Gibbs paused his work on the boat in his basement to answer his phone, ignoring the television playing in the background.
"Yeah. Gibbs," he said, and Tony DiNozzo's voice answered.
"A Navy commander carrying the Football on Air Force One just carked in the air."
Gibbs glanced at his watch and thought through all the various agencies that would be fighting over that one. FBI, Secret Service.
"Where'd they land?"
"Wichita, Kansas. President's transferring to the backup bird. I booked us on a 15:00 United flight out of Reagan, stops in Dallas before going to Wichita."
"That the best you can do?"
"It's Saturday, Gibbs. Chloe could call in some favors, if you'd like. But if we had our own jet…."
"We don't," Gibbs said, mildly irritated. Agent Lessing's favors were not going to be spent on something like this. She'd not been around long enough to build up deep stores of favors, and he preferred to save them for back-to-the-wall moments. "Ducky's buds with coroners across the country. See if you can't get one of them to hold the body until we can get there."
"Alright."
"And DiNozzo, don't you tell Lessing about this."
"Boss?"
"She needs plausible deniability if we're going to swing this. She's a good liar, but the FBI knows her playbook."
"Understood, boss."
Gibbs hung the phone back up on his wall and passed the television before turning off the power. He heard the television go silent, and he told himself he was doing the right thing, keeping Chloe Lessing out of the loop on this one.
She was proving to be a good agent, he thought, closing his door and getting out his keys. A quality agent with the right connections to do her job well, and the right instincts to follow his lead on just about anything. But there were enough questions about her past unanswered that he wasn't confident in trusting her, not yet.
/-/
Chloe pulled a handful of peanuts out of a jar on her desk as she got a call. She sighed, having only just turned on her computer. She hated taking calls before she'd thoroughly scanned her email.
"Lessing," she said, answering the phone with her free hand.
"Chloe, this is Gerald," a deep voice answered, sounding puzzled. "I thought Nate would answer. Shouldn't you be headed to Kansas?"
"Kansas?" she said, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear so she could free a hand. She pulled up her email and scanning it. "No, I'm here. Did you need something?"
"They've all left for the airport. The, uh, Navy guy who died on Air Force One?"
Chloe sighed, knowing what Gibbs must have done. A Navy man dying on that plane meant a long list of agencies getting involved, including the FBI. Was it because he didn't trust her? Or because he needed her here? Gibbs never did anything without a plan. She just had to roll with it until she knew what he expected of her, and why he didn't bring her along.
"What did you need, Gerald?"
"Ducky gave me a name, a guy to call to hold onto the body until he gets there. Hold up things, wait for NCIS. Can you call him for me? I just got a body from a local case, mid-level. Pacci needs me to start the autopsy."
"Sure, send me the details. I'll sort it out."
/-/
Gibbs stepped off the escalator with his coffee and bag, and Tony trailed behind with the rest of the luggage, saying, "FBI, CIA, DEA, ATF, even NYPD have private jets."
He smiled and said, "At 36 cents a mile. You wanna drive?"
"It's humiliating," DiNozzo groaned.
They arrived at the security checkpoint and Gibbs set his bag on the conveyer belt. Tony put his on the floor as the Security Guard gave them a curious look. Judging by how green the man looked, Gibbs instantly wished he'd brought Chloe, who would have known exactly what to say. But, short term annoyances would have a better long-term payoff.
"We're LEOs," he said to the guard, who smiled ironically.
"Capricorn," he said.
Gibbs exchanged a look with Tony, who looked at the man with disgust, putting forward the paperwork for the weapons while Gibbs pulled out his badge to show.
"LEO, short for Law Enforcement Officer," Tony said, not impressed as the man took the paperwork to read.
"You new at this," Gibbs said, leaning in to look at the nametag, "Dennis?"
Dennis nodded weakly and said, "First week." Gibbs laughed as Dennis checked the badge. "NCIS…. Never heard of it."
Feeling his lips twitching, Gibbs leaned in and whispered to Tony, "That's embarrassing."
"NCIS?" Dennis said again. "Anything like CSI?"
Tony said sarcastically, "Only if you're dyslexic."
"Okay," Dennis said, brushing off the comment admirably. "You can go ahead and go around the, uh, metal detector, but your bags have got to go through the scanner."
"Wait a minute," Gibbs said, frowning, "you're letting us take weapons aboard but you want to scan our bags?"
"Well, you've got permits for the weapons but you don't for the bags."
Tony rolled his eyes, but he began piling the bags onto the conveyor belt, and he muttered, "We really need our own jet."
Gibbs just let his lips twitch when on the other side of the security gate, Ducky called out, "Dennis! Those bags are mine."
"Oh!" Dennis said happily, smiling at Ducky. "Why didn't you tell me you were subbing for the Doc? You've got a bag permit."
Gibbs and Tony exchanged a glance as Ducky said, "Move it, men."
They started gathering up the bags and following him, allowing the role to sink in. Once they arrived, it would have to seem natural enough to fool any other law enforcement agencies present at the scene.
"We don't want to miss our flight," Ducky said with a smirk.
/-/
Chloe's whole body tensed when Director Morrow entered the office, raising an eyebrow holding up a memo. She forced her best smile and said, "What's that, sir?"
She was a good liar, overall, but she didn't try especially hard for this one, knowing he knew the truth already. She would save her lies for the hard sell.
"What do you know about DiNozzo taking off first thing this morning?" he said, narrowing his eyes.
"Nothing about it," she said with half-honesty. "Would that be why I haven't seen Gibbs today, perhaps?"
"Quite," he said, narrowing his eyes.
Chloe pursed her lips and held out her hand for the memo, letting her eyes scan information about a sudden death on Air Force One, down in Kansas, President moved to the backup and the body left for investigation.
"Well, I wouldn't worry too much about missing out on a piece of the pie, Director," she said, handing it back to him and turning back to her computer screen. "They can't start without their M.E."
He sighed and left the room, and she knew he would back her and Gibbs, when it came to it, whatever they had to answer for in the end. One never could tell with Gibbs.
/-/
"Uh, I don't give a damn which of you is boss," Gibbs heard a man on the airplane say as they stepped up to it. "You ain't moving this body until the M.E. says you can."
"You talking about me, Elmo?" Ducky said, obviously recognizing the voice of the man.
Gibbs barely glanced at the man named Elmo, but instead looked at the body, and glanced at the other people in the room, from a balding Fed to a very plucky brunette woman, probably Secret Service. He could tell by her posture that she was the one he wanted to deal with, if he had to choose. Simple enough, as the Bureau had been shooting themselves in the foot, lately, and she wouldn't want to do much with them, either.
"Ducky!" Elmo said, pleased and relieved. "How'd you like those steaks I air-expressed you?"
"Ah, delicious!"
The Fed and the woman spoke quietly about this, the Fed seemed suspicious. The woman was less moved, but Gibbs was silently pleased he'd made a point of not having Chloe Lessing around. The likelihood that this Fed knew her was something he wasn't prepared to risk.
Elmo pointed out the two onlookers and said, "Uh, Agent Fornell here is FBI. Agent Todd, Secret Service. Ducky, they've been fighting over this body like two hounds over a t-bone."
"Well, it's our t-bone for the moment," Ducky said darkly.
Gibbs cleared his throat and said, "All these LEOs are contaminating a potential crime scene."
Ducky nodded and said, "Oh, yes, my assistant's right. Everyone who boarded in Wichita will have to evacuate the plane."
"I'm not going anywhere," Fornell said sharply.
