Snakes on a Train
Chapter One
Doctor Donald Mallard and Abby Sciuto waited in line to board the Amtrak train that was to take them from Washington DC to their various destinations. Abby was going to Minneapolis, Minnesota, where she would be giving a couple of lectures at a law enforcement convention -- at which would be in attendance the forensic experts of both coasts and the Midwest, from the Navy's law enforcement branch, the NCIS, to the Army and Air Force's, as well as the FBI and the police departments of major cities.
Ducky was taking his mother on a long-promised cross-country trip which would culminate in Ozette, Washington, the westernmost town in the contiguous United States. He had often wanted to take her on such a trip, but his work had always interfered, and then as she had gotten older her health had deteriorated so much that the trip wouldn't have been feasible, still less when she'd needed to go into a nursing home.
But now…now, finally, they were going on the trip he had long promised her.
Since he was on vacation, Ducky had opted for first class accommodation – this included a bed for the night and dinner in the first class dining car. While Abby had chosen to take the train to keep Ducky company during dinner, the NCIS budget did not extend to a first class compartment for people on the clock, and besides, Abby intended to be in the observation car most of the time, getting to know her fellow travelers.
Boarding was announced, and they climbed up into the train. Although Ducky was a gentleman and tried to take her bag, she waved him off with a smile. (Her equipment cases had already been loaded as baggage and she wouldn't see them again until Chicago.)
Abby was in general seating, and after stowing her backpack in an overhead compartment she plopped into her large, comfortable window seat. Ducky remained standing, carrying a rectangular black case – a porter had already taken his luggage to his sleeping car, as befitted someone riding first class.
"Six o'clock for dinner, then, Abby?" he said.
"Sure, Ducky. I'll meet you in front of the dining car at six. And if you want me at any other time, I'll be in the observation car."
"Thank you, Abby." Ducky smiled sweetly at her, and then made his way through the corridor, across the various cars, into his own first class car and his own berth. Now, in broad daylight, it was outfitted as a drawing room, with two bench seats facing each other over a table, with a huge plate glass window to make viewing the scenery easy. At night, a porter would come in and make the bed up ready for the night.
Ducky sat with his back facing the engine. He set the black case on the bench seat opposite him, and opened it to reveal an ornate brass urn, which contained his mother's ashes. He was taking her ashes to Ozette, and once there, he would scatter them into the ocean, as had been her wish.
"Well, mother," he addressed the urn with a smile, "It was a fine send-off, wasn't it?" He was referring to her funeral, which had taken place a couple of days ago. The entire Washington NCIS department had been there to pay their respects – including the Director. Some of his mother's friends had been there as well – albeit not very many as she had outlived most of them. Then she had been cremated and her ashes and urn presented to Ducky by the mortuary. (Ducky, mindful of some scandals in the crematorium business, had been present while the process took place.)
There were a few rattles of the wheels, a few calls from the conductors on the platform outside, and then the train started moving on its journey.
As the train rattled through the industrial portion of Washington, DC, toward the countryside, Ducky kept up a running commentary on the scenery. Although he was addressing the urn as the focal point of his comments, he knew very well that his mother was not there. Her soul was in heaven now, with clear, far-seeing eyes, magnificent sense of smell and taste, and a body that could run and jump as if she were a child again. Failing that, the atoms of her soul were now intermixed with those of the Universal All. But somewhere, she was, and she knew that he was fulfilling her promise to her.
Abby, knowing Ducky very well, knew precisely why he'd wanted the privacy of a first class compartment, and was giving him the time with his mother that he needed. Meanwhile, she was enjoying herself in the observation car. Currently, she was discussing the rock group Plastic Death with a group of teenagers.
At precisely 5.55, Abby arrived at the dining car. Ducky came up to her a minute later, and a red-jacketed attendant escorted them to their table. This was the first seating of dinner, and surprisingly, very few of the tables were occupied. Ducky chose the seat that faced the engine (being brought up in England, it was a truism when riding the railroad – always face the engine), and Abby sat opposite him.
They chatted desultorily between themselves as they waited for their meals to arrive. Abby, whose eyes were always active, danced around the car, resting on each face, cataloguing them in her mind as was her habit. At the far end of the dining car, two men sat at a table in solitary splendor.
Their meals arrived, and these two chatterboxes were silent while they ate, except to comment on the deliciousness of the food.
Abby's eyes continued to glance around the dining car… she loved to people watch. She and Ducky were almost finished with their main courses when her eyes fell on those two men again.
