Three
Tim wished desperately for some coffee. Could a man go to prison for holding up a convenience store if all he took was a cup of coffe? He was almost desperate enough to find out.
It wasn't too late, really, just a little after eight pm, but he'd been going non-stop for days on miminal sleep, very little food and occassional adrenaline rushes that spiked for a while then left him drained. The evening had darkened into an early hour of night, and the dark and the car's headlights on the never-ending road were making his eyes heavy. But if he could get to the motel that she'd overheard her captors mention, the one she'd left in her clue..... That was all the motivation Tim needed. He'd have her then. Getting her away would be just another step in his mission, then they'd be on their way and she'd be safe. As usual, he had the car floored, and he was more grateful than he could voice that this vehicle had such a sweet engine. It handled the high speed drive wonderfully.
But even sweet engines needed gas. Tim glanced again at the gas gauge. He had a decision to make. He had no money for gas. He'd have to risk stealing it, or trading for another car- another auto theft, but that was such a minor thing in the large scheme of things. But even a few minutes to stop for gas- even without that pesky inconvenience of taking the time to pay for it- was more time than he could afford to lose, and finding another car would take even longer. Besides, he'd kind of come to like this very ugly but smooth running oldie. But did he have enough gas to get where he had to be?
Maybe, but not likely, and running out of gas on the side of the road was not an acceptable option. So there really was no decision at all, he realized, his thoughts running slower than molasses in his exhaustion.
Gas theft it is. He was becoming the regular wild child. Tony would be so proud.
Well....maybe not. Tony's wild child ideas were all legal.
Now he just hoped he could find a gas station right here on the highway. It would have to be quick and he'd have no time to get off the highway and into one of the towns. And besides, it would make his getaway quicker.
Tim kept an eye out for signs advertising gas, and after the third one, he found one that was right there on the highway. He felt lucky- and guilty- that it appeared to be a smaller, privately owned mom and pop place rather than one of the more lucrative chains. Hopefully, there wouldn't be watching cameras. It didn't even look like these pumps took credit cards. Tim pulled up to the nearest pump and was relieved to see the absence of those oh-so-popular notices that had been recently gracing most gas stations that stated payment would have to be made inside before the pump was turned on.
Tim pulled up to the nearest pump, nervous already- he'd never done anything like this, even as a kid. He'd been a good kid. He wondered what his parents would say if they could see him now, having already stolen a car and now about to steal the gas to fuel it. He could just imagine. And Grandma McGee! He'd recieve one of her well-known lectures, pointing finger and all.
Tim took a deep breath. The tires rolled over the little hoses that dinged inside the store, and an elderly man came ambling out.
Tim opened the door and pulled himself out with a little effort. He'd had to fight his way past Mutt and Jeff again. He'd gotten through them, barely, but not without some pain to remind him of what nuisances those two had become.
"Evenin', son. You're in luck. Was just about to close up for the night. You'll be my last customer."
"Got here just in time then," Tim said, faking a smile. He hoped it didn't come off as nervous as he felt.
"Yep. Fill 'er up?"
"Uh...sure." He hadn't realized this was a full service pump. There weren't many of those left these day. Leave it to him to find what was probably one of the last holdovers from the '50's.
Tim watched nervously as the dollar amount went up and up. He was thinking furiously. This man would be able to identify him, and the car. There was nothing he could do about that. Stealing a car, stealing gas...that was one thing, and it had become necessary in order for him to do what he had to do. But one thing Tim wasn't very reluctant to do was hurt an innocent to protect his anonymity.
He didn't want this man out there when it was time to hightail it. Too much room for a problem, an accident. Besides, he seemed like a nice man and Tim didn't want to have to see the look on his face when he realized that his last customer of the day, the nice young man he'd called 'son', was taking the gas without paying for it.
"Where ya headed?" The man asked in friendly conversation.
"Uh..." Tim knew better than to give his true destination; he was an agent, after all. He'd caught many criminals for making just that mistake. "Just sightseeing. Taking a break from work, going on a little road trip. You know."
"Sightseein', huh? Ain't nothin' worth sightseein' round these parts. You head east, though, and you get into some beautiful country. This little highway may not be able to compare to the bigger ones, or the interstate, but it still moves too fast for enjoyin' the beauty."
"I hadn't thought of that."
"Not many do, son. Everybody's in too much of an all-fired hurry these days. You really want to relax, then get off this highway and take some back roads. That's what I say."