"I flew in on it," Agent Todd said with a stubbornness characteristic of a woman trying to make it in a world populated mainly by men.
Ducky waved his hand and said, "Very well, you two can stay. But everyone else must deplane."
Elmo took initiative, ushering others off, waving his arms and saying, "Alright, you heard the M.E., let's move it boys." Ducky knelt and Elmo said, "Ducky, what do you think?"
He did a once-over, typical of what he did for his examinations of bodies at any given scene.
"No outward sign of trauma," he said.
Todd nodded and said, "He was stricken after having lunch with the President."
In his off-hand way, Tony asked, "Yeah, how is the President?"
"He's fine. His physician cleared him to fly on to L.A."
"What happened?" Gibbs asked softly, knowing that the first step was to determine what he could from the witness who seemed to have been with the victim at the moment of the death – Agent Todd.
Both Fornell and Todd looked at Gibbs in mild confusion and interest, but he simple stared back at them, waiting for an answer to his question. He knew one of them would crack, sooner or later, and he was betting on Todd.
Soon enough, she did.
"When the Commander returned from lunch," she said, "he had an equilibrium problem and his grip was too weak to hold his briefcase."
Ducky, without looking up from the body, asked, "Did he gradually become ill, or was it sudden?"
"Sudden. He started to convulse and collapsed. The President's physician believed that the Commander had a stroke."
Tony, who was taking notes on the conversation said, perhaps a little too much like himself, "Kinda young for a brain fart."
In that moment, Gibbs wished he could slap Tony, but it would draw too much attention to them, and Ducky was just saying, "Looks like a natural death to me, Elmo. They can leave with the body, as long as they sign releases."
Fornell, irritated, said to Elmo, "Why the hell didn't you say that?"
"Couldn't," Elmo said with a shrug. "Like I said, it's the M.E.'s decision. Release forms are in my car."
Gibbs could have kissed Chloe and Gerald for fishing up this Elmo for them out of Ducky's contacts and making it work for them. He played along well.
"Let's go," Fornell said to Todd. "We can work out jurisdiction for Washington on the flight to Dallas."
Gibbs tried to look completely bland as Todd followed Fornell, glancing back at Gibbs before stepping off the top step, heading toward the car in question.
"Ah, Ducky…about those soft-shell crabs?"
Todd, who was obviously far cleverer than Gibbs would have liked, was glancing between Ducky and Elmo before following Fornell off the plane.
Ducky, who was conscious of Elmo saying too much, hesitated before saying, "Ah, you'll have them by the weekend."
"Ten-four, partner," Elmo said cheerfully, before following the two other agents off the plane.
Gibbs waited for Ducky to sigh with relief before he straightened up and turned to Tony.
"Tony, go hot," he said. "Show the pilot your credentials, get us the hell out of here." Tony started walking off, and Gibbs snapped at him, "Hey!" He pointed up. "Cockpit's on the top deck."
"I knew that," Tony lied.
Gibbs didn't bother fighting his smirk as Tony took the stairs to the cockpit. Instead, he knelt beside Ducky and asked, "Enjoy playing my boss?"
"I did, rather," Ducky said with a nod and a smile.
"What do you think happened, Duck?"
"Good God, Gibbs, I barely met the deceased."
"I think DiNozzo's right. Naval aviator, stroking at his age?"
"He could have bene born with an aneurysm," Ducky argued. "They're time-bombs in the body. I remember this young promising basso-perfundo in London. He was only 27 when he keeled over, in the middle of a Notaro aria—"
Before Ducky could finish his thought, Agent Todd stormed back onto the plane, her hand on her holstered gun.
"Who the hell are you people?" she demanded. "You're no M.E. assistant," she said to Gibbs, "and there's no soft-shell crab within a thousand miles."
"Sorry," Ducky muttered, and Gibbs pulled out his badge, now wishing once again that he'd brought Agent Lessing to smooth all this over while he worked.
"NCIS," he said. "We flew down here from Washington to take over the investigation."
She let her hand drop from her weapon, practically oozing with frustration.
"First the FBI tries to muscle in, and now NCIS."
"Yeah, well, I do believe this is a dead naval officer."
"Who died on Air Force One, after having lunch with the President it's my job to protect."
Gibbs considered her before recalling something that Chloe Lessing said to him once at a crime scene where they had a particularly difficult time with some local LEOs – Sometimes, you should give them some of what they think they want.
"Okay, we can share jurisdiction," he said, although the words didn't feel as natural to him as they seemed to Chloe. "You can be on my team."
"Your team?" Todd said, again reminding him of a woman struggling to make it in a man's world. "Why should you head the investigation?"
"You ever worked a crime scene, Agent Todd?"
She stood a little straighter, tossing her brunette hair slightly, and said, "I'm a Secret Service agent."
He smirked in response and said, "I thought not."
Todd's face was indignant as she said, "Well, don't dismiss me like that! Okay, I earned my jock strap."
"Yeah, does it ever give you that empty feeling?"
"What?" she asked.
"Your jock-strap."
A smile crept across her face, brightening with each word she delivered as she said, "No. Like some species of frogs, I grow what I need."
They shared a moment of enjoyment over the exchange, a moment where he decided that she must have brothers and that this was someone he could deal with after all before Tony clambered down the stairs to ruin it.
"Gibbs!" he said, speaking before thinking, again. "Pilot won't take off until the Secret Service chick gives us the…." He paused at the sight of Agent Todd. "Thumbs up."
She almost preened at this, looking at Gibbs with a face shining from satisfaction as she said, "I think that just made it my team."
And once again, like a never-ending pendulum, Gibbs was pleased not to have Chloe, who would have taken a chance to try to work out a compromise. Per her job description, but still a nuisance.
"No," he said. "It means we'll just have to hijack Air Force One. Tony, escort Agent Todd off this aircraft and close the hatch."
Todd stared at him, trying to work out whether he was bluffing.
"You're not serious," she said, almost a question. He started up the stairs to the cockpit. "Wait!" She chased after him. "Okay, okay! Your team, but only because I don't want to delay us further by having to shoot you."
Gibbs decided he liked her when she held out her hand, and Gibbs shook it. He nodded to Tony, who went over to the hatch to close it up so they could take off, with Agent Todd's approval. They heard the voice of Agent Fornell as the Fed was coming up the steps.
"Dammit, Agent Tood, let's get this show on the road!"
"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry," Tony said, sheepishly. "We, uh, overbooked the flight."
Gibbs waited only long enough to be certain Tony had the hatch closed before hurrying up the steps to the Comm to have a word with the Director and, almost certainly, Agent Lessing.
/-/
Chloe fielded a call from a very angry FBI director while the call came in from Gibbs and said she'd have to discuss the matter with her superior before cutting the phone call off and hurrying to MTAC. She could deal with the FBI later, but Gibbs was a much more difficult beast to wrangle.
"Did you have to literally slam the door in the FBI's face?" Director Morrow was asking Gibbs as she entered, and neither man made any sign of acknowledging her, although she knew both knew she was there.
"There were more of them than us," Gibbs answered.
"There's always more of them than us," the Director said sharply. "You didn't take Lessing, didn't even read her in before you left. You ever hear of interagency cooperation?"
Gibbs sat a little straighter and said, "Yes, sir. I got the Secret Service Agent-in-Charge at Wichita to agree to share the investigation."
Neither Chloe nor the Director bothered to hide their surprise as the Director asked, "Willingly?"
