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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
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2006-08-13
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8/8
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Law and Disorder

Summary:

Tony runs into trouble with corrupt local law officials.
Disclaimer: I don't own the NCIS characters, I guess I own the original ones. I'm not making any money writing this. The city and county are made up names.
A/N: Thanks to Rinne, my patient and fast beta, and Research Geek, whose movie suggestion was inspiring.

Chapter 1: Chapter One

Chapter Text

~0~0~0~0~

The elevator doors opened with a swoosh and a ping; Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo disembarked cheerfully, humming softly to himself as he made his way to his desk.

"Good morning, Probie," he said, heartily.

Special Agent Timothy McGee was sitting at his desk, looking decidedly pale. His face was a waxy color and there was a thin sheen of perspiration on his upper lip. He grunted noncommittally at his teammate's cheerful greeting.

Tony dropped his pack next to his desk and looked over at the other agent.

"You look like something the cat dragged in, McGee," he observed. "Late night fighting demons and dragons online?"

"I'm not feeling well," McGee said shortly, hoping the other man would leave it at that and let him die in peace. No such luck.

Looking interested, Tony walked over. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Hangover? Acid indigestion? Cough due to cold?"

"I think it may be food poisoning," McGee said, resigned to the fact that Tony wasn't going to let it drop.

Tony winced. "Nasty," he said, sympathetically. "Been puking your guts out?"

McGee nodded, then immediately regretted the movement. His face turned white and he stood up and rushed to the men's room.

Walking into the squad room, carrying a cup of coffee, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs observed the youngest member of his team stumbling out.

"What's wrong with McGee?" he asked Tony.

"Food poisoning."

"Ahh." Gibbs grinned. "Get your things together, DiNozzo," he said.

"Where we headed, Boss?" asked Tony.

"You are headed to Hicksville, West Virginia, DiNozzo," replied Gibbs, "to question a corporal about some weapons that disappeared from the depot at Quantico."

"Hicksville? You're joking, right?" Tony stood with his pack already thrown over his shoulder. Gibbs just looked at him, a small smile on his face.

"Alone?" Tony asked.

"I was going to send McGee with you," said Gibbs, "but it doesn't look like he'll be able to make the trip. You'll take Ziva. Where is Officer David?"

At that moment the elevator opened and a very flustered Ziva David came rushing off, muttering to herself in a language that neither man understood.

"You're late, Officer David," growled Gibbs.

"Yes, yes, I know, I'm sorry," Ziva said irritably. "I've been on the phone all morning with the State Department."

"Ooo, sounds bad," Tony said. "They deporting you?"

Ziva made a face at Tony and continued, "There's a problem with my work visa. I have to go and straighten it out. In person. Now."

"You've got to go with DiNozzo to question a possible witness," said Gibbs.

"Gibbs," protested Ziva, "if I don't get this straightened out they will deport me."

By this time McGee had returned to his desk, looking pale and shaky. "Deport you?" he asked. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," growled Ziva. "There was something missing from my paperwork and I have to go in personally and prove I am who I say I am."

"Can't the Director help you?" asked Tony.

Ziva shook her head. "I tried that. They insist I go in and bring my passport and birth certificate and fill out some paperwork that someone forgot to send in and the government is only just now noticing is missing."

Tony chuckled. "That's the government for you. McGee, looks like it's you and me. Road trip! You can hang your head out the window if you feel sick."

McGee, having laid his head down on his desk, looked up in alarm. "Car?" he said, gulping. "I don't think I can take a long car ride," he said dubiously.

"Come on, suck it up," scolded Tony. McGee's eyes turned glassy, then he pushed his chair back and rushed back to the men's room.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Ziva.

"Food poisoning," replied Tony and Gibbs.

"DiNozzo, you're on your own," said Gibbs briskly. "It should be a cut-and-dried interview, you can handle it."

"Right, Boss." Tony headed out of the squad room, winking at Ziva as he passed her. "Have fun at the State Department," he said, grinning, dodging the wad of paper she threw at him.

Gibbs turned to Ziva. "How long do you think it'll take you to straighten things out?" he asked.

Ziva shrugged. "I don't know, but if the people there are as bad as the person on the phone, it could take all day."

"Better leave your weapons," Gibbs advised. "We wouldn't want you to create an international incident. McGee," he barked, startling the young agent as he weaved back to his desk. "Go home, you're useless to me here."

"Sorry, Boss," McGee said, gathering his things together.

"What did you eat?" asked Ziva.

"Homemade sushi," he replied, swallowing convulsively at the thought of the offending food.

"Well there ya go," said Gibbs. "You always let the professionals prepare that stuff."

Smiling weakly, McGee replied, "Right, Boss. You can reach me on my cell if you need me."

"I know," said Gibbs, waving him out of the squad room. "Go, before you lose it right here."

~0~0~0~0~

Hicksville was a small town, with a population of a little over 200, in Dawson County, West Virginia. Tony drove through the sleepy little town whistling the theme to the Andy Griffith Show to himself, half expecting to see a little boy in ragged overalls walking down the street carrying a fishing pole. He had just completed the interview with Corporal Jesse Turner, getting the information he needed and informing the young man that he would be needed to testify if a trial were called for. Now, his stomach was rumbling and he needed to fill it with some good, old-fashioned home cooking. At least that's what the sign on the diner proclaimed it served.

