Dead and Alive
by channeld
written for: the NFA Schrödinger's Cat challenge
rating: K plus
genre: drama, thriller
disclaimer: I have still no ownership in NCIS.
Chapter 1
Tony stared at the little timekeeper in the lower right corner of his computer screen. Dang McGee for getting me in the habit of using this, rather than my watch or the wall clock. "Boss, it's been one hour—"
"I know." Gibbs' eyes were on the plasma screen, silently demanding it to give news. "Ziva?"
"Nothing yet. And he has been so punctual…" She tried to hold back the worry and despair from coloring her voice. "Wait…it is coming!" She pushed keys, and the incoming video was transmitted to the plasma screen.
After the nerve-wracking seconds of the video file opening, there it was: the dank-looking dungeon or chamber of horrors where Tim was being held. The slumped-over figure that the camera focused on, arms still chained to the stone wall, appeared to be in the same position as in the video they'd seen one hour ago. Tim's teammates held back their comments.
Then came the same, chilling, voice-altered narration, from off-screen. "What do you think? Is our cat alive or is he dead?" A low chuckle. "Can he be in both states at the same time? You know the demand. You know where to reply to me."
There the video ended. "Forwarding it to Abby," Ziva said softly. She'd said this before, for the previous five videos they'd received.
Scarcely a minute later, there was Abby on the visual communicator. "Got it," the scientist said, without enthusiasm. A few moments passed while Abby, and Ducky beside her, were watching this latest video. Abby's lips were set firmly. "Duckman, what do you think?"
"His position hasn't changed since last time," Tony remarked, and Ziva and Gibbs told him to hush.
"I will have to see the tape just before this one again to be sure, but I believe that is a fresh wound on his shoulder," said Ducky.
"You think he's still alive, then? A postmortem wound—"
"Wouldn't bleed that much. That's true, Jethro."
"See what else you can get off that tape, you two," Gibbs directed, and cut the connection. Time was too short to spend it in chat/speculation.
By day's end, if they hadn't uncovered Tim's location, he might be dead…for sure.
It was almost unbelievable how wrong a simple field call had gone. Tim had been sent that morning to knock on doors and show around a photo of a suspect; a woman wanted in connection with theft of ordinary Navy equipment. It hadn't seemed a dangerous assignment at all, so Gibbs had sent Tim out on his own, without even a vest. The neighborhood he was going to was a nice, quiet one made up of retirees and young families in starter houses.
When after a couple of hours Tim had failed to check in with Gibbs, the team had become concerned. Calls to Tim's phone went to voicemail. Tony and Ziva drove out to the neighborhood Tim had visited and discovered he'd made all of the house calls…and then vanished.
A BOLO on his car had produced nothing so far. There were no leads. Ducky and Abby went over and over copies of the videos, trying to get some clues of where Tim might be held. Up in the squad room, Gibbs, Tony and Ziva racked their brains.
From the first video, the voice had made his demand: that three ex-sailors in prison for arms smuggling be released. If they weren't, Tim would die.
The first tape had come in just after noon, addressed to Special Agent Gibbs, but in NCIS' public general inquiry email line. Some bright person there had quickly forwarded the email to Gibbs and to Vance. Vance, who actually kept an eye on his email throughout the day, had sounded the alarm.
Now he came down to the squad room every so often, demanding progress…and they had little to give him. Abby was their best person at pulling off the hidden items caught on the videos, and even she had uncovered too little.
"Abby hasn't identified the voice," Gibbs grumbled to Vance. "Said the speaker was a pro at it; too many filters before it was recorded."
Vance thought. "Someone in the recording industry. Or a radio station. Or electronics."
It was something they hadn't thought of. "Searching all known radio/recording people who've run up against the Navy or Marines," Tony said eagerly, typing away.
"And I will do the same with electronics," said Ziva.
Gibbs stared once more at the latest video. "The background's too clean," he said. "No distinguishing features at all."
"Like the place has maid service," Vance agreed. He then left; knowing that his helicoptering wouldn't help his MCRT.
