Red Sky in Morning

A/N: This was a WEE story written for Sazzita on NFA. I fall off writing The Fear Game because of illness and surgery. However, the WEE challenge came up and I owed a story. So, I picked the prompt that asked me to find a connection between one of our heroes and the mafia. So, I pulled this together. It is written in five chapters and complete so you shouldn't worry about this one dropping off. I will post every other day. I hope you read. Sheila

P.S. Thanks to Liane for checking on me.

Chapter 1

Paul took the check from the waiter and caught McGee's eye. "What?"

"Paul, this place is too much. I saw three of my dad's old friends just walking through the dining room. You insisted on caviar for an appetizer-which neither of us particularly like. You ordered two bottles of wine so smooth I'm not even drunk, and I gotta doggy bag filled with a piece of Kobe beef worth more than my left kidney. We're going to have to split this check."

"No way, Beaver. I've come a long way since those days at MIT when we scraped around for quarters to pay for our burgers. It's on all on me." Paul produced a platinum American Express card, shoved it into the sleeve of the bill without even looking, and leaned back in his chair. "Let's talk business."

McGee sighed. "Moonlighting is frowned upon at NCIS. I got permission to do up to 40 hours a month as a consultant for you for six months. I doubt the director is going to let me have any more."

"Tim, you are a genius with creating firewalls. We need more than 40 hours a month from you." Paul ran a hand through his curly black hair.

McGee leaned forward. "I can put you in touch with some guys I know. They are also very good."

Paul shrugged. "Great. You give me a guy, and then we don't need you anymore. Sounds good."

McGee looked down at the table. "I could still participate 40 hours a month."

"Tim," Paul chuckled softly. "You need me more than I need you. I know about your debt. I know how desperate you are for this money."

His face reddened. "I am not so desperate that I'm going to break my agreement."

"So, go back to him. Tell him you need 20 more hours a month."

"That's not going to work. Plus, I don't even know where I would find 20 extra hours with the schedule I keep."

"Tim, you're building a wireless security system for my import business, and we don't have time to wait for you."

"That's why I'm suggesting that I bring in a guy or two. They can work under me."

Paul shook his head. "The point of an effective security system is not sharing it with a lot of people."

"I know people I can trust."

"Well, they are not Tim the Beaver. I don't care if you can trust them, I can't. We bump it to 60 or we say good-bye."

Tim looked up. "I can try for 50."

"That's not what I want, Tim. Hell, I'm practically paying you under the table."

McGee rubbed his face. "Okay, that's not happening either."

"McGee, they are lucky to still have you pulling civil service duty with your skill set. They will do what they have to in order to keep you."

"You're clear that I won't be using any technology that's still classified."

"Christ Almighty, you've told me that 39 times already. I am aware!"

McGee put a hand up. "Okay. I'll think about it."

Paul smiled. "Good. We need ya on this. 60 hours a month. You know that's $30,000 every month. You do that for a few months, and I think your debt problems are going to go away."

McGee closed his eyes and nodded. "Yeah. It would help."

…..

It was midnight when he got home, but he felt no urge for sleep. Instead, he sat down at the desktop and pulled up the work he'd already done for Paul's import business. Paul was right. Lombard Imports' online business was going to need more than 40 hours a month to get the firewalls properly secured. Adding another 20 hours sounded simple, but it wasn't as easy as sitting down an extra hour a night after work. He needed the right head space for something as exacting as writing code. 12 hours a day with Gibbs and Tony always left him either focused on a case or some weird DiNozzo comment he had yet to decipher.

McGee sighed and sat back. There was still too much wine in him to do the work properly. He would have to do 15 hours every weekend to keep up with the schedule, and as for Vance- breaking their existing agreement, even if it was by inches, stuck in gut. He had rules. Rules that existed so he could sleep at night believing that he was the person he was supposed to be.

Six months ago, this decision would've been easy. He was comfortable, sure that he needed no more than his cramped apartment, Toyota Prius, and an occasional itch for newest tech toys. Now, his financial situation was desperate in ways he couldn't even begin to explain to those closest to him.

…..

The knocking on the door was insistent, and he squinted at his alarm. 1:30 a.m. He'd barely gone to sleep. He pulled open the drawer on his nightstand and pulled out his Sig. Tony or Gibbs would've called. In shorts and a t-shirt, he padded into the hallway and yelled, "Who is it!?"

