Fic: Courtship Rituals Pt. 2
Fandoms: Buffyverse and NCIS
Pairing Spike/Xander, Tony/Gibbs
Rating: Teen+ (dirty words, sexual situations)
Warnings: Potty mouth
Notes: Written for the Fall of S/X, not so beta'd. While it's a crossover, knowledge of NCIS isn't necessary to enjoy the fic.
Clicky here for: Courtship Rituals Pt. 1.
Go to Courtship Rituals Index
Courtship Rituals Pt. 2
The plates belonged to a mid-level bureaucrat in the USDA who was spending a few weeks touring Mexico's farm fields to look for DDT or salmonella or something. The guy's girlfriend said his car was in the long term lot, and yes it was a silver colored sedan.
"So our boy is with farmers in Mexico. Great." McGee said. Sarcasm wasn't working for him.
Tony looked like he wanted to hit something. "Twenty bucks says the airport rent-a-cops will find a silver sedan without plates."
Gibbs fingered the plastic evidence bag. "DiNozzo, with me. McGee, you call DiNozzo the second Abby gets anything on Ivy Hill."
"Gotcha, Boss."
Gibbs left McGee and his computers set up in the jail's break room. Tony trailed in his wake. The prison guard assigned to them rolled his eyes, popped his gum, and led them to the small room where Wilder had been cooling his heels for the past hour. It's where he'd been meeting the lawyers. Gibbs sat down in a chair opposite the man while Tony stood in the spot to his left, arms folded across his chest. He probably thought it made him look bigger and more intimidating. It might have, if Wilder ever looked away from the table.
"Tell me about the lawyers," Gibbs instructed.
Wilder started. His eyes flicked from Tony to Gibbs, then back to the table. He was nothing like the cool, confident commander they'd arrested months ago.
"The lawyers!" Gibbs barked.
Wilder jerked, almost fell out of the chair, then resettled himself. He stared at the security camera, then at the table. "They're lawyers. They represent you at trials."
"Who hired them for you?"
Wilder flinched.
"I said, who hired them?"
"I did." Wilder was lying.
"The truth."
"I did!"
Tony snorted. "You can't afford Wolfram and Hart."
Wilder glared at Tony, something like an oil slick flickering through his eyes for a moment. "You don't know anything about it. They work pro bono cases."
Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Why you? You're not the kind of person lawyers give charity to."
Tony's phone chirped. "DiNozzo."
Wilder frowned.
Gibbs slammed his fist on the table. "Why you?"
"I don't know. They like a challenging case? They don't think I did it?" Wilder's eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them.
Gibbs stared at him.
Tony said, "Thanks, Abs." The phone clicked and slid into a pocket. Tony leaned over and whispered, "Ivy Hill is a cemetery and the O 106 is a grave location for a Jack Angelman, died May 16, 2000."
Wilder twitched, like a rabbit trying to hold itself still in tall grass with a hawk flying overhead.
Tony stood up and gave Wilder a smarmy glare.
Gibbs put his fists on the table, in plain sight. "Does the name Jack Angelman mean anything to you?"
Wilder paled, but shook his head. "No."
"You're lying and I want to know why."
Wilder's eyes flicked to the security camera, then back to Gibbs' face. "I don't know anything. Please."
"How about the name Spike? The one who hired Wolfram and Hart for you."
Wilder jumped up. "Look, get Coleman here. Whatever. I'll plead guilty. I'll even waive parole or whatever. Just---" He shook his head, like a wet dog might, and backed to the door leading toward the cells.
Gibbs leaned back in the chair. "Who is Spike?"
Wilder pounded on the door. "I want to go back to my cell!"
"Why would Spike hire Wolfram and Hart for you?"
Wilder hit the door with his fist a few more times. "Guard!"
"Why didn't you fire them if you didn't want them?"
Wilder sank to the floor. "Guard!"
Gibbs stood up, the chair's legs shrieking against the dull, tile floor. "Who is Spike?"
Wilder started to cry.
Gibbs stared at him for a moment, then walked out of the room. He could hear Tony moving over to Wilder and squatting down. "Now that's just sad, a grown man getting snot all over himself like that? What'll all the boys down in the cells say when they see you? C'mon."
"DiNozzo!"
He could hear Tony stand up. "Well, sleep tight tonight, Wilder. Don't let the bed bugs bite."
Wilder whimpered.
Tony came out, shaking his head. "I think you broke him too fast, Boss."
Gibbs glowered at the floor and stomped to the break room. "I didn't break him. Someone else did it before we got here. I want to know what's on that missing 30 minutes of security tape." He passed the guard assigned to them. "We're done with Wilder now. Put him on a suicide watch."
