This is my eleventh NCIS Mystery and concludes my First Season. The list of stories became so extensive I moved it to my Profile.
The usual legal disclaimers apply. The characters appearing in these stories are fictional with no similarity to anyone, living or dead.
Please Review .
Rating: T or NCis-17. Death, Violence, Intrigue, Mystery.
Warning: Prologue contains spoilers of the previous episode, 'John 8:7'.
Swiss Knife
By: JMK758
Prologue
Tim McGee is startled by the tug from behind which yanks his gun out of the holster at his left hip. As he whirls he cannot believe that Shav – NCIS Chaplain the Reverend Siobhan O'Mallory to the others –holds his gun two inches from his face.
This close, the black barrel is a cannon's. He tries to see her eyes without moving his head more than a hair's breadth. Though her eyes are tight with conflict, they're not dead.
But he knows that if he moves a fraction of an inch, he will be.
oo
He and Siobhan had come to Headquarters the morning after their capture of the blackmailer Edward Samson, who had made the lives of dozens of women – including Shav – a living hell for his own profit. Now all of Samson's pictures of trapped women sit in boxes on Ziva David's desk, Samson sits in a Holding Cell and the agents had gathered this morning to discuss the disposition of that case. Tim had not even reached his desk to put away his weapon and shield before being drawn into the conversation.
That was when Abby Sciuto came up from her Forensics Lab in characteristic elation.
"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!" Abby had cried as she ran into the bullpen, "you've gotta see this. Hi Siobhan, congratulations."
"Thanks," O'Mallory answered, barely keeping up with the 'Caf-Pow!'-energized woman.
"See what, Abs?" Gibbs asked, trying to keep her focused, which was more of a challenge than usual. She was exceptionally pleased with herself and anxious to share it.
"Remember when I broke the programming on all those brainwash disks you confiscated from Sam Richards' patients?"
It hadn't been long ago. "What did you find?"
"Well, I'm done examining every one of them; I had to be sure there were no variations in the coup d'état. Once you filter out all the hinky music which is supposed to send you into La-La land, you're left with a series of progressively worsening suggestions that ultimately become directions. They're so low and so fast the ears cannot hear them, but the brain does. Stage one starts out nice and mellow, a bit of resentment, a bit of aggravation, but by the end of an hour or so you're ready to hurt somebody. It goes on over and over all night, every time you try to sleep.
"Later versions reinforce the need, you actually get addicted to the music; you've got to keep coming back to it. That's why I was having so many problems, I came in in the middle of the program, so to speak. Outwardly you're fine, you're programmed to act like nothing's going on, but inside you're turning into a brainwash junkie.
"They get worse as you go along, but every single one of them contains the kill command. You're supposed to kill the one you love the most - presumably your husband or wife who's in the Service, then do yourself the same way. The instructions get more specific as the disks are switched one for another, presumably as Richards got to know more and more about you, but even 'stage one' will be enough to make you kill on command if you listen to it often enough."
"Abby." Gibbs didn't actually say 'get to the point', his tone did.
"Well, every one of them had the same key command - all but one."
This news was as significant as it was unpleasant. No one had to work too hard to reach the conclusion. "Another Doctor?"
"That's my guess too, but how it could happen that one of the disks could wind up in the group Richards had–"
"DiNozzo, David, check the histories of every patient, did anyone see anyone else but Richards? McGee, get back on that secret pocket thingy in his computer, tear it apart until you find something. Lee, you and I are going out to interview this woman with the different disk," he turned to Abby, "who is it?"
"Mrs. Ann West, her husband's Major Tom West, Army."
Gibbs pulled out his cell phone; he wanted Col. Hollis Mann of Army CID in on this one from the top.
x
"What about this command," DiNozzo asked, "could it be triggered accidentally?"
"Nope. Just like Richards' bunch it's so obscure you'd probably never hear it these days. It's from a pair of children's cartoons from years and years ago, they probably don't run them anywhere but in the Museum of Broadcasting. He used 'Courageous Cat and Yogi Bear'. This other one is 'Secret Squirrel and Batfink'."
"Well done, Abby," Gibbs said, "get–"
What he would have ordered was cut off as Tim felt a sharp, unexpected tug at his left, his Sig being yanked out of its holster. He turned quickly, surprise giving way to astonishment as he discovered Siobhan holding his gun inches from his face.
