Brky2020
Sub-lieutenant
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Post by Brky2020 on Aug 26, 2018 17:14:16 GMT
Chapter 1
Washington, D.C.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs's basement
Leroy Jethro Gibbs retreated often to his basement, where he mused on things while working on the boat that he perpetually built and rebuilt.
Whenever he was done putting the frame together, or sanding or varnishing the wood, he would sit down at his workbench and pour himself a bottle of bourbon.
Tonight was par for the course. That damned note stuck with him, in a way he couldn't shake no matter what. He sat on the stool at the workbench, pulled the note out of the back of his wallet, and opened it. With an empty glass and a mostly-filled bottle of Jim Beam next to him on the bench, Gibbs read the note for, seemingly, the hundredth time:
mommy told me about two men named mikky and boris.they would have done good. the bad people killed them before they could do good. now the bad men are trying to take over the world including america and fairfax.
mommy used to tell me when she was home and on the computer everything will be okay. people like her are fighting to save the world from the bad people so kids like me can grow up in a world of peace.
i know shes serving but i miss mommy.
For the fifth time that evening, Gibbs poured himself another shot of bourbon and emptied it in a single swallow, and folded the note and put it back in his wallet. He then walked over to the other side of the bench, opened a manila folder, and read the file on his team's most recent case.
Lieutenant Commander Joanna Newsom, US Navy -- the subject of the case -- had fought hard to attain her position, harder to prove women could serve their country as well as men, and hardest against her country's enemies. She earned commendation after commendation, most notably in the Saudi War. Newsom had returned home, to Fairfax, Virginia, to see her only daughter on a short furlough before shipping out to Panama.
Gibbs and his team arrived at her home and came upon a near riot. After pushing through the crowd of angry neighbors and protestors, the team found the house a complete shamble. Newsom was executed, as was the neighbor watching her daughter and the house, and the scene had Spetsnaz written all over it.
After it was discovered the girl was missing, Gibbs drove his team to the limit, finally finding her outside a fast food restaurant. Apparently these Spetsnaz had a heart.
Gibbs thought back to what Fornell told him the bastards did at the Army/Air Force Command D facility near New York City. He wondered if Ari was still working with them; Gibbs had a bullet waiting should that particular bastard show up anywhere near himself or his team.
As he put down the folder, Gibbs noted light coming through one of the basement windows. He looked at his watch, and figured he had enough time to make a pot of coffee before heading to the Navy Yard.
Upstairs, as he'd done the past few months, he turned on the kitchen radio while his coffee brewed.
--Chinese General Secretary Chen called upon all nations to come together and resolve their differences ahead of this week's summit in Geneva.
The White House has just released a short statement from President Boehner, quote, I second General Secretary Chen's call for peace but not at any cost. We will not compromise on Berlin, the Panama Canal, Iraq nor Indonesia. Our offer to the Soviets to help rebuild the Siberian oil fields and share research on alternate fuels still stands, end quote.
There has been no official comment out of Moscow--
Good luck with that, thought Gibbs, as he headed upstairs to get dressed. He thought he'd get to work on time, even with all the checkpoints and added security to deal with.
Washington
Rock Creek Park
Tim McGee loved coffee, craved it even.
He thought it was due more to the demands of his job and the long hours -- including all the checkpoints and extra security and other associated nuisances -- than the tastes of his boss, Gibbs. But McGee also took his coffee black, just like his boss. McGee couldn't remember what he drank during those all-night gaming sessions; it had been so long ago since he had time for gaming.
The drive down 16th Street Northwest was normal for an early morning weekday. Normal for a road headed into the capital of a country in a cold war threatening to turn hot. That meant tons of added security measures, from random checkpoints to surveillance cameras to military helicopters and jets patrolling the skies over the District.
McGee took it in stride and settled in for what he thought was a routine drive to the Yard, and NCIS.
Traffic was a little heavier nowadays, the drivers having the same idea McGee did about when to leave for work, but flowed. Any slowdowns or stops were due to jams, or the occasional fender-bender.
Just past Alaska Avenue NW, traffic slowed to a crawl. McGee noticed there were a lot of flashing lights ahead, which generally meant a multi-car wreck or someone who was wanted by the cops or feds got caught.
As he sat in his car, McGee tried to identify the vehicles. There were a ton of Metro cruisers, an ambulance, some SUVs, all with more flashing lights than one of those nightclubs Tony was fond of.
There also was another vehicle, no lights, that looked familiar. His gut suggested it might be a certain medical examiner's van.
Ducky? Did we catch a case? McGee checked his cell phone; there were no messages, no records of any calls from Gibbs, Tony, Kate or even Ziva. The phone also was set to ring, so he would've heard any call.
McGee couldn't tell from his seat if it was NCIS. Given that no one was moving, and the police officer was telling drivers to stay put, they weren't going anywhere soon. He turned the engine off, then got out of the car, locked the door, and started walking. After he showed the officer his badge, McGee headed for the scene, pushing aside the feeling that something was wrong.
He got to the medical examiner's van, and it was in fact NCIS. But the men in the cab weren't Ducky or Palmer, and in fact he had never seen either of them before. McGee headed to the van to find out who they were.
Something familiar caught the corner of McGee's eye. He turned, and saw a dozen feds around a black Town Car.
That's Director Shepard's car.
McGee ran towards the car, flashing his badge to the cops holding the crime scene, and approached the vehicle. He saw that the windshield had a bullet hole, and her driver Stanley dead, slumped against the steering wheel and missing most of the back of his head.
After taking a deep breath and exhaling, McGee made himself look in the back seat.
The back window on the driver's side was broken. The director was slumped against the passenger door, with a bullet hole in her temple; her blood was all over the back seat and door, and she had bits of Stanley's remains on her jacket, blouse and face.
McGee felt his coffee coming back up his esophagus, but swallowed it back down. Right now, he had to call Gibbs or Tony, then take control of the scene until they and Ducky could get there.
"What in hell are you doing?!?" a man said to McGee, forcefully grabbing his arm and almost screaming into his face.
"I-I-I'm Agent McGee. NCIS," McGee replied, thrown off guard by the man's demeanor. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and took out his badge and ID. In turn, the man took out his own badge and ID, letting go of McGee's arm and giving him a close look at the credentials:
Assistant Director Riley McCallister.
"Sir. How long have you been here? Who called this in? Where's Dr. Mallard?" McGee asked.
"First off, it's Director McCallister, and I've been here long enough," McCallister told him. "I'm personally overseeing this case. This M.E. is here at my request and will handle the examination."
McGee's gut was in overdrive. This scene, as Abby might say, is really hinky.
"Agent McGee. I have this in hand," McCallister said. "You should go on to work."
"Sir--Director. Shouldn't I call Agent Gibbs and Dr. Mallard? They would normally handle--"
"Listen to me, son," McCallister interjected. "I'm in charge now. Go to your car, drive to the Yard. I'll have police wave you through. Don't say a word about this; I don't want this leaking out before I'm ready to announce it."
"Yes sir," McGee said. "May I ask. Director Shepard. How long has she been...dead?"
"The M.E. has yet to get here," McAllister said. "This was called in a half-hour ago. Unofficially, and I'm no doctor, I'd guess an hour, hour and a half...my team and I will handle things from here. With all the increased Communist activity around here I'm sure your team will be busy enough."
"Yes sir," McGee replied, heading back to his car. He pulled away from the growing line of now-parked cars, the cops waved him through, and he was quickly on his way.
Near the tail end of the jam in the lane headed away from D.C., and out of sight of the crime scene, McGee pulled his car to a stop. He took out his cell phone, only to find it wouldn't work. McGee uttered an expletive, realizing he hadn't charged the battery overnight. It ran out of juice after he parked.
Twenty minutes later -- after a passing DC Metro police van recharged his battery -- McGee went on his way, and drove as fast as he could towards the Navy Yard.