The guard frowned. "You can't---"
"The man's losing it in there," Tony said. "Do it."
Gibbs ignored them in favor of McGee. "Anything?"
"We're trying to build the background on Angelman now, but it's not coming along. We're running into a brick wall at the Pentagon." McGee looked up from the computer, like a cross between a boy caught in the cookie jar and a recruit that couldn't do the last pushup. "I need to get back to the lab and help Abby."
Gibbs nodded. "We're going back to the Yard."
Gibbs left Tony chasing his tail at his desk and led McGee down to the lab. Abby was bent over a tray of test tubes, watching for something or other. On the plasma, the computer was running the face of the kid through some database. The eye patch had been removed and a computer generated eye stuck in its place.
"Gibbs!" Abby bounded over to him. "You're back!"
"What've you got?"
"Tim sent me a picture of the guy you're looking for and I'm running it through a bunch of databases, like VICAP, AAFIS, and stuff. Don't know if it'll do any good, but we can try. I'm just about done testing the fabric from the Scarpetti case. I think I've got it narrowed down to ketchup."
"Find this guy. McGee, help."
Abby looked up at the screen and smirked. "I can see why you want him. He's a cutie."
Gibbs rolled his eyes and headed back up to the squad room. He ran over Tony when the elevator doors opened. Barely saved his coffee.
"Sorry, Boss. Just coming to see you." Tony didn't have the grace to look sheepish. "Got the head of the LA branch of Wolfram and Hart on the line for you."
Gibbs eyebrows went up.
Tony smirked. "His name's Angel. Just Angel. Like Madonna or Cher. He sounds like a stripper."
"Or Angelman."
Tony followed him to his desk and watched him sit. He glared at Tony until he retreated to his own desk and pretended to be working instead of eavesdropping. Gibbs picked up his handset, punched the button under the blinking light, and barked, "Gibbs."
"Agent Gibbs, my name is Angel. I'm in charge of the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram and Hart. I understand that a team of my lawyers has recently begun working on a case that you and your people closed."
Gibbs leaned back in his chair. He didn't like the smooth voice or the Hollywood name. "What do you want?"
There was a moment of silence, then this Mr. Angel said, "A blunt man. Tell me about Wilder."
"First, I'd like to hear about Spike."
There was more dead silence, not even breathing. "Spike? I don't---"
"Cut the bullshit. Spike hired your goons to get Wilder off. I want to know why." Gibbs could have sworn he heard a mumbled, so would I, but he didn't say anything.
"I have no idea why my...son...has any interest in Wilder. That's why I'm calling you. We don't take JAG cases."
"Spike is your...son."
"He's an annoying child, but you don't always choose family."
"How did Spike hear about Wilder?"
"I don't know. I was hoping you had more information."
Gibbs refrained from laughing in the man's ear, but only just. What kind of lawyer was he? He didn't know what his people or his kid---if that's what this Spike actually was---were doing, and he didn't know enough not to call the people on the other side, the people with the prosecution, to pump them for basic information that they should have in their files. Hadn't the man heard of discovery? "Does the name Angelman mean anything to you?"
"Angelman?" Some cat or dog near this Angel character growled. "I see. Thank you, Agent Gibbs. You've---"
"There's another player." Gibbs cut the hang-up festivities off before they could get started. "Sent your lawyer team packing with their tails between their legs. Didn't even break a sweat."
"Who?" Angel sounded apprehensive and tight, like a cat digging its claws in before defending itself.
"We're hoping you can help us out with that." Gibbs snagged a pen. "He's---"
"He? Not a girl?" There was relief in the voice.
"Why would you think it's a girl?"
"Sp---my son has girl problems. When someone around him is run out of town, it's usually a girl that does it."
Sp---my son. Interesting. Gibbs tapped the pen against a piece of paper. "The man in question is approximately five-eleven, 190 pounds. Brown hair, brown eyes, wears an eye patch over his left eye."
"Harris." Angel spat that name out as if it had the plague. "Son of a bitch. He's there and hooked up with Spike? What was Rupert thinking? Thank you, Agent Gibbs. Though Harris was no doubt, um, undiplomatic about removing my team from the case, Wolfram and Hart do not and will not represent Wilder. He will have to find other counsel."
Rupert. Another name, this one sounded very British. Gibbs leaned back in his chair. "Where could I find Harris?"
"He likes pizza and donuts." Angel said. "Have a good afternoon."
"What---"
The bastard hung up.
Gibbs frowned for a moment, then called the lab. "McGee, the kid's name is Harris."
"Harris? How---"
"You find anything yet?"
"No, boss. Still looking. That will help."