Gibbs's nose twitched slightly and he shrugged, but Chloe knew him well enough now to read that look.
"I'll take that as a request for backup at Andrews," she said, pulling out her phone, but when Gibbs nodded, Director Morrow sighed.
"Eh, that's what I thought," he said. "We're spread a bit thin, we've got no agents."
"If the FBI gets this body," Gibbs argued, "we won't see an autopsy report until after they leak it to the press."
"Then make sure they don't get it." Gibbs nodded. "Chloe can smooth a few things on this end. Will this Secret Service agent stand up to the FBI?"
"I don't know," Gibbs said, grinning. "She's got balls."
The two men laughed, and when the call ended, Chloe's shoulders tensed. She knew it was likely that Gibbs only hesitated to tell her to keep a measure of surprise, secrecy, and plausible deniability, but it still stung. She wasn't about to ask with the Director in the room.
"Priority one is that body," Director Morrow said as he glanced at his watch. "You can bet they'll keep hold of it, but the FBI is persuasive. You know they'll seduce the Secret Service into siding with them, over this agent's head or otherwise. Start smoothing things over, clear Gibbs's way, and mine. And I want everything you can get on the two agents."
"Who've we got?"
"Agent Todd from the Service," he said, and she scribbled down the name. "And Fornell at the Bureau."
Chloe's shoulder's tensed further, raising half an inch at the name. If the Director noticed, he said nothing. Likely, he already knew she knew Fornell, from the hiring process. There had to be a note in her file. She said she'd get right on it, but as soon as she returned to her office, she took a moment to find her breath.
Tobias Fornell was a good agent, not afraid to play dirty if he had to. A bit like Gibbs, in some ways. Nothing like him in others. When she made her desire to leave the FBI known, it was Fornell who went out of his way to attempt talking her around, convincing her to stay. He never had a chance at success, but it was flattering that he tried, and she felt a kind of fondness and loyalty for him.
How could she balance that with her growing loyalty to Gibbs? How was she going to find a way to stab one in the back to aid the other?
/-/
As soon as Gibbs returned to the crime scene, he knew there was a problem from the posture of Agent Todd.
"What's the problem?" he asked.
"There's apparently a discrepancy between my time of death and the President's physician's," Ducky said.
"Log yours. Enough sketches, Tony. Agent Todd's gonna give you a floor plan."
"Oh, no, she won't," Agent Todd said defiantly. She followed him down an aisle, and Gibbs tried to focus on the task at hand through her fuming.
"What can you tell me about Commander Trapp?" he asked calmly.
"I can't give him Air Force One floor plans, they're top secret."
Gibbs grinned, shaking his head.
"Come on," he said, "I saw this in a Harrison Ford movie."
"Well, that's Hollywood speculation. You're asking for the real thing."
"Isn't the President's head down here someplace?"
"No."
"Now, this was in the movie!" he said, looking around the conference room he'd found, pointing to the chair at the head of the table. "Yeah! Harrison was sitting right here."
Agent Todd was not interested in films, though, and she said, "I can't risk those plans getting out on the Internet."
"NCIS does not leak," he said firmly. "These plans get out, you can shoot DiNozzo."
Completely unamused, she said, "No, I think I'm destined to shoot you."
This back and forth was getting the nowhere, and Gibbs wished he could clone Chloe so she could handle the big wigs and take care of soothing the egos of pests on the scene all at once.
"What about Commander Trapp?" he prompted, pushing her to something she'd be less inclined to fight him on."
"Only met him this morning. He just received his Yankee White clearance and was Major Kerry's backup. The major has the flu."
Gibbs continued up the plane and said, "We'll have to get a Navy doc to verify that."
"He's got it," Agent Todd said, waving her hands with the frustration that was so evident in her voice as she followed him. "But go ahead and waste a doctor's time double-checking like your…Ducky."
He found a cabinet and paused in front of it, looking at the keypad lock. An armory, if he had to guess.
"This is where the terrorists got their weapons in the movie," he said, playing with the keypad, just to see if the code from the film worked.
It didn't.
All he succeeded in was further aggravating Agent Todd, who said, "Oh, that is as ridiculous as the President's 'escape capsule.'"
He ignored the barb, continuing with business.
"Anybody switch planes with the President?"
"The President was put on a separate plane. Everyone else boarded the backup except three stewards, who were put in the press cabin."
She gestured to a curtained door, and he considered the door. He said, "What'd you keep them for?" He opened the door to wave at the stewards, who all looked very much shocked and bewildered, which wasn't a bad start. "Make coffee?"
Her anger and irritation reared up again and she said, "I may not know the finer points of investigation like sticking needles in liver or measuring swimsuit models, but I do know enough to hold the stewards who prepared and served the President's lunch."
She did seem to have a natural knack, despite lack of crime scene training, and Gibbs felt there was some promise for working with her.
"Hmm, okay," he said, turning away from the press cabin.
"You want to question—?"
"No," he said, "they're not going anywhere. We've got a crime scene to investigate. Rule number one, never let suspects stay together."
An old Mike Franks rule, but one that served a very good purpose, and one he enforced frequently. Few people could handle the art of skillfully putting suspects together – it was a natural gift – and he didn't like giving them a chance to build a story.
"Well, I didn't consider them suspects."
"Why'd you hold them?" He handed her a pair of gloves as she pondered his point. "Put these on."
"My fingerprints are all over this aircraft."
"Rule number two," he said, pulling out another Mike Franks rule, "always wear gloves to a crime scene."
He'd led them back to the crime scene, and Ducky was kneeling by the body, looking up as they approached.
"I believe I know why there's a discrepancy in the time of death," he announced, predictably eager to solve the puzzle. "Now, since the Commander had lunch with the President, I'm sure the President's physician rushed to evaluate his condition. He also called Trapp's time of death."
"Yes," Agent Todd said, slowly, "once he was sure the President wasn't in medical danger, he returned and…" She broke off, her eyes widening with realization of what Ducky had suggested. "He was gone nearly an hour."
Ducky nodded and said, "Yes. I'm sure the autopsy will show that Commander Trapp expired almost immediately."
"I owe you an apology, Doctor," she said, but Ducky was not flapped.
"Oh, please, it's Ducky to my associates," he said brightly. "I'm just relieved we straightened it out. It's inconsistencies like this that lead to conspiracy theories. It reminds me of a case once in New Orleans. A jealous husband shot his wife off a Mardi Gras float, right out of the clock at the corner of Bourbon Street."
Before Ducky could get too much of a head full of steam, Gibbs said, "Ah, doc, give it a rest. She's got work to do."
Agent Todd smiled and followed Gibbs to the President's cabin.
"Rule number three," Gibbs said, pulling out another Franks classic, "don't believe what you're told. Double-check."
Sarcastically, Agent Todd quipped, "Should I write these rules in my Palm Pilot, or crochet them on pillows?"
He opted not to answer, leading her into the room. Tony was seated behind the President's desk, turning the phone in his gloved hands as a television played. This, perhaps more than anything else since they'd established who they really were, infuriated Agent Todd.
"Oh no," she said, pointing a jabbing finger in Tony's direction, "I draw the line at him sitting in the President's chair."
"He's not using it," Tony argued, turning pleading eyes to Gibbs.
"Gibbs!" Agent Todd snapped.
Suddenly, Gibbs felt very much like a parent, and he didn't have time for babysitting. He turned to Tony and said, "If you're finished taking pictures, start bagging and tagging."
"Just waiting for you, boss," Tony said, springing into action.