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Post by eurowatch on Aug 26, 2018 17:17:20 GMT
<p><strong>Chapter 1</strong></p> <p><strong>Washington, D.C.</strong></p> <p><strong>Leroy Jethro Gibbs's basement</strong></p> <p>Leroy Jethro Gibbs retreated often to his basement, where he mused on things while working on the boat that he perpetually built and rebuilt.</p> <p>Whenever he was done putting the frame together, or sanding or varnishing the wood, he would sit down at his workbench and pour himself a bottle of bourbon.</p> <p>Tonight was par for the course. That damned note stuck with him, in a way he couldn't shake no matter what. He sat on the stool at the workbenchm pulled the note out of the back of his wallet, and opened it. With an empty glass and a mostly-filled bottle of Jim Beam next to him on the bench, Gibbs read the note for, seemingly, the hundredth time: </p> <blockquote> <p><em>mommy told me about two men named mikky and boris.they would have done good. the bad people killed them before they could do good. now the bad men are trying to take over the world including america and fairfax.</em></p> <p><em>mommy used to tell me when she was home and on the computer everything will be okay. people like her are fighting to save the world from the bad people so kids like me can grow up in a world of peace.</em></p> <p><em>i know shes serving but i miss mommy.</em></p> </blockquote> <p>For the fifth time that evening, Gibbs poured himself another shot of bourbon and emptied it in a single swallow, and folded the note and put it back in his wallet. He then walked over to the other side of the bench, opened a manila folder, and read the file on his team's most recent case.</p> <p>Lieutenant Commander Joanna Newsom, US Navy -- the subject of the case -- had fought hard to attain her position, harder to prove women could serve their country as well as men, and hardest against her country's enemies. She earned commendation after commendation, most notably in the Saudi War. Newsom had returned home, to Fairfax, Virginia, to see her only daughter on a short furlough before shipping out to Panama.</p> <p>Gibbs and his team arrived at her home and came upon a near riot. After pushing through the crowd of angry neighbors and protestors, the team found the house a complete shamble. Newsom was executed, as was the neighbor watching her daughter and the house, and the scene had Spetsnaz written all over it.</p> <p>After it was discovered the girl was missing, Gibbs drove his team to the limit, finally finding her outside a fast food restaurant. Apparently these Spetsnaz had a heart.</p> <p>Gibbs thought back to what Fornell told him the bastards did at the Army/Air Force Command D facility near New York City. He wondered if Ari was still working with them; Gibbs had a bullet waiting should that particular bastard show up anywhere near himself or his team.</p> <p>As he put down the folder, Gibbs noted light coming through one of the basement windows. He looked at his watch, and figured he had enough time to make a pot of coffee before heading to the Navy Yard.</p> <p>Upstairs, as he'd done the past few months, he turned on the kitchen radio while his coffee brewed. </p> <blockquote> <p><em>--Chinese General Secretary Chen called upon all nations to come together and resolve their differences ahead of this week's summit in Geneva. </em></p> <p><em>The White House has just released a short statement from President Boehner, quote, I second General Secretary Chen's call for peace but not at any cost. We will not compromise on Berlin, the Panama Canal, Iraq nor Indonesia. Our offer to the Soviets to help rebuild the Siberian oil fields and share research on alternate fuels still stands, end quote. </em></p> <p><em>There has been no official comment out of Moscow--</em></p> </blockquote> <p><em>Good luck with that</em>, thought Gibbs, as he headed upstairs to get dressed. He thought he'd get to work on time, even with all the checkpoints and added security to deal with.</p> <p><strong>Washington</strong></p> <p><strong>Rock Creek Park</strong></p> <p>Tim McGee loved coffee, craved it even.</p> <p>He thought it was due more to the demands of his job and the long hours -- including all the checkpoints and extra security and other associated nuisances -- than the tastes of his boss, Gibbs. But McGee also took his coffee black, just like his boss. McGee couldn't remember what he drank during those all-night gaming sessions; it had been so long ago since he had time for gaming.</p> <p>The drive down 16th Street Northwest was normal for an early morning weekday. Normal for a road headed into the capital of a country in a cold war threatening to turn hot. That meant tons of added security measures, from random checkpoints to surveillance cameras to military helicopters and jets patrolling the skies over the District.</p> <p>McGee took it in stride and settled in for what he thought was a routine drive to the Yard, and NCIS.</p> <p>Traffic was a little heavier nowadays, the drivers having the same idea McGee did about when to leave for work, but flowed. Any slowdowns or stops were due to jams, or the occasional fender-bender.</p> <p>Just past Alaska Avenue NW, traffic slowed to a crawl. McGee noticed there were a lot of flashing lights ahead, which generally meant a multi-car wreck or someone who was wanted by the cops or feds got caught.</p> <p>As he sat in his car, McGee tried to identify the vehicles. There were a ton of Metro cruisers, an ambulance, some SUVs, all with more flashing lights than one of those nightclubs DiNozzo was fond of.</p> <p>There also was another vehicle, no lights, that looked familiar. His gut suggested it might be a certain medical examiner's van.</p> <p><em>Ducky? Did we catch a case?</em> McGee checked his cell phone; there were no messages, no records of any calls from Gibbs, DiNozzo, Kate or even Ziva. The phone also was set to ring, so he would've heard any call.</p> <p>McGee couldn't tell from his seat if it was NCIS. Given that no one was moving, and the police officer was telling drivers to stay put, they weren't going anywhere soon. He turned the engine off, then got out of the car, locked the door, and started walking. After he showed the officer his badge, McGee headed for the scene, pushing aside the feeling that something was wrong.</p> <p>He got to the medical examiner's van, and it was in fact NCIS. But the men in the cab weren't Ducky or Palmer, and in fact he had never seen either of them before. McGee headed to the van to find out who they were.</p> <p>Something familiar caught the corner of McGee's eye. He turned, and saw a dozen feds around a black Town Car.</p> <p><em>That's Director Shepard's car. </em></p> <p>McGee ran towards the car, flashing his badge to the cops holding the crime scene, and approached the vehicle. He saw that the windshield had a bullet hole, and her driver Stanley dead, slumped against the steering wheel and missing most of the back of his head.</p> <p>After taking a deep breath and exhaling, McGee made himself look in the back seat.</p> <p>The back window on the driver's side was broken. The director was slumped against the passenger door, with a bullet hole in her temple; her blood was all over the back seat and door, and she had bits of Stanley's remains on her jacket, blouse and face.</p> <p>McGee felt his coffee coming back up his esophagus, but swallowed it back down. Right now, he had to call Gibbs or Tony, then take control of the scene until they and Ducky could get there.</p> <p>"What in hell are you doing?!?" a man said to McGee, forcefully grabbing his arm and almost screaming into his face.</p> <p>"I-I-I'm Agent McGee. NCIS," McGee replied, thrown off guard by the man's demeanor. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and took out his badge and ID. In turn, the man took out his own badge and ID, letting go of McGee's arm and giving him a close look at the credentials:</p> <p>Assistant Director Riley McCallister. </p> <p>"Sir. How long have you been here? Who called this in? Where's Dr. Mallard?" McGee asked.</p> <p>"First off, it's <em>Director</em> McCallister, and I've been here long enough," McCallister told him. "I'm personally overseeing this case. This M.E. is here at my request and will handle the examination."</p> <p>McGee's gut was in overdrive. <em>This scene</em>, as Abby might say, <em>is really hinky</em>.</p> <p>"Agent McGee. I have this in hand," McCallister said. "You should go on to work."</p> <p>"Sir--Director. Shouldn't I call Agent Gibbs and Dr. Mallard? They would normally handle--"</p> <p>"Listen to me, son," McCallister interjected. "I'm in charge now. Go to your car, drive to the Yard. I'll have police wave you through. Don't say a word about this; I don't want this leaking out before I'm ready to announce it."</p> <p>"Yes sir," McGee said. "May I ask. Director Shepard. How long has she been...dead?"</p> <p>"The M.E. has yet to get here," McAllister said. "This was called in a half-hour ago. Unofficially, and I'm no doctor, I'd guess an hour, hour and a half...my team and I will handle things from here. With all the increased Communist activity around here I'm sure your team will be busy enough."</p> <p>"Yes sir," McGee replied, heading back to his car. He pulled away from the growing line of now-parked cars, the cops waved him through, and he was quickly on his way.</p> <p>Near the tail end of the jam in the lane headed away from D.C., and out of sight of the crime scene, McGee pulled his car to a stop. He took out his cell phone, only to find it wouldn't work. McGee uttered an expletive, realizing he hadn't charged the battery overnight. It ran out of juice after he parked.</p> <p>Twenty minutes later -- after a passing DC Metro police van recharged his battery -- McGee went on his way, and drove as fast as he could towards the Navy Yard.</p> Please fix Your formatting. |
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Brky2020
Sub-lieutenant
Posts: 406
Likes: 406
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Post by Brky2020 on Aug 26, 2018 17:18:48 GMT
Done. I copied the coded version over from AO3; obviously that didn't take.