"FBI! Open up!"

He frowned. "Agent Fornell?"

"Open up this door!"

Just as McGee got to the peephole, there was a tremendous bang and the door exploded in on top of him.

…..

The room was bare, much like the interrogation room at NCIS. The chairs were nicer though and the table was longer, and apparently, the FBI believed in the power of grilling a subject under a naked bulb because the fluorescents were blinding.

His hosts were a couple of agents in cheap suits who had long lost the battle of the bulge. They both had thick Jersey accents, and were eating eggplant sandwiches in front of him with marinara and cheese oozing out the sides. They offered him nothing.

He sat in his t-shirt and a pair of jeans they allowed him, his right wrist handcuffed to the table. It was surreal. He'd been interrogated once before when he'd been a probie and shot an undercover cop. They hadn't handcuffed him then. They'd been hard, but at least he'd understood why he was in trouble. This is something altogether different.

One of the agents wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Tell us the story of how you came to know Paul Lombard again. I was laughing too hard the first time through to get all the details."

"I want to make a phone call."

"Nope," said the other guy, mouth full of sandwich.

"I have rights."

"Patriot Act," the agent said as he reached for his soda.

McGee jerked at his handcuff. "You got to be kidding me! I know the Patriot Act inside and out. All I did was have dinner with an old friend!"

"An old friend you are working for- one who has an import business and, thus, international ties. That raises all sorts of red flags. We know the Patriot Act too, my friend."

"I want to see Agent Fornell."

One man looked to the other and he shook his head. "No way. He basically works for you guys."

McGee sighed. "This is a huge mistake. Paul Lombard is an old friend. I knew him at MIT. We went to school together."

"Which I personally find hilarious. How did we not know that little Paulie went to MIT?"

The other man shrugged. "He was living with his mother growing up. The old man kept him away from the business."

"Hey McGee, did you ever meet the old man?"

"I don't know. Once. He and a couple of guys showed up and took a bunch of us out for pizza."

"You didn't notice anything familiar about the guy?"

McGee strained at the cuff. "I was 18 years old! I don't remember anything! I probably brought a textbook and ate pizza between chapters."

"Paul never told you that his real last name was Lombardozzi?"

"I don't know. I don't remember. Why would I care? Italian American names should put me on alert? My partner's name is DiNozzo. The guard at the gate called you Caruso. I should suspect you're someone other than a very confused FBI agent?"

The one named Caruso slammed the table. "Enough! You're a federal agent who just happens to be providing technical support to one of the biggest gun smugglers on the East Coast! Paul Lombardozzi! Son of Dominic Lombardozzi!"

The color drained from his face. "Dominic Lombardozzi- henchman for the Gambino family?"

"He ain't a hench nothing anymore. He controls the family's Jersey interests now, and in recent years, they've diversified into the gun trade."

McGee shook his head. "I did not know! Paul's a good guy. He was by the book all through school. I checked his business before I signed on. Director Vance knows all about it!"

"Well son, one of two things is happening here. Either, you're the dumbest fed I ever met or you're selling tech secrets to an international guns dealer."

…..

Tony wadded up a post-it note and threw it at Ellie. Her head jerked up.

"What?"

"Look at the time."

She blinked at the clock. "Well, it's ten minutes later than the last time you asked."

"10:20 a.m."

She furrowed her brows. "Is this still about McGee?"

"He's late."

"It's happened before, DiNozzo."

"Well, I don't like it. He's very prompt. Always. He leaves messages. He's anal about it."

Ellie leaned forward. "The relationship the two of you have is weird. You know that? All the looks. The secret language. You act like you don't really like each other, but I think you're kind of obsessed with each other."

Tony scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She threw up her hands. "I have brothers, you know, and you two act my two older brothers, Will and Dewey."

"I doubt that."

"No, you do. See, Will and Dewey had to share a room their whole lives. Well, not anymore, but when they were kids. They are the two most different people. Anyway, they were always fighting and whining about one another, but the minute that anyone went after one of them, the other was on his six- just like you two. They're still like that."

Tony sat back and blinked. "I always have Tim's back. That's a given. Always have, always will. Doesn't mean I don't poke at him. Gotta keep him on his toes, you know."

Ellie smiled. "Can I get back to work now?"

"I don't know. Did Will and Dewey get married- to other people, I mean. Are they leading normal lives?"