"Good idea," Tim said. "Thanks." Tim wouldn't be doing any such thing, but the old man seemed nice and it was nice of him to give him advice. He'd probably even take it, if this really were a relaxing sight-seeing road trip instead of what it really was.
The gas pump clicked, signalling that the tank was full.
"There ya go, young man. All full up. It'll be fifty two ninety-eight."
"Uh...yeah. Okay. But listen, I think I'll take your advice. Do you have a map of the area? I don't want to get lost while I'm enjoying the sights." Tim gave a strained laugh, trying to sound casual and joking.
"Sure, son. I got a few of 'em in the store. I'll grab you one. No charge."
"Thanks," Tim said, feeling the guilt lump up in his stomach.
The man ambled to the store, and as soon as he went in and the bell jingled as the door closed, Tim quickly scrambled into the car, started it, and began to pull away. Just as he passed the store, the man stepped out.
His eyes showed suprise as Tim passed him, then anger. The man took two steps back into the store, reaching around the corner for something, then re-emerged with a double-barrel shotgun.
Tim's eyes widened in suprise and fear as, in the rear view mirror, the elderly man leveled the gun at the car and shot off a deafening round.
"Shit!" Tim exlaimed as the trunk flew open and banged against the rear window.
"You little shit!" the man was screaming as he loaded another round. "All you little punks...you people think I can afford to give that stuff away?! Third time this month, dammit!"
Again, another resounding blast from the shotgun and Tim flinched, but this one missed it's mark.
The car finally hit the asphalt of the highway, the back tires spewing up dust and gravel from the dirt parking lot as the tires churned, and Tim pulled a one-eighty to get the care facing the right direction.
He looked in the rear-view mirror. The man was standing there amidst the dust, the shotgun now pointed down, staring after the car and shaking his head angrily.
Tim winced. He'd really sunk to his lowest. He wanted to not feel guilty, since the nice old man had turned into Shotgun Pappy, but he really couldn't shake it. Then it hit him that while he was there, he should have grabbed some coffe and something to eat, just to make his life of crime complete.
When all this was over, he was definately going to have to go to church and confess, or ask forgiveness, or something.
"Sorry, Grandma McGee," Tim muttered guiltily.
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"Damn right, I seen that man, Agent Gibbs. Seemed like such a nice boy, at first. The little shit!"
"At first?" Gibbs asked. "What made you change your opinion?"
"Little bastard stole my gas! Fifty- two dollars worth! Do I look like the kinda man that can afford to give it away?"
McGee stole gas? From this man? "What was he driving?" Gibbs asked, putting McGee's picture away.
"Eighty-five two door Sedan. Prob'ly blue at one time, but more rust than paint, now. Souped up engine."
Gibbs nodded, accepting that the man seemed to know his cars. The description fit. Was exact, in fact. No way could there be two cars like that.
"What time was he here?"
"Well, it was after eight last night, I know for sure. I was about to close. And his face wasn't as pristine as his picture, Agent Gibbs."
"Pristine? Whadda you mean?"
"He was a little scruffy, dirty. And he looked like he'd been in a fight, but I didn't wanna say anythin' to him. Black eye, nose busted a little. His lips were busted open and swelled up. He do somethin'? He a criminal? Seemed nice, at first, but you just can't trust those wholesome looks no more, can ya? Once ya do somethin' like steal a man's gas, well....what's left?"
"Thank you, Mr. Simpson. You've been very helpful." So McGee had run into trouble somewhere.....did it have something to do with his little mission, or something completely incidental?
"Wait," the man exclaimed as Gibbs began to walk away. "What about my gas? That boy owes me almost fifty-three dollars!"
Gibbs sighed and rolled his eyes, then turned back to Mr. Simpson. On the tip of his tongue had been some sarcastic remark or curt dismissal, but at the last minute, Gibbs reached for his wallet and extracted a fifty-dollar bill. He set it on the counter in front of the elderly man. "There you go, Mr. Simspon. Thanks for your help."
When Gibbs had seated himself in the driver's seat of his car, he pushed speed dial on his cell phone.
"Yeah, Boss," Tony answered immediately.
"I'm on his trail again. The car and computer get there yet?"
"Just got here, Boss. We were just about to get started. Abby probably already has, with the laptop. How close on his trail, Boss?"
"I found someone that saw him around eight last night."
"That's a good fifteen hour head start, Boss."