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Brky2020
Sub-lieutenant
Posts: 406
Likes: 406
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Post by Brky2020 on Aug 26, 2018 17:32:30 GMT
There will be a buildup to the 'main event'. There are stories to be told, and finished.
The DCU elements show up in full force much later on, but there are easter eggs from chapter 1 on.
Meanwhile, there's a mystery to be solved (the director's murder), while the two powers prepare to talk peace in Geneva.
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Brky2020
Sub-lieutenant
Posts: 406
Likes: 406
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Post by Brky2020 on Aug 26, 2018 17:35:06 GMT
Chapter 2
Washington, D.C.
Navy Yard, NCIS Headquarters
8:36 a.m.
Special Agent Kate Todd sat forlornly at her desk in the Major Case Response Team's bullpen.
She pat the head of her pet terrier, Toni, whose presence in the building went against agency regulations; thanks to a word from Gibbs, Director Shepard had allowed it to slide. The mug of coffee on her desk on the other hand was allowed, and she was on her 12th refill in the past 11 hours.
Kate knew neither Ducky nor her primary care physician would approve of that much caffeine in her body. Both would be concerned over her lack of sleep, fueled by an irrational but nagging premonition that she would never see her family again.
Shortly after she left work yesterday, the power grid in Indianapolis went down. At the moment, much of the city and its suburbs were still dark; therefore, Kate was unable to reach family there by email or phone. And she tried to contact her sister Rachel in Miami, but her calls went right to voicemail and her emails were unanswered.
Kate realized they all probably were just fine, but couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't. With the workday about to begin, she opened her browser and went to the ZNN website to check the latest news.
PRESIDENT REFUSES TO BUDGE
BOMB KILLS 32 IN TEL AVIV: MOSSAD DIRECTOR AMONG DEAD
SWISS BORDERS WON'T CLOSE TO PANICKED CIVILIANS
COSTA RICA PROTESTS NICARAGUAN INTRUSION
NORTH KOREA PRAISES SOVIETS, DENOUNCES WEST -- AGAIN
INDIANAPOLIS STILL IN THE DARK
Scratching Toni behind the ears with her free hand, Kate read the article, then clicked on the link to the national news section.
TENSIONS FLARE BETWEEN REFUGEES, ACTIVISTS IN MIAMI
"This is new," she muttered, as she began reading. The expatriate Cuban community objected to peace activists holding vigils in downtown Miami and Little Havana. Arguments flared into fights here and there but Miami-Dade County police were keeping both groups under control.
Not seeing anything pertinent to Rachel, Kate looked at the clock on her monitor. It read 7:01 AM, so she closed the browser and opened her inbox to begin the workday.
Kate heard Toni growling, then looked up and saw Senior Special Agent Tony Dinozzo and Ziva David -- an officer with the Israeli Mossad and its liaison to NCIS -- walking to their desks.
"You look like hell, Kate," Tony joked. Aside from not having slept in over a day, Kate was her usual well-dressed, well-groomed self. All she felt that she needed was to freshen up and take a 12-hour nap.
"I couldn't sleep, DiNozzo," Kate said, instantly regretting she had said anything to the nosy senior agent. After working nearly five years together, and even with his preoccupation Ziva, he still couldn't keep his nose out of Kate's business.
"Couldn't sleep? Why not? Get some action last night?" Tony said with a grin. Kate was too tired to argue with him, but her eye roll only encouraged him. "Party hard? Who's the lucky lady? What's her name?"
"You interested in a date, Tony?"
"So our former Secret Service agent did get her groove on."
"No, DiNozzo, I did not 'get my groove on'. I couldn't sleep."
"I bet you couldn't," he said, walking to Kate's desk. "A girl...was it Abby?"
Tony now was sitting on her desk, further annoying Kate. He saw a piece of paper and reached out to grab it, stopping only when hearing Toni the terrier's low and long growl.
Tony withdrew his hand and quickly moved away from the desk, causing Kate to smile for the first time in hours. Keeping a wary eye on Kate's terrier, Tony slowly backed away and into Ziva.
Surprised to bump into her, Tony turned around.
"You know, Officer David, in America when someone's about to bump into someone else, they say 'excuse me'," Tony said.
"We also do the same in Israel," Ziva replied. "Would you like me to tell you what we do in Mossad?"
Tony chuckled. "You--"
Ziva grabbed Tony, threw him to the ground to where she was sitting behind him, then 'lightly' put Tony in a rear naked choke. A second-year jiu-jitsu student would've been able to escape the hold, but not Tony.
"I...feel my...head still on my shoulders," Tony whispered, as Kate (holding Toni) stood wide-eyed. She had come to accept Ziva as a teammate and a friend, but still was somewhat wary of her Mossad-trained side.
"This is when we want the hostile to remain alive," Ziva said in a low voice in Tony's ear.
"What do you do if you want to...take the hostile out?" Kate asked. Even with her Secret Service training, and her work with Gibbs, some things Ziva had shared with her regarding Mossad still unnerved Kate.
"There are 37 ways from this position in which to 'take the hostile out', Kate," Ziva replied. "Would you like me to demonstrate one of those methods?"
"No thank you Ziva," Kate said. "I don't think Tony could survive."
"What she said," Tony followed, catching his breath as Ziva released him from the hold. Ziva went to pet Toni, who growled at Tony when he stood up.
The elevator dinged, and McGee ran out the open door towards the bullpen, stopping at Gibbs' desk.
"Where--where's Gibbs?!?!?" yelled McGee, frantically looking around for his and his team's boss.
"He--he--he's not here yet, Probie," cracked Tony, still rubbing his neck from Ziva's 'light' chokehold. "Since when do you come in here looking for Gibbs? And you're late."
"So was Tony," Kate added, as McGee pulled out his cell phone, then remembered its battery was drained.
"Quiet Miss Smartypants," Tony replied. "Gibbs as you should be able to tell Probie isn't here yet, but as senior field agent and acting boss in the boss's absence you can tell me whatever you want to tell the boss."
"I absolutely can't tell you," McGee said as Tony picked up the dead phone and fooled with it. "I'm not even sure I can tell Gibbs--"
"What happened to your phone, Probie?" Tony said, putting his nose right on McGee's in mock indignation.
"Dead battery. I forgot to charge it last night. It died on me on my way to work."
"You forgot to charge it. Ladies, McForgetful McForgot to McCharge his phone. Rule Three."
"What?"
"Rule Three, Probie: Never be unreachable. You were unreachable on your way here--"
"As opposed to when you left yours at home, Tony?" interjected Ziva. "Gibbs tried to call you on the other end of Rock Creek Park. He was not happy to hear your excuse."
"Or, my first year here at NCIS, when Tony was at a club and had his phone turned off," Kate added. "I still remember what you told those co-eds before Gibbs grabbed you by your shirt collar and pulled you out of there...'here comes my angry grandpa, he's off his meds'? That made him madder."
"Had to keep my cover Kate, and Ziva, it was two in the morning when we caught that case," Tony shot back, before placing his full attention back on McGee. "Probie. Have you not memorized Gibbs's rules--"
"Dammit, Tony, I don't have time for your crap!!!" McGee yelled at the older agent. "I need to find Gibbs."
