and fake vines decorating fake arches.  The lighting is ambient, but thankfully not dark.

He clocks DiNozzo straight away.  He and his Mafioso husband are at a table off to the side.  Pasta bowls are discarded to one side; glasses are half-filled with a red wine with a bottle of Chianti sits proudly by the salt and pepper. 

The restaurant is packed with diners. 

Gibbs ignores everyone looking at him curiously and heads over to the table.

DiNozzo looks up, does a subtle double-take as though he’s just recognising him, and leans back in his chair, a smirk sliding over his face.

He’s dressed casually – blue t-shirt over a grey Henley teamed with blue jeans which Gibbs figures are probably some pricey designer.  An expensive leather jacket hangs over the back of his chair. 

“Navy Guy!” DiNozzo grins sharply, all teeth and no humour.  “Are you here for the pasta?  It’s very good.”

“Antonio Gallo,” Gibbs begins formally, reaching for DiNozzo.

DiNozzo slides back out of reach and all the activity in the restaurant comes to a stop.  The silence is charged.

Gibbs is reminded that DiNozzo is still playing Gallo, still playing the part of a Mafia Don, raised up by Mike Macaluso.

“You going to make this difficult for me, Gallo?” Gibbs says dryly.

“I believe our business about your unfortunately dead Marine was concluded seven years ago, Navy Guy,” DiNozzo says evenly.  His eyes are intent on Gibbs.

“Your kind of business has a way of coming back around,” Gibbs says, remaining still.

Behind him, Pacci has one hand on his holstered weapon, waiting.

“Especially when new information comes to light,” Gibbs’ eyes flicker to Guido briefly, deliberating giving away Guido’s pretend part in giving up his unwanted husband.

Somehow DiNozzo becomes even more silent, even more still.

It’s a feat of human body language.

DiNozzo’s gaze finally flickers away from Gibbs to Guido. 

Guido gets to his feet.

DiNozzo gets to his. 

There is a panicked whimper from a waitress by the bar, her hand clapping over her mouth.

Guido adjusts his tie.  “It’s nothing personal, Tonio.  Just business, you understand.”

“You told tales to the Feds?” DiNozzo says bitingly.  “Mike is going to disown you.”

“What makes you think Pops doesn’t already know?” Guido does a good job of playing disinterest.

DiNozzo almost moves too fast for Gibbs to counter his attempt to punch his husband out.

Guido stumbles back a step as Gibbs tackles DiNozzo even as Pacci draws his weapon and points it right at him.  Gibbs manages to get DiNozzo wrangled, even as DiNozzo shrugs and slithers out of his grip. 

DiNozzo steps back, out of reach.  His eyes glitter with anger. 

Gibbs admires the act.  “You are under arrest for the murder of Sergeant Bridges.” He glares back at DiNozzo.  “You gonna come quietly, Gallo?” he snaps.

DiNozzo’s gaze darts around the restaurant, clearly assessing his options.

“Try it,” Gibbs says quietly.  “My Agent will put you down like the dog you are.”

DiNozzo’s eyes slide to the gun.  He suddenly changes, holds his hands up, smiles. 

It’s the same shark smile DiNozzo had worn when Mike had interrogated him.

Fake.

Dangerous.

“I’ll come quietly,” DiNozzo says.  He shoots a look at Guido as he snags his jacket from the chair and shrugs it on.  He holds his hands out defiantly for the cuffs.  “Once I have this misunderstanding sorted out, I’ll be right back to remind my dear husband who runs the business.”

Guido pushes his hands in his pockets.  “The name on the business is Macaluso.  That hasn’t changed.”

There’s enough iron in his voice that DiNozzo flinches. 

Gibbs tries not to roll his eyes at what he knows to be play-acting as he takes out the handcuffs.  “You have the right to remain silent…”

The Miranda warning sees them out of the restaurant and into the car.

DiNozzo doesn’t look back.

Gibbs clambers into the driver’s seat as Pacci takes the passenger. 

Pacci pulls out a cell phone and dials the only number on it.  “Target acquired.  En route.”

DiNozzo slouches down in the backseat, defiance in every line of his body yet making himself a hard target for any shooters.

DiNozzo’s an exceptional undercover, Gibbs muses, as he drives with his usual disdain for the laws of the road to an airfield on the outskirts.

