Disclaimer: NCIS and its characters do not belong to me and I am making no money from this.
Thanks to Mr VP for the Beta, any remaining mistakes are mine
AN: I had thought that this was completed but thanks to Shirik and Bailey the plot bunnies have been stirring. I hope that you like the result.
Tony swung the torch in a lazy arc, grateful for the slight warmth the movement produced. The rain was sheeting down and he watched the approaching lights with relief. The truck was bouncing over the rocky ground and he could just make out the engine noise over the wind in his ears. Once he was sure they had seen him he lowered the torch until it rested against his chest and waited patiently. Minutes later the vehicle was drawing to a halt in front of him. His view was largely blocked by the lights in his eyes and he held a hand in front of his face to shield them.
"Hey," he began, getting to his feet carefully, his knee was really beginning to stiffen up. "I'm glad to see you."
Silence. Frowning Tony limped forwards, raising his voice to carry over the howling of the wind. "Hey. Hello. I'm sorry I'm," he stopped, a chill that had nothing to do with the weather spreading over him. He was looking into the business end of a sub machine gun which was being held rock steady despite the conditions. Masking his surprise with the practise borne of years of undercover work he raised his eyes from the gun and looked steadily up at its owner. The face was in deep shadow only the machine gun reflecting the light from the headlights. Behind the figure Tony could make out two more people, probably male judging from the height and build. He stood still and waited, reflecting that perhaps it wasn't such a good day after all.
Finally one of the figures behind the gunman came forward, shining a bright light directly into Tony's eyes. Looking down to try and refocus his vision DiNozzo could just make out the pistol in the second man's hand. When he spoke it was with a slight accent.
"On the ground, lie down and put your hands on your head."
The gesture with the pistol was unambiguous and Tony did as he was told, slowly and carefully, listening intently to the whispered voices nearer the truck. He gave no indication that he had heard however, nor that he had understood the softly spoken Spanish. It explained the accent.
He waited as his pack was picked up and the contents quickly examined, left discarded in a heap on the ground. Clearly this was not the ground crew that he was expecting but these goons had been expecting someone and he was beginning to get a pretty good idea who. Unfortunately, if he was right his own prospects didn't look too good.
Tony lay still as the man went back behind the headlights. He could feel eyes on him, making his skin crawl and he strained his ears for any further snippets of information. He caught the name Paul but presumably that referred to Dafelmair. These guys all spoke Spanish like natives but, although he understood every word he was hampered by the noise of the truck, it wasn't running smoothly he noticed, filing the information away for later use.
Minutes passed and he was acutely aware of the rocky ground beneath him, something hard was digging into his cheek and the rain was still pounding mercilessly on his back. Cautiously he tried moving a hand down from his head into the shadow of his body, if he could just crawl away into the darkness perhaps they would leave without him. The voices behind him were becoming heated and more words were audible. Abruptly he stilled his movement, listening intently. This was definitely a drug drop. Dafelmair was part of a much bigger operation than they had realised. The figures he had just heard mentioned were huge but surely he couldn't have been planning on picking up such a large quantity of drugs tonight? He could perhaps have disabled his tracker to give him more time before being found, especially if he had managed to get away from the rest of the stick. He couldn't have done that before leaving the plane though, it would have been noticed. Tony's mind raced as he tried to put the pieces together. The voices had quieted somewhat but not before he heard them talking about him. He could feel their eyes on him again. It was him they were arguing over, what to do with him.
Where the hell were the recovery team? He hadn't disabled his tracker.
He froze as the voices stopped and the light began moving towards him again. He would have to try and bluff his way out he reasoned. He'd always been good at talking after all. They didn't know that he had heard them or if he had that he had understood them. There was the slight problem of being held at gunpoint. Tony shivered as he realised that his survival didn't just depend on his skill with words, his captors had to come up with a plausible reason for holding him captive at gunpoint. Either that or they could just shoot him. He was about to find out which way the argument had gone.
The voice, when it came, was soft and Tony held his breath waiting for the bullet. The vicious kick to his side caught him by surprise and he grunted in pain as he felt a rib give under the impact.
"Hey," he protested, when he could get his breath. "What was that for?"
His answer was another kick to his side followed by one to his knee. He couldn't help it, he yelled with the pain caused to his already damaged limb, rolling over and curling instinctively into himself.
"That was to warn you off," the harsh voice sent chills along Tony's spine. "Strangers aren't welcome here Mister, you keep the hell off our land." The Spaniard landed another brutal kick to Tony's knee, laughing at the pain he caused and marched back to the truck. DiNozzo felt weak with relief, despite the pain, he had survived, they hadn't realised that he knew what they were up to. He waited until his assailant was behind the wheel then he snatched the tracker off the front of his flight suit and, taking a steadying breath, pitched it into the back of the truck, praying that he wouldn't be seen in the shadows.
His luck held and the truck drove steadily away, not hurrying, into the darkness.
Tony sagged back against the ground relief and shock combining to leave him weak and exhausted. He gave himself a couple of minutes and then took stock. He was alone now, completely. Without his tracker he would have to make his own way out of here and soon. He certainly didn't want to chance still being here if the Spaniards came back. They would be searching for Dafelmair and would hopefully soon be finding themselves on the receiving end of a nasty surprise. DiNozzo smiled to himself, he had no doubt that the marines would be more than a match for the drug traffickers prepared or not. He, on the other hand, could not chance another meeting with them.
Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet, grateful that the moon was at last beginning to break through the cloud. He headed in the opposite direction to the drug runners and began to make his way across the rocky field. It was slow going, his knee was all but useless and his ribs hurt like hell. Twice he overbalanced and fell heavily until he came to a small copse of trees and was able to find a sturdy branch to use as a crutch. He willed himself on, praying that he wasn't going round in circles, searching for any sign of life.
After an eternity the rain eased to a slight drizzle but the wind was a constant trial, whipping loose debris into a frenzy to beat against his huddled body. Moving became a torment but not moving was a luxury he couldn't afford. He was dangerously cold, his battered body threatening to go into shock and then there were the drug runners to consider. Looking at the moon Tony estimated the time to be well past midnight, they had been expected to jump at 21.00 so that should mean that he had been on the ground for approximately four hours. Gibbs should have landed long ago and the recovery team ought to have caught up with the Spaniards by now, as long as his tracker had stayed in the truck. Cheered he went on with renewed vigour and was finally rewarded with the sight of a pale light in the distance.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Tony's good day takes a turn for the worse.