Tony was momentarily taken aback, then allowed himself the slightest hint of a smile: Probie just stood up to me.
McGee looked over Tony's shoulder and addressed both women. "Ziva, Kate, do either of you know Gibbs's cell number? I have to talk to him and it can't wait -- and I'm sorry, Tony, but this isn't something I can talk to you or anyone else here about."
"No time like the present, McGee," said Gibbs, coming around the corner into the bullpen with a fresh cup of black coffee in hand.
McGee sidestepped Tony and met Gibbs before he could get to his seat. "Boss, I need to talk to you."
"About what, McGee?"
"Not here."
Gibbs nodded. "My office," he said, taking his coffee and going back in the direction of the elevator, McGee following.
Four minutes later, Gibbs ran out of the elevator and into the bullpen, McGee sprinting behind. "DiNozzo. Kate. Ziva. Where's Ducky?"
"He and the autopsy gremlin-turned-Chuck Liddell ought to be in the morgue, boss," Tony said.
"McGee. Head for the lab, get Abby and bring her to the morgue," Gibbs said just enough for he and the other four to hear. "The rest of you. With me."
McGee headed for the back elevator. "Boss, this have anything to do with what Probie said he couldn't tell me?" Tony asked.
"On my six," Gibbs said, halfway to the elevator. Tony, Kate (dog in arm) and Ziva ran to catch up.
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James G
Squadron vice admiral
Posts: 7,608 
Likes: 8,833
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Post by James G on Aug 26, 2018 17:38:45 GMT
Very good.
'Countdown to Looking Glass' tells me that where this is going isn't going to be fun.
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Brky2020
Sub-lieutenant
Posts: 406
Likes: 406
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Post by Brky2020 on Aug 26, 2018 17:42:24 GMT
James G, I'm honored to have you here. You -- along with Macragge and Chipperback and others over at the other AH board -- were partial inspirations in me wanting to tell this story. Of course, here I'm just getting started.
It'll be a different story from what you are telling over on the Red Dawn thread, for sure. I hope you, and everyone else, enjoys it.
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lordroel
Administrator
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Post by lordroel on Aug 26, 2018 18:38:57 GMT
Chapter 1
Washington, D.C.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs's basementLeroy Jethro Gibbs retreated often to his basement, where he mused on things while working on the boat that he perpetually built and rebuilt. Whenever he was done putting the frame together, or sanding or varnishing the wood, he would sit down at his workbench and pour himself a bottle of bourbon. Tonight was par for the course. That damned note stuck with him, in a way he couldn't shake no matter what. He sat on the stool at the workbench, pulled the note out of the back of his wallet, and opened it. With an empty glass and a mostly-filled bottle of Jim Beam next to him on the bench, Gibbs read the note for, seemingly, the hundredth time: mommy told me about two men named mikky and boris.they would have done good. the bad people killed them before they could do good. now the bad men are trying to take over the world including america and fairfax.
mommy used to tell me when she was home and on the computer everything will be okay. people like her are fighting to save the world from the bad people so kids like me can grow up in a world of peace.
i know shes serving but i miss mommy.For the fifth time that evening, Gibbs poured himself another shot of bourbon and emptied it in a single swallow, and folded the note and put it back in his wallet. He then walked over to the other side of the bench, opened a manila folder, and read the file on his team's most recent case. Lieutenant Commander Joanna Newsom, US Navy -- the subject of the case -- had fought hard to attain her position, harder to prove women could serve their country as well as men, and hardest against her country's enemies. She earned commendation after commendation, most notably in the Saudi War. Newsom had returned home, to Fairfax, Virginia, to see her only daughter on a short furlough before shipping out to Panama. Gibbs and his team arrived at her home and came upon a near riot. After pushing through the crowd of angry neighbors and protestors, the team found the house a complete shamble. Newsom was executed, as was the neighbor watching her daughter and the house, and the scene had Spetsnaz written all over it. After it was discovered the girl was missing, Gibbs drove his team to the limit, finally finding her outside a fast food restaurant. Apparently these Spetsnaz had a heart. Gibbs thought back to what Fornell told him the bastards did at the Army/Air Force Command D facility near New York City. He wondered if Ari was still working with them; Gibbs had a bullet waiting should that particular bastard show up anywhere near himself or his team. As he put down the folder, Gibbs noted light coming through one of the basement windows. He looked at his watch, and figured he had enough time to make a pot of coffee before heading to the Navy Yard. Upstairs, as he'd done the past few months, he turned on the kitchen radio while his coffee brewed. --Chinese General Secretary Chen called upon all nations to come together and resolve their differences ahead of this week's summit in Geneva.
The White House has just released a short statement from President Boehner, quote, I second General Secretary Chen's call for peace but not at any cost. We will not compromise on Berlin, the Panama Canal, Iraq nor Indonesia. Our offer to the Soviets to help rebuild the Siberian oil fields and share research on alternate fuels still stands, end quote.
There has been no official comment out of Moscow--
Good luck with that, thought Gibbs, as he headed upstairs to get dressed. He thought he'd get to work on time, even with all the checkpoints and added security to deal with. Washington
Rock Creek ParkTim McGee loved coffee, craved it even. He thought it was due more to the demands of his job and the long hours -- including all the checkpoints and extra security and other associated nuisances -- than the tastes of his boss, Gibbs. But McGee also took his coffee black, just like his boss. McGee couldn't remember what he drank during those all-night gaming sessions; it had been so long ago since he had time for gaming. The drive down 16th Street Northwest was normal for an early morning weekday. Normal for a road headed into the capital of a country in a cold war threatening to turn hot. That meant tons of added security measures, from random checkpoints to surveillance cameras to military helicopters and jets patrolling the skies over the District. McGee took it in stride and settled in for what he thought was a routine drive to the Yard, and NCIS. Traffic was a little heavier nowadays, the drivers having the same idea McGee did about when to leave for work, but flowed. Any slowdowns or stops were due to jams, or the occasional fender-bender. Just past Alaska Avenue NW, traffic slowed to a crawl. McGee noticed there were a lot of flashing lights ahead, which generally meant a multi-car wreck or someone who was wanted by the cops or feds got caught. As he sat in his car, McGee tried to identify the vehicles. There were a ton of Metro cruisers, an ambulance, some SUVs, all with more flashing lights than one of those nightclubs Tony was fond of. There also was another vehicle, no lights, that looked familiar. His gut suggested it might be a certain medical examiner's van. Ducky? Did we catch a case? McGee checked his cell phone; there were no messages, no records of any calls from Gibbs, Tony, Kate or even Ziva. The phone also was set to ring, so he would've heard any call. McGee couldn't tell from his seat if it was NCIS. Given that no one was moving, and the police officer was telling drivers to stay put, they weren't going anywhere soon. He turned the engine off, then got out of the car, locked the door, and started walking. After he showed the officer his badge, McGee headed for the scene, pushing aside the feeling that something was wrong. He got to the medical examiner's van, and it was in fact NCIS. But the men in the cab weren't Ducky or Palmer, and in fact he had never seen either of them before. McGee headed to the van to find out who they were. Something familiar caught the corner of McGee's eye. He turned, and saw a dozen feds around a black Town Car. That's Director Shepard's car.McGee ran towards the car, flashing his badge to the cops holding the crime scene, and approached the vehicle. He saw that the windshield had a bullet hole, and her driver Stanley dead, slumped against the steering wheel and missing most of the back of his head. After taking a deep breath and exhaling, McGee made himself look in the back seat. The back window on the driver's side was broken. The director was slumped against the passenger door, with a bullet hole in her temple; her blood was all over the back seat and door, and she had bits of Stanley's remains on her jacket, blouse and face. McGee felt his coffee coming back up his esophagus, but swallowed it back down. Right now, he had to call Gibbs or Tony, then take control of the scene until they and Ducky could get there. "What in hell are you doing?!?" a man said to McGee, forcefully grabbing his arm and almost screaming into his face. "I-I-I'm Agent McGee. NCIS," McGee replied, thrown off guard by the man's demeanor. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and took out his badge and ID. In turn, the man took out his own badge and ID, letting go of McGee's arm and giving him a close look at the credentials: Assistant Director Riley McCallister. "Sir. How long have you been here? Who called this in? Where's Dr. Mallard?" McGee asked. "First off, it's Director McCallister, and I've been here long enough," McCallister told him. "I'm personally overseeing this case. This M.E. is here at my request and will handle the examination." McGee's gut was in overdrive. This scene, as Abby might say, is really hinky."Agent McGee. I have this in hand," McCallister said. "You should go on to work." "Sir--Director. Shouldn't I call Agent Gibbs and Dr. Mallard? They would normally handle--" "Listen to me, son," McCallister interjected. "I'm in charge now. Go to your car, drive to the Yard. I'll have police wave you through. Don't say a word about this; I don't want this leaking out before I'm ready to announce it." "Yes sir," McGee said. "May I ask. Director Shepard. How long has she been...dead?" "The M.E. has yet to get here," McAllister said. "This was called in a half-hour ago. Unofficially, and I'm no doctor, I'd guess an hour, hour and a half...my team and I will handle things from here. With all the increased Communist activity around here I'm sure your team will be busy enough." "Yes sir," McGee replied, heading back to his car. He pulled away from the growing line of now-parked cars, the cops waved him through, and he was quickly on his way. Near the tail end of the jam in the lane headed away from D.C., and out of sight of the crime scene, McGee pulled his car to a stop. He took out his cell phone, only to find it wouldn't work. McGee uttered an expletive, realizing he hadn't charged the battery overnight. It ran out of juice after he parked. Twenty minutes later -- after a passing DC Metro police van recharged his battery -- McGee went on his way, and drove as fast as he could towards the Navy Yard. Nice work Brky2020 |
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Brky2020
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Post by Brky2020 on Aug 26, 2018 19:03:36 GMT
Chapter 3
--talks in Johannesburg between the Luanda Pact and the African Community have broken down over Zaire--
--pleas for a ban on Morticoccus are falling on deaf ears. So are the pleas for a cure to be made available to the public--
--peace protestors at Metropolis University were shouted down by a group sponsored by a conservative think tank--
--Soviet warships amassing off the coast of Cape Town in conjunction with the 'friendship treaty' signed between the USSR, Israel, the African Union and the Arab Republic brought the world the closest to Armageddon it has ever been. This signalled the commencement of the Twenty Day War on 9 October 1986--
The team gathered downstairs in the morgue, and McGee filled everyone else in on what he had told Gibbs in the elevator.
After a few moments of stunned silence, McGee had questions thrown at him by everyone other than Gibbs. After answering them all, McGee -- with a nod from Gibbs -- stood down, giving everyone a moment to process Jenny's death. That's all Gibbs would allow them.
"Duck. You have any idea who that examiner might be?," Gibbs asked Ducky.
"I know several persons who could have been called upon on short notice, Jethro," said Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard, the Chief Medical Examiner of NCIS. "But without Timothy being able to give me a description, I cannot begin to narrow down the candidates so quickly."
Gibbs took another look at his team. Judging the best thing for them at present was to stay busy, he began barking orders.
"Start making up a list, Duck, and coordinate with McGee; McGee, you'll be working in the lab with Abby," Gibbs said. "Abs, any other labs besides the FBI's at Marine Base Quantico McCallister could use?"
"Mine, which he'd have to use," replied Abby Sciuto, NCIS's Chief Forensic Scientist.
"So it's Quantico," Gibbs replied.
"If he's really the new director, he could go anywhere he wanted," Kate said. "If he wanted to leave us out of the loop."
"Which appears to be what this McCallister is doing, at least in my case," Ducky said. "The question is why would he do this?"
"Why would he not use you?," Tony added. "What's he trying to hide?"
"Is NCIS policy not to use its medical examiner in the event of the death of one of its own people?," asked Ziva.
"That is precisely why we have a medical examiner, Ziva," Ducky said. "So we don't have to rely on other agencies, which may or may not be able at the time to process the body."
"Which brings us back to the question: what is he trying to hide?", Ziva replied.
Gibbs liked how his agents were thinking. Now he needed to get them looking for answers.
"I not only want to know the answers to those questions, I want to know everything about McCallister we can get. That includes verification of his claim on the director's chair," Gibbs said. "Most of all right now, I want to know how Jenny died and where did they take her."
"Do we want to contact Fornell?", Tony asked regarding Tobias Fornell, the FBI agent who often worked with the team. Gibbs shook his head. "Not now, and leave that to me. Find another way to see if her body's there."
Neither Gibbs nor anyone else said a word for several moments. They barely had time to process her death but it was beginning to hit home for all of them.
McGee was the first to speak. "Boss, since McCallister, uh, the new director saw me, I should work down here so he doesn't easily see me upstairs," he said. "I can run footage of surveillance cams from the scene."
"Do that," Gibbs said. "DiNozzo, Kate. Go upstairs. If and when he shows up I want my two senior agents here. I want you both to get me everything on McCallister you can find: service records, commendations, how he rose up the chain of command."
"Where are you going, boss?" Tony asked.
Gibbs nodded towards the elevator. "Gonna check out the scene."
Palmer raised his hand in the back. "There's no crime scene, Agent Gibbs," said the young medical examiner's assistant, who had in recent months gone from nervous and timid to angry and sullen.
"There's a crime scene still there, Palmer," Gibbs said. "Ziva, come with me and grab your gear." With that, Gibbs headed out the door, Ziva rushing to catch up.
"Boss!" "Gibbs!"
Tony and Kate rushed out of the morgue into the hallway, but by the time they got to the elevator the door had closed. Ducky, Abby, McGee, Palmer and Toni the dog (who had been resting next to Ducky's desk) made their way into the hallway.
"I know it's Gibbs, but do you think he'll really find anything?" Kate asked Tony. "We don't know what this guy may have done."
"Gibbs will find something because he's Gibbs," Tony said. "The one I'm concerned about right now is Ziva. She and the director were really close."
Ziva and Gibbs left in his car for Rock Creek Park. The guards at the entrance waved them through; moments later, one of them reached for her phone and placed a call.
"Agent Gibbs and Officer David have just left the Navy Yard, sir," she said.
"The others?" asked the man on the other line.
"Still here, sir."
"Place them under surveillance," said Director McCallister. "I'll deal with Gibbs."