The FBI have secured a private plane.  They drive right up to the steps where Fornell is waiting with a younger agent, an African-American with hair shaved to almost baldness, stubble in an almost goatee style beard.  Fornell had introduced him as his second.

Gibbs hauls an uncooperative DiNozzo out of the car and into the plane, leaving Pacci to handoff the car to the waiting local Feebies.

Fornell follows him up the steps.

DiNozzo is put into a single chair at the back.  Fornell’s man slides into the chair opposite him.

Gibbs takes the seat across the aisle; Fornell sits with him.

Pacci climbs on board and slides into a seat by the galley.

The flight crew start to secure the plane.

Nothing is said as the plane taxis and takes off.

They’re five minutes out and Fornell’s guy breaks first.

“Tony.”

It’s a murmur.

Gibbs watches as DiNozzo takes a breath and before his eyes the young man changes from hardened Mafia Don just betrayed by his own husband to a tired-looking Federal agent.

“Any chance I can get these off?” asks Tony, lifting his hands and jangling the silver around his wrists.

Gibbs reaches across and unlocks them.

DiNozzo nods an acknowledgement.  “Thank you, Agent Gibbs, and thank you to you and NCIS for assisting with my extraction.”  He breathes out and offers a weary grin to Fornell.  “Tobias.”

The two get up and hug each other.  The other FBI agent also gets up to slide into the space Fornell leaves when he steps back.

DiNozzo pats the agent’s back.  “Ron.”

And Gibbs has a sudden flash of memory of being introduced by Fornell, the full name of Ron Sacks skittering across his mind.

“It’s good to see you, Tony,” Sacks clasps his shoulder as he steps back.

DiNozzo points his thumb behind him.  “Going to hit the bathroom.  Back in a mo.”  He’s gone before any of them can protest.

Gibbs watches as Fornell and Sacks exchange a quick look of concern.  Really, DiNozzo is none of his business.  He excuses himself quietly and heads to Pacci.

Pacci looks up from the book he’s pulled from a satchel and darts a glance back before meeting Gibbs’ gaze.  “He OK?”

“Nope,” Gibbs says succinctly.  He doesn’t see how DiNozzo can be after being under for so long.

Pacci nods. 

They fall into a comfortable silence and Gibbs leans back and closes his eyes.

He registers when DiNozzo comes back from the head, the low murmur of voices.  The back and forth to iron out what happens once they get to D.C. and Gallo becomes the FBI’s problem.

He dozes.

The plane jostles with some turbulence jolting Gibbs into consciousness.  His eyes snap open. 

It’s quiet.

Pacci’s immersed in his book.  Fornell is stretched out, asleep opposite Gibbs.  Sacks is out of Gibbs’ eyeline in the seat opposite DiNozzo, but he’s quiet.

DiNozzo stares out of the window.  There is a look of loss on his face, a quiet bewilderment.

The speakers crackle.

“All passengers and crew, we are approaching Washington D.C. and will be landing shortly,” the pilot announces.  “Please prepare for landing.”

As everything shifts into life, Gibbs watches as DiNozzo morphs from bewildered undercover to competent agent.

They land and Fornell pulls out cuffs.  The show isn’t over.  DiNozzo’s cover still needs protecting until they get him somewhere safe.

“Sorry, kid,” Fornell says as he snaps them back around DiNozzo’s wrists. 

The smirk he gives Fornell is all Gallo.

It’s Sacks who escorts DiNozzo off the plane and into a car in the waiting cavalcade of FBI vehicles.

Fornell turns to Gibbs.  “Thanks for the assist; we’ll take it from here.”

Gibbs is left standing on the tarmac staring after the departing vehicles.

Pacci frowns.  “What’s going to happen to him now?”

Gibbs shrugs.  Fornell has a plan to get DiNozzo clear of his cover and back on dry land.  It’s not for Gibbs to share.  “Let’s get back to the Yard.”

Pacci pales.  “Just for the love of God drive slowly, Gibbs.  I’ve been having some problems with my guts, and you don’t want me throwing up on you.”

Gibbs snorts.

A flash of DiNozzo, vulnerable and staring out of the plane window flickers in his memory. 

Gibbs shakes it off.  Rule 11, he reminds himself, heading out to the parking lot; if the job is done, walk away.    

He thinks it again when NCIS receive the FBI bulletin that known criminal Antonio Gallo escaped custody and is in the wind…   

fin.