Abby's quiet whisper was loud in the stillness. "Oh crap!"
oo
No one moves as Siobhan, locked in conflict, holds the gun inches from Tim's face. The distress in her eyes is at sharp odds with her posture. "Timmy…" she gasps, struggling to resist the compulsion to kill her beloved friend.
The gun in her trembling hand shakes so hard he fears it might go off.
"You won't hurt me, Shav," Tim assures her with unreasonable faith, trying to hide how hard his heart is pounding. None of the others, brainwashed as Siobhan is, had been able to resist the compulsion to kill. "I believe in you."
"Timmy, please! I can't – I can't–" She tries to put the shaking gun down, her arm won't obey her.
"You won't kill me, Shav, I–"
She squeezes the trigger.
Chapter One
More Betrayals
Siobhan squeezes harder, harder still and Gibbs and DiNozzo grab her arms, trip her backward. They bear her to the floor, not wanting to hurt her but they pin her arms to either side of her head, Gibbs pulls the gun from her hand and pushes it aside.
She struggles against them, not wanting to fight. McGee, having felt his heart leap into his throat, feels about to collapse in relief. Deeply shaken, he doesn't want to believe Gibbs and Tony are holding the struggling woman on her back in the middle of the bullpen. This is worse than a nightmare.
Then he gets a good look at his gun on the floor and relief washes away too many emotions. He reaches down and picks it up. "Shav, I'm so glad you never learned anything about guns," he tells her, holding the weapon before her. "The safety is still on."
Siobhan continues struggling, the fear on her face at odds with her body which still fights to kill Tim. "Help me! Please!" Gibbs reaches behind her neck under her red hair and squeezes firmly. In seconds her movements begin to slow until gradually she passes out, laying limp upon the Squad Room carpet.
"Abby! That thingy you did to deprogram yourself–"
"I can try, Gibbs, but..." She can't say it. She had not received the 'kill' command, Siobhan had.
"Don't try. Do!" He and DiNozzo lift Siobhan back up, supporting her between them. "Where?"
"The Lab."
They follow her, McGee with them, but Gibbs looks back. "Where do you think you're going? You stay away from her. Remember, once she kills you, she does herself."
"Gibbs?" Abby doesn't want to correct him.
"It's worse?"
"If she can't kill him, she–"
"Don't say it. Fix it!"
xx
Abby leads Gibbs and Tony into the Forensics lab, the unconscious woman supported between them. They carry her through into the inner lab and to the day bed in the far left corner of the room where they ease her down.
When they look across the room, the men are astonished to see Abby removing a white straight jacket from the bottom drawer of one of her cabinets.
"Abby..." Gibbs doesn't even want to get into the inappropriateness of the garment.
"I got it back from Mike Mawher's shop." She sees the look on his face. "The Director approved it. It's mine, I paid for it - I even still have the receipt."
He doesn't want to discuss it, there are more important concerns. Together he and DiNozzo place the heavy canvas garment on the unconscious woman, not cinching it tightly but nonetheless secure. Gibbs isn't concerned Mother O'Mallory will hurt Abby: in her current state she's more dangerous to herself.
Siobhan is already showing signs of returning consciousness, and in moments her eyes are open.
"What happened?" She's still groggy, and her memories come back in a jumble.
"What do you remember?" Gibbs counters, looming over her.
"I was–" she gasps, eyes wide in fright as she tries to sit up, astonished to find herself encased in a white straight jacket. She pulls harder, her struggles increase as she grows frantic. "I was pointing a gun at Timmy! Is he–?"
"He's fine," Gibbs tells her, trying to placate her, "so will you be."
"Let me go!" She struggles harder against the tight material. "Please, you have to let me go!"
"Why?" It's a reasonable question, the answer is not.
"I have to ki–" she stops, realization tearing at her. "Oh my God!"
"Listen," Abby says intently, pushing into the space between the two men until her face is inches from Siobhan's, grasping her shoulders and holding on until she has the distraught woman's attention. "I can help you, but you have to trust me." Siobhan continues to pull, fighting the grip. "Stop it. You have to fight it."
"I want to – but it's making me–!"
"I know what it's doing. You have to fight it. You can fight it!"
"It wants me to kill Timmy!"
"That's not going to happen. Now do you keep fighting the jacket until you exhaust yourself or do you fight that bastard?"
Gradually Siobhan stops struggling, her will overcoming the compulsion. They can see in her eyes how difficult it is, but now the fight is within her.
x
"Now we're going to lock you in here where I can help you. I could have them tie you to the bed but I don't want to restrain you. You have to trust me – and cooperate."