Gibbs hung up before McGee could start describing how that would help. The last thing he needed was a breakdown of computer terminology. He dialed Coleman.
"Jethro." The director fluttered to a stop in front of him, with a bee up her skirt about something.
He held up a finger. "Commander Coleman," he told the duty body on the other end of the line.
Sheppard pushed the hang-up button on his phone. "MTAC, now."
He didn't move. "What's this about?"
"Wilder."
What in the hell was it with Wilder? The man was quietly sitting in jail for months, awaiting trail, then all of the sudden he's on everyone's dance card.
Some clean-cut, army boy with covered-up patches was sitting in a blank office looking unhappy on the screen. Not even a rank insignia. The grunt frowned around at the people in MTAC. "Clear the room, please."
The Director glared at the screen, then nodded. Everyone filed out.
"Including you, Director," the grunt said.
"I will not. This concerns my agency, this concerns me."
The grunt settled back and stared at her for a few moments, not the least bit perturbed. "We can do this the easy way, right here, right now. Or we can do this the hard way and Agent Gibbs can disappear some night."
Gibbs eyebrows went up.
Sheppard bristled. "I don't take threats against my people and I don't take orders."
The grunt shrugged and reached forward, supposedly for a kill switch. "Have it your way."
"Wait just a goddamned minute," Gibbs said.
The grunt paused.
"You," Gibbs pointed to the grunt on the screen. "Tell me what the hell is going on. Now."
The grunt lifted his eyebrows. "This is about some classified information that no one at NCIS is cleared for." The grunt frowned at Sheppard. "I'm extending a professional courtesy talking to you through a feed, rather than just having you picked up and interrogated. I've already got the warrant."
Sheppard opened her mouth.
Gibbs tapped the side of his coffee cup with his finger and considered the earnest looking face of the grunt. Opportunity knocked. "Fine. Director, please leave."
"But---"
Gibbs glared at her. "Director."
Sheppard returned the glare. "This isn't over."
Gibbs didn't say anything. Neither did the grunt. Sheppard walked out and slammed the door. Gibbs took a sip with his coffee cup.
"You're clear, Rye," an off screen male said. "NCIS's MTAC is clean."
The grunt grunted. "Why are you running a search on Angelman?"
Gibbs lifted his eyebrows. "The name came up during our investigation."
Fresh faced, like some farm boy, the grunt might have been, but he was no fool apparently. "This isn't a conversation. Talk or the team I have standing by to enter NCIS headquarters right now will serve you and your people warrants. I will have you in custody." The grunt leaned forward. "You're not a stupid man, marine. You know what happens when we start questioning people about classified information."
Gibbs knew. He knew he didn't like it. "You know Wolfram and Hart?"
The grunt frowned. "Which branch?"
"LA."
The grunt tried to keep a sucking lemons expression off of his face. It didn't work. "What about them?"
"They took over as Wilder's legal representation. Gave Wilder the creeps, but he wouldn't fire them. Tried to change his plea."
"Angel wouldn't do that."
Gibbs sipped his coffee. The grunt was on a first name basis with the Hollywood lawyer. And not that good at the covert ops stuff. "Angel didn't. Someone named Spike did, without permission."
He'd seen a deer hit by a motorcycle once. It had gotten up, shaken itself, and tottered drunkenly off into the bushes. The grunt looked like that deer. "Spike? He's dead!"
Gibbs digested that behind another sip of coffee. "Someone named Harris got rid of the lawyers before Angel called them off."
The grunt didn't say anything, but the tightness around the eyes said Gibbs had scored a hit.
Gibbs put on his most bland expression. "Why would Spike get an expensive set of legal thugs to get Wilder off? A guy who was apparently buried in Ivy Hill, section O, plot 106?"
The grunt's eyes widened just enough to confirm. Bingo.
Gibbs hid his smile behind his coffee cup. "Who was Angelman? Why'd you hide him as Wilder?"
"Where's Harris now?"
"He gave me Angelman's current address then fell off the grid." Gibbs made sure the quotation marks around the word address were clearly audible in his voice.
The grunt ground his teeth for a few moments. "If you find Harris, don't hold him. If you come across Spike, keep your distance. He's extremely dangerous and," an expression of extreme distaste crossed the grunt's features, "a national security asset. Notify us immediately and we'll deal with the situation. Angelman is no longer your concern. Quit hunting him."
Gibbs crossed his arms, careful of his coffee cup, and tilted his head. "I don't care about Angelman. Wilder stole the most powerful cryptographic program our nation has with the intention of selling it the highest bidder, probably China or Iran, when we caught him. He's a traitor. He may think he's getting off, but he's going down for it. If your Angelman shit interferes with that, there's no classified mission you can hide behind. I will find you."