"Bagging and tagging what?" Agent Todd asked.
Gibbs looked around at the cabin, his eyes lingering on the desk. "Well to start with," he said, gesturing to the food, "everything." He pointed back to the chair Tony had just unoccupied. "President was sitting there?"
"Pretty good bet," she said in a snarky tone as Tony pulled out an evidence bag, "since it is his desk."
Gibbs held out his hand and took the evidence bag from Tony, and he began to demonstrate crime scene procedure to Agent Todd. If she was going to be helpful, she needed to learn the basics.
"Okay, to maintain the chain of custody," he said, "take the item – in this case, Commander Trapp's lunch – place it in the evidence bag." He did so, taking the barbecue and bagging it. He sealed it, and smoothly folded it over to write on the label.
"Seal it," he said, "record all pertinent information, initial across the seal." He passed the bag to Tony and told him to keep it cold, and Tony passed another bag. Gibbs turned to Agent Todd and said, "Okay, why don't you try it?"
It was impossible to say how she felt about trying it, because at that moment she turned a nasty shade of pale and tossed her hand over her mouth. Gibbs had seen enough nauseous women in his life to recognize that look, and as she rushed out of the room, he followed her with the evidence bag.
"Oh, wait a minute!" he said, desperate to get to her before she got to the head. "Hey, wait! Wait a minute! Woah! Stop!" He turned her around against the bathroom door and shoved the bag in her face, opened wide. "In here, in here…"
She vomited into the bag, quick and clean, without much in the way of chunks or odd colors. He quickly sealed and labeled the bag. Agent Todd snarled at him.
"Can I rinse now that you've got your evidence?"
"Yeah, sure," he said, dismissing her. He was already returning to the President's cabin as she went into the bathroom. When he finished the label, he passed the bag to Tony. "Log it," he said. "Go find Ducky."
"You think she's got whatever killed the commander?" DiNozzo asked, but Gibbs shook his head. There was no way to tell, as they really didn't know how the commander got his stroke.
When Tony left, Gibbs took a seat and watched the clouds out the window, thinking of what an incident they'd have if Agent Todd died en route. He couldn't imagine the kind of mess that would leave for Chloe to wade through, and he wasn't sure even her skills would keep it out of the Bureau's hands.
/-/
"Problem," Chloe said, sitting across from the Director, who was reviewing a memo on Pacci's case. "I just heard back from my counterpart at the Secret Service. He's pretty sure Baer's made an agreement with the Bureau."
"Not with their Head, he hasn't," Director Morrow said, frowning.
"No, with Fornell," she said, rubbing her temple. "Fornell's good, Director, one of the best. He plays hardball, and he's got a lot more to bargain with than we do. They're going to order the body turned over to the FBI once it lands."
"You think Gibbs isn't expecting that and planning for it?" Director Morrow asked.
Oh, she knew he was. That was precisely what worried her. She didn't know what kind of mess he was going to leave in her lap, but they would end up with the body.
/-/
Ducky had Agent Todd lay down on a couch as he checked her over, and took her symptoms. When he'd taken her temperature, he sat up and said, "Low temperature. I think it's a stomach virus."
"I know it is," she said, glumly. "Did you use that thermometer on cadavers?"
With a chuckle, Ducky said, "Would you rather I use the liver probe?"
But Gibbs was focusing in on the case, knowing they were working on a time crunch. They had to get to Andrews any time, and he needed to know what to do with the body and where go once they'd established jurisdiction.
"Why are you so sure it was the flu?" he demands.
With a sigh, Agent Todd said, "It's the same symptoms Major Kerry had."
"Did you work together recently?" Ducky asked, putting away his thermometer.
"No."
"Well, if you didn't work with him, then now…? Ah!" Ducky added, uncomfortable, as Gibbs watched him recognize her disregarding of rule number twelve. He'd not given the rule a thought for some time, not since Chloe was hired. To Agent Lessing's credit, she and Wells hadn't even flirted on the job, much less showed signs of being a couple.
But for some reason, even thinking about it now, Gibbs had this nagging feeling that Agent Lessing and rule twelve were inextricably linked.
"Did you think I was a virgin?" Agent Todd asked Ducky, amused.
Embarrassed, Ducky said, "I'd…hoped not."
She laughed as Ducky left, and she sat up, making herself comfortable as Gibbs frowned back at her. He was still half-thinking about Agent Lessing, but he was also thinking about whether this development had implications for the case.
Agent Todd raised a challenging eyebrow and said, "You gonna lecture me about sleeping with people you work with?"
"Nope," he said, deciding it was better left for people on his staff. And he couldn't shake that feeling that there was something about that rule and Agent Lessing that was terribly important.
Agent Todd just nodded, and before either could start up a new conversation, someone came over the intercom and said, "Agent Todd, Agent Baer's on a secure line for you."
She sighed and slowly brought herself to a full sitting position, frowning at what he presumed were stomach pains.
"You want me to take that call for you?" he asked. With any luck, Chloe had gotten Agent Baer to hand NCIS jurisdiction, but he wasn't going to bet on it.
"I'd have to be dead," she said, and he nodded, laughing. As soon as she was gone, he supposed he'd take advantage of the opportunity to use the President's head, and in spite of Tony conducting interviews at the President's desk, he walked straight in, dealing with his zipper on the way.
No sense wasting time.
"Alright," Tony said to the steward he was questioning. "Well, thank you very much, Chief Steward."
"Yes, sir."
Gibbs gave several beats for the steward to leave before he questioned Tony.
"What'd you get?"
As he peed, Tony said, "Ah, food security's very tight. Incognito purchases, randomly selected stores. No one knows they're buying for Air Force One." Gibbs frowned as he heard the click of a camera. "Stewards usually prepared all the food, but today the President had ribs and coleslaw flown in from a smokehouse in San Antonio. So they only reheated them and served them."
"Anybody else have ribs?" Gibbs asked.
"No."
"Gibbs," Ducky said, answering the only question Gibbs could have asked by confirming his presence, "if the ribs were poisoned, then how come the President wasn't affected?"
"Maybe he's used to PapaJoe's barbecue." He flushed and smiled to himself. "If you two are through taking pictures of each other, maybe we can move that body out."
He led the way out of the room, hiding his smile and allowing them to act like guilty children before they got down to business, capitalizing on Agent Todd's temporary absence.
/-/
"Well?" Chloe said, getting on the phone to her cousin's partner at the FBI. "Deal is confirmed? Don't tell Fornell I called. I want to surprise him."
"Oh?" Charlie said, grin obvious through the phone. "Surprise him when…what, exactly? When your people politely hand over the corpse? Somehow, I can't see you doing that, Chloe, no matter how good Fornell was to you after everything."
"Don't," she said quickly, hoping he hadn't been about to mention what had forced her to leave the Bureau. "Look, I've got to go. I've gotta check in with some local LEOs on another body, get some evidence sent over. I'll send those chocolate-covered macademias, straight from the source."
"I love your mom."
"Don't say that too loudly," she teased before saying goodbye and hanging up, quickly dialing the Director's extension. She had some very tense news to deliver.
/-/
Once Tony and Ducky were in place, Gibbs returned to the crime scene, pleased that Agent Todd hadn't yet returned. It gave him time to practice the face he used when he was forced to schmooze.
When Agent Todd came down the stairs and saw the scene so heavily changed, she said, suspiciously, "Where's the body?"
He summoned all his innocence and said, "I don't know."
They both laughed, which was a mild relief. It made it easier to tell the lies, knowing she knew he was lying.