"I–" To be tied up on a bed and locked in this small room, trust comes hard, the words harder still. "I trust you."
"I'll have to make sure you stay safe, but I don't want to keep you tied up. You have to be relaxed, to listen to this music and the suggestions you won't be able to hear."
"I'll try." She tries to sound assured, but the words tremble instead.
Abby reaches out. "I'm going to take your glasses." Siobhan hesitates, looking up at her distrustfully. Being helpless is not a pleasant thing, and she's more helpless without her glasses than just being tied up. "If you can't hold out against the urge to kill Tim, it'll make it a lot harder if you can't find him."
She nods reluctantly, but she does it. "Take them. Take them before I change my mind."
x
As Abby carefully removes the aids, for Siobhan the world changes from a sharp image to an indistinguishable blur of light and dark.
"What can you see?"
"Nothing," she gasps, not liking it, "nothing at all." She hates the feeling of helplessness it gives her. She may be among people she trusts, but it is still hard to endure.
"Really?"
Siobhan is reluctant to admit that "My vision is, well, I'm legally blind. With the glasses I'm fine; without them all I see is a hazy blur. I can't see you - anything."
"That ought to do it." Abby declares as Gibbs and Tony begin to unstrap the jacket. "The door is locked, the lab is locked. But someone – either me or a female agent – will be with you every minute. If you need anything before I start just speak up. I'm going to get something that will help you sleep, and then I'm going to start the same process that cured me."
"Will it work?"
Abby is very grateful the woman can't see her face. "It worked for me."
xx
Gibbs, on his way back to the Squad Room, diverts to the fourth floor, on the MTAC level but through the right door and then left and down the hall. Among the rooms lining this corridor is the office of another MCR Team. The room is laid out differently than downstairs, but though enclosed, this office is as spacious as Gibb's bullpen.
Four desks face one another in pairs along each long wall to the right of the door, the boss' desk immediately to the right. A large plasma screen dominates the far wall, each desk has a filing cabinet and a wastebasket beside it, making the layout efficient though distinctly Spartan. Robert DiMarco feels it helps his people concentrate if there's a minimum of distraction available. At the moment DiMarco is alone; the Senior Agent greets Gibbs and then returns his attention to the paper before him. Gibbs waits - patiently for him - while looking at what DiMarco is writing.
"Interesting?" DiMarco asks, noting his colleague's very obvious attention.
"It does make it easier tilting my head this way," Gibbs quips, commenting on the angle of the paper as DiMarco writes left handed.
"You're losing your sense of the covert."
"Only among friends."
The older ex-Marine puts aside the paper, deciding there's no point in trying to write until he gets Gibbs out of his grey hair. "What have you got?"
"I'm more interested in what you've got." It'll be a fair exchange of information but Gibbs' curiosity will not allow him to go first. The teams these men head are gathering information on the members of Natasha Klein's terrorist cell, which had kidnapped and tortured McGee and Lee to obtain the Delphi Code. Gibbs has decided it's time to see what's been compiled.
"Kimmel and Sullivan," DiMarco begins, leaning back in the chair so he needn't crane his neck to look up at his counterpart, "were something of a mixed breed. Kimmel was definitely the leader of the pair and he was no Mensa candidate.
"Sullivan started his career very small time and never graduated beyond the fake Rolex level; he was an annoyance to the LEOs rather than a challenge, one of those you barely bother with. A string, no, make that a yardstick, of convictions for small time cons and petty capers. He never even made it to felony status; every conviction was for petty garbage. He'd spend days or weeks inside, come out and start right up again. Eventually the LEOs developed a routine: first of the month write out the alimony check, pay the car bill, bust Sullivan..."
"What about Kimmel?"
"Now there, Gunny," the former Lieutenant sits forward, "we hit pay dirt. Where Sullivan was just a messy low-life, Kimmel was in it up to his filthy ass. Protection, numbers, prostitution, drugs of every flavor, bookmaking, assault, extortion – it's a wonder there were enough hours in the day for him. But the interesting thing was he wasn't Mafia."
That is an interesting wrinkle. Was his involvement with the others of this terrorist cell enough to shield him from being absorbed by Organized Crime? If so, how strong was the backer?
But Gibbs doesn't have to wonder how a lone runner stayed out of prison; he's sure he knows. "The Patsy Gambit."
