Double Bluff: Chapter 17
Another day, another chapter... this one's a little longer than average, forgive me? Many thanks to Monica, Gemma, and pinch hitter extraordinaire for this one. Apparently tying up shifty loose ends takes many, many betas. I swear, now that we're nearing the end of this particular plot line, it keeps trying to get longer and longer, and I swear by my pretty floral bonnet, I WILL END YOU (story). I keep repeating to myself "No, I will not take another 10 thousand words to round out this story, no, I will not..." I really really want to write the NEXT story now, please?
<---Chapter 16 (Or here on LJ)
Chapter 17: Looking Through the Glass
Tony watched through the glass as Franks grilled Eileen Soccata. The compact brunette woman, who Tony had seen take so many of the shocks that came as part of the job with nothing but a calm aplomb, was not taking the interrogation well. She looked equal parts confused and betrayed at various points, and seemed to react largely by vibrating in place with repressed anger.
All of her reactions seemed genuine, including her profession of innocence. Well, mostly. Some of her protests (like her insistence that she knew absolutely nothing) didn’t quite ring true, though, Tony was fairly certain she hadn’t been nearly as involved in Vanzetti’s scheme as Rafferty and Trip. They’d brought her in initially because she had been one of the two agents conspicuously not in the van when Shannon Gibbs died.
It was looking like she hadn’t been heavily involved in the conspiracy, but that she’d been more observant then she was currently letting on about how much she’d seen of what was going on around her. Her suspicions had clearly run more deeply than her active participation. If they could just get all the information she had, they would at least have more evidence against the bigger fish in this investigation. As far as little fish went, though, Soccata was pretty close-mouthed so far.
Her partner Howard Bierden, the second agent who had been present the day the van exploded, wasn’t faring as well in the next interrogation room over. Tony had stopped in to watch that one a few minutes ago, taking some amount of glee in seeing the shorter Fornell verbally attacking the six foot six Bierden. It brought to mind those little yap dogs that always went after their larger brethren with vicious energetic fervor. Howard had been shamefaced and near to tears, spilling his guilt like a little boy being chastised by his mother. Fornell had been merciless, going back at him time and time again, rephrasing the same questions, drawing more and more detail out of Bierden’s guilty conscience each time. Not exactly the way Tony would have approached the interrogation, but highly effective nonetheless.
Tony turned back to the one-way glass covering half the wall beside him, and watched Franks take another run at shaking Eileen’s silence. Standing a slight distance across the table from her, the man was still a formative intimidating force, particularly when he pulled the move he was in the middle of right now. Tony managed not to flinch as Franks slammed his hand down on the table to emphasize his point; Soccata, being much closer to the action, didn’t.
Franks spun and turned towards the mirrored glass, silently staring at it, as if he could actually see through it. Though his body language was otherwise calm, Tony could tell he was angry.The slight twitch of the fingers of his right hand, as if they were aching to form a fist, gave his emotions away. Given what Franks had looked like a few days ago when he was pissed, Tony was rather impressed by this current highly-controlled version of the man. Franks was a little rough around the edges, but so far in Tony’s dealings with him, he’d held up his end of every situation.
That sidn’t mean Tony wouldn’t have nightmares about staring down the wrong end of a gun barrel at Franks’s angry face looking ready to pull the trigger. Tony shook his head as if to shake off the memory of tearing out of Vanzetti’s house at a dead run after the man, only to end up stopping short because Franks was in the driveway already, staring Vanzetti down. It had been an abrupt experience, to say the least. Tony hadn’t been exactly sure when it had all gone to hell, but Vanzetti could probably have pinpointed the exact second he changed his mind about trying to run and decided on death instead -- that is, he could have, if he’d still been alive to talk about that day.