The grunt all but sneered. "JAG's case is solid enough to put him in Leavenworth for a while."
"It's good enough for life without parole."
"You've got Wilder dead to rights. You have no reason to investigate Angelman, Gibbs. Take my advice. Drop it." The grunt turned his head and the screen went blank.
Gibbs took a sip of his coffee and contemplated the color bars on the big screen. Drop Angelman. Right. Time to find this Spike. He pivoted on a heel and marched out of MTAC.
Tony bounced out of his seat and all but saluted. With his chest puffed up, just that much, a grin on his face, and just enough vibration around his shoulders that said he'd rather be jumping around like a kid, Tony looked like a Golden Retriever puppy wiggling on the floor, all but yapping, Look at me, boss! Look at me! I did good! I did good! Look! Look! Look!
Tony said, "Hey, boss."
McGee sank into his chair and glowered.
Tony's grin widened. "Old fashioned police work wins again! Put it on the plasma, Padawan Probie."
Harris's car went on the screen.
"See, boss, I noticed that little sticker there. Not a dealer sticker. I had McPhotoshop blow it up and found out it was Enterprise's car. I called the airport because, guess where we found the plates? The airport. Turns out they have a little fleet of these babies. Thirty-two of them are currently rented out to people all over the area. One of them was rented to a nice young man with an eye patch that does a mean John Wayne in Rooster Cogburn impersonation." Tony looked at him and frowned. "You have to have seen Rooster Cogburn. Hepburn, Wayne, out on the trail finding---"
"The car, DiNozzo."
"Right. So, I got the plate of the one rented to Harris Wayne and the BOLO turned up in ten minutes. It's parked in Marriot's garage, third level right now. That'd be the Marriot less than a mile from the jail. The main desk confirmed that a man wearing an eye patch, who did a cute, but bad Captain Jack Sparrow impression, checked in under the name William Giles."
"Good work, le---"
"But that's not all!" Tony said in his best TV pitchman voice. "Just on the off-chance, call it a hunch," Tony gave a little moue of attempted humility, "the genius of good policework, Probie, so pay attention."
Gibbs lifted his eyebrows.
Tony cleared his throat and put on his serious face.
Gibbs hid a smile behind a sip of coffee.
Tony frowned at a piece of paper, one of those dramatic things he did for appearances. "It turns out that a Mr. Rupert Giles checked into that very Marriot a few nights ago. The clerk on the three to eleven shift remembers him clearly. Looks like Billy Idol with cheekbones and eyes to die for." Tony glared at McGee. "Like I don't have cheekbones and eyes to die for?"
It was time to metaphorically wiggled his Golden Retriever's leash to bring him back on task. He sharpened his voice. "DiNozzo."
"Mr. Rupert 'Just call me Spike, luv' Giles. Our mysterious Spike could be the guy in the Presidential Suite at the Marriot."
"Good work. McGee, get David back from Ivy Hill. Stop looking for Angelman, for now. DiNozzo, you're with me."
"Not just yet, Jethro. My office. Now." Sheppard pushed away from the metal railing on the open stairs just above their work center.
Tony gave him a sympathetic look. Gibbs scowled and followed Sheppard to her office. She slammed the door behind him. "What in the hell is going on?"
"Wilder," he said.
She crossed to her desk and sat in her chair. "What about Wilder?" So she'd read up on the case.
He crossed his arms and kept his face neutral. "Someone visited him in his cell, wiped out the security footage. The next morning, a team of hot shot, expensive lawyers from LA showed up to represent him. Coleman dropped by. I went to investigate. Someone beat me to the lawyers and they no longer work for Wilder. This someone gave me a clue that led to the name Angelman. The black ops boys called me up and told me to drop it."
She glared at her desk. "You're not planning on dropping it."
"I don't like being dicked around."
"Is Wilder going to get off?"
"Don't think so. He's begging to plead guilty now. Black ops boys think the case is solid. Coleman thinks the case is solid. The expensive lawyers went back to LA. Got a call from their boss personally telling me they were no longer involved."
"So Wilder's going to trial and you have a name some people don't want you to know." She steepled her fingers and leaned back in her chair, a small cat-with-a-mouse smile quirking her lips. He really hated that smile. "What does your famous gut tell you, Jethro?"
"Someone's covering something up and Wilder's part of it."
"And you want to know what." She tilted her head. "How do you plan to find out? You can't go through channels."
"I know where the man who gave up the name is right now. I'm going to ask him."
She nodded. "Ask him. You don't compromise our people and you don't compromise Coleman's case."