"You move it to the off-ramp for a fast getaway?" she prompted, and he just smiled and took a sip of coffee. She pulled on her coat and sat down as the plane started its descent.
Gibbs was just wishing he didn't have to do it this way when she said, "It won't work, Gibbs. I've been ordered to turn the body over to the FBI at Andrews."
Apparently, Chloe's ability to work magic had been thwarted for now. He'd have to rely on her stepping up her game.
"You could stall them until we get off," he said, raising an eyebrow.
"No, I can't," Agent Todd said, smiling almost regretfully. "I won't defy a direct order. I'm sorry, Gibbs."
"Never say you're sorry," he began, almost out of habit, but thinking of how he'd ignored rule twelve earlier, he stopped himself from reciting the rest. "Ah, you don't have to crochet that one."
She smiled, but she was uncomfortable with the whole scenario. That might work to his advantage later, on multiple counts, but he prepared himself for a showdown where he'd have to do some prize acting at Andrews.
The Captain's voice said, "Folks, please fasten your seatbelts. We're beginning our descent into Andrews at this time."
They both buckled up, and Gibbs was already trying to decide what to say to Chloe when she met him at the airport.
/-/
Chloe was fuming as she let in Ducky, surreptitiously slipping a body bag in with bagged evidence.
"I'm going to kill him," she muttered as she hid her face and glanced over to where Gibbs and Fornell were discussing the arrangement. "What's in the other body bag?"
"We'll tell you on the road," Ducky whispered, winking. "Out of curiosity, why are you hiding?"
"I know Fornell," she said softly. "We want to get out of here cleanly and quickly, and that means no stopping to chat. I'll get the van warmed up."
Ducky nodded, and she turned over the engine as soon as she was in the driving seat, licking her lips, waiting for Gibbs to get in the back with Ducky. As soon as the door closed, she turned around, but Gibbs signaled her to drive.
"We'll talk when we're clear," he said.
"Tony?"
"Don't worry about it, Lessing, just drive."
She did, clearing them from the airport. She was about to ask whether they wanted to take the same road as the other van, but Gibbs put a phone on speed dial, and she frowned.
"Axelrod?" he said, putting it to his ear. "You know that favor I asked for? They're leaving Andrews. Stay close."
"How did you set that up?" she asked, pulling onto the freeway.
"Very carefully and very quickly," he said. "I've got another call to make, Lessing. Then you'll get your answers." She bit her lip as he dialed again, this time putting it on speaker.
A few rings, and then, "Hello?"
It was Tony, and he was whispering, and Chloe almost swore when she realized what they'd done.
"We're in the clear," Gibbs said. "You can get out of the body bag."
"You're completely insane," Chloe hissed, hoping it was enough under her breath that it couldn't be heard on the other side of the line.
"I never thought I'd say this," Tony said nervously, "but I'm not sure I want to."
"Fine. You've got the search Commander Trapp's apartment tonight."
"Oh, Gibbs, come on! It's one AM!"
Chloe rolled her eyes. Like the rest of them hadn't had just as long of a day.
"Agent Axelrod is trailing you to pick up the body bag when the FBI tosses it," Gibbs said calmly.
"That's funny, Gibbs, really funny. Especially since—"
He cried out, and trailed off, and Chloe turned around, horrified as Gibbs hung up the phone.
"What was that?" she demanded. "What just happened?"
He smirked at her, which she could see in the rearview mirror, and he said, "I guess they found him."
Chloe wanted to skin him alive.
/-/
Almost as soon as they were in the Navy Yard, Chloe rounded on Gibbs. She demanded why she wasn't told the plan from the very beginning, and he headed her off, knowing that she had a job to focus on.
"We can talk later," he said sternly. "Right now, you've got to be in MTAC. You know there's a crisis you've got to charm us out of."
"It doesn't work like that, Gibbs," she said, frustrated. "For the dozenth time, I can't just mop up every mess you make!"
"That's your job."
"And yours is to follow some semblance of protocol," she said, frowning, "or at least tell me what to expect when you don't. I can lie, you know."
"Not to them, you can't," he whispered. "Not to the Bureau. Tell me you don't know that Fornell." She hesitated. "Case closed. Get up there."
/-/
Chloe stood as casually as possible at Director Morrow's side, Gibbs's words still stinging in her ears as they discussed the matter with the Secret Service and FBI Directors. She hated these kinds of meetings, but sometimes…. Gibbs was right. Sometimes they were necessary.
"Special Agent Gibbs has been operating under my direct orders," Director Morrow said, only half-lying.
"Agent Todd was also acting under orders," the Secret Service man said.
"As was Agent Fornell," Chloe's former boss said, glancing at her with a small frown.
"Tom, this is no time for turf wars. Not after 9/11. And especially when the President's life may be at risk."
Chloe made a small hand sign under the level of the camera, one she knew the Director would see out of the corner of his eye and he nodded slightly.
"I'd like to think this is not about turf, Mark. Rather that we all believe we have the right people for the job. We shouldn't be agency directors if we didn't."
Mark, the Secret Service man, said, "You're offering a shared investigation?"
Chloe let her thumb twitch, not that he needed the signal. He knew what he was doing.
"I am."
"Who leads?" the FBI director asked, leaning in. "Your man?"
"We do have the body," Director Morrow said with a small smile, and the Secret Service Director gave a sarcastic grunt. "And let's not overlook the fact that my liaison officer is the best in the business. Do we have a deal?"
Chloe stepped back, drawing herself out of frame. She didn't want to look like she was a puppet-master while they considered the terms. As soon as terms were agreed, she took her cue and hurried to meet Gibbs down in autopsy.
/-/
Gibbs met Chloe in the elevator and she told him they'd earned the jurisdiction. She had half a mind to stop the elevator, he knew, from the look in her eyes, but he'd save her talk for later. Chloe would never slow an investigation if she could help it, which was one of the things he liked about working with her. She was good at smoothing corners and cutting through red tape.
On the way from the elevator to Autopsy, they passed Gerald who said, "I found Abby; she's on the way in."
"Did you wake her up?" Chloe asked, glancing at her watch.
"No, I called her on her cell. Sounded like one phat party."
Gibbs wondered what that meant, but Chloe just laughed and led the way into autopsy, where Ducky was examining the body with a magnifying glass.
"Find anything, Ducky?" he asked.
"Nope, and I won't for hours," Ducky said, lifting an arm to get a better look. "I've just begun examining the body for needle marks."
"You think somebody stuck him?"
"I don't know."
"Anything on the uniform?"
"Not that I could see. I've sent it up to Abby."
Chloe leaned over the body, frowning at it, and she pointed at a spot.
"What's that?"
Ducky inspected the spot quickly and Gibbs held his breath, hoping they had something as the magnifying glass went over it. "A mole," Ducky said, mildly impatient. "Both of you should go home. Get some sleep. I would if I could, this is gonna take all night. What's left of it."
"I'll help Abby process the evidence," Chloe said, frowning. "I need to be on call, anyway. Goodnight, Ducky."
She left, but Gibbs wandered to the side counter and grabbed a roll of paper towels. He put it down on a nearby autopsy bed and laid down, using the towels as a pillow. He groaned, feeling the relief of letting his feet up after the long, stressful day he'd had. He didn't know how Chloe could do it, negotiating like that all the time. It was twice as hard as his work, he was certain.
"Ducky," he asked as he closed his eyes, "why would Abby go to a fat party?"
