Precious Gems
by channelD
written for: the NFA L'Opération Etrangère Challenge. The challenge was to send the team out of the United States on a case.
rating: K plus
genre: case file, adventure, humor
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disclaimer: I still own zilch of NCIS.
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Prologue
The medical examiner got to his feet, brushing the ever-present dust off his knees. "Yes, I think that does it. It is the same as the other two poor fellows we found this morning."
"A shame that the scavengers had gotten to the bodies first. There is no doubt in your mind?" asked the police sergeant.
"None. These men, American sailors by their dog tags, I think, drowned."
"Drowned. Here, at the edge of the Kalahari desert!"
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Chapter One
"Diamonds!" Tony cried with assurance. "You just know that's got to be it! Botswana's loaded with diamond mines."
The team looked up at him, from where they were processing the site of where body #1 had been found. The hot Botswana sun bore down on them, although it was barely 9 a.m. "I must be still jetlagged," Tim sighed as he held down a camera. "I thought Tony just made a total non-sequitor about diamonds."
"Which we were not talking about at all," Ziva agreed, picking up minute things with her gloved hands and dropping them into evidence bags.
Gibbs, who had been chatting with Laurence Umangwa, the cattle rancher on whose property one of the bodies had been found, and Robert Majafhe, their guide from the City Liaison Program, leaned into the conversation with a slight smile. "What's this about diamonds, DiNozzo?"
It had been a long journey to Botswana, an arid country in southern Africa: 17-plus hours by air, allowing for the change of planes in Johannesburg. Already almost three days had elapsed since the bodies of the three US Navy sailors had been discovered. All three seamen, men who'd met and become fast friends on the USS Caygul, had been on a week's leave. African-Americans, they'd told their other friends on the ship they wanted to do a little Africa touristing, and maybe find a clue as to their roots. The Caygul, part of the Africa Partnership Station program, was helping some west African nations acquire leadership skills, but it was far, far away, off the coast of Ghana. A landlocked country like Botswana shouldn't figure in the picture.
Botswana was an appealing country for tourists, though. It had been a peaceful democracy for over 40 years. Guided safaris showcased magnificent wild animals. Though dry, and hot most of the time, the weather was tolerable. Gaborone, the capitol city located on the eastern border of the country, was a fast-growing city with many modern Western amenities. While there was only one TV station, the internet abounded and cell phones were ubiquitous. There were still limits to the growth, however; here, at this cattle ranch about 15 miles outside the city limit, cell phone reception was spotty and often impossible. Outside the cities, landline phones still ruled.
And so as Tony reached for his phone to take yet another reading of the local temperature, and found only one weak, fluttering, bar, he sighed before he answered. "It seems only logical, doesn't it, boss? Botswana's wealth is in its diamond trade. Our seamen somehow got caught up in diamond smuggling—maybe that's what brought them here. And someone rubbed them out."
The rancher Umangwa, whose English was a little stilted, looked puzzled at the phrase rubbed them out, while Majafhe, the guide, frowned and then laughed. "There is much more to our country than the diamond mines, Rra (Mister) DiNozzo. The average person has no contact with the diamonds. We take pride in our families, our communities, and the bounty of nature."
"Not that you can trade any of those on the black market, much less the open market," Tony persisted. "Except for the wild animals."
"We are very hard on poachers," said Umangwa. "Even though the animals sometimes threaten my cattle, they are just doing as God made them to do. I do not hate them for that. They are beautiful, in their way."
Tony smiled one of his patient smiles. "You know better than I do, Rra Umangwa." Privately, he was sure he was right…it would all come down to precious gems.
Tim got up and went to the pasture fence. Not far away, brown cattle grazed with seemingly no concerns. "What a fine-looking herd," said Tim. He really knew nothing about cattle, but felt it was a kind thing to say. The cattleman beamed, and Tim felt he'd made a friend.
"Our cattle are another source of our pride," said Majafhe. "In another 20, 30 years it may be different, but right now a family's wealth might be measured in its cattle. It is often still a part of marriage contracts."
"There are worse things that could be exchanged," Tim smiled. The team was packing up to go. "Sala sentle, (Good bye)" he said to the rancher—Tim had put the most time into learning Setswana language phrases in the six hours' notice the team had had before getting on the plane, and was dubbed the team's expert. Maybe some good would come out of it. Letting Tony go off and pack for him—meaning that Tony had included the pair of boxers covered with Hello Kittys that his sister Sarah had given him as a gag—was not a good thing. Things had to get better.