Unspoken was any reaction to the kidnapper's demands. NCIS did not strike deals in hostage or kidnap situations. That was in the Regs and was known all the way down to the greenest agent just out of FLETC. The minute you started to deal with one party, the next party would see a wedge. Personnel would be more likely to become prey to kidnapping.
The downside of this firm policy was that rescue, however problematic, of captives became vital. Failing that, NCIS personnel taken prisoner could be killed. It was a horrible risk of the job.
The sun was setting when, an hour later, video number six came in. Right from the hint in video number one that more videos would follow, Ziva and Tony had been added to the list of those copied on the initial distribution of the videos, since Gibbs didn't want to be tied to his computer. "Lucky number six, boss," Tony announced. At Gibbs' raised eyebrow, he added, a bit sheepishly, "Just hoping…"
Tim was in a slightly different position this time. He didn't appear to be conscious—if he was still even alive—and more bruising to his face and bare chest was evident. "Six more hours," said the voiceover. "That's all you have. If our three men aren't released from custody before then, these images will be the last you have of Agent McGee."
Gibbs went to Abby's lab, wanting to see for himself what she was doing. He would have called in people to help if he could think of anyone who could help. Truth was, Abby was the best person around at this sort of thing. In NCIS, Tim was probably second-best. Everyone else was far down the list. He considered asking for help from the FBI and the CIA, but felt this would throw Abby off. She didn't like working with strangers. Sometimes even working with friends riled her. Abby was so important in this. If she couldn't do it..,
She seemed to be highly agitated when Gibbs arrived. He saw Ducky trying to get her to forsake her Caf-Pow! for awhile and take a soothing cup of tea instead. Wonder of wonders, she was doing it. "Anything to get me in my groove," she said, hands shaking a little as she held the mug of tea. "Anything to get Timmy back."
Abby added, "Still nothing on the reply email, either, Gibbs. That's one area Timmy's better at than I am, though I'm no slouch in that department. But it's well-covered. I haven't been able to trace it."
"We don't have any leads on the voice," Gibbs said. "No hits at all on people who have this ability having any run-ins with the military. Other than one person who died in 1999."
Abby cupped her chin in her hand, and typed with the other hand. "This is ridiculous, Gibbs. I can crack problems like this. I've been on this case for six hours, and nothing!"
"Someone with a record too clean to be found," mused Ducky. "Surely it happens now and then."
"Yeah, but there's usually something that gives them away," said Gibbs. The stony look on his face showed another fear: not only that they wouldn't get to Tim in time, but his death would go unsolved; a cold case.
The night wore on. Tension at NCIS increased. The arrival of video number eleven at 11 p.m. almost ignited Gibbs' team. Tim's position was unchanged from the 10 p.m. video. Ducky could no longer say for sure that Tim was still alive.
Gibbs had not replied by email to most of the videos. That would have been seen as an encouragement, he felt, and Vance agreed. The voiceover again demanded release of the three sailors who were in prison.
With the deadline so close, Gibbs was going to reply now. "Would just say, 'Nuts', but he might not get the reference." Instead he typed. No deal.
" 'Nuts' was what General McAuliffe, of the Army 101st Airborne division, famously said to the Germans in WWII when they demanded he surrender," Tony explained to Ziva.
"He was talking about food?" Ziva asked, confused.
"I'll explain it later." He spun in place and swore. "I just want to get in my car and drive…anywhere. Everywhere! Some place this ass is holding McGee, and if I hit every place, I'm bound to find him."
"Nice thought, but physically impossible, Agent DiNozzo," said Vance. "Though it's a nice parallel to the Schrödinger's cat problem. You can't be everywhere at the same time. Agent McGee can't be alive and dead at the same time."
The wait now was painful. With no leads, they were helpless. Tim might be held next door, or might be 100 miles away.
Gibbs saw Tony gazing at Tim's desk, looking remorseful. Sorry, buddy. You were a good friend. And Ziva—her eyes, downcast, she murmured something low that sounded like Hebrew. A prayer, perhaps.
Gibbs had been in a few similar situations; seen good men die. There was no horror like it.
Ziva roused herself from her murmurings at 11:30 p.m. "There is another video coming through!" she said. This was unexpected, at this time.
It unfolded, and Tony yelped. "What the hell?