Settling down on a fake leather stool at the counter, Tony flashed a grin at the pretty young waitress.

"Well, hello, handsome," Sally Johnson said, adjusting her uniform to show off her ample cleavage. "What brings you to these parts?"

"Just passing through on business," Tony replied, eyeing the young woman appreciatively. "I thought I'd stop in and grab a bite to eat. What do you recommend?"

"That you go find the nearest McDonalds, the food here's terrible," replied Sally, winking.

"I heard that, Sally," the cook yelled from the kitchen. "You stop scaring off the customers, or you won't have no place to work, ya hear?"

"I hear ya, Clem," yelled Sally, wrinkling her nose at Tony. "Don't go gettin' all bent out of shape, I'm just joshin' with him."

Sally leaned over the counter, giving Tony a good view, and whispered, "Safest thing to eat is the hamburger and fries, darlin'"

"Well then," Tony said, smiling, "that's what I'll have. And a Coke, please."

"You got it." Sally wrote the order down and slapped it onto the back counter. "Order up!"

"Sally," a man at the end of the counter called out, "you think I can get some more coffee over here?"

"I'm coming," she winked at Tony and whispered, "I'll be back."

"I'll be here," he said. Tony looked around the diner, taking in the ambiance, if you could call it that. It was a typical small diner with a lunch counter and a scattering of tables. There were three booths along the wall, the covering on the seats looked old and cracked, duct tape covering the tears. There were three other customers, a man who looked like a farmer, sitting at the counter reading a paper and drinking coffee; an old man muttering to himself at one of the tables and a police officer of some sort, sitting in one of the booths, staring at Tony. Tony nodded at him politely, getting no response from the other man.

"Here ya go, sugar." Sally put Tony's lunch down in front of him. "What's your name?"

"Tony," replied the agent. "Anthony DiNozzo, but my friends call me Tony."

"DiNozzo? Is that Italian?" she asked.

Tony nodded, pouring ketchup onto his hamburger. "It is."

"I never met an Italian before," Sally said. "All of you as good lookin'?"

Tony laughed. "Are all the West Virginia girls as gorgeous and sassy as you?"

Sally laughed "You bet we are, sweetie," she said, throwing him a sultry look. "You gonna be sticking around for awhile?"

Tony shook his head. "No, my boss'll kill me if I don't get back soon," he said reluctantly. "I'll be headed back once I finish this delicious burger."

"What do you do?" Sally leaned against the counter, letting the front of her uniform gape open.

"I work for NCIS," he said. "We investigate crimes for the Navy and the Marines." Tony was beginning to tire of the game. While he liked playful banter with a beautiful woman, Sally Johnson was too forward for him, not at all subtle.

"So, you're a Navy cop?"

"Something like that."

"This guy bothering you?" Tony turned to see the officer glowering at him. Upon closer inspection, he could see that the man was with the Sheriff's department.

"No, Luther," sighed Sally. "We were just talking."

She straightened up and fixed her uniform. "Tony, this is my brother, Deputy Luther Johnson. He's with the Dawson County Sheriff's Department."

"Nice to meet you." Tony reached out to shake the other man's hand, but Johnson just stood there, glaring.

"Tony's a Navy cop, Luther, so be nice to him, he's a fellow officer of the law."

"That right?" Johnson squinted appraisingly. "You don't look like a cop to me."

"Federal cop," corrected Tony. "Note the suit."

"You think you're better than me?" Johnson stepped forward threateningly.

Tony put his hands up in surrender. "Come on, now; I'm just sitting here trying to eat my lunch. No harm, no foul."

"Leave him alone, Luther," said Sally. "Sheriff Nelson'll have your hide if you start another fight."

Johnson stuck his face close to Tony's. "I don't like you, boy. You better get back to the city, real soon."

Tony didn't blink. "I'll be on my way soon," he said calmly.

"You better be," Johnson said, turning to leave the diner. "Stay away from my sister." He slammed out of the diner, causing the door to shake on its hinges.

"Nice guy," Tony said to Sally.

"He's not bad," Sally said, shrugging. She went back into the kitchen. Tony had pretty much lost his appetite. He noticed that the cook and the customer at the counter avoided looking at him. Pulling out his wallet he left a ten dollar bill on the counter and left.

Once Tony was in the car he pulled out his cell phone to call Gibbs.

"Hey Boss," Tony said when he heard Gibbs on the line, "I finished interviewing Corporal Turner and I'm on my way back now. I should be there in about three hours."

"Everything go okay?" asked Gibbs.

"Yeah, everything was fine. Turner's on leave for the next week, but he'll be back on base and available if we need him. In the meantime, we can find him at his folks' place in Hicksville."

"Good. Get back here right away." Gibbs cut the connection.

"Goodbye to you too," muttered Tony, closing the cell phone.

The road leading from Hicksville through Dawson County wasn't much more than a gravel covered lane. The black company sedan was gray with the dust kicked up by the tires. Tony was trying to find a station on the radio when he heard the siren and saw the flashing red lights behind him.

"Now what," he muttered, pulling over.

That was the last time anyone saw him.