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Brky2020
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Post by Brky2020 on Aug 26, 2018 19:04:25 GMT
Thanks lordroel
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lordroel
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Post by lordroel on Aug 26, 2018 19:08:05 GMT
Well NCIS is one of my favorite TV-series, so seeing it here is something I like. |
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Brky2020
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Post by Brky2020 on Aug 26, 2018 19:15:58 GMT
Chapter 4--East German advisors reportedly have been imbedded with Thai People's Army forces since rebel insurgents destroyed a depot on the outskirts of Bangkok last week--
--peace rallies in front of the American and Soviet embassies in London attracted thousands of participants and netted at least a dozen arrests--
--an e-mail sent to George Washington University students, faculty and employees states there is no reason to close the main campus at this time--
Washington
Rock Creek ParkWhen Gibbs and Ziva arrived, traffic was moving and no sign of the crime scene was anywhere to be found. "They have cleaned up the scene," Ziva said as Gibbs parked along the opposite side of the street. "This is where found the director, yes?" "Yep," Gibbs said, holding his arms out and hands up to stop traffic so they could cross. "Cameras should verify the location, if someone hasn't already erased them." "In Israel since the Soviets were evicted, incidents such as this are quickly scrubbed from video as not to fall into the wrong hands," Ziva said. "The videos are kept in a secured location so they may be accessed only by those who need to see them." "Not givin' away any state secrets, are you, Officer David?" "This information was released directly by our government," she replied. "Unlike similar information here in the United States released by two of your newspapers without government authorization." "First Amendment's still in effect here, Ziva," Gibbs said, holding his hand up to stop a car as it came to the spot where Director Shepard's vehicle had been earlier. "Put it in park!!!" Gibbs shouted to the driver while holding up his badge and identification. "Crime scene." As traffic began backing up behind them, Gibbs waved over a park patrolwoman. He explained the situation and had her and her partner stop traffic both ways while he and Ziva processed the scene. They looked for anything that would shed light on the incident and how it was previously processed. --the State Department warns U.S. citizens against all travel to Mexico and strongly recommends that U.S. citizens remaining in Mexico depart immediately. This Travel Warning supersedes all previous Travel Warnings, to remind U.S. citizens that the security situation remains dangerous and unpredictable as violent conflict between government and armed cartel groups continues throughout the country, along with an increased risk of kidnappings, bombings, murder, and terrorism.--
MexicoHe looked back at the beach house overlooking the Pacific and took one last swig of beer before climbing in the SUV. The federales in front were to drive him and the two NCIS agents to the border at Tijuana; from there, the Americans would drive straight to the NCIS field office in San Diego. "What a waste," muttered retired NIS Agent Mike Franks. He sat in the back between the two NCIS agents he judged to be in their late twenties. "It was a damn good place to retire to." "Your house will be watched while you are gone, Señor Franks," the driver said. "On behalf of the Mexican government, your home and property will be protected. You will be fully reimbursed for any and all damages." "That ain't what I'm worried about," Mike replied. The man to Mike's right stared straight ahead, keeping a wary eye outside the moving vehicle for any sign of cartels, Spetsnaz, Soviet-backed terrorists and any other potential threat. "What is worrying you, sir?" asked the woman on Mike's left. "My gut's churnin' worse than Montezuma's revenge," he said. "Things can always be replaced," she replied. "Considering the situation, for now you'll be safer in the States." "Will I," Mike said. No one had a good answer to that question. --the Eagle Act was one of many Acts of Congress intended to bolster the Patriot Act in regards to Soviet- and Cuban-backed terrorism after the USSR's October Purge of 20--
Navy Yard
NCIS headquarters, Forensics LabAbby Sciuto's gut was churning worse than usual. With nothing to do at the moment, she squeezed her Bert the Farting Hippo doll while hanging by McGee a little more closely. She wanted to get her mind off Jenny by turning her stereo up full-blast; because McGee was looking for footage of Jenny's accident, she had to settle for the sounds of foot traffic outside in the courtyard. The usual banter between the two teammates-friends-former lovers was absent. Neither felt like talking, and only spoke when they had to. "Come on," McGee said in frustration. He kept running into obstacles while attempting to hack into the D.C. SecureNet to retrieve the park security camera footage. A formal request requiring the NCIS director's electronic signature led to McGee's attempts to retrieve the footage by other, unauthorized methods approved only by Leroy Jethro Gibbs. McGee had managed to keep his hacking efforts hidden this long, or so he thought. Within moments, his screen went from lines of coding to red letters against a black background which read: UNAUTHORIZED INTRUSION
USER HAS COMMITTED A VIOLATION OF THE ELECTRONIC AIR AND GROUND LISTENING AND EAVESDROPPING ACT
"Oh boy," McGee said with a groan. "McGee," Abby said. "Is that--" "A violation of the Eagle Act." "How?!? There's no way you getting caught should've resulted in that," Abby said. "There's a first time for everything, Abby," replied McGee. Director Shepard's officeTony and Kate's first stop after leaving the morgue was the bullpen. Seeing nothing unusual on the floor, Tony decided to begin looking for background on McCallister in his predecessor's office. He and Kate didn't need to talk the agent guarding the door into letting them in. "I don't know anymore than you do," said the agent, George. "I know you guys. I trust you and Gibbs. Do what you gotta do. Just make it quick." Kate went in ahead of Tony, both wearing gloves since the visit was part of their investigation. The first thing both noticed was the box on the desk of Cynthia Sumner, Jenny's secretary, filled with Cynthia's personal effects. Communicating through gestures, they checked out the waiting area quickly but as thoroughly as possible. After looking through the waiting area, they entered Jenny's office, starting at the door and working their way around to her desk. They began searching through desk drawers and the drawers in the cabinet behind the desk. Rock Creek Park"Hey man, I gotta delivery to make! Let me outta here!" The driver of the lead car in a now quite lengthy line of vehicles was testy, as was just about every other driver and passenger. None of it mattered to Gibbs, intent on finding any evidence of the crime scene. Although the scene long had been contaminated by passing traffic, he wanted to reconstruct it as best he could. He looked again at the tire marks on the road where McGee said he saw Jenny's Town Car. The treads indicated a sudden stop to Gibbs. Having looked at them for the fifth time, Gibbs turned his attention to the grass nearby: Did somebody stop the car in the road? Did that person shoot the driver, then Jenny? His gut told him that was possible, but not likely. Jenny, he surmised, would have been seen the shooter and taken him or her out first, even if the shooter managed to take out the driver. But if the shooter was further away, using a scope to aim at the driver and his passenger, Jenny would've seen the back of Stanley's head explode. McGee said he hadn't seen a gun in Jenny's hand nor near her, so she wouldn't have had time to get to it before she was killed. Hence, Ziva went down the street, looking for a sniper's nest. As Gibbs looked for footprints, his cell phone rang. "Find me something, Ziva?" "Yes, Gibbs, I have found something of interest in a tree just off the road." "Be there in a minute." She showed him where someone had built a nest among two heavy tree branches, hidden behind leaves. The nest wasn't the only evidence. "Shooter didn't police his brass," Gibbs said, picking up one of the spent casings off the ground to put it in an evidence bag. "The angle is right for the line of sight into a vehicle stopped where McGee said it was," Ziva replied. "Finish taking pictures, and bag the evidence he best you can," Gibbs said. Seconds later they both heard police sirens, and looked outwards to see several unmarked vehicles -- with flashing lights -- surrounding them and the tree. He and Ziva saw four men step out of a darkly-tinted SUV. Three of them formed a semi-circle behind a tall, mustached man who to Ziva reeked of pride and arrogance. Gibbs wasn't impressed with him, either. "Agent Gibbs. Officer David," Director McCallister said. "What in hell are you doing involving yourselves in my investigation?"
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Brky2020
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Post by Brky2020 on Aug 26, 2018 19:27:51 GMT
Chapter 5
--Lokomotiv Leningrad officials have requested for added security arrangements ahead of the first leg of its Champions League semifinal with Real Madrid in Spain--
--Fox News Channel has learned that KGB agents were seen on the grounds of the French Embassy in Moscow. The agents were asked to leave immediately, which they did--
--Soviet-built Vietnamese cruisers passed close to British Royal Navy ships in the Taiwan Strait earlier today--
NCIS headquarters
The bullpen
"I'll get started on this guy; you start on the director," Tony said to Kate as they stepped off the stairs and headed towards their desks. Both kept an eye out for unwanted interlopers while working, Tony uncovering McCallister's history and Kate tracking Jenny's driver's traveling habits.
Minutes later they debriefed in the elevator.
"He's a career NIS/NCIS guy," Tony said. "Worked out of Washington as an expert on the Soviets, later became Special Agent in Charge in the San Diego field office before moving on to something called Special Projects."
"No record of him being in the chain of command?" Kate asked.
"Not so far. You?"
"Jenny had her driver vary his routes but she lived in Georgetown, which is roughly south-southwest of the park. The street she was found on wasn't one of those routes. In fact, she never took that route on business."
"Until today. What did her itinerary show for today?"
"10:30 a.m. brunch with the Homeland director in her office and a 3:30 p.m. visit with Congressman Jarvis at his office," Kate said. "In between? Working here."
"Maybe she had business elsewhere?" Tony mused.
"She would've had to enter it in her itinerary."
The elevator shaft abruptly began moving upwards. Moments later, the door opened with two men and two women, all in dark suits and ties, standing outside the doorway. "Agents DiNozzo and Todd. Please come with us," said the lead agent. "Now."
Forensics lab
"We're going to Guantanamo," McGee said, blankly staring at the monitor which still showed the message announcing his violation of a major federal surveillance act.