The man facing her must have just received a phone call, because he reached into a pocket, pulled out a cellphone and put it to his ear. This was a rude thing to be doing during dinner time, Abby thought. She watched his face. He wasn't saying much, and now he was putting a hand over his eyes as if he were getting bad news. Finally, he slapped his hands together, closing the phone, and then glared at his companion.
I told you not to kill him! The Russians are here. They've found his body already!
Abby, a hearing child of deaf parents, could both read lips and communicate in sign language.
"Ducky, Ducky, shhh," Abby whispered, putting a hand on Ducky's wrist. "I've just overheard something important."
Ducky stared at her in surprise, but cut short his latest story and devoted himself to the last of his Beef Wellington. He noticed that Abby was staring at something…or someone…behind him.
The conversation Abby was watching was necessarily one-sided.
Don't tell me there's no reason to panic. If the Russians tell the cops what Badunov was up to…
Alright, so it will be NCIS's responsibility. That's even worse! If the US military is going to get involved…
Don't joke. The Russians are 100% worse than the US cops. Jesus, you know what they do!
If you just hadn't killed him...
At this point, the man looked up and met Abby's eyes.
Abby blinked and looked away. She put a morsel of food in her mouth, then looked up again. He was still looking at her. Abby raised her eyebrows, and smiled at him. This time, he looked away. Carefully, Abby moved her gaze from person to person in the car, before finally bringing her gaze back to Ducky. She hoped in this way to make it clear, if he were still looking at her, that she was just a people watcher.
"Ducky," she hissed. "I just overhead the most amazing thing. I think I'm looking at two murderers. Well, one murderer, and one extremely frightened accomplice."
Ducky stared at her. "What do you mean, Abby?" he asked in an equally low voice.
Abby's eyes flickered upward, just in time to see the two men exiting the dining car. She would remember the man whose face she had seen…but she had never seen the other man's face…the murderer's face…
"Abby?"
"I was watching a man taking a phone call in the middle of dinner. You know how that always annoys me. Well, before I could look away, he hung up and starting talking to his companion. "You shouldn't have killed him!" That's what he said, "You shouldn't have killed him!"
"Abby…" Ducky said soothingly,
"I saw it, Ducky. The guy was all terrified…he's afraid of some Russians. And he said that NCIS was going to get involved!"
"Well," Ducky pursed his lips. "I suppose, in the heat of the moment, a man could be so emotionally upset that he'd have a dangerous conversation in a public place like a dining car."
"Yes…there was no one around his table. He was certainly upset, Ducky. And afraid. Then he saw me watching him and stopped talking."
Ducky sat up, concerned. "He saw you, Abby?"
"Well, yes, but he couldn't know I can read lips. He probably just thought I was checking out all the cute guys in the dining car."
"That's what innocent people would think, Abby. But guilty people who see someone watching them, always think the worst. I think you'd better spend the rest of this trip in my compartment."
"Oh, Ducky, that's nice of you. But…"
Ducky held up a hand. "I won't hear any objections, Abby. Besides, you have work to do, and its best if you do it in private."
Abby's face brightened as she realized immediately what Ducky meant. "Of course. I need to call Gibbs and have him get out here, before those two men get off this train."
Ducky nodded.
At this point, their red-jacketed waiter appeared at their table.
"Two desserts to go, please," Abby told him.
Chapter Two
Part 1
Abby sat alone in Ducky's first class compartment. Well, not really alone, Mrs. Mallard's ashes were with her.
Ducky was out prowling the corridors. To be precise, he was walking through the corridors of the general seating cars of the train. Abby had very quickly sketched the man she'd seen talking about murder, and Ducky wanted to see if he could find him. Hopefully he would stay on the train for a good long while, but if he got off, at least Ducky would be able to tell Gibbs in what city he – and his murderous companion – had de-trained.
That was the first thing Abby had done – make a sketch so Ducky could go on his search.
Then she had called Gibbs at home and told him exactly what had happened.
"What do you think I should do, Gibbs? Should I call the cops and have them stop the train? It would be my word against theirs…the killers, I mean…but with you to vouch for my honesty…"
"No, Abs," said Gibbs. "Whatever's going on, we don't want the LEOs involved yet. Does the train make any long stops at any big cities between DC and Chicago?"
"I think it stops in Pittsburgh for half an hour or so," Abby said.