Go to Courtship Rituals Pt. 3
Go to Courtship Rituals Index
Pairing Spike/Xander, Tony/Gibbs
Rating: Teen+ (dirty words, sexual situations)
Warnings: Potty mouth
Notes: Written for the Fall of S/X, not so beta'd. While it's a crossover, knowledge of NCIS isn't necessary to enjoy the fic.
Clicky here for: Courtship Rituals Pt. 1.
Go to Courtship Rituals Index
Courtship Rituals Pt. 2
The plates belonged to a mid-level bureaucrat in the USDA who was spending a few weeks touring Mexico's farm fields to look for DDT or salmonella or something. The guy's girlfriend said his car was in the long term lot, and yes it was a silver colored sedan.
"So our boy is with farmers in Mexico. Great." McGee said. Sarcasm wasn't working for him.
Tony looked like he wanted to hit something. "Twenty bucks says the airport rent-a-cops will find a silver sedan without plates."
Gibbs fingered the plastic evidence bag. "DiNozzo, with me. McGee, you call DiNozzo the second Abby gets anything on Ivy Hill."
"Gotcha, Boss."
Gibbs left McGee and his computers set up in the jail's break room. Tony trailed in his wake. The prison guard assigned to them rolled his eyes, popped his gum, and led them to the small room where Wilder had been cooling his heels for the past hour. It's where he'd been meeting the lawyers. Gibbs sat down in a chair opposite the man while Tony stood in the spot to his left, arms folded across his chest. He probably thought it made him look bigger and more intimidating. It might have, if Wilder ever looked away from the table.
"Tell me about the lawyers," Gibbs instructed.
Wilder started. His eyes flicked from Tony to Gibbs, then back to the table. He was nothing like the cool, confident commander they'd arrested months ago.
"The lawyers!" Gibbs barked.
Wilder jerked, almost fell out of the chair, then resettled himself. He stared at the security camera, then at the table. "They're lawyers. They represent you at trials."
"Who hired them for you?"
Wilder flinched.
"I said, who hired them?"
"I did." Wilder was lying.
"The truth."
"I did!"
Tony snorted. "You can't afford Wolfram and Hart."
Wilder glared at Tony, something like an oil slick flickering through his eyes for a moment. "You don't know anything about it. They work pro bono cases."
Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Why you? You're not the kind of person lawyers give charity to."
Tony's phone chirped. "DiNozzo."
Wilder frowned.
Gibbs slammed his fist on the table. "Why you?"
"I don't know. They like a challenging case? They don't think I did it?" Wilder's eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them.
Gibbs stared at him.
Tony said, "Thanks, Abs." The phone clicked and slid into a pocket. Tony leaned over and whispered, "Ivy Hill is a cemetery and the O 106 is a grave location for a Jack Angelman, died May 16, 2000."
Wilder twitched, like a rabbit trying to hold itself still in tall grass with a hawk flying overhead.
Tony stood up and gave Wilder a smarmy glare.
Gibbs put his fists on the table, in plain sight. "Does the name Jack Angelman mean anything to you?"
Wilder paled, but shook his head. "No."
"You're lying and I want to know why."
Wilder's eyes flicked to the security camera, then back to Gibbs' face. "I don't know anything. Please."
"How about the name Spike? The one who hired Wolfram and Hart for you."
Wilder jumped up. "Look, get Coleman here. Whatever. I'll plead guilty. I'll even waive parole or whatever. Just---" He shook his head, like a wet dog might, and backed to the door leading toward the cells.
Gibbs leaned back in the chair. "Who is Spike?"
Wilder pounded on the door. "I want to go back to my cell!"
"Why would Spike hire Wolfram and Hart for you?"
Wilder hit the door with his fist a few more times. "Guard!"
"Why didn't you fire them if you didn't want them?"
Wilder sank to the floor. "Guard!"
Gibbs stood up, the chair's legs shrieking against the dull, tile floor. "Who is Spike?"
Wilder started to cry.
Gibbs stared at him for a moment, then walked out of the room. He could hear Tony moving over to Wilder and squatting down. "Now that's just sad, a grown man getting snot all over himself like that? What'll all the boys down in the cells say when they see you? C'mon."
"DiNozzo!"
He could hear Tony stand up. "Well, sleep tight tonight, Wilder. Don't let the bed bugs bite."
Wilder whimpered.
Tony came out, shaking his head. "I think you broke him too fast, Boss."
Gibbs glowered at the floor and stomped to the break room. "I didn't break him. Someone else did it before we got here. I want to know what's on that missing 30 minutes of security tape." He passed the guard assigned to them. "We're done with Wilder now. Put him on a suicide watch."