After the stunningly clear moment of facing Franks from over Vanzetti’s shoulder, trying to figure out a way to get out of Franks’ line of fire and finding nowhere to dive, the rest of day’s memories went kind of fuzzy in Tony’s recall. Tony can remember Vanzetti darting forward. He remembered deciding that a live concussed criminal was better than a shot one, that it looked like Vanzetti was going straight for Franks’ throat and trying to tackle Vanzetti to the ground, but avoid the line of fire. He couldn’t remember which thought had come first, it had happened so fast they all seemed simultaneous. The end result had been Tony taking Vanzetti out at the knees moments after Franks had decided to shoot.
Coordinated, they were not. Instead of catching Vanzetti in the shoulder, Franks’ bullet had gone straight through the man’s head. The trigger-happy feds behind Tony had apparently made similar decisions to Franks’, but a split second later, because another two shots from the other direction had joined the fray before it ended.
Tony now had a small graze on his left shoulder that he considered his lesson in how dealings with the FBI turned out. He wouldn’t be forgiving Agent Sacks any time soon. Although Fornell still got points as far as Tony was concerned, since he’d been right there moments later yelling at the two agents for their stupidity in almost taking out Tony in the cross-fire. Tony continually tried not to like Fornell because the man annoyed him so much, but he had to admit there were some days Fornell amused the heck out of him too. Thinly disguised mother hen lectures delivered at high volume and in a caustic tone of voice always brought a smile to his face.
At least Fornell had been courteous enough to wait until Tony’s shoulder gash had been treated before yelling at Tony himself for getting into the crossfire. Fornell had even been the one to give him a hand up from where he’d fallen, dazed with the adrenaline of the near miss, next to Vanzetti’s body. Things at that point got a bit fuzzier in his recollection. He remembered Franks glaring daggers at him -- for screwing up his shot? Tony wasn’t sure even now. Fornell yelling at those agents, yelling at the EMTs, turning with demands -- but not yelling -- at the medical examiner when he showed up. A fact that was explained later when Tony realized that the ME was NIS, not FBI, so apparently Fornell could even show a little cross departmental respect at times.
Franks had spoken briefly with the ME before walking off. Huh... Tony wondered where he’d gone. Tony himself had been plunked down on the curb with a cute female EMT to work on his shoulder. He vaguely remembered making some flirty remarks to keep up the appearance of normalcy both outwardly and inwardly. Halfway through an innuendo and most of the way through having his shoulder bandaged, he’d looked around for Harry, suddenly realizing he hadn’t seen him since running after Vanzetti.
As if his thought had summoned him, Tony looked up to see Harry walking sedately around the side of the house towards him. His friend looked a little beat. Harry glanced around as he approached, taking in the now-covered body, Tony sitting nearly shirtless with the wire he’d been wearing still haphazardly taped to his chest, and the attractive EMT putting the finishing touches on his shoulder dressing.
“Tony... only you would find not only the most beautiful lady at a crime scene, but also a way to unabashedly monopolize her attention,” Harry commented wryly. Tony tilted his head up to look Harry directly in the eyes and shrugged his bandage-free shoulder.
“Sorry?” He offered questioningly, an attempt at a playful smile plastered on his face.
“Yeah, yeah, sure. Sorry. That fixes everything.” Harry couldn’t help the bitterness in his tone. “Sorry about not telling me the whole plan too? How about sorry about getting shot?” He asked, his voice pitched low.
“Yeah, sorry about that too.” Tony let his chin fall to his chest and took a moment to breathe.
“Good.” Harry declared. Tony rolled his neck and lifted his head, gaze connecting with Harry’s again.
“You still know how to plan a great adventure, Tony. I’m glad I came.” Harry admitted. “But from now on... I think maybe I should stick to hearing stories of yours. When this is all over, remind me to tell you why I never became a cop.”
“Awww.” Tony pouted in mock disappointment. “You’re going to go back to being a boring ol’ butler, then? Not going to apply to NIS or the FBI? I mean, I can see why you’d avoid applying to be a Marshall now... I’m pretty sure I’m done with them too--”
“That so, DiNozzo?” Franks broke into their banter with the ease of someone who doesn’t care what he’s interrupting. He looked Tony straight in the eyes. “That mean you need a job?”
“Ahh-- you offering?” Tony managed.
