A SHADOW ON THE SEA
The mid-afternoon sun beats down on the calm and lifeless sea. In all directions there is nothing but the desolate surface of green-blue water with no land in sight. On the bridge of his commercial fishing boat, Cyclops, Captain John Skow lets his trained eyes slowly scan the water once more. Then a small electronic beep draws his eyes away from the horizon. He stares down at the radar monitor, an electronic beep confirms the sighting of another ship out there. Squinting as he barely makes out a luxury cabin cruiser, about a thirty-footer if his guess is correct.
Out on the main deck, Scott McWhirter is a hard working young kid in his mid-twenties. He is handsome and athletic with muscles honed hard as rock from his long days working the fishing nets. His hands still on the net as his eyes narrow to watch the boat approaching. Just then a loud speaker crackles to life as Captain Skow's voice booms. "Move it! They're almost alongside!" Scott spins, waving his acknowledgement before he rushes over to attach a line on a small rubber zodiac boat and drop it over the side in preparation to meet the arriving boat.
Manuel Delgado captains the shiny cruiser as it nears the old, beat up fishing vessel. He eases the throttle down as they approach and maneuvers his smaller boat alongside the Cyclops. Captain Skow is watching from the railing and gives him a thumbs up to indicate all is well. Down on the stern deck of the cruiser, Mark Tobin, is a man who knows boats, but prefers to spend his time in Vegas with a pretty show girl on each arm. Scott tosses him a line and waits for Tobin tie it off. Both vessels are left idling calmly while Skow now climbs down a short rope ladder to the deck of the cruiser. "No problems?"
"Smooth… real smooth. We off loaded and were on our way in fifteen minutes. What about McWhirter?"
"I'll handle him." Captain Skow glances over to see Scott still standing at the stern, watching the cabin cruiser. Skow shakes his head and curses under his breath as he heads back out on deck; disappointed his hard working deck hand has become a liability.
Scott is tethering the lines released by the cruiser moments before when Captain Skow comes up behind him. Skow is armed with a large pointed grappling hook on a pole and thrusts it hard into Scott's midsection as Scott turns to face him. The younger man is agile, but taken by surprise he isn't quick enough to avoid being impaled. With the iron shaft sticking well into his stomach, Scott grabs the handle and staggers back as his eyes meet the murderous glare in Skow's. He vainly shakes his head and staggers back, falling to his knees with a breathless groan.
Skow quickly jerks the hook out of his midsection and uses the ten foot grappling pole like a bat, swinging it in an arc towards Scott's head. The pole strikes him in the back of the head, just behind his right ear and he slumps down to the deck unconscious. Skow drags Scott's lifeless body towards the stern rail and fishes out his wallet from a back pocket. Then without so much as a moment's regret, Captain Skow pushes the dead weight into the sea like some unwanted fish. He tosses the wallet to Delgado on board the cruiser.
"Anything on radar?"
Skow knows his companion's paranoia well and scans the surrounding horizon and then turns back to Delgado with a sarcastic retort. "Yea, the whole Atlantic fleet… now, do what I told you. Scuttle her out there… and move it!" Skow doesn't wait for Delgado's reply and turns his back on the nervous Mexican to return to the bridge.
Agent Gibbs and Lieutenant Colonel Hollis Mann walk down the wooden dock towards a group of men wearing tan Coast Guard uniforms. They have their backs turned as they watch the efforts of several seamen who are attempting to pump out a cabin cruiser. The scuttled boat is tied up to the dock, but listing badly to port with the hose spewing seawater back into the bay. Water fills the interior cabin, but at this point the stern deck is sitting high and dry. As Gibbs and Hollis come up beside the group they watch the operation in silence before the commanding officer, Captain Matt Clark, turns to greet them above the rumble of the loud bilge pump.
"Agent Gibbs? Thank you for coming."
"This is Colonel Mann, Army Criminal Investigations Detail… Captain Clark, from the Coast Guard."
"Hello."
"Nice to meet you, Colonel Mann."
"How soon before we can get down there?" Her no nonsense approach tells him she is used to being in command.
"Maybe another hour… she's still pretty water logged below deck. We've already had a diver down there. No one's on board."
"Any survivors?"
Clark shakes his head and Hollis plants her hands on her gun belt in a gesture Gibbs recognizes as frustration. Seeing her reaction, Gibbs distracts her, "Water temperature has got to be, what, 50 degrees?"
"Closer to 40 this time of year. I wouldn't recommend going aboard until they're done pumping her out, Colonel."
Their eyes hold for a moment then she smiles, and Captain Clark suddenly wishes he wasn't a married man. He noticed she didn't have a wedding band on her hand and was tempted to keep his hidden from sight. His mind is jerked back to the present as Gibbs' inquires about the boat to distract them. "Just what happened? To cause all this…Matt?"
"I'll show you, come on."
Captain Clark clears his throat and quickly steps over to the cruiser's stern deck. He then points to the hatch cover for the engine compartment. "Someone's disconnected the water intake manifold and pumped the hull full of sea water."
"With all that water down there, why didn't it sink?"
