Special Agent McGee shrugged off his backpack and looked at Tony, crouched beside him behind the couch. "You always come prepared, don't you, McBoy Scout?" Tony whispered hurriedly, searching the bag for more ammo.
"Just following protocol," McGee whispered. "Suspect at three o'clock." They were working on tracking down a suspect in the murder of Petty Officer Marcus Reynolds. The suspect, a Mr. James Harchman, had decided that he would not like to come in for questioning and would rather shoot out his frustrations.
The side door of the house burst open, the 2x4s boarding up the entrance shattering. The agents sprung up from behind the couch, guns drawn. "Federal agents, put down your weapon!" McGee yelled. The suspect didn't flinch, and Tony put a round in Harchman's leg as he saw his pointer finger creeping towards the trigger. He cried out and fell to the ground, his Glock clattering beside him next to the leg of the coffee table. McGee kicked the gun away from Harchman and pulled out his cell phone to call for an ambulance.
The suspect groaned loudly as DiNozzo applied pressure to the wound. "Oh, quit whining- you're not going to die," Tony muttered.
"God- it hurts!" Harchman yelled, balling up his fists and screwing his eyes shut.
"McGee could cause you more pain than this. Shut up." Tony pushed a little harder. "So, did you order the hit on Petty Officer Reynolds?"
"No," the man choked out from between his gritted teeth.
"I know better than that. Convince me!" Tony yelled over the sound of the approaching ambulance.
"Check out my email!" Harchman grunted out as Tony kept pushing harder.
"Just saving a life over here," Tony grinned as the paramedics ran in with a stretcher. McGee grimaced and handed Tony a towel as he prepared to wipe his bloody hands on the front of his jacket.
"Abby has an excellent stain remover," Tony said, shrugging.
"The boss will kill you if you purposely wipe blood on that new vest."
"Good point." Tony nodded and accepted the towel, quickly jerking his hands away from the new bullet-proof vest they had all received the previous day. The old ones were so beaten up that Abby's famous Any Stain Stain- Removal was starting to lose its touch on their vests.
Back at NCIS, Gibbs strode into the squad room, trusty cup of black coffee in hand. "Talk to me," he muttered, directing his attention at Ziva, the only one of his agents left sitting at their desk.
"Nothing suspicious has come up on Harchman's credit card history, but his last purchase was made at a convenience store across the street from the DC Central Detention facility." Ziva allowed herself to feel very proud- McGee had set up the credit card search before he left with Tony and left her to sift through the numbers.
Gibbs tossed her the keys. "Get the car."
Tony and McGee walked out of the elevator and into the squad room, dumping their backpacks on the ground beside their respective desks. "Where is everyone?" Tony sat down at his desk and flipped through the three missed call memos that had been left on top of his keyboard.
"How many of them are women?" McGee mused, wandering over to Tony's desk and peering over the top of his computer monitor.
"None of them. Well, okay, one. Why does it matter?" Tony huffed, opening the top drawer of his desk and haphazardly sweeping all the memos inside before slamming it shut.
"It doesn't. Just wondering. I was thinking that if maybe you answered some of-" McGee was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.
"Yes, boss?" McGee flipped out his phone and hurried back to his desk to log in.
"Run a search on a Kieth Harchman. Have Abby go through Reynolds' computer again- we need access to his classified files."
"Boss that could take days- we don't have clearance from the Pentagon yet-"
"Now, McGee."
"Uh-" McGee was interrupted by the sound of a dead phone line. Gibbs, in classic Gibbs- fashion, had hung up with McGee mid-sentence.
He opened a new search and entered the name his boss had given him. James Harchman had apparently revealed that he had a brother, although clearly Gibbs didn't know anything yet. He put the search up on the plasma and went down to Abby's lab while the computer combed through hundreds of thousands of names to get an address, phone number, and workplace for the suspect's estranged brother.
"You have got to be kidding me!" McGee heard Abby yell over the sound of her blasting alternative music.
"What's wrong Abby?" he asked, walking to the back of the lab where she stood perched at a computer, making her way through the day's second Caf-Pow.
"Major Mass Spec is having a hard time identifying the compound on the bottom of Reynold's shoes. It's some kind of fatty acid, but do you have any idea how many kinds of fatty acids exist in the world, McGee? Do you have any idea?"
"No, but I take it it's a lot," he muttered, glancing down at the sample the forensic scientist had prepared and set under the microscope lense.
"You're right!" she huffed, twirling one of her braided ponytails around her finger. "There are hundreds of them and this one is wonky. It's a synthetic, man-made compound that's pretty uncommon. It's some kind of waterproof substance that might have coated the outside of something."
"You'll figure it out," McGee consoled. With a hopeful smile, he pulled a new Caf-Pow out from behind his back. "Would this help?"
"Of course!" Abby beamed, snatching up the drink and taking a few large sips. "I was running low on juice." She paused. "Where's Gibbs?"
"He's running down a lead with Ziva. He wants us to get into Reynolds' classified files. "
"But the Pentagon has totally stonewalled us! We'd have to break through all of their firewalls in order to access them," Abby said.