"Ya think, DiNozzo? Call me when you have something." And with that, he disconnected.
TBC
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It wasn't too late, really, just a little after eight pm, but he'd been going non-stop for days on miminal sleep, very little food and occassional adrenaline rushes that spiked for a while then left him drained. The evening had darkened into an early hour of night, and the dark and the car's headlights on the never-ending road were making his eyes heavy. But if he could get to the motel that she'd overheard her captors mention, the one she'd left in her clue..... That was all the motivation Tim needed. He'd have her then. Getting her away would be just another step in his mission, then they'd be on their way and she'd be safe. As usual, he had the car floored, and he was more grateful than he could voice that this vehicle had such a sweet engine. It handled the high speed drive wonderfully.
But even sweet engines needed gas. Tim glanced again at the gas gauge. He had a decision to make. He had no money for gas. He'd have to risk stealing it, or trading for another car- another auto theft, but that was such a minor thing in the large scheme of things. But even a few minutes to stop for gas- even without that pesky inconvenience of taking the time to pay for it- was more time than he could afford to lose, and finding another car would take even longer. Besides, he'd kind of come to like this very ugly but smooth running oldie. But did he have enough gas to get where he had to be?
Maybe, but not likely, and running out of gas on the side of the road was not an acceptable option. So there really was no decision at all, he realized, his thoughts running slower than molasses in his exhaustion.
Gas theft it is. He was becoming the regular wild child. Tony would be so proud.
Well....maybe not. Tony's wild child ideas were all legal.
Now he just hoped he could find a gas station right here on the highway. It would have to be quick and he'd have no time to get off the highway and into one of the towns. And besides, it would make his getaway quicker.
Tim kept an eye out for signs advertising gas, and after the third one, he found one that was right there on the highway. He felt lucky- and guilty- that it appeared to be a smaller, privately owned mom and pop place rather than one of the more lucrative chains. Hopefully, there wouldn't be watching cameras. It didn't even look like these pumps took credit cards. Tim pulled up to the nearest pump and was relieved to see the absence of those oh-so-popular notices that had been recently gracing most gas stations that stated payment would have to be made inside before the pump was turned on.
Tim pulled up to the nearest pump, nervous already- he'd never done anything like this, even as a kid. He'd been a good kid. He wondered what his parents would say if they could see him now, having already stolen a car and now about to steal the gas to fuel it. He could just imagine. And Grandma McGee! He'd recieve one of her well-known lectures, pointing finger and all.
Tim took a deep breath. The tires rolled over the little hoses that dinged inside the store, and an elderly man came ambling out.
Tim opened the door and pulled himself out with a little effort. He'd had to fight his way past Mutt and Jeff again. He'd gotten through them, barely, but not without some pain to remind him of what nuisances those two had become.
"Evenin', son. You're in luck. Was just about to close up for the night. You'll be my last customer."
"Got here just in time then," Tim said, faking a smile. He hoped it didn't come off as nervous as he felt.
"Yep. Fill 'er up?"
"Uh...sure." He hadn't realized this was a full service pump. There weren't many of those left these day. Leave it to him to find what was probably one of the last holdovers from the '50's.
Tim watched nervously as the dollar amount went up and up. He was thinking furiously. This man would be able to identify him, and the car. There was nothing he could do about that. Stealing a car, stealing gas...that was one thing, and it had become necessary in order for him to do what he had to do. But one thing Tim wasn't very reluctant to do was hurt an innocent to protect his anonymity.
He didn't want this man out there when it was time to hightail it. Too much room for a problem, an accident. Besides, he seemed like a nice man and Tim didn't want to have to see the look on his face when he realized that his last customer of the day, the nice young man he'd called 'son', was taking the gas without paying for it.
"Where ya headed?" The man asked in friendly conversation.
"Uh..." Tim knew better than to give his true destination; he was an agent, after all. He'd caught many criminals for making just that mistake. "Just sightseeing. Taking a break from work, going on a little road trip. You know."
"Sightseein', huh? Ain't nothin' worth sightseein' round these parts. You head east, though, and you get into some beautiful country. This little highway may not be able to compare to the bigger ones, or the interstate, but it still moves too fast for enjoyin' the beauty."
"I hadn't thought of that."
"Not many do, son. Everybody's in too much of an all-fired hurry these days. You really want to relax, then get off this highway and take some back roads. That's what I say."