"I'm sure they intended it to, but not this boat. She's state of the art. She's equipped with a flotation collar. She'll take on a hell of a lot of water, right up to the bridge and still stay afloat. That's how we found her."
"Any idea how long it was under before you spotted her?"
"Probably twenty-four hours at the most."
A look of surprise passes over Hollis's face as she glances over her shoulder at Gibbs. He nods in understanding as Hollis turns back,. "Twenty-four hours? Are you sure? This boat was reported missing a week ago."
"I'm very sure. Wherever this boat's been during the last week, I can't say… but she wasn't scuttled until yesterday. She should be pumped out and dry enough to board in about a day, Agent Gibbs. But, what's NCIS's interest in her?"
"The owner of this cruiser is Army General Bikaner; he's golfing partners with SecNav. Ergo, our joint assistance."
"Didn't know we needed the help, but your assistance is welcome. Come on, I know a nice coffee shop on the pier where we can talk."
They walk a short distance to the coffee shop, which is a combined bait shop, gift store, boat rental and coffee shop for the marina patrons. Hollis tries not to think about the fact that the kitchen area probably pulls double duty for food and bait preparation. The restaurant area is surprisingly clean and lacks the fishy smell of the rest of this area.
Captain Clark studies Hollis for a moment as she smiles and sips her coffee, wondering what brought the smile to her face, before he turns his attention to Gibbs. "You know, we've been working this for two months now. I suggest you get together with our people too."
"Two months? I don't understand."
"We've got six other missing boats… that haven't been recovered. No sign of the owners or crews… just vanished. This may well be our first real break of what's been happening… my guess is piracy."
Hollis and Gibbs exchange a look at the word piracy. Gibbs sets his cup down and raises a hand to gesture. "Let's just assume… for the moment, that someone is pirating private boats. You have any idea who or why?"
"The obvious answer would be to disguise and sell them... but as we've seen today, that doesn't seem to be the case. The Miami district office got a call… about a week ago. This guy said he shipped out of here and was in Miami with some important information… then he never showed."
"Tell me… if you were looking for information on these missing boats, where would you start?"
"With someone who knows these waters… someone who knows the vessels, the captains, the crews… in a nut shell… I'd contact Jack Cahill, if you can find him. He's been heavy into the bottle for about six months now, but before that… he knew everything that went on from here to Miami."
Gibbs takes a small note pad from his jacket pocket and makes a notation of this guy's name. Hollis doesn't hold out any hope of locating him, since this naval officer has been working on this case for two months and hasn't been able to find him yet. They fall into silence as they sip their coffee, each lost in thoughts of pirates working off the coast of Virginia.
******Well away from the efficient running of the Coast Guard ship yards there sits a small, run down marine salvage company on the southern end of the bay. McWhirter & Son Marine Salvage Company, is housed in a tin framed warehouse that's seen better days. The tin walls and roof show their share of rust and corrosion and haven't seen a coat of paint in many years. The owner, Wayne McWhirter is never far from his dingy office, overseeing the operations of his salvage business with an iron fist.
Wayne McWhirter sits behind his massive wooden desk, piled high with anything that doesn't belong somewhere else. Seated on the opposite side is a large, sharp eyed man who emits cool confidence. His fingers are steepled in front of him as he stares back at the older, craggy faced man behind the desk. Turk Daniels is a private investigator and former cop from Dallas. He's as hard as they come and very good at his job. Now, he looks over at an old deep sea diving helmet and gestures to it with his fingertips. "Bet it got hot as hell in there… how deep could you go in one of those?"
McWhirter is not in a mood too chat and suddenly stands up to get a bottle of whiskey from a file cabinet in the corner. "Look, you study diving on your own time. I'm interested in you finding my son… that's all!"
"Slow down, there partner… in my business, it helps to know a little bit about a lot of things. You never know when it might come in handy." Turk's voice is calm and low, but the note of authority is clear. McWhirter sighs heavily as he takes a swig from the bottle before holding it out to Turk. Turk declines the offer with a wave of his hand. "Now, how long has… Scott, been missing?"
"Well, he's not exactly missing. Not in the true sense."
"Then why call me in from Texas? Which leads to my next question… have you notified the local police?"
"No, I haven't. Look, my boy and me… we had a disagreement over how to conduct a salvage operation… and he took off. I want to... patch things up now. I heard John Skow hired him. Skow captains a fishing boat out of Lands End Pier."
"You want to pay a private investigator three hundred dollars a day, plus expenses, just to bring your son back. Come on, McWhirter… what you've got here is a family problem, save yourself a lot of money." Turk turns to pick up his cowboy hat which he laid on a table next to the door. He is about to open the door when McWhirter's desperate voice stops him.
"Please, Daniels… sit down…" Turk turns to look into the eyes of the older man and sees there is something more serious he isn't telling him. He sits back down and watches McWhirter; he is nervous and wipes his callused hand over his damp brow before he continues, "Look, I called his girlfriend already. Said she hasn't heard from Scott in three days. That's not like him."Turk pulls out a small notebook and opens to a clean page as he asks, "What's her name?"