"Hmmm…" said Gibbs. "Well, I'll worry about the logistics on this end. I'll be with you as soon as I can. And, until I arrive, you stay in Ducky's compartment. And when Ducky gets back from his recon, you make sure he stays there, too."
"Will do, Gibbs."
"Okay, Abs. Can you do your sketch on the computer, and email it to McGee?"
"Sure. I've got Freehand on my laptop."
"Okay. Go ahead and do that. I'll be with you soon."
And Gibbs had hung up.
Now Abby was sitting there in an anti-climactic silence. Why should she stay hidden away in the compartment? It's not like she couldn't take care of herself. Even if she had left her mace, stun gun, and brass knuckles at home (darn these foolish travel restrictions!) she still had taken a few lessons from Ziva on how to immobilize an attacker. And it wasn't like they'd suspect her of anything…how many people knew how to read lips, for goodness sake? She should go out and find him, and charm him, and make sure he stayed on the train until Gibbs arrived.
Abby sighed…but she had promised Gibbs she'd stay right where she was. And they had a psychic connection. He'd know if she disobeyed his orders!
"So like a man, Mrs. Mallard," she sighed to the urn. "If a woman is a forensics genius instead of a field agent, they don't want her getting in on the fun."
Part 2
Gibbs needed transport, and he needed it fast. Not for the first time, he wished that the department had the necessary funds to purchase a small commuter jet that could take them places in a reasonable amount of time. They could probably pick one up inexpensively now, anyway, since a lot of CEOs were being pressured to sell their aircraft…by a government that didn't seem to realize that general aviation was full of jobs for people who needed employment, too!
Gibbs was actually thinking of two things at once. Who should go on the train, and who should stay behind in DC to track down this "Badunov's" supposed killers.
He preferred to be on the train. He had the authority to dragoon the local LEOs, anywhere along the line, to stop the train and pluck off the suspects – Ziva and Tony did not.
But this was too big a job for him alone, if there were two people on the train who needed to be trailed.
Gibbs flipped open his cellphone and dialed. After a few rings, the phone was answered. "Hey, Torchy? Gibbs here. I need a favor."
An hour and forty-five minutes later, Gibbs was seated in the co-pilot seat of an Embraer jet, while Torchy, a Marine SP director whom Gibbs knew, with emerald green eyes and blazing red hair, flew him towards a private field near Pittsburgh.
As the plane flew swiftly and silently toward their destination, he pulled out his cellphone and called Abby.
"I should be in Pittsburgh in plenty of time to catch the train, Abby," he said. "How are you and Ducky doing?"
"We found them by a process of elimination, Gibbs," Abby said. "Ducky went through all the general seating cars, and they weren't there. That means that they must be in one of these two sleeping cars – because the train hasn't stopped since I've seen them. And if they're in a sleeping car, chances are they aren't getting off in Pittsburgh. They're probably going all the way to at least Chicago."
"Very good," said Gibbs. "Well, I'll see you soon, Abby."
Gibbs settled back, one hand massaging his chin as he thought over Abby's words. Logically, they made sense. Why book a sleeping compartment if you were going to get off in Pittsburgh in the middle of the night? Nevertheless, he'd feel uneasy unless he was able to get to the train station in good time and make sure that they didn't get off.
Gibbs checked his watch. He'd left a message for Ziva, Tony and McGee, instructing them on what they were to do the next day as regards to finding some kind of a murdered individual who would be investigated by NCIS. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack – but Ziva, Tony and McGee were the people who could find such a needle if one existed.
Finally, the plane touched down at the Pittsburgh Regional Airport. Torchy, with her contacts in the area, had an SUV waiting there, and she drove him to the Train Station.
Torchy, dressed in black cargo pants and a black turtle neck sweater, touched Gibbs on the shoulder and inclined her head toward the bright red Platform sign. Gibbs nodded. He knew what she was doing – checking out the building for all its entrances and exits, in case it became necessary to pursue a suspect.
Gibbs went up to the security desk and flashed his badge. "Do you have security cameras covering the exits from the train platform into the station?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. Everyone who enters is photographed."
"Very good. After the Capitol Limited arrive from Washington DC, I want every single person who gets off that train filmed as they enter the station. Once the train leaves, you will take that tape and sequester it. I'll have someone from NCIS pick it up later."
"Yes, sir," said the security guard.