The guard frowned. "You can't---"
"The man's losing it in there," Tony said. "Do it."
Gibbs ignored them in favor of McGee. "Anything?"
"We're trying to build the background on Angelman now, but it's not coming along. We're running into a brick wall at the Pentagon." McGee looked up from the computer, like a cross between a boy caught in the cookie jar and a recruit that couldn't do the last pushup. "I need to get back to the lab and help Abby."
Gibbs nodded. "We're going back to the Yard."
Gibbs left Tony chasing his tail at his desk and led McGee down to the lab. Abby was bent over a tray of test tubes, watching for something or other. On the plasma, the computer was running the face of the kid through some database. The eye patch had been removed and a computer generated eye stuck in its place.
"Gibbs!" Abby bounded over to him. "You're back!"
"What've you got?"
"Tim sent me a picture of the guy you're looking for and I'm running it through a bunch of databases, like VICAP, AAFIS, and stuff. Don't know if it'll do any good, but we can try. I'm just about done testing the fabric from the Scarpetti case. I think I've got it narrowed down to ketchup."
"Find this guy. McGee, help."
Abby looked up at the screen and smirked. "I can see why you want him. He's a cutie."
Gibbs rolled his eyes and headed back up to the squad room. He ran over Tony when the elevator doors opened. Barely saved his coffee.
"Sorry, Boss. Just coming to see you." Tony didn't have the grace to look sheepish. "Got the head of the LA branch of Wolfram and Hart on the line for you."
Gibbs eyebrows went up.
Tony smirked. "His name's Angel. Just Angel. Like Madonna or Cher. He sounds like a stripper."
"Or Angelman."
Tony followed him to his desk and watched him sit. He glared at Tony until he retreated to his own desk and pretended to be working instead of eavesdropping. Gibbs picked up his handset, punched the button under the blinking light, and barked, "Gibbs."
"Agent Gibbs, my name is Angel. I'm in charge of the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram and Hart. I understand that a team of my lawyers has recently begun working on a case that you and your people closed."
Gibbs leaned back in his chair. He didn't like the smooth voice or the Hollywood name. "What do you want?"
There was a moment of silence, then this Mr. Angel said, "A blunt man. Tell me about Wilder."
"First, I'd like to hear about Spike."
There was more dead silence, not even breathing. "Spike? I don't---"
"Cut the bullshit. Spike hired your goons to get Wilder off. I want to know why." Gibbs could have sworn he heard a mumbled, so would I, but he didn't say anything.
"I have no idea why my...son...has any interest in Wilder. That's why I'm calling you. We don't take JAG cases."
"Spike is your...son."
"He's an annoying child, but you don't always choose family."
"How did Spike hear about Wilder?"
"I don't know. I was hoping you had more information."
Gibbs refrained from laughing in the man's ear, but only just. What kind of lawyer was he? He didn't know what his people or his kid---if that's what this Spike actually was---were doing, and he didn't know enough not to call the people on the other side, the people with the prosecution, to pump them for basic information that they should have in their files. Hadn't the man heard of discovery? "Does the name Angelman mean anything to you?"
"Angelman?" Some cat or dog near this Angel character growled. "I see. Thank you, Agent Gibbs. You've---"
"There's another player." Gibbs cut the hang-up festivities off before they could get started. "Sent your lawyer team packing with their tails between their legs. Didn't even break a sweat."
"Who?" Angel sounded apprehensive and tight, like a cat digging its claws in before defending itself.
"We're hoping you can help us out with that." Gibbs snagged a pen. "He's---"
"He? Not a girl?" There was relief in the voice.
"Why would you think it's a girl?"
"Sp---my son has girl problems. When someone around him is run out of town, it's usually a girl that does it."
Sp---my son. Interesting. Gibbs tapped the pen against a piece of paper. "The man in question is approximately five-eleven, 190 pounds. Brown hair, brown eyes, wears an eye patch over his left eye."
"Harris." Angel spat that name out as if it had the plague. "Son of a bitch. He's there and hooked up with Spike? What was Rupert thinking? Thank you, Agent Gibbs. Though Harris was no doubt, um, undiplomatic about removing my team from the case, Wolfram and Hart do not and will not represent Wilder. He will have to find other counsel."
Rupert. Another name, this one sounded very British. Gibbs leaned back in his chair. "Where could I find Harris?"
"He likes pizza and donuts." Angel said. "Have a good afternoon."
"What---"
The bastard hung up.
Gibbs frowned for a moment, then called the lab. "McGee, the kid's name is Harris."
"Harris? How---"
"You find anything yet?"
"No, boss. Still looking. That will help."