"Karen. Karen Walters. This is her number… if you want to contact her." He shoves a scrap of paper across the desk.
"This John Skow guy... where do I find him?"
"His boat is usually at the Lands End pier… that's on the southern part of the bay . His boat is called the Cyclops." McWhirter waits impatiently, wondering if Turk has agreed to take the job or not. "I'm assuming you're taking the case, Mr. Daniels… so there's one more thing… Scott took some of my personal property. A small metal chest. I want it back as soon as you locate him."
"So much for your reconciliation. Now I know why you haven't gone to the cops."
"You just find Scott… and the chest!" His barely contained rage boils over at last.
Turk's eyes bore into the blood shot eyes of the older man and once again he wonders what he isn't telling him. Turk knows one thing for sure… he can't trust this old man. He's using him for some personal and probably illegal reason, but fortunately for him, Turk isn't against taking his money until he figures out just what it is.
******As the sun sets, artificial lighting units are turned on along an area of shoreline where he's been called out. Gibbs is crouched down beside a corpse, which was washed up sometime in the last twenty-four hours. It was discovered by two joggers about an hour ago. He takes one last look at the bloated, half eaten corpse of a man and then lets the sheet drop back into place over his head. He stands up and walks to where Agent Ziva David is standing with a group of people. Gibbs recognizes the Baltimore homicide detective who greets him as he joins the group.
"Hi Agent Gibbs, two joggers found the body washed up here. Looks like sharks got to him though.""Detective Devlin was just telling me they called us out because they've been able to ID him."
"How were you able to ID him?"
"He was wearing these dog tags. The sharks took a few bites off him, but these were still around his neck."
Ziva takes the tags from him and turns towards the light to study them. "McWhirter, Scott… with his USN serial number and date of birth. They don't tell us much, I'm afraid."
"Enough. We've got his name, social security number and date of birth. Mack, you have any idea on cause of death… I mean… besides the obvious?"
"Probably drowning. We really won't know until we get the autopsy done… you know, unless you guys are gonna ship him back to your place?"
"Yea, I'll have Ducky make arrangements with your coroner to transfer the remains. You mind if we keep these?" Gibbs holds up the dog tags. We recovered his wallet on a scuttled cabin cruiser the Coast Guard recovered yesterday."
Mack ponders this for a moment, then looks over at the coroner and his assistant as they lift the zippered body bag onto a gurney. "Right. Thanks, Gibbs. Ziva, nice to meet you."
Gibbs sent Ziva along with the body to ensure there were no complications in getting it transferred to Ducky. Knowing Colonel Hollis Mann, or Holly as she preferred to be called, would be interested in this new turn of events, he swung by her office and picked her up. They are both frustrated by this case, which is outside their normal scope of investigations. As Gibbs drives, he glances down at the dog tags again. Holly notices his glance and picks up the tags; closing her hand around the metal as she sighs softly. "Such a waste."
"Yea, but don't shed too many tears for him, Holly. He may very well have been involved in this thing up to his ears. Hey, you wanna stop off for a beer?"
"Sure… I'm easy."
"Yea, right."
Holly has an indignant frown on her face and sits up taller in her seat as she demands, "And just what is that supposed to mean?"
"How long have we been dating?"
"About two years." Her smile tells him she knows where this conversation is heading... again.
"Right. And how many times have I asked you to marry me?"
"May I remind you… again, that a piece of paper isn't necessary. We've got a perfect thing here… why ruin it?"
"Because I'm tired of having you across town. I want you in my bed, Holly."
"I am, Jethro… or have you forgotten already?"
"No, I haven't forgotten… I want you in my bed every night… not just a couple times a week."
"You'll get tired of me if we were together every day. Besides, we are together… with this new
joint task force, we're together almost every day."
He pulls into the parking lot at their local hangout and takes a moment to turn the car off before
he turns in his seat to give her his full attention. The interior of the car is dark, but she can see
the seriousness in his eyes as he leans closer. His hand slides along the back of her seat,
curling around her neck, drawing her closer as he softly repeats, "It's just not enough."
She sighs softly and brings her hand up around his neck as their lips meet. They spend several minutes kissing and Gibbs growls huskily when her lips part to deepen the embrace. He takes the sweetness she offers and each kiss blends into the next until they are breathless and aching for more. When Holly finally pulls back her eyes are glittering with desire, as they always do when he kisses her. Their eyes hold for a long moment and she tries to let him down again… as gently as possible. "Jethro… you know I love you… but… marriage isn't an option."
"Then live with me… move into my house."
"No… I like my house."
"I don't care where I live as long as I'm with you."
"No… I like you in your house… for now." His brow furrows in frustration, having heard all this before, but she doesn't give him a chance to voice it as her lips claim his once more. She kisses him softly as she huskily whispers to him between kisses. "I love you… I'm in love with you…. now how about buying me that beer?"
His arms once again tighten around her as he pulls her close and kisses her hard. His frustration shows in the roughness of his caress. Holly understands his frustration and it tears her apart inside to deceive him like this, but she just can't tell him the truth. She's lived with her secret for so long now it has become a way of life for her.