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Chapter 1

'Oh no, I can look after myself', Ducky said when Ziva offered him to bring him home.

'I may be old but not that old', he added smiling when he stepped into his car.

'Sometimes he is really a bit stubborn', Ziva said to Tony.

'Yeah, but you drank two glasses more than he and we both are the ones who are less able to drive', he reminded her.

Ducky, Ziva, McGee and Tony have all spent the Friday evening together in Joe's bar, a bar only a few hundred meters away from NCIS headquarters. Ducky started the car and drove away. It was already past ten o'clock and the streets were empty in that working area.

Even if Ducky had looked into the side or the rear view mirror, he wouldn't have noticed the black car that has been standing there since he had arrived at the bar.

The woman in this car put her book ('A first course in General Relativity') on the co-driver's seat, started the motor as well and followed Ducky with a great distance to his house. The woman rather was a girl than a woman, she was seventeen years old and her name was Scarlet. She was tall, a bit pale, muscular and very athletic for her age. Scarlet was half Mexican, half American and she had grown up in a little Mexican village near the American border.

Her father had been a drug dealer and she had seen him killing her mother with a knife when she was five years old. He had told her how to shoot and to handle a knife and used her for illegal drug trade since she was six. Police never suspected six-year old Scarlet delivering drugs.

When she was nine she had witnesses the murder on her father who had been stabbed by a rival drug boss who had also burned down their house. Scarlet had sworn revenge and two years later she had got it: For luck, the murder of her father was a fifty-seven year old pedophile and after she had had sex with him she had stabbed him. On the escape out of his house she had shot two of his guards but has received a very deep stabbing wound.

She still had the scar which reached from close under her left breast in an half-moon to her right waist. Since that she was only called 'Scar'. All people who had joked that this scar would match to her name hadn't had a long time to live after that.

After the revenge she had worked as a killer for anybody who had wanted someone dead and with fourteen years she had moved to the United States, of course, she had changed her name from Scarlet Gómez Sanchez to Scarlet Jones.

In the past three years she had eked out a reputation as a highly professional contract killer, one of the best at the East coast.

About a month ago, a woman, called Aisha Anwar, about thirty years old, had contacted her and she had accepted the mission. Aisha's husband, Rajiv Anwar, had been a marine of the US Navy. He had died about five years ago in a bomb attack on a naval ship. Despite his religion and its forbidding, nobody had listened to Aisha and her husband had been autopsied.

The murderer had been found and Rajiv had been buried.

But Aisha could never live with the guilt that because of those idiotic marine investigators, the honor of her husband has been dirtied. She had saved enough money to hire a hatchet man to kill the doctor who had performed autopsy on her husband five years ago: Dr. Donald Mallard.

She had moved to Washington and gotten to know the underground and also had heard of the these day's best hit man: seventeen year old Scarlet Jones, just 'Scar' in the underworld, where her big half-moon shaped scar was no secret.

The half-moon had been a coincidence, but a doubled one also was the symbol of bisexuality, which also matched to Scarlet: She didn't care if her sex partners were men or women.

Scarlet parked with a good distance to Ducky's house. She had been observing him for nearly a month now.

Aisha had told her to wait a bit. Meanwhile, Scarlet had of course killed a lot of other people, most of them as contract, some for fun. Ducky got out of his car and went to his house, he opened the door and went in.

Scarlet has been in his house sometimes, too.

She had got to know Ducky and now she knew him very, very well.

She sighed. Another night in the car. She grabbed her book and started reading again. Although she had pursued a profi killer career she had managed to graduate somehow, mostly teaching it to herself and in the age of fifteen she had visited high school for one month at the end of the trimester and had passed graduation exams.

She was high educated and in the age of sixteen she had started a distance university course in Informatics although she also was very interested in Physics, especially Astrometry and Maths.

When she continued life as criminal at night, she mostly learnt for her studies at day and already was a third-semester student, of course, under wrong name.

She knew that this night, Ducky wasn't going to do anything interesting, so at two a.m. she decided to drive home to a little apartment downtown. She didn't need much and the apartment was very small.

She earned a lot of money by killing and doing other dirty jobs but she mostly saved it. Sometimes she made holidays somewhere where it was warm and just to relax, without killing and without doing high crimes. Of course, she sometimes got dragged into the drug scene but she never has consumed anything regularly, she only did so from time to time.

She entered her little apartment, closed the door behind her, put off shoes and jacket, threw the house and the car keys on the dining table and directly went to the bedroom.

She looked at herself in the mirror, then changed clothes, put on make-up, grabbed the keys and went off again.

She had a marine to kill.