Gibbs hung up before McGee could start describing how that would help. The last thing he needed was a breakdown of computer terminology. He dialed Coleman.
"Jethro." The director fluttered to a stop in front of him, with a bee up her skirt about something.
He held up a finger. "Commander Coleman," he told the duty body on the other end of the line.
Sheppard pushed the hang-up button on his phone. "MTAC, now."
He didn't move. "What's this about?"
"Wilder."
What in the hell was it with Wilder? The man was quietly sitting in jail for months, awaiting trail, then all of the sudden he's on everyone's dance card.
Some clean-cut, army boy with covered-up patches was sitting in a blank office looking unhappy on the screen. Not even a rank insignia. The grunt frowned around at the people in MTAC. "Clear the room, please."
The Director glared at the screen, then nodded. Everyone filed out.
"Including you, Director," the grunt said.
"I will not. This concerns my agency, this concerns me."
The grunt settled back and stared at her for a few moments, not the least bit perturbed. "We can do this the easy way, right here, right now. Or we can do this the hard way and Agent Gibbs can disappear some night."
Gibbs eyebrows went up.
Sheppard bristled. "I don't take threats against my people and I don't take orders."
The grunt shrugged and reached forward, supposedly for a kill switch. "Have it your way."
"Wait just a goddamned minute," Gibbs said.
The grunt paused.
"You," Gibbs pointed to the grunt on the screen. "Tell me what the hell is going on. Now."
The grunt lifted his eyebrows. "This is about some classified information that no one at NCIS is cleared for." The grunt frowned at Sheppard. "I'm extending a professional courtesy talking to you through a feed, rather than just having you picked up and interrogated. I've already got the warrant."
Sheppard opened her mouth.
Gibbs tapped the side of his coffee cup with his finger and considered the earnest looking face of the grunt. Opportunity knocked. "Fine. Director, please leave."
"But---"
Gibbs glared at her. "Director."
Sheppard returned the glare. "This isn't over."
Gibbs didn't say anything. Neither did the grunt. Sheppard walked out and slammed the door. Gibbs took a sip with his coffee cup.
"You're clear, Rye," an off screen male said. "NCIS's MTAC is clean."
The grunt grunted. "Why are you running a search on Angelman?"
Gibbs lifted his eyebrows. "The name came up during our investigation."
Fresh faced, like some farm boy, the grunt might have been, but he was no fool apparently. "This isn't a conversation. Talk or the team I have standing by to enter NCIS headquarters right now will serve you and your people warrants. I will have you in custody." The grunt leaned forward. "You're not a stupid man, marine. You know what happens when we start questioning people about classified information."
Gibbs knew. He knew he didn't like it. "You know Wolfram and Hart?"
The grunt frowned. "Which branch?"
"LA."
The grunt tried to keep a sucking lemons expression off of his face. It didn't work. "What about them?"
"They took over as Wilder's legal representation. Gave Wilder the creeps, but he wouldn't fire them. Tried to change his plea."
"Angel wouldn't do that."
Gibbs sipped his coffee. The grunt was on a first name basis with the Hollywood lawyer. And not that good at the covert ops stuff. "Angel didn't. Someone named Spike did, without permission."
He'd seen a deer hit by a motorcycle once. It had gotten up, shaken itself, and tottered drunkenly off into the bushes. The grunt looked like that deer. "Spike? He's dead!"
Gibbs digested that behind another sip of coffee. "Someone named Harris got rid of the lawyers before Angel called them off."
The grunt didn't say anything, but the tightness around the eyes said Gibbs had scored a hit.
Gibbs put on his most bland expression. "Why would Spike get an expensive set of legal thugs to get Wilder off? A guy who was apparently buried in Ivy Hill, section O, plot 106?"
The grunt's eyes widened just enough to confirm. Bingo.
Gibbs hid his smile behind his coffee cup. "Who was Angelman? Why'd you hide him as Wilder?"
"Where's Harris now?"
"He gave me Angelman's current address then fell off the grid." Gibbs made sure the quotation marks around the word address were clearly audible in his voice.
The grunt ground his teeth for a few moments. "If you find Harris, don't hold him. If you come across Spike, keep your distance. He's extremely dangerous and," an expression of extreme distaste crossed the grunt's features, "a national security asset. Notify us immediately and we'll deal with the situation. Angelman is no longer your concern. Quit hunting him."
Gibbs crossed his arms, careful of his coffee cup, and tilted his head. "I don't care about Angelman. Wilder stole the most powerful cryptographic program our nation has with the intention of selling it the highest bidder, probably China or Iran, when we caught him. He's a traitor. He may think he's getting off, but he's going down for it. If your Angelman shit interferes with that, there's no classified mission you can hide behind. I will find you."