“Tony, I’ll just --” Harry looked quickly at the scowl on Franks’ face, “... be over there,” he finished with a tiny hand wave in the direction of the area least overrun with officers processing the crime scene.
“You pulled off the plan pretty well, DiNozzo,” Franks volunteered, his gaze causually wandering the surrounding area.
“Um... thanks?” Tony responded. They stared at each other a moment. “Did you have to bring in Fornell though?” he added, barely keeping the whine from his voice.
“Got something against him?” Tony opened his mouth to speak -- “Aside from the fact that he’s a jackass?” Franks interjected.
“Uh... no. That’s pretty much it.” Tony admitted.
“Well then kid, don’t go work for him when he offers you the job. Come work for me instead.”
“Fornell’s gonna offer me a -- “ Tony paused, and mentally rewound the Franks’ last sentence. “Wait, you’re really offering me a job?”
“Yep.”
Tony levered himself up to his feet, turned quickly to give the pretty EMT one last wink, and raised his unwounded arm to give Franks a manly slap on the upper arm. Franks neatly side stepped the gesture and smacked Tony hard on the back instead.
“Come on kid, let’s get you sorted out. The sooner we bring this whole thing down, the sooner you can start.”
Tony snapped back to the present as Franks suddenly turned back towards Saccota and stepped up to the table again. Franks picked up and tossed down a file folder filled with photographs, causing some of the pictures to spill out haphazardly across the surface. Eileen actually flinched.
Huh. Tony wondered what had caused that particular reaction. Franks clearly caught the motion too. He leaned down, looming again, and lifted each photograph one by one, watching Saccota’s face as he did it. Tony reached over to pull up a chair; he was interested to hear where this line of questioning went.
Thinking of Kelly, he bowed his head for a moment, silently hoping this would be the break they needed to get to the man in charge of Vanzetti and make it safe for her to come out of hiding. After two days of nothing from Rafferty and Trip, they really needed something to move the investigation forwards.
He lifted his head and focused on Franks again. And silently witnessed as Eileen’s angry composure finally fell apart.
Chapter 18----> Or here on LJ
_____________________________________________________ This entry was originally posted at http://riazendira.dreamwidth.org/61591.html, where there are
comments. Please comment on either journal as you please.
<---Chapter 16 (Or here on LJ)
Chapter 17: Looking Through the Glass
Tony watched through the glass as Franks grilled Eileen Soccata. The compact brunette woman, who Tony had seen take so many of the shocks that came as part of the job with nothing but a calm aplomb, was not taking the interrogation well. She looked equal parts confused and betrayed at various points, and seemed to react largely by vibrating in place with repressed anger.
All of her reactions seemed genuine, including her profession of innocence. Well, mostly. Some of her protests (like her insistence that she knew absolutely nothing) didn’t quite ring true, though, Tony was fairly certain she hadn’t been nearly as involved in Vanzetti’s scheme as Rafferty and Trip. They’d brought her in initially because she had been one of the two agents conspicuously not in the van when Shannon Gibbs died.
It was looking like she hadn’t been heavily involved in the conspiracy, but that she’d been more observant then she was currently letting on about how much she’d seen of what was going on around her. Her suspicions had clearly run more deeply than her active participation. If they could just get all the information she had, they would at least have more evidence against the bigger fish in this investigation. As far as little fish went, though, Soccata was pretty close-mouthed so far.
Her partner Howard Bierden, the second agent who had been present the day the van exploded, wasn’t faring as well in the next interrogation room over. Tony had stopped in to watch that one a few minutes ago, taking some amount of glee in seeing the shorter Fornell verbally attacking the six foot six Bierden. It brought to mind those little yap dogs that always went after their larger brethren with vicious energetic fervor. Howard had been shamefaced and near to tears, spilling his guilt like a little boy being chastised by his mother. Fornell had been merciless, going back at him time and time again, rephrasing the same questions, drawing more and more detail out of Bierden’s guilty conscience each time. Not exactly the way Tony would have approached the interrogation, but highly effective nonetheless.