"You know it. No matter what he was into, he always had someone to do the heavy lifting. He stayed clean but the patsy always went down for the fall."
"So Sullivan was the next in the series."
"He would have been if the gang of them hadn't gotten together - and if they didn't have powerful supporters who I still haven't found. Klein was the cell leader and she kept the four of them together; no sacrificial pawns for her - unless it was to be on her say so."
"Do you know how they hooked up with this scheme to wipe us out?"
"No, but you're gonna tell me, she was on your plate."
Gibbs gives him everything he has. Collectively it paints a good picture. The only thing missing is the artist.
xxx
Tim, seated at his computer, is trying very hard to learn how his friend, whom he had just worked so hard and illegally to save from devastating exposure, could have fallen victim to Samuel Roberts' dastardly machinations, especially when the amoral Psychiatrist is dead.
He blames himself. If he were more forthcoming about NCIS' cases, if it had ever occurred to him to 'burden' her with the sordid details of his investigations, she would never have fallen prey to this.
But when, and how, had she been infected? They'd traced every one of the victims from the encrypted, secret pocket on Richards' hard drive. Ziva, Tony, Michelle and he had inspected the files of every one of Richards' patients and it's inconceivable that his partners would withhold anything. Furthermore, Siobhan doesn't fit the victim profile, and her attachment to the Navy, to NCIS, is weeks old. Not enough time...
"There's no two ways around it," he declares to Ziva and Michelle, wishing Gibbs and DiNozzo were back so hr'd have more people to bounce these thoughts off, "there has to be another Doctor out there distributing the disks."
"Well, who is Mother O'Mallory seeing?" Ziva asks, not liking her own conclusion being confirmed. Gibbs had assigned them to investigate Abby's theory that there is a second person distributing another set of disks. When all other possibilities had been eliminated, they have to admit that only one answer remains.
Things had been bad enough when they had thought they had wrapped up that case. It's especially galling to discover that they have not.
"I don't know, but I intend to find out." He snatches up the phone so hard that if the handset had been alive he'd have broken its neck.
"Tim?"
"Yes, what is it, Michelle?"
"Sir," she begins diffidently; it's just a short while that she is on a first name basis with him, now she has to get into his personal…. "I just wanted to point out that, from all our reports, Sally MacDiamond, when she killed herself, didn't even hesitate in doing so. There was also nothing in the Joralemon bedroom to indicate there had been a struggle or any other disturbance."
He puts the phone down. "Your point?"
Michelle tries to keep her drive, not to falter under his impatient demand, "Sir, Reverend O'Mallory fought it, we all saw it. She got the 'kill command' but she fought it. In the end her finger pulled the trigger, but she didn't shoot you."
"Thank you, Michelle," he says more considerately. He knows what she's trying to do and appreciates it. They both believe Shav's going to recover. They believe in Abby. She had cured herself, she'll cure Shav.
Tim devoutly prays she will.
xx
"Father Donaldson," the priest says as he picks up the telephone, having been informed by Church Secretary Ellen Meyers that he has an urgent call from NCIS. Ever since the latter half of July, since Mother O'Mallory had been recruited by this Agency, there never seemed to come a call from NCIS that's good news. "Yes, she is," he answers Agent McGee's question, not knowing why he should. The last time he'd seen the man it was in this room, when he'd agreed to help Siobhan deal with a blackmailer. Now McGee wants information Donaldson himself is not privy to. "No, someone else, that's not the name. Why?"
"She what?" Donaldson barely manages to keep his seat. Yes, the trend is holding firm.
As he listens, his incredulity races his outrage, and he must work very hard to keep from lashing out at the agent. "I know she's seeing someone for help but I haven't asked – all I have is a name. If she wanted me to know she'd have tol–
"All right, I'll see what she has in her desk. I'll get back to you. And McGee - I'll hold you personally responsible for whatever happens to her. She turned to you for help–
"Yes, I'll call you right back." He doesn't quite slam the phone down, but it does take great restraint.
x
Getting up and crossing the room, he sits down at Siobhan's desk and begins to do something that a minute before he would never consider, invading her personal space to, admittedly, try to find a way to help her. That fact doesn't make it easier.
Fortunately he doesn't have to invade very deeply. As soon as he opens the drawer he finds her Palm Pilot in the forward compartment. He turns it on and finds her Contacts. The information he wants is in the Business sub-directory, the Personal section he can leave alone.