"Stop saying that McGee," Abby replied. The computer was locked; she had given up trying to unlocked it and resigned herself to staring at the red Courier font on black background.
"If we're lucky when we get there the Cubans will drop a bomb on us."
"Stop saying that too, McGee!!!"
Both slowly turned around to acknowledge the two men and two women -- also in dark suits and ties -- who had just walked into the lab. "Agent McGee, Ms. Sciuto. Please come with us, immediately."
The morgue
Ducky was on the phone at his desk, unable to get through to any of his fellow medical examiners who may have field.
"Mr. Palmer, this is most unusual, even considering the current situation," he said, putting down the receiver on his landline and thumbing through his rolodex. "Every call I have placed, the line is either busy or I'm told the person I'm trying to reach isn't available. Interestingly enough, it's as if they're reading from a script. Now, I could marvel at the remarkable coincidence this presents, but we both know what Jethro thinks of coincidences, don't we, Mr. Palmer?...Mr. Palmer?"
Ducky swiveled in his chair to see two men and two women -- all in dark suits and ties -- surrounding Palmer.
"Dr. Mallard?" said one of the women, holding a clipboard.
"Yes. How may I help you?"
The men and the other woman began walking backwards out the sliding door, while Palmer watched them.
"I need you to sign here, please," she said, giving him the clipboard.
"What, may I ask, am I signing for and more importantly, who are you?!?" he replied. A moment later, the other suits returned, wheeling in two gurneys with body bags.
They unzipped both bags, and Ducky and Palmer saw the bodies of Jenny and her driver.
Washington
En route to the Navy Yard
"You sure you're the director of NCIS," Gibbs said, "and not the President of the United States...Riley?"
Gibbs sat in the back of an armored SUV, across from McCallister, with two agents in the front seat. Their vehicle was towards the back of a fleet of armored SUVs headed towards NCIS; Ziva was in one of those vehicles, along with evidence from the sniper's nest.
"They're calling this the 'Year of Four Presidents'," McCallister said. "Only one of whom was assassinated. One couldn't keep it in his pants, one cracked under the pressure. The fourth, and current, holder of the office within the last 11 months has much, much more security than I do."
"Jenny had her piece, her driver and her Town Car plus armed agents in at least two unmarked cars following her wherever she went," Gibbs replied. "Riley, you're going out of your way to make yourself a target."
"You were on a first-name basis with my predecessor, Agent Gibbs. When you address me, you won't do so by my first name, you'll do so as 'Director'."
Gibbs smirked. "Okay, 'Director'. How's your case going?"
"My case?"
"The one you told McGee you were running. The one where Director Shepard and her driver were found dead on a busy street in an area she normally wouldn't have been in that time of day. The one my team, including my medical examiner, should've been called in on."
"I had my reasons," McCallister said. "But don't worry. As of now, your team's handing the case. Dr. Mallard has the bodies. As soon as we debrief your team they'll be free to work the case, and you free to lead them."
"Debrief them about what?"
"Two of your agents accessed restricted material without proper authorization. Another not only spoke of this incident to you against my direct orders, he also just violated a federal security act attempting to access classified information. On your orders, making you an accessory, just like the agency's chief forensic scientist. However, I've made all those violations null and void. I just saved your all of your asses, Gibbs."
"Thanks...'Director'."
"I figured you'd be more appreciative than that, Gibbs."
"What I want, 'Director', is to know how Director Shepard died."
McCallister's poker face couldn't fully hide his annoyance at the agent he had been warned was a guile maverick. He looked away from Gibbs's hard stare, then took a sip of coffee and glared at the man who was starting to piss him off. Gibbs was already pissed off at McCallister.
"I'd expect no less," McCallister replied. "Alright. Before I set you loose, we're going to have a conversation in my office about who's in charge and how the chain of command works now. And, how I expect my agents and employees to conduct themselves on the job. Your agents conduct themselves like high schoolers. The lab technician dresses like a liberal pinko rock and roller. You yourself?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't bother to wear a damn tie to work," McCallister continued. "Franks wore one every day. You did, too. What the hell happened to you, Gibbs? How'd you get so lax?"
Gibbs pondered, for a moment, what to say that the new director might want to hear. The next moment he mentally headslapped himself.
"I'm not lax," he said, "and neither is my team. They're the best in the business. We're too busy chasin' down bastards and bringin' them in--"
"--but not too busy for horseplay," McCallister interjected. "We're in a cold war with the Soviets that's getting real warm, real quick and can turn hot in an instant. I don't have time for crap and I don't suffer fools."
"If you say so...'Director'."
The group of vehicles slowed briefly as they approached the Navy Yard. Seconds later, the caravan resumed until it stopped in the back of the NCIS building.
Gibbs and McCallister got out of their SUV and were joined by Ziva, and met the rest of the team in the garage.
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lordroel
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Post by lordroel on Aug 26, 2018 19:31:28 GMT
Sad to see Jenny death here also, she was always my favorite NCIS Director.
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Brky2020
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Post by Brky2020 on Aug 26, 2018 19:42:25 GMT
Chapter 6 --across the U.S., real estate sales in rural areas are going through the roof. Speculators are driving prices upwards, but there are buyers with very real fears that the international political situation might quickly descend into chaos--
--self-professed 'patriotic' bikers went on an Oregon radio station overnight, claiming to have killed two armed men who were en route to the Hoover Dam to destroy the facility. The bikers are being interrogated by FBI and Homeland Security agents--
--AAA expects the average price of gas to rise a nickel, to $4.05, by Memorial Day weekend. Last year the price was $3.50 per gallon--
NCIS headquartersMcCallister conducted his debrief in the garage, with the entire team surrounded by the suited men and women whom Tony had coined 'the men in black'. The new director said nothing about why he started the investigation over Director Shepard's death. He did emphasize he was in charge, and NCIS would be "on the front line in the war against communism". While Gibbs went upstairs to talk with McCallister, the rest of the team split to work on their ends of the case. The bullpenMcCallister's men and women in black stayed silent and in the background, unmoving and unreacting, to the agents and employees unnerved by their presence. Nothing -- including the hushed whispers that something bad had happened to Director Shepard -- fazed them. Ziva wasn't fazed by them, either. She couldn't say the same for Tony, Kate and McGee. The three sent each other and Ziva short texts and chat room messages between looking over their shoulders for unwanted observers. McGee had started squinting at his monitor, Kate was glaring at someone in the distance and Tony was lightly banging his forehead against his keyboard. Of the three, Ziva thought Tony was most in need of immediate intervention and she didn't want to wait for Gibbs to provide it. So she got up, found the remote for the two large flat-screen monitors in the bullpen, and hit the button that put Director Shepard's photo on screen. She got Tony's attention instantly. He jumped from his seat, ran to Ziva and grabbed the remote from her hand, then turned both screens off and glared. "Are. You. Crazy," he said in a hoarse whisper. "I did not want you to break your head," she replied in a low voice. "Are you alright?" "With Mustache in charge upstairs and Agents A through Z watching us down here? Oh yeah, I'm doing great." "I disagree. You, McGee and Kate are on ice." "What???" "On ice." "On edge, Ziva," Tony said, looking at Kate and McGee, then around the floor. "Campfire." He went back to his desk, grabbed his chair and pushed it into the aisle, then called the others to join him and Ziva. "That woman by the window is creeping me out," Kate said. "She keeps looking over here, at me." "They're all looking at us," Tony said. "Not like she is," Kate replied. "I've got a bad feeling about her, them, this whole thing." Forensics lab"Hi guy. Hi gal," Abby said to the suited man and woman who accompanied her from the garage and followed her around her lab when they weren't standing near her. "I hope you're not hungry because there's no eating in my lab, and that you're not thirsty because this Caf-Pow!'s mine," she told them. Neither of the suits reacted to that, nor to her waving her hand in their faces. Abby had just begun her work on the brass and other evidence found at the crime scene, but something was off to her. Not hinky, just off. It