Tony turned back to the one-way glass covering half the wall beside him, and watched Franks take another run at shaking Eileen’s silence. Standing a slight distance across the table from her, the man was still a formative intimidating force, particularly when he pulled the move he was in the middle of right now. Tony managed not to flinch as Franks slammed his hand down on the table to emphasize his point; Soccata, being much closer to the action, didn’t.
Franks spun and turned towards the mirrored glass, silently staring at it, as if he could actually see through it. Though his body language was otherwise calm, Tony could tell he was angry.The slight twitch of the fingers of his right hand, as if they were aching to form a fist, gave his emotions away. Given what Franks had looked like a few days ago when he was pissed, Tony was rather impressed by this current highly-controlled version of the man. Franks was a little rough around the edges, but so far in Tony’s dealings with him, he’d held up his end of every situation.
That sidn’t mean Tony wouldn’t have nightmares about staring down the wrong end of a gun barrel at Franks’s angry face looking ready to pull the trigger. Tony shook his head as if to shake off the memory of tearing out of Vanzetti’s house at a dead run after the man, only to end up stopping short because Franks was in the driveway already, staring Vanzetti down. It had been an abrupt experience, to say the least. Tony hadn’t been exactly sure when it had all gone to hell, but Vanzetti could probably have pinpointed the exact second he changed his mind about trying to run and decided on death instead -- that is, he could have, if he’d still been alive to talk about that day.
After the stunningly clear moment of facing Franks from over Vanzetti’s shoulder, trying to figure out a way to get out of Franks’ line of fire and finding nowhere to dive, the rest of day’s memories went kind of fuzzy in Tony’s recall. Tony can remember Vanzetti darting forward. He remembered deciding that a live concussed criminal was better than a shot one, that it looked like Vanzetti was going straight for Franks’ throat and trying to tackle Vanzetti to the ground, but avoid the line of fire. He couldn’t remember which thought had come first, it had happened so fast they all seemed simultaneous. The end result had been Tony taking Vanzetti out at the knees moments after Franks had decided to shoot.
Coordinated, they were not. Instead of catching Vanzetti in the shoulder, Franks’ bullet had gone straight through the man’s head. The trigger-happy feds behind Tony had apparently made similar decisions to Franks’, but a split second later, because another two shots from the other direction had joined the fray before it ended.
Tony now had a small graze on his left shoulder that he considered his lesson in how dealings with the FBI turned out. He wouldn’t be forgiving Agent Sacks any time soon. Although Fornell still got points as far as Tony was concerned, since he’d been right there moments later yelling at the two agents for their stupidity in almost taking out Tony in the cross-fire. Tony continually tried not to like Fornell because the man annoyed him so much, but he had to admit there were some days Fornell amused the heck out of him too. Thinly disguised mother hen lectures delivered at high volume and in a caustic tone of voice always brought a smile to his face.
At least Fornell had been courteous enough to wait until Tony’s shoulder gash had been treated before yelling at Tony himself for getting into the crossfire. Fornell had even been the one to give him a hand up from where he’d fallen, dazed with the adrenaline of the near miss, next to Vanzetti’s body. Things at that point got a bit fuzzier in his recollection. He remembered Franks glaring daggers at him -- for screwing up his shot? Tony wasn’t sure even now. Fornell yelling at those agents, yelling at the EMTs, turning with demands -- but not yelling -- at the medical examiner when he showed up. A fact that was explained later when Tony realized that the ME was NIS, not FBI, so apparently Fornell could even show a little cross departmental respect at times.
Franks had spoken briefly with the ME before walking off. Huh... Tony wondered where he’d gone. Tony himself had been plunked down on the curb with a cute female EMT to work on his shoulder. He vaguely remembered making some flirty remarks to keep up the appearance of normalcy both outwardly and inwardly. Halfway through an innuendo and most of the way through having his shoulder bandaged, he’d looked around for Harry, suddenly realizing he hadn’t seen him since running after Vanzetti.