"Jethro," Ducky said, almost amused as he turned off the overhead light, leaving only his work lamp, "get some sleep."
/-/
Abby was examining the uniform still, quite some time later, when Chloe sipped at a Caf-Pow, explaining the whole of the day to her in excruciating detail.
"Sometimes," Chloe sighed, "I don't know how I'm supposed to do it."
"Do what?" Abby asked, setting up the UV light for the uniform.
"Work with Gibbs," Chloe said mournfully. "He still doesn't trust me."
"I doubt that," Abby said. "He's just not…cuddly. If he didn't trust you, he wouldn't leave such big messes for you to handle all the time. He knows you can cut it, and that you'll back him."
Chloe hummed and frowned at the Caf-Pow.
"How did we ever drink this stuff in college?" she asked, setting it aside and wishing for some tea. She was past the time in her life when she could easily pull these all-nighters, but tea was so much more palatable.
"How did we do without it as freshmen?" Abby said, grinning. The two girls shared a wistful smile as Tony came in with a massive box of evidence.
"Abby?" he said.
"Yeah?" she asked, returning to her work.
"Find anything on the uniform?"
"So far, no dice," Chloe said, leaning back in her chair. "But there's still a lot to try."
He nodded, setting the box down. "Well, I think I found how he was poisoned."
Tony took bags out of the box and laid them out on the countertop, and both women gathered around for a look. It was bags and bags of health supplements of all description.
"This guy had enough vitamins, herbs, and organic food to open his own health market," Tony said. "If he was poisoned, I think you'll find it laced into one of these."
Abby signed a label to keep the chain of custody, and Chloe opened the bag as Abby picked up the next one.
Abby said, "So what are you gonna do while we're finding poison in a health snack?"
"I'll wait," he said with a yawn.
"There's a futon, by the cabinet over there."
Tony clasped his hands together in benediction. "Oh, bless you," he said eagerly.
Chloe laughed, "You became a priest in your off-time?"
He frowned, curious.
"Curse you?" he said, curious. Abby laughed and Chloe rolled her eyes, and he said, "You've had a long day, too, Lessing. Care to join me if it's a futon built for two?"
"It's not," she said, smirking. "And I've got work to do. Sleep tight, dear."
He didn't argue, not being serious about the offer, and he went under the desk to nap on the futon while the two women worked, with every intention of working through the night.
/-/
As Ducky gave his presentation to everyone, including Todd and Fornell, Gibbs snuck a glance at Chloe, who had been the last to arrive. She'd stayed up all night with Abby, from what Gerald had said, and Gibbs was surprised to see that she showed very little signs of wear. Yes, she was young still, but she looked a little too fresh to have not slept in over twenty-four hours.
And what was more, the way Agent Fornell brightened and relaxed when she entered made Gibbs suspicious, so he kept wondering just how well the two knew each other.
Ducky pointed to a yellow spot highlighted on the brain scan of the commander, which was up on the widescreen television.
"My neural pathology exam indicates that our victim succumbed to a cerebral embolism," he said. "Here, in the parietal lobe. I also found a number of clots, most of them centered in the renal artery."
"Isn't that unusual?" Agent Todd said. Gibbs saw Chloe's shoulders tense, and he wondered why.
"Oh, not at all," Ducky said. "In most cases of arterial thrombosis, clots will develop over a period of minutes or hours, spread to the rest of the body."
"But what caused them to develop in a healthy young aviator?" Gibbs prompted.
"Abby's turn," Chloe said softly. "Ducky couldn't find a medical answer in the autopsy."
Abby nodded and said, "Well, I did a fibrinogen test. The procoagulate numbers were high, but they weren't off the charts."
"Any drugs that might induce the clotting?" Fornell asked.
"Well, yeah, but none of those popped up. I only iso'ed the epinephrine that was injected when he got jolted and juiced on the plane."
"No vitamins?" Tony asked. "Herbals?"
"The guy was an organic freak," Abby said. "We were at it for ages. I mean, he probably whizzed green. But none of that'll cottage cheese your blood."
"And we tested the food from Air Force One," Chloe said softly.
"Everything that was bagged and tagged," Abby said, nodding. "Ribs, coleslaw, barby sauce…it was all negative for toxins. I mean, that stuff will kill ya, but it'll take, like, thirty years. Do you dudes in the Secret Service ever think about throwing yourselves in front of the President's diet?"
Gibbs and Chloe both chuckled, but Agent Todd just smiled, ruefully.
Agent Fornell, however, was prompting them to get back to business.
"So, you're both saying he wasn't murdered?"
"However freakish and tragic," Ducky said with a shrug, "it apparently was a natural death."
"I want my people to check your results."
"Of course. You and Agent Todd will be receiving copies of all our tests."
"I'll be sending those out today," Chloe assured him, and Fornell nodded, his body turning toward her. "Let me know if there's anything else you need, and we'll see if I can get it, Tobias."
"No, that does it for me, Chloe," Fornell said. He glanced at Tony, raising an eyebrow. "How's your butt?"
Tony gritted his teeth in a smile and said, "Still bouncing on the beltway."
Fornell held out his arm to Chloe, who took it, leading him out of the building, to the elevator. Gibbs narrowed his eyes slightly as the two began to chatter, wishing he could be a fly on the wall for that conversation. As Agent Todd turned to follow them, though, Gibbs knew he needed to be a fly on the wall somewhere else, and he called her back, holding out a stick of gum.
"Kate," he said, and she took the gum with a suspicious frown. "When's the President returning?"
"Uh, tomorrow," she said, flustered, glancing over to Chloe and Fornell. "Noon. I'm flying back tonight to rejoin the detail."
"Mind if I tag along?"
Chloe was going to kill him, but some things were worth it. Agent Todd waffled, trying to decide what to say.
"Please?" he added in a childish, sing-song way he knew would boost her ego.
The smug look she gave him said it clearly worked, and she said, "You can. Your Sig Sauer can't. We have a rule: no weapons on Air Force One unless they're Secret Service."
She popped the stick of gum in her mouth, obviously thinking he wouldn't go for this rule, but Gibbs knew one thing about rules: there were ways around them. If there were weapons on board, that was all he needed. Lessing could run point here. He took off his sidearm and tucked it in a drawer of his desk. He pulled on his coat, and as he passed Abby and Ducky he whispered, "Keep looking."
He'd tell Chloe in the lobby, if she didn't have the Fed with her.
/-/
Chloe sat with Ducky and Abby, still furious that Gibbs took off without her knowing again. A few whispered words on the way out of the building was not at all the same as a briefing, and she had no idea what his famous gut was telling him about the case.
"Ducky, we have tested everything," Abby said, frustrated. "Mineral acids, organic acids, alkaloids, bacterial poisons…"
"You know, Abby, nature always proves to be a far more elusive and powerful killer than man."
Ducky left after he said this, and while Chloe knew he meant that the stroke could have just been a natural thing, she could see from Abby's expression that he got the wheels turning.
"What are we testing now?" she asked softly.
"You're not testing anything," Abby said, smirking. "You're getting me a Caf-Pow and explaining how you knew Agent Fornell so terribly well."
Chloe sighed, rolled her eyes, and patted Abby's arm on her way out of the lab. Caf-Pow for Abby, coffee for her, such as it was in the building.
/-/
Gibbs watched the new Football carrier eat his lunch, and he thought about the look in Chloe Lessing's eyes as he told her to run point on his way out. It was something like betrayal, and the angry look she shot Kate Todd wasn't any better. He had a feeling Chloe didn't like the Secret Service agent, although they'd barely worked together, and yet Fornell – who was such an ass – clearly held a high rapport with her.