She rolled her eyes. "Where's Gibbs?"

They turned to find Abby in the squad room with a plastic container.

"He's up in MTAC, Abbs. He and Vance are conferencing regarding the situation in Nigeria."

"Oh. Okay. Just wanted to give him a cupcake. It's our half year anniversary of the first time we ever worked a case together."

Tony nodded. "Yes, an important day to be sure. However, the boss is upstairs solving world problems right now."

She deflated a little. "You think I should just leave it for him?"

"Not if you want it to still be there when Gibbs comes down," Ellie said.

Tony gave her a quick glare before announcing. "Timmy is missing."

"What!" She spun around to look at the empty desk.

"He's a couple of hours late," Ellie said, giving Tony a look.

Tony ignored her. "I've called and texted. I'm ready to send a squad over to the house."

"Maybe, he's sick. He's got a delicate disposition. Everyone knows that. Maybe, he got that beard disease again."

Ellie looked at the ceiling. "Then he would still come in to work but he would have nothing more than a five o'clock shadow. I'm sure he's fine."

"Abby, I think this is one of those situations." Tony said, watching her carefully.

"I don't like to track cells. You know that!" She stomped one of her steel-toed boots.

"I understand. You just go back to your lab, and imagine the 10,000 different things that might have happened to your sweet little Timmy." He leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. "I'm just sayin'."

Abby turned on her heels and headed for the stairs.

Ellie shook her head. "You don't really think she's going to…"

"There is nothing I know of that is more precious to Abby than her McGee." Tony smiled off into the distance.

…..

"You said you needed money. What's going on, McGee? Living above your means."

"No." McGee had lost track of time but it had clearly been some hours because the portly agents were on their second meal of the interrogation- a New York style pizza laid out on the table- none offered to him.

"Gambling? Women? Drugs? Come on, McGee. What is it?"

"It's personal." His answers had lost all sense of outrage. He just stared at the wall behind them and waited for the next one.

"We can't help you unless you talk to us, Tim."

"I am happy to elaborate and will do so, but only to the following individuals: Director Vance, Special Agent Gibbs, Special Agent DiNozzo, or Agent Fornell."

"Yes," said the one named Patterson, "but you aren't the one in charge. You can't dictate those things."

"It don't matter, Patty. I think we're going to find everything we need off those computers of his." Caruso said as he doubled over a slice in his meaty paw.

McGee sighed. "You've confiscated my computers?"

"Yup. Executed a warrant at 4 a.m. this morning."

McGee groaned. "You've got to be kidding me. You couldn't have waited until my neighbors went to work?"

"Hey! Numb nuts! Quit acting like you're going to clear this whole thing up with a phone call! We have your very admission that you were working for a known mafia-connected gun smuggler. This ain't going away."

His face reddened. "He's an old friend! I was consulting, with permission, for an old friend!"

Caruso's cell rang and he picked it up. He grunted a few times and then hung up. "Tech guys need your log-in. Seems they're having trouble getting on your computers."

McGee struggled to suppress a smile. "No."

"You say you don't got anything to hide, McGee! Cooperation is your friend. Give us the password!"

He took a deep breath. "Not until I speak to Agents Gibbs, DiNozzo, Fornell, or Director Vance."

Patterson screwed up his face. "Oh God! You are making my brain hurt. I am literally getting a migraine from looking at you. If you were any other hump, I'd have thrown you a beating by now. I swear to the virgin mother!"

"Okay! Okay, Patty! Take a break. Let's go walk it off." Caruso heaved his partner to his feet. At the door, he turned and wagged a finger at McGee. "We were going to let you have a slice, you stubborn little punk. Now, you get nothing."

…

"No, Fornell, he is in your building. I know he is because Abby tracked his cell…He is not picking up. What the hell is he doing over there?...I know you are our liaison, and so you should know these things. Why don't you?...Well, find out and send him on home. He knows better than to take candy from strangers. You don't want me to send Gibbs over there." Tony ended the call.

Ellie looked up. "You're actually worried about this."

"If McGee was over at the Federal building, we would know because it would be tied to a case. It feels weird. It's felt weird all day."

"You want to pull Gibbs out of MTAC?"

Tony grabbed his jacket. "No."

"Tony?"

"I'm going to get my partner," he said as he headed for the elevator.

…

TBC