As if his thought had summoned him, Tony looked up to see Harry walking sedately around the side of the house towards him. His friend looked a little beat. Harry glanced around as he approached, taking in the now-covered body, Tony sitting nearly shirtless with the wire he’d been wearing still haphazardly taped to his chest, and the attractive EMT putting the finishing touches on his shoulder dressing.
“Tony... only you would find not only the most beautiful lady at a crime scene, but also a way to unabashedly monopolize her attention,” Harry commented wryly. Tony tilted his head up to look Harry directly in the eyes and shrugged his bandage-free shoulder.
“Sorry?” He offered questioningly, an attempt at a playful smile plastered on his face.
“Yeah, yeah, sure. Sorry. That fixes everything.” Harry couldn’t help the bitterness in his tone. “Sorry about not telling me the whole plan too? How about sorry about getting shot?” He asked, his voice pitched low.
“Yeah, sorry about that too.” Tony let his chin fall to his chest and took a moment to breathe.
“Good.” Harry declared. Tony rolled his neck and lifted his head, gaze connecting with Harry’s again.
“You still know how to plan a great adventure, Tony. I’m glad I came.” Harry admitted. “But from now on... I think maybe I should stick to hearing stories of yours. When this is all over, remind me to tell you why I never became a cop.”
“Awww.” Tony pouted in mock disappointment. “You’re going to go back to being a boring ol’ butler, then? Not going to apply to NIS or the FBI? I mean, I can see why you’d avoid applying to be a Marshall now... I’m pretty sure I’m done with them too--”
“That so, DiNozzo?” Franks broke into their banter with the ease of someone who doesn’t care what he’s interrupting. He looked Tony straight in the eyes. “That mean you need a job?”
“Ahh-- you offering?” Tony managed.
“Tony, I’ll just --” Harry looked quickly at the scowl on Franks’ face, “... be over there,” he finished with a tiny hand wave in the direction of the area least overrun with officers processing the crime scene.
“You pulled off the plan pretty well, DiNozzo,” Franks volunteered, his gaze causually wandering the surrounding area.
“Um... thanks?” Tony responded. They stared at each other a moment. “Did you have to bring in Fornell though?” he added, barely keeping the whine from his voice.
“Got something against him?” Tony opened his mouth to speak -- “Aside from the fact that he’s a jackass?” Franks interjected.
“Uh... no. That’s pretty much it.” Tony admitted.
“Well then kid, don’t go work for him when he offers you the job. Come work for me instead.”
“Fornell’s gonna offer me a -- “ Tony paused, and mentally rewound the Franks’ last sentence. “Wait, you’re really offering me a job?”
“Yep.”
Tony levered himself up to his feet, turned quickly to give the pretty EMT one last wink, and raised his unwounded arm to give Franks a manly slap on the upper arm. Franks neatly side stepped the gesture and smacked Tony hard on the back instead.
“Come on kid, let’s get you sorted out. The sooner we bring this whole thing down, the sooner you can start.”
Tony snapped back to the present as Franks suddenly turned back towards Saccota and stepped up to the table again. Franks picked up and tossed down a file folder filled with photographs, causing some of the pictures to spill out haphazardly across the surface. Eileen actually flinched.
Huh. Tony wondered what had caused that particular reaction. Franks clearly caught the motion too. He leaned down, looming again, and lifted each photograph one by one, watching Saccota’s face as he did it. Tony reached over to pull up a chair; he was interested to hear where this line of questioning went.
Thinking of Kelly, he bowed his head for a moment, silently hoping this would be the break they needed to get to the man in charge of Vanzetti and make it safe for her to come out of hiding. After two days of nothing from Rafferty and Trip, they really needed something to move the investigation forwards.
He lifted his head and focused on Franks again. And silently witnessed as Eileen’s angry composure finally fell apart.
Chapter 18----> Or here on LJ
_____________________________________________________ This entry was originally posted at http://riazendira.dreamwidth.org/61591.html, where there are
comments. Please comment on either journal as you please.