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It was a quiet week at NCIS. So quiet that paperwork was caught up and if one more cold case file landed on a bored agent’s desks there would be a revolt.
DiNozzo finally tossed another file into his out basket and announced to anyone within earshot he was going to the inside shooting range in the basement. No one commented as he locked his desk and stormed toward the stairs.
****
Gibbs exited the elevator in full rant. He’d left the FBI office furious at Fornell over evidence handling on a murder case. The hearing was a week away and everything had to be re-evaluated.
“Where’s DiNozzo? He’s not answering his phone. He knows better than to be out of touch!” Gibbs dropped into his chair as he placed his coffee cup on the well won coaster.
McGee looked up from his keyboard to see Gibbs frowning. “He’s at the range. Probably has on hearing protection.”
“Well don’t just sit there. Go down to the range and bring him back.” Gibbs was already on the move again, heading for the stairs and Vance’s office.
McGee hesitated for a moment but Gibbs' glare urged him up and toward the elevator.
The elevator ride only made McGee more annoyed. He wasn’t an errand boy. The indoor range was in the basement. It contained the armory and six shooting lanes, with long rows of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. It was old and musty and smelled like gunpowder and sweat. McGee hated it and avoided it until he absolutely had to be there.
The range master pointed McGee toward the farthest lane. Several lanes were occupied as agents practiced with various handguns. He found Tony facing away from him, hearing protection in place and totally focused on a … mannequin? The junior agent stopped several feet away, knowing Tony couldn’t hear his approach. He was hesitant to draw the other man’s attention because Tony was … focused and holding knives.
McGee watched in silent awe as three throwing knives whipped from Tony’s hand and flew into the chest of the mannequin, sinking the length of the blades. A fourth blade followed, sinking deeply into an eye.
Tony removed his ear muffs and stalked to the mutilated figure and retrieved his knives.
Taking a chance that Tony wouldn’t whirl and throw a knife at him McGee called Tony’s name.
“What?” Tony pulled the last knife free and turned to the junior agent.
“Uh - Gibbs is looking for you.”
“And?” Tony took up his position again, a short blade balanced in his hand.
“Uh - I think he wants you in the bullpen. He doesn’t look happy.”
“He never looks happy.” Tony let fly with the short blade and it ‘thunked’ loudly into the mannequin’s groin. He went to retrieve it, returning to McGee’s side and gathered up the other throwing knives. He watched McGee’s face as he slipped one into a small holster inside his left wrist under his long sleeve. Another one disappeared into an ankle holster just above his short boot. The other two went into Tony’s suit jacket inside pockets.
McGee’s mouth was open as he watched the disappearing act.
“Careful Probie. You’ll catch flies. Tony gently tapped the younger man’s chin.
McGee jerked away. “Since when have you carried so many knives?”
“Gibbs rule 9, remember? Always have a knife.”
“Yes, a knife. Not an arsenal."
“And if you get searched and your one knife is found?” Tony turned away toward the exit when McGee floundered on an answer.
They started out of the shooting range together, Tony leading them to the stairs.
“I suppose you have one hidden somewhere a search won’t find. McGee spoke to Tony’s back.
“Of course.” Tony reached the sound proof door that would open into the building’s offices and tugged it open widely, leaving McGee to follow him.
McGee pulled the door closed firmly behind him. It was the fire door after all. “Prove it.”
Tony huffed at McGee then reached for his belt. He unbuckled it and with a deft twist a small knife blade dropped from the buckle. He held it up for McGee to see, then just as swiftly reattached it and rebuckled his belt.
McGee was impressed. He would have never known of such a handy and secretive weapon. “Where did you get it?”
“I’ll send you the link.” He rounded the corner into their bullpen, McGee one step behind. “What do you need, Boss?”
Toshua 2025