Sometimes, he really didn't understand that woman.
Agent Todd sat down across from him and said, "Expecting him to drop?"
Gibbs crossed to her and said, "I see you're over the flu," as he sat.
"Twenty-four-hour bug," she said, smiling. "Tim got over it yesterday. Tim is Major Kerry."
"Yeah. I kinda figured that."
It was distracting, to have rule twelve brought up so close to a thought about Chloe Lessing again, and being reminded of how much that rule bothered him in conjunction with her was aggravating.
Very defensively, Agent Todd said, "I met him for a drink yesterday. I told him we had to stop seeing each other. I mean, we hadn't been dating long. I mean, we knew each other on the detail for a couple of months before we started…dating. You know, when you're on the job 24/7, how else do you get to know someone?"
Gibbs raised an eyebrow at this rant, and he thought of Agent Lessing again, wishing he knew why. He was about ready to scratch rule twelve just so this enigma would stop haunting him, whatever it was.
"Church," he said dryly, and he watched her face twitch.
/-/
Chloe watched as Abby tested animal toxin after animal toxin, looking for something in the commander's bloodstream that would justify Gibbs's gut. Chloe was beginning to think there was nothing there as she finished the story about how she knew Fornell and how well, and Abby tested pufferfish.
Negative.
"You know, one thing Tobias did teach me," Chloe said softly, "is not to beat a dead horse."
"Don't start quoting rules Gibbs didn't make," Abby said sternly. "If you can't be helpful, go…not be helpful in the squad room or MTAC or your office. And if you want to be helpful, bring me another Caf-Pow."
Chloe rolled her eyes, said she'd check in the squad room and grab some Caf-Pow on her way back down.
Tony shouldn't be left on his own too long, anyway.
/-/
"Annie," Agent Baer said to a woman in the Press cabin, next to where Gibbs and Agent Todd were seated.
"Yes?" a feminine voice answered.
"The president's ready to see you."
Gibbs watched with interest as this Annie followed Agent Baer out of the cabin, past Gibbs and Agent Todd, up the plane.
"Where they going?" he asked softly once they were well past.
Agent Todd glanced at them and said, "The President promised ten minutes to each member of the press on board. Since we kicked them off at Wichita, he's playing catch-up."
Gibbs nodded thoughtfully, thinking how life often imitated art, and he said softly, "Three years before 9/11, Clancy wrote a book where a terrorist hijacked a commercial jetliner and crashed it into the Capital." He glanced into the press cabin. "In the Harrison Ford movie, the terrorists were reporters."
This agitated her, and she said, "Gibbs, everyone on board has been vetted by us for years. Except you."
He shrugged.
"In the film, the terrorists got their credentials from a Secret Service turncoat."
He decided to go to the head to clear his mind, letting Caitlin Todd digest that one for a minute. And he hoped Chloe was turning up something back in Washington.
/-/
On the way up to get Caf-Pow and check on Tony, she was told by Tony that there was a body, and he needed her to come along because he was one short.
"It'll probably be nothing," he said.
She told Pacci, who was taking some evidence down to Abby for processing, that he should grab a Caf-Pow on Chloe's tab.
They pulled up to a street where some local LEOs were checking over a car, tape surrounding the scene. They got out of the car and Chloe pulled out her credentials. Tony spoke while they flashed their badges.
"Agents DiNozzo and Lessing," Tony said, "NCIS. What do you got?"
The officer gestured to the corpse.
"One dead Marine officer. No signs of trauma." He helped up a wallet and said, "Doesn't appear to be a robbery, there's still cash and credit cards in his wallet." He passed the wallet to Tony. "I've got two shootings already this morning. Since this guy's one of yours, I hoped you might take it."
Tony flipped open the wallet, frowned at the ID, and passed it to Chloe.
Major Timothy Kerry.
From the briefing Gibbs gave her, that was the name of the original Football carrier who had the stomach flu and had to pass it on to the back-up – the man already in NCIS cold storage.
"We'd be happy to," she said, handing the wallet back to Tony, who was already pulling out an evidence bag.
When the officer thanked them and got in his car, she turned her back to the other officers and said, "I'll call Ducky."
Before she could open her phone, however, it rang. Tony raised his eyebrows and said, "That was creepy."
"Abby," Chloe said, hoping it was good news as she opened her phone and pressed it to her ear. "Hey, Abby, what have you got?"
"I only identified the toxin!" Abby said cheerfully.
"So, it's murder," Chloe said, nodding. "Yup, that was going to be my guess. We've got another body. Can you call Ducky? Tony will text you the address. I'll go over the scene, and as soon as Ducky and Gerald get here I'm headed back your way. I need to see what you've got and get ready to call Gibbs."
"Alright, I'll pass it on."
/-/
Gibbs had explored the plane once more, and something didn't sit right with him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it wasn't good.
"There's something different about this plain than Air Force One," he said to Agent Todd.
"This is Air Force One," she said, alluding to the semantics of the back-up becoming Air Force One in name when the President was onboard.
"You know what I mean," he said, annoyed.
Agent Baer was swapping press people, taking a Leonard up this time.
"There's some minor differences," she told Gibbs. "2900 is newer, has some minor updates."
"Like what?"
She sighed.
"Rear loading hatch is bigger on the 2900. Extra lavatory forward. Locks are digital on 29, and keyed on this."
She was about to say something else when a man on the intercom said, "Special Agent Gibbs, you have a teleconference call in Comm."
He stood and said, "Kate, I want to know every difference on this plane, no matter how small you think it is."
He walked away from her, and barely heard her prompting for a "please," but he wasn't in the mood for pleading. His gut was churning, and he wasn't surprised when Tony and Chloe were calling from MTAC.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Major Kerry is dead," Tony said. "D. C. cops found the body in his car on a street in Georgetown. Ducky and Abby'll update you."
Chloe signaled for windows to be opened into the lab and autopsy, so they could contribute.
"Another stroke, Duck?" Gibbs asked.
"I'm afraid so, Gibbs. But this time, there are multiple embolic infarctions. The Major must have received a higher dose than the commander."
"Dose of what, Abby?"
"A special venom," Chloe said, because Abby had her Caf-Pow straw in her mouth. "It's from costal taipan, which is a snake in Australia. Extremely toxic. Zaps your nervous system, clots your blood. So, seizure and stroke."
"The toxin is almost impossible to detect," Ducky said.
"Well, the truth is, Abby would have detected it if I hadn't interrupted her while she was ALSing the uniform," Tony said sheepishly, and Chloe's lips tightened.
Gibbs leaned back, eyes narrowing as he considered this situation.
"The venom was in the uniform?"
"Yeah," Abby said eagerly. "I found traces of DMSO in the collars and the cuffs. I think it was mixed with the venom to make it absorbed through the skin."
"Major Kerry was the intended target," Tony said, frowning. "When he came down with the flu, he didn't put his uniform on until yesterday."
"Of course, then there's the question of how the poison got in the uniforms," Chloe said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Well," Abby said cheerfully, "they both have tags from Dry Doc Cleaners on 19th Street."
"DiNozzo," Gibbs said, frustrated, "why are you standing there? Get a team and go hit that dry cleaners."
Tony glanced to the Director, who was standing nearby, and he came forward.
"Chloe and I have passed that baton on to the FBI," Director Morrow said. "This has all the earmarks of Al-Qaeda; unexpected, well planned, brilliantly executed. But to what end?"