The grunt all but sneered. "JAG's case is solid enough to put him in Leavenworth for a while."
"It's good enough for life without parole."
"You've got Wilder dead to rights. You have no reason to investigate Angelman, Gibbs. Take my advice. Drop it." The grunt turned his head and the screen went blank.
Gibbs took a sip of his coffee and contemplated the color bars on the big screen. Drop Angelman. Right. Time to find this Spike. He pivoted on a heel and marched out of MTAC.
Tony bounced out of his seat and all but saluted. With his chest puffed up, just that much, a grin on his face, and just enough vibration around his shoulders that said he'd rather be jumping around like a kid, Tony looked like a Golden Retriever puppy wiggling on the floor, all but yapping, Look at me, boss! Look at me! I did good! I did good! Look! Look! Look!
Tony said, "Hey, boss."
McGee sank into his chair and glowered.
Tony's grin widened. "Old fashioned police work wins again! Put it on the plasma, Padawan Probie."
Harris's car went on the screen.
"See, boss, I noticed that little sticker there. Not a dealer sticker. I had McPhotoshop blow it up and found out it was Enterprise's car. I called the airport because, guess where we found the plates? The airport. Turns out they have a little fleet of these babies. Thirty-two of them are currently rented out to people all over the area. One of them was rented to a nice young man with an eye patch that does a mean John Wayne in Rooster Cogburn impersonation." Tony looked at him and frowned. "You have to have seen Rooster Cogburn. Hepburn, Wayne, out on the trail finding---"
"The car, DiNozzo."
"Right. So, I got the plate of the one rented to Harris Wayne and the BOLO turned up in ten minutes. It's parked in Marriot's garage, third level right now. That'd be the Marriot less than a mile from the jail. The main desk confirmed that a man wearing an eye patch, who did a cute, but bad Captain Jack Sparrow impression, checked in under the name William Giles."
"Good work, le---"
"But that's not all!" Tony said in his best TV pitchman voice. "Just on the off-chance, call it a hunch," Tony gave a little moue of attempted humility, "the genius of good policework, Probie, so pay attention."
Gibbs lifted his eyebrows.
Tony cleared his throat and put on his serious face.
Gibbs hid a smile behind a sip of coffee.
Tony frowned at a piece of paper, one of those dramatic things he did for appearances. "It turns out that a Mr. Rupert Giles checked into that very Marriot a few nights ago. The clerk on the three to eleven shift remembers him clearly. Looks like Billy Idol with cheekbones and eyes to die for." Tony glared at McGee. "Like I don't have cheekbones and eyes to die for?"
It was time to metaphorically wiggled his Golden Retriever's leash to bring him back on task. He sharpened his voice. "DiNozzo."
"Mr. Rupert 'Just call me Spike, luv' Giles. Our mysterious Spike could be the guy in the Presidential Suite at the Marriot."
"Good work. McGee, get David back from Ivy Hill. Stop looking for Angelman, for now. DiNozzo, you're with me."
"Not just yet, Jethro. My office. Now." Sheppard pushed away from the metal railing on the open stairs just above their work center.
Tony gave him a sympathetic look. Gibbs scowled and followed Sheppard to her office. She slammed the door behind him. "What in the hell is going on?"
"Wilder," he said.
She crossed to her desk and sat in her chair. "What about Wilder?" So she'd read up on the case.
He crossed his arms and kept his face neutral. "Someone visited him in his cell, wiped out the security footage. The next morning, a team of hot shot, expensive lawyers from LA showed up to represent him. Coleman dropped by. I went to investigate. Someone beat me to the lawyers and they no longer work for Wilder. This someone gave me a clue that led to the name Angelman. The black ops boys called me up and told me to drop it."
She glared at her desk. "You're not planning on dropping it."
"I don't like being dicked around."
"Is Wilder going to get off?"
"Don't think so. He's begging to plead guilty now. Black ops boys think the case is solid. Coleman thinks the case is solid. The expensive lawyers went back to LA. Got a call from their boss personally telling me they were no longer involved."
"So Wilder's going to trial and you have a name some people don't want you to know." She steepled her fingers and leaned back in her chair, a small cat-with-a-mouse smile quirking her lips. He really hated that smile. "What does your famous gut tell you, Jethro?"
"Someone's covering something up and Wilder's part of it."
"And you want to know what." She tilted her head. "How do you plan to find out? You can't go through channels."
"I know where the man who gave up the name is right now. I'm going to ask him."
She nodded. "Ask him. You don't compromise our people and you don't compromise Coleman's case."
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