"Then I guess we're gonna hack the Pentagon today," McGee smiled, pulling up a chair.
Gibbs and Ziva pulled up to the convenience store and got out of the car. The older agent led the way and both of them approached the building. Gibbs looked at Ziva and nodded- the signal for her to pull out her gun. The lock on the side of the building had been cut and the door frame splintered from where it had been kicked down. Gibbs pulled out his gun from the holster on his hip and glanced at Ziva. She gave him an understanding nod and led the way, nudging the door open with her shoulder.
The interior of the convenience store had been ransacked. Bags of snacks and candy bars were strewn across the floor, shelves had been tipped over, and the windows that led to the back office were smashed. "Clear," Ziva called from the two bathrooms in the front of the store.
"Clear," Gibbs echoed. The store was vacant. He donned a pair of latex gloves and walked into the manager's office. All the drawers of the six filing cabinets had been opened and papers strewn all over the floor in the cramped space. The desk and chair across from it left little room for walking. A printer in the back corner had been smashed and Gibbs noticed a computer tower sitting on the desk, but no monitor.
Ziva stood in the doorway of the office. "Computer's missing," she said.
"Wonder what they were looking for," Gibbs mused.
"Security tapes?" Gibbs asked. He had spotted two cameras outside- one pointing towards the street and the gas pumps out front and the other above the side door.
"Possibly," Ziva said.
Gibbs' phone rang. "Talk, McGee."
"Keith Harchman has a mile- long rap sheet. His most recent offense is attempted murder during a downtown heist. He's currently at DC Central and is scheduled to leave for trial in two hours."
"This isn't about the hit or the files. It's about a jailbreak. Nice work, McGee."
The elevator dinged and Special Agent Gibbs stepped out, bulky computer monitor in hand. "What do you have for me?" Abby asked, taking a generous gulp from her Caf-Pow.
"It's not for you, Abbs."
"Boss, Keith Harchman and three other unidentified individuals robbed a local fine jewelry store six months ago. The other three remained masked, but Harchman's mask was ripped off and his face exposed to the security camera when he struggled with the clerk for his second gun. He requested solitary confinement once convicted, claiming that he was new to the heist business and other inmates would try to kill him for making the rookie mistakes that he did."
"If this guy is just a rookie, why is somebody trying so hard to break him out?" Gibbs asked, moving from behind the table as Abby put the jewelry store security footage up on the plasma.
"Most of the items stolen were found spread out in various online auctions-"
"Most, McGee?" Gibbs asked impatiently.
"All the items except for one." He nodded to Abby, and she put up a picture of a glistening diamond pendant. "This is the most valuable item taken during the heist. It's worth about fifty million dollars to the right buyer."
"How does Petty Officer Reynolds fit in with all this?"
"Oh, he fits in perfectly." Abby jumped in and stepped in front of McGee to get control of the other computer. "The petty officer was making scheduled visits to two death row inmates as part of a counseling program that he was placed in for his anger management. He had quite the temper, but I guess with his military clearance, anger management classes get pretty interesting." She shrugged.
"The point, Abbs?" Gibbs asked impatiently.
"The point, Gibbs, is that he had an access card from DC Central so that he could gain access to the building without going through lengthy visitors checks every time." Abby grinned and put up a picture of the access card.
"He was killed for his pass," Gibbs muttered.
"Precisely." Abby and McGee looked at each other and grinned.
"Nice work. I need you two to pull security footage off the computer tower." Gibbs motioned towards the object resting on a table at the front of the lab.
"When do you need it?" McGee asked.
"Five minutes ago," Gibbs called as he strode out of the lab. Autopsy awaited.
"Ah, Jethro." Ducky smiled as Gibbs walked into autopsy. "This case proves my theory that if you ask the right questions, you will get the right answers." He paused and walked over the examination table where Petty Officer Reynolds lay. "I reexamined the area on the petty officer's hand where I found the fatty acid Abby is so struggling to identify. And I found that it was not a topical application at all- there is a microscopic hole in Reynolds' hand where this substance was injected.
"Injected, Duck? What is it?"
"I don't know. Abigail thought it was some sort of waterproofing material, and I believe she is right. I took a sample from the area and had Mr. Palmer examine it under the microscope. It has indeed waterproofed the cells around the injection site."
"What does that mean?" Gibbs took a sip of his coffee and leaned over the body to examine the site that Ducky was pointing out to him.
"That's the confusing part, Jethro. I don't know. I think you're looking for an experimental trial of some sorts."
"Thanks, Duck." Gibbs called.
"Boss," Tony called as Gibbs was on his way up to Vance's office.
"What, DiNozzo?"
"Some Pentagon paper-pushers just dropped off some of the classified files Abby and McGee were trying to gain access to. Said they were 'too sensitive to have a digital copy of'." Tony said, gesturing to the large box of files behind him. "This one caught my eye."
He handed it over to Gibbs, who squinted at the title a few moments before glancing up at DiNozzo. "Operation Jaguar?" he asked.
"It's an experimental program that was attempting to test a substance that had the ability to essentially 'waterproof' a Navy diver's cells, allowing them to stay submerged for longer periods of time."
"MTAC, now."