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The site of the second and third bodies yielded next to no more information. The bodies had, of course, bent sent to the local morgue upon discovery, and while there had been no rain, mild wind had doubtless disturbed the sites a little. All bodies had been found not far from asphalt roads, and even Ziva's expert tracking skills were unable to pull up useable footprints from the scrub brush here at the edge of the Kalahari Desert.
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She was a formidable-looking woman, this Dikeledi Motalaote, the assistant chief of police. Tall and heavy-seat, she might not even need to carry a firearm to scare criminals into surrendering. She's probably meek as a mouse and has a heart of gold, Tony thought as they stood in her office later that day. Or maybe not. Her glare could melt an iceberg.
"You were to report directly to me upon your arrival in Gaborone, Rra Agent Gibbs," she thundered. "And yet here I find that your plane got in last night!"
"Sorry," said Gibbs, who rarely used the word. This was a clue to his team that something was up. "There must have been a misunderstanding. I'd thought our embassy would be in touch with you. I haven't figured out how to use your telephones yet."
The woman looked a little mollified. "It is I who should apologize," she then said. "We do not treat guests to our country badly. I have here copies of the evidence reports our sheriff made. If there is anything else I can do to help you…"
"Just give our medical examiners access to the bodies."
"Oh. I had assumed that you would be taking them back to America right away. Our medical examiner has already done a preliminary inspection. There can be no doubt that they drowned."
Ducky, from the back of the pack, touched Jimmy Palmer's arm to indicate he should stay quiet. "Madam, the longer we wait, the harder it will be for us to determine anything. It is not desirable to hold off until we are back in the US."
Mma (Madam) Motalaote took on a stubborn look again. "It is as I have told you. They drowned."
"Yes, but we hope to determine how—why—by whose hand."
"Is there a water source around here, Mma Motalaote?" asked Gibbs, after giving Ducky an eye.
"No. That is the strange thing," she said. "As you have seen, our country is quite dry, except during the rainy season. You would have to go into the northwest, to the Okavango Delta, to find water."
"Imagine that," said Tony in a low tone to Ziva. "Not having to keep an umbrella in your car year-round."
"Nor being unable to use traffic-delayed-by-rain as an excuse of being late to work," she rejoined, enjoying his wince.
The room was almost pleasant under the grinding of the window air-conditioner, though with six NCISers, Majafhe and Motalaote, it was warm. Motalaote fanned herself with what looked like a government report. "Yes, you should go to your sailors, then. God rest their souls. My aide will direct you to the morgue."
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The team all followed the aide to the city morgue, although Majafhe, looking a little green, found a reason to stay outside, and the aide slipped away at the earliest opportunity.
The bodies were in the unusual state (for NCIS) of having been mauled by scavenger birds and animals. Not used to this desecration, the non-medical members of NCIS were a little queasy at the autopsy start, but tried to hide their revulsion. Seeing this, Ducky said, "Go; go; have dinner. I don't expect that Palmer and I will be more than an hour or two; we'll grab something when we're done."
"Can you find your way around the city and back to the hotel okay, Duck?" asked Gibbs.
"Most assuredly, Jethro! I have traveled the world over; my sense of direction is excellent. I can't speak for Palmer here. Anyway, I love sampling native wares."
"Maybe we can find a sushi place!" Jimmy said eagerly, and promptly withered under the glares.
"English being the second language here, we shall have no trouble hailing a cab for our return," Ducky continued. "We'll call you when we know something, or before we set back."
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To their surprise, the restaurant that their guide, Majafhe took them to—his favorite, he said—was an Italian place. "There will be time for you to try our native food later, if you wish," he grinned. "You will be here a few days, correct?"
"Don't know how long," said Gibbs. "We'll be here until the job is done."
"Do we, uh, have to admit to Ducky and Palmer that we had linguini and chicken mozzarella and such for dinner?" Tim asked no one in particular. "They're going to expect that we, uh…"
Majafhe grinned. "If it is that important to you, I can write down the names of some local dishes. Your doctor need never know different."
Gibbs smirked, but took the paper from Majafhe when he was done writing. "I suppose we should try the real thing tomorrow."
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Night cooled the air just a little; being a city, it was bound to retain much of its heat. Majafhe, driving the van as he had since their arrival in the city, dropped them off at the hotel, wished them a good night's sleep, and promised to pick them up at 9 the next morning.
The hotel was a delight in its modern, central air-conditioning. The team had taken three rooms: a double for Gibbs and Ducky; a small suite for Tim, Tony and Jimmy, and a small single for Ziva.
Tony burst into Gibbs' room seconds after their splitting off. "Boss! Our room's been ransacked!"
Gibbs was already pulling gloves on, surveying the destruction to his own room. "Is that a fact, DiNozzo?" he said calmly.