wasn't the suits, either. Music. She walked over to her stereo, put in a CD and turned the volume all the way up. As Black Rose's gothic metal filled the room, the suits briefly looked at each other. Abby snuck a glance at them and smiled to herself, then went back to work. MorgueThe suits shadowing Ducky and Palmer moved only when the M.E. and his assistant did and had faces of stone like their counterparts. Since he couldn't get rid of them, Ducky decided to have a little fun. "When we perform an autopsy, the first thing we do is to conduct an external examination," Ducky said, noting photographs and x-rays are taken as well as fingerprints, and clothing is closely inspected. "Are there any distinguishing marks on the body, such as a birthmark or a tattoo? How tall is the deceased, and how much does he or she weigh? You've already witnessed this, of course, and I'll trust you both to keep the director's weight between the four of us." Neither Mr. nor Ms. Suit, who had been there from the time the bodies were rolled in, reacted. Palmer brought over a tray filled with medical tools. "Thank you, Mr. Palmer." "You're welcome, doctor." "As I was saying to our new friends, Mr. Palmer, we begin the autopsy with an external examination of the body. The next step is to begin the internal examination. Before I resume, my friends, I'd like to point out the large trash can behind you. I often show new agents the first stages of an autopsy, and some of them unfortunately tend to lose the contents of the last meal they ate. Usually this is when I begin removing the organs, but on occasion this has happened as soon as I make the first cut." Again, there was no reaction from either suit. "Well, the can is there, behind you, if either of you need to use it. Mr. Palmer, if you would pull back the skin as I make what we call a 'Y' incision." "Of course." Ducky made two cuts at both shoulder blades, curving under Jenny's breasts; he made sure to explain the procedure for a female is different than one for a male. His dual cuts met mid-chest, then continued as a single cut to the pubic bone. "We continue the examination by peeling back the skin, like so, exposing the rib cage and the organs underneath." Ms. Suit didn't flinch. Mr. Suit did. "Mr. Palmer, hand me the rib cutters, please," Ducky said to his assistant, then began cutting away the rib cage. Ms. Suit didn't flinch; Mr. Suit bit his lip. "After we remove the rib cage, we are able to remove the organs, starting with the lungs, and heart--" Mr. Suit made it to the trash can before throwing up. Ms. Suit didn't flinch. Ducky and Palmer chuckled. "I suppose, Mr. Palmer, this may not be the right time to explain to our guests how we can learn about what happened to the deceased by talking to them," Ducky said. "Director Shepard, I imagine you must have quite a bit to say." Ms. Suit raised her eyebrow and left it there. The director's officeGibbs ignored the cup of coffee offered him and, instead, read through McCallister's file, given to him by the new director himself. "Special Agent in Charge, Moscow; transferred to Naples, then Bahrain, Okinawa, San Diego. Then the Department of Special Operations, and Assistant Director," Gibbs said. "Not sure of what; haven't seen you around for years, haven't heard much about you." "What have you heard, Gibbs?" Gibbs glanced back through the file, which had numerous blacked out or nearly blacked out pages. "That you did quite a bit of intelligence work on Soviet activity, both sides of the Iron Curtain," he said. "Last few years, you were doing special ops work." "NCIS started its special ops program on Director Morrow's watch, at my insistence," McCallister said. "He was a good director, a good man and a loyal American. Damn shame how he died." "Yeah, it is," Gibbs replied. "Looks like you took control of special ops during Jenny's watch." "She made me Assistant Director, in charge of the DSO. Between us, and only us, I'm half surprised she didn't give it to some woman. She's been -- was -- promoting them left and right. They seem to know what they're doing...most of them, anyway." "Jenny knew what she was doing." "And she did a good job. But she lost her way," McCallister said as he reached for the remote to the monitor on the far wall. He pressed a button, and a surveillance photo of a man appeared. "Rene Benoit, also known as La Grenouille. International arms dealer," McCallister said. "We were working with him. He had contacts that led us to Soviet and Soviet-sponsored activity in the Middle East and Asia. Director Shepard took a more personal interest in him." "How so?" "She thought he killed her father, and decided to hunt him down, without regard for his value to the agency nor to national security." "Quite the accusation...Riley," Gibbs said. "What's your evidence?" McCallister got up, turned and faced his window, looking outside where Black Hawk helicopters, F-15 fighter jets and drones ruled the skies. "Not enough for me to go to DoD or SecNav and make a bona fide case for an investigation. I had enough to go to her directly, asking why we cut off Benoit, and if she had some kind of involvement the agency might need to be made aware of." "And?" "In so many words, she told me to mind my damn business, which happened to be special ops," he added. "Russians started stirring up crap from Berlin to Bangkok. That took up all my time, she stayed out of my way and she didn't do anything to wreck the agency. When she died--" "Been meaning to ask you about that," Gibbs interjected. "Why not call my team in from the start? Why order McGee back here and to keep his mouth shut?" "I was the assistant director, right behind her on the food chain and it was my job to know what happened to her and how, as quickly as possible," McCallister said. "I didn't want to wait." "You figure it out yet?" "That's where you come in, Gibbs. Once I saw the scene for myself and ran background on your team and was satisfied you were on the right side, I planned to hand the case off to you." "And when were you going to announce her death?" "Need-to-know basis, Gibbs." Gibbs finally took a sip of his now-lukewarm coffee and promptly put the cup on the meeting table. "Might want to tell your agency, Riley. People are talking." McCallister groaned. "That's not your concern, Gibbs. Now go find how my predecessor died...and tell DiNozzo his part in the La Grenouille op is done; his full-time job now, like you and the rest of your team, is finding Shepard's killer." For just a moment or two, Gibbs was stunned. "'DiNozzo's part'?" "She didn't tell you?..Apparently not...She had DiNozzo sleeping with the man's daughter as a way of spying on him. Your agent got real close to her. I'm sure DiNozzo'll find other women, though he won't have time for anything but your case for the time being. You just make sure he stays the hell away from Jeanne Benoit." The bullpenWhile Ziva, Kate and McGee were busy working on the case (and looking over their shoulders), Tony alternated between looking at pictures of shell casings and making calls on a burner phone. He got through to voicemail, started to leave a message, then flipped the phone shut. He looked up and saw Kate staring at him, looked to his right and saw McGee trying not to look at him, then over his right, then left shoulder to see Ziva peering at the burner phone. "Are you pursuing a lead, Tony?" Ziva asked in a low voice. Tony glanced at his monitor and turned back to Ziva. "Trying to nail down the casing model." "Are you calling the manufacturer?" Ziva asked. "You are using the same phone you have been using for some time. It is different from the one issued to all NCIS--" She reached for the phone but Tony grabbed it and held it tight. "It's a different phone." "I see that. Does it have anything to do with the calls you have been making to the hospital lately? Or with the woman you are seeing?" Tony pursed his lips, then burst out into faux laughter. " That's a good one, Mossad Ninja. You keep going to that well. You'll be a regular Lucille Ball in no time. Now if you'll excuse me--" He turned around and caught Kate's eye. She was standing over his desk, holding a folder with a two-word label on the binding: LA GRENOUILLE Kate's forefinger pointed to the label as she leaned into Tony's wide-eyed face. He snapped out of his momentary daze and head-slapped himself. "Campfire. Elevator," he said in a whisper. Kate and Ziva looked at him then at each other. "Now. Before Agents J, K and the rest of the alphabet decide to join us." He shot up from his desk and headed for the main elevator; McGee saw them, locked his monitor and ran to catch up. "Back to your desk, Probie, in case Gibbs shows up before we get back," Tony said as he hit the elevator button. "Where are you three going? And why leave me out?" McGee protested. "Need to know," Tony shot back. "Come on damnit!" "McGee's right," Kate said. "No secrets, remember?" "You're pulling that one on me, Kate?" "I agree and you will need to tell Gibbs," Ziva said as her phone rang with a tone slightly different from the default ones on phones NCIS personnel, and herself, used. It was a tone designated for high-alert calls directly from Mossad. "Excuse me. I must take this." Ziva headed right for the back elevator, to the others' confusion. Moments later, the main elevator door opened up, showing FBI Special Agent Tobias Fornell.
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