The train duly came in at midnight, as per the schedule. Gibbs had purchased tickets for himself and Torchy, and they were the last of about 20 people to get on the train. Prior to that time, they had hung around casually in the lobby, watching people enter. Torchy had confirmed that the entrance into the building was the only way people could get off the train – conductors at both ends of the trains watched to make sure people didn't wander along the platform.
About thirty people got off the train, by Gibbs' estimation. Although there were a few men among them, they all seemed to be single travelers, rather than together – not that that proved anything. But none of them had a "hard" look about them, of someone who could talk casually about murder. Regardless, they'd have that security camera footage if it turned out to be necessary.
Finally, Gibbs and Torchy boarded the train and made their way to first class, to Ducky's compartment, and knocked on the door.
"Gibbs!" exclaimed Abby, hugging him exuberantly. "I'm so glad you're here."
Gibbs grinned over Abby's shoulder at Ducky.
Abby released him, and then her eyes lit on Torchy.
"Oh," she said. "Hi."
"Abby, Dr. Donald Mallard, this is Teresa Morgan. She's the director of the Marine Security Police in DC. She flew me down here, and has agreed to provide some assistance."
"Call me Torchy," she said with a smile, extending her hand.
Finally, they were seated. Gibbs looked hard at Abby and Ducky.
"Okay. I told you two to stay put. So….what have you been up to?"
Abby and Ducky looked at him innocently.
"We have found it necessary to visit the toilets on more than one occasion," Ducky said with dignity. Other than that, we have not left this compartment."
"And did anyone else in this car have a case of the trots?" asked Gibbs resignedly.
"No one," said Ducky. "No one in this car left their compartments all night – and no one got off in Pittsburgh, either."
"So we're pretty sure they're traveling at least to Chicago." said Gibbs thoughtfully. "Abby, have you finished your digital sketch?"
"Yes, and sent it to the Night Watch's computer." (That was her name for the forensic technician who worked the night shift. NCIS was staffed 24 hours a day – albeit with a skeleton staff at night.) " He's going to be running it through the facial recognition database and it should be complete by the time McGee comes in in the morning."
Gibbs nodded. "Then, we wait for McGee."
Part 3
It was 6:45 am precisely…7.45 on the train rattling smoothly towards Chicago.
Ziva David slung her backpack down beneath her desk, while her eyes fell on the single sheet of white paper exactly in the center of the desk, on top of a DVD-R.
PLAY THE DISC WHEN YOUALL ARRIVE the note said.
Ziva glanced at her watch. She was her usual fifteen minutes early. McGee should be coming in any time now, and Tony would probably be there exactly on the dot, or at most a few minutes after.
Still, why should she wait fifteen minutes for them to arrive?
Ziva placed the DVD-R in the player underneath the big screen TV. She stepped back into the center of the room and aimed the remote at it when McGee entered.
"Good morning, Ziva," McGee said cheerfully.
"Good morning, McGee."
She paused, as McGee went to his own desk.
"Gibbs has left us a DVD to look at," she told him. "We're supposed to watch it with Tony."
"Oh, I don't think Tony will mind if we watch it without him," McGee said with alacrity, moving to join her. "What's it all about?"
"What's what all about, McAlfie?" said Tony, striding into the room. "Where's Gibbs?"
"I think this DVD will tell us," said Ziva. "If we're all ready?"
Tony tossed his gear behind his desk and went to join his two colleagues. Ziva hit the Play button. An image of Gibbs appeared on the screen.
"I didn't know he knew how to operate the video camera," Tony said, awed.
"Ziva, Tony, McGee. Yes, I know how to operate the video camera," said Gibbs.
Tony made a gesture with one hand, pinkie and forefinger extended. It was an Italian gesture, to ward off the supernatural.
"I am currently somewhere east of Pittsburgh, heading toward Chicago. I am on the Capitol Limited, the same train that Abby and Ducky are on. Abby called me last night and told me that she'd overheard someone talking about a murder, and that NCIS might be called in to investigate it…whenever the murder is discovered."
The trio exchanged glances.
"The victim might be someone called Badunov. That's phonetic – try all manners of spellings when you're looking that up. Ziva, you contact the INS and see if anyone with a name like that is in this country, from Russia. McGee, last night Abby emailed a sketch of our stranger on the train to the Night Watch, with instructions for him to run it through the facial recognition software program. Go find out what the status is on that, and then call me.
The train is scheduled to arrive in Chicago at 8.45 am – and that's mountain time - so you've got only an hour and 45 minutes to find out the name of the man we're travelling with. Go to it."