There are only four Doctors listed, only one dealing with problems of the mind.
xx
"Doctor Elizabeth McFadden," McGee reports twenty minutes later when he completes his search. Gibbs and DiNozzo have finally returned and he can cover everything once. It's already taken far too long to resolve this nightmare, even though a look at the clock won't let him deny again that it's only been an hour. "She has an office in Springwood, and she's on the authorized list of Doctors who can treat Servicemen, just like Richards was."
"What Bozo is authorizing these nut jobs?" Gibbs demands, feeling the need to give someone a good slap.
"We did," DiNozzo announces, having called up additional information on the woman. "That is, NCIS did," he corrects himself just in time, having caught his boss' glare. "The check-off was signed by Robert DiMarco and approved by Director Morrow about two months before he left for Homeland Security."
Gibbs will pay another visit to his old friend, but later. Right now, they have a dirtbag to dig up.
xxx
The five agents assemble outside the office of Dr. Elizabeth McFadden and the glare Gibbs gives to Tim McGee reinforces the brief, forceful conversation they'd shared downstairs. Gibbs trusts the younger man, but if he lets his emotions compel him to step one inch out of line he'll suffer for it.
There are to be no helicopters this time.
Gathered at the door, their strategy is simple. Michelle and Tony will go left, Ziva and Tim right and Gibbs up the middle. As with the third and final visit to Richards' office, Ziva makes quick work of the lock, picking it silently and moving out of the way.
Gibbs' flinging open the door startles the young black woman behind the desk, she hadn't touched the button to unlock the door. "May I he'll–" she gets no further when she sees the drawn guns and her piercing shriek splits the air.
There's a door to the left of the desk and though the element of surprise gone, Gibbs recaptures it by charging the door and kicking it open, leveling his gun at the single occupant. "Federal Agents – don't move!" DiNozzo, McGee and David are only an instant behind him while Lee remains outside to guard the terrified Receptionist.
His warning is an instant too late; the blonde woman, alerted by the scream, stands behind her desk, her gun aimed at him.
"Put it down," Gibbs commands. They can hear Lee's calm voice issuing a warning to the receptionist, counterpoint to the frantic responses outside and the tension in here.
None of the Agents will be distracted from the woman before them, the one with the gun. "I'm not telling you again," Gibbs tells her, "put it down."
"You're not going to shoot me. You're going to let me go. You'll have to release me, or kill me." She aims the gun carefully, right between his eyes.
"We're not going to shoot you. You're going to put the gun down."
"Make me."
x
Before Gibbs can answer McGee steps forward, arcing to his right, walking slowly, forcing the woman to divide her attention further as the angle of threat increases, Tim arching around to the side of the office. "They're not going to fire. You're going to drop your gun." His voice is cold, empty, drained of all emotion or pity. Confronting the one who hurt Shav under the guise of helping her, he feels no emotion, no mercy, nothing but cold emptiness where he remembers compassion and mercy had once resided. She's not going to trick or plea her way out of this. He puts his gun back in its holster, is glad he neglected to put his shield onto his belt.
"You see, I'm not like them," he tells her coldly, remembering the day he'd confronted Electro. Then he'd only been furious. Now…. "You see a shield on me? No. That's because they question my sanity." He keeps walking around to her, drifting closer through the wide arc. Every time she would turn the gun toward him, one of his partners moves, changes her target, forces her to keep aiming at the three of them.
"Not long ago, during a 'psychotic episode' that I don't even remember so I don't feel the least bit guilty about, I rammed a dagger into the chest of a fellow agent, all because I thought Siobhan O'Mallory was in danger."
He sees realization in her eyes.
"Yes, I'm Timothy McGee. You've heard of me." He moves closer. "You sent Siobhan to kill me, except it didn't work." His voice, his manner, is so cold his friends shiver. "Someone else tried to mess with Siobhan; you might know something about that." He stops next to her, speaking almost into her ear as she keeps the others covered, unable to move to confront him. "I caught the bastard. He tried to cut a deal. I threw him out of a helicopter."
He leans closer, his soft words cold in her ear, "Just imagine what I'm gonna do to you."
The gun slips from her fingers to clatter to the floor.
x
"Ziva," Gibbs orders, "check her for all the suicide tricks you've ever known, then be imaginative." As the Agents move in, Gibbs turns to McGee, "Well done."
"I recognized she's like you," Tim says. Gibbs' eyes climb dangerously. "I knew she'd see a lie, so I didn't tell any."