"Good idea," Tim said. "Thanks." Tim wouldn't be doing any such thing, but the old man seemed nice and it was nice of him to give him advice. He'd probably even take it, if this really were a relaxing sight-seeing road trip instead of what it really was.
The gas pump clicked, signalling that the tank was full.
"There ya go, young man. All full up. It'll be fifty two ninety-eight."
"Uh...yeah. Okay. But listen, I think I'll take your advice. Do you have a map of the area? I don't want to get lost while I'm enjoying the sights." Tim gave a strained laugh, trying to sound casual and joking.
"Sure, son. I got a few of 'em in the store. I'll grab you one. No charge."
"Thanks," Tim said, feeling the guilt lump up in his stomach.
The man ambled to the store, and as soon as he went in and the bell jingled as the door closed, Tim quickly scrambled into the car, started it, and began to pull away. Just as he passed the store, the man stepped out.
His eyes showed suprise as Tim passed him, then anger. The man took two steps back into the store, reaching around the corner for something, then re-emerged with a double-barrel shotgun.
Tim's eyes widened in suprise and fear as, in the rear view mirror, the elderly man leveled the gun at the car and shot off a deafening round.
"Shit!" Tim exlaimed as the trunk flew open and banged against the rear window.
"You little shit!" the man was screaming as he loaded another round. "All you little punks...you people think I can afford to give that stuff away?! Third time this month, dammit!"
Again, another resounding blast from the shotgun and Tim flinched, but this one missed it's mark.
The car finally hit the asphalt of the highway, the back tires spewing up dust and gravel from the dirt parking lot as the tires churned, and Tim pulled a one-eighty to get the care facing the right direction.
He looked in the rear-view mirror. The man was standing there amidst the dust, the shotgun now pointed down, staring after the car and shaking his head angrily.
Tim winced. He'd really sunk to his lowest. He wanted to not feel guilty, since the nice old man had turned into Shotgun Pappy, but he really couldn't shake it. Then it hit him that while he was there, he should have grabbed some coffe and something to eat, just to make his life of crime complete.
When all this was over, he was definately going to have to go to church and confess, or ask forgiveness, or something.
"Sorry, Grandma McGee," Tim muttered guiltily.
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"Damn right, I seen that man, Agent Gibbs. Seemed like such a nice boy, at first. The little shit!"
"At first?" Gibbs asked. "What made you change your opinion?"
"Little bastard stole my gas! Fifty- two dollars worth! Do I look like the kinda man that can afford to give it away?"
McGee stole gas? From this man? "What was he driving?" Gibbs asked, putting McGee's picture away.
"Eighty-five two door Sedan. Prob'ly blue at one time, but more rust than paint, now. Souped up engine."
Gibbs nodded, accepting that the man seemed to know his cars. The description fit. Was exact, in fact. No way could there be two cars like that.
"What time was he here?"
"Well, it was after eight last night, I know for sure. I was about to close. And his face wasn't as pristine as his picture, Agent Gibbs."
"Pristine? Whadda you mean?"
"He was a little scruffy, dirty. And he looked like he'd been in a fight, but I didn't wanna say anythin' to him. Black eye, nose busted a little. His lips were busted open and swelled up. He do somethin'? He a criminal? Seemed nice, at first, but you just can't trust those wholesome looks no more, can ya? Once ya do somethin' like steal a man's gas, well....what's left?"
"Thank you, Mr. Simpson. You've been very helpful." So McGee had run into trouble somewhere.....did it have something to do with his little mission, or something completely incidental?
"Wait," the man exclaimed as Gibbs began to walk away. "What about my gas? That boy owes me almost fifty-three dollars!"
Gibbs sighed and rolled his eyes, then turned back to Mr. Simpson. On the tip of his tongue had been some sarcastic remark or curt dismissal, but at the last minute, Gibbs reached for his wallet and extracted a fifty-dollar bill. He set it on the counter in front of the elderly man. "There you go, Mr. Simspon. Thanks for your help."
When Gibbs had seated himself in the driver's seat of his car, he pushed speed dial on his cell phone.
"Yeah, Boss," Tony answered immediately.
"I'm on his trail again. The car and computer get there yet?"
"Just got here, Boss. We were just about to get started. Abby probably already has, with the laptop. How close on his trail, Boss?"
"I found someone that saw him around eight last night."
"That's a good fifteen hour head start, Boss."
"Ya think, DiNozzo? Call me when you have something." And with that, he disconnected.
TBC
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