"Wouldn't surprise me to hear Bin Landin on Al-Jazeera bragging about how he iced the President's Ball carriers," Tony said."
Director Morrow frowned and he said, "I don't think that's what he wants to brag about."
"No," Chloe said softly, narrowing her eyes. "Definitely not. Gibbs, Fornell said he would call when he finished at the dry cleaner. Do you need anything from me?"
Gibbs narrowed his eyes, wondering what to do next. He shook his head and signed off without a word, still considering. There were a lot of possibilities, and the one that seemed most plausible was not one he really wanted to speculate. He hurried down the stairs, and the new Football carrier was there. The young man leapt to his feet when he saw Gibbs.
"Where'd you get your uniform dry-cleaned?" Gibbs asked.
"Base cleaner at Quantico, sir."
Gibbs nodded and walked back down the aisle, and he came across Agent Todd on the way. She had a laptop open in her arms.
"I've accessed everything I could on the differences," she said, but he wasn't listening.
"We need to talk," he said, reaching for an office door. She stopped him, horrified.
"What are you doing? There's a campaign conference going on in there."
He wished he had Chloe for this one as he fought his frustration and said, "I need to talk to you in private."
"Well, there's no other private meeting room. You could ask the President to give up his office, but it might be a little weird."
Agitated and impatient, Gibbs took the laptop from her arms and tossed it down on a nearby seat. He ignored her protests as he pushed her into a bathroom and squeezed in after her.
"Hey!" she cried out, but he wasn't interested. He closed the door, took her weapon, and snapped at her.
"Sit down."
"What are you doing?" she cried, and he pointed her weapon at her.
"Commander Trapp was poisoned," he said sharply. "Australian snake venom. Hard to detect, mimics a natural death."
"What?" she said. "You think I did it?"
"Well, sweet pea, you were with him when he was poisoned."
"Yeah, so was the President," she snapped back. "You gonna accuse him?"
"No," he said, his heart pounding. "He wasn't with Major Kerry yesterday."
"Time?" she said, her mind working overtime to process this.
"Yeah," he said. "Stroked on a Georgetown street." She looked upset, but that could be faked, so he pushed harder. "You know, I bet it wasn't far from the bar where you to kissed and said bye-bye."
Well, that did it. Agent Todd started hitting him with balled fists, incredibly upset, crying. She swore at him, but when he wrapped his arm around her back, she buried her face in his shoulder to cry.
He sighed and said, "I gave it to you cold, wanted to see your reaction. Liars can't bail on cue."
When she had composed herself enough, he gave her back her weapon, and he gestured.
"Come on," he said, desperate to get back to work.
"You're still a bastard," she said, holstering her weapon again. Gibbs said nothing, and she said, "How were they poisoned?"
"Dry cleaner laced their uniforms with poison. Must be an Al-Qaeda sleeper."
"Tim must have recommended his dry cleaners," she said softly, "he…"
She trailed off, frowning, and Gibbs said, "What?"
Kate began to cry again as she said, "Yesterday, Tim told me that they had a drink and he gave Commander Trapp tips like that."
"Well, they've got to be after the President," Gibbs said, but what would killing the Ball carrier give them?"
"Nothing," she said, shrugging. "Another aide steps in."
His eyes widened, and he realized he'd been on to something all day.
"And another plane. This plane. They forced the President to fly his backup."
"Security's exactly the same," she argued, not seeing the point.
"But the plane isn't," he insisted. "And I'll be Security isn't either, until the President's on board. Al-Qaeda has to have planted something on this plane."
"It can't be a bomb," she reasoned, "they would have detonated it by now."
He hummed and said, "You said the locks were different."
"29 has digital ones," she recited, "this one has keys."
"Armory," he said, realizing. "They have keys to the armory. They copied the movie. They've vetted a reporter."
"That would take years," she said, putting in her earwig.
"So did setting up 9/11," he argued, leading her out of the bathroom.
She looked up from her comm chatter and said, "There's a medical emergency in the press cabin."
He shook his head and said, "It's a diversion. Cover the President."
He went back to the press cabin, she took off in the other direction. He grabbed a handgun from the armory, which was open, and he headed back up toward the President. The Football carrier was in front of the door, and one of the press officers between Gibbs and the Marine.
"Sir, stop right there," the Football carrier said sternly. "Stop right there, sir!"
"What's happened?" the journalist said.
"Freeze!" Gibbs said, pointing the handgun at the man. He could feel his pulse in his ears. "Get your hands in the air."
Very slowly, turning to face Gibbs, the man said, "Sure. Someone yelled for a doctor."
The man started firing an automatic toward Gibbs, letting it fire in an arc as his arm swung and his body turned. Gibbs didn't flinch, didn't hesitate, didn't wait for the arm to move too far. He fired once at Leonard's chest. The man fell to the floor, his finger limp on the trigger of the automatic. Gibbs shot twice more, once in the head and once in the chest. The man kneeled over, dead.
Others gathered around, drawn by the sound of guns, and he looked up at Kate Todd, whose eyes were wide. He passed the body on the floor of the plane with his gun, handing it to her with a wink, enjoying her astonished expression and wondering if Baer would want to report to NCIS, or if he could be the one to tell Chloe Lessing. He didn't think on it much, but for some reason Gibbs thought he'd really enjoy telling her that story.
/-/
With slightly trembling hands, Chloe gave a memo to Director Morrow, who read the information about the incident on Air Force One with a nod of satisfaction.
"Fornell called while you were in MTAC," he said with a small smirk. "Seemed disappointed it was me and not you. They've got everything they need for shutting down that cell at the dry cleaners. That was good work."
"Exhausting work," she said, sitting down. "Agent Baer said Gibbs wanted to be the one to tell me, but Baer exercised his privilege to make the call out. Wanted to gloat in his triumph, no doubt."
He narrowed his eyes and sat back in his chair, considering her as she tried to think of why Gibbs would give her a one-word message through Baer: basement. Was it an invitation? An order? A suggestion? Did he mean the basement of the building? And if so, which one? Or was it his basement, where he famously did woodworking?
Did she dare try to figure it out without a clearer message?
"He wouldn't do that," Tom said softly. "Gibbs wanted to be the one to tell you, Chloe, because he wanted to celebrate with you. Consider it a friendly gesture, a first step. He's starting to see you as an equal. Terrifying, actually."
"Why's that?" she said, smiling with good humor, even though she wasn't sure she believed him.
"You and Gibbs, working in tandem? He gives me enough headaches without you backing him up. Think of the trouble he'd feel licensed to cause with an expert fixer behind him."
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The emergency vehicles surrounding Air Force One on the tarmac were a welcome sight, mostly because they weren't NCIS and they marked the end of Gibbs's investigation.
"I'm gonna be doing paperwork for a week," Agent Baer said darkly.
"Oh yeah, me too," Gibbs said, already wondering if he could talk Chloe Lessing into doing a lot of it for him.
"Agent Todd told me about her and Major Kerry when she tendered her resignation."
Now, that piqued Gibbs's curiosity, and he let his wheels turn as he considered the possibilities. There were a couple of empty desks in the squad room, one right between himself and DiNozzo.
"Are you accepting?" he asked.
"Of course, she broke the rules." Baer smiled tightly and offered his hand. "Well, thank you, Special Agent Gibbs."
"No sir, thank you," Gibbs said, shaking the man's hand.
The thanks was for many things. For being allowed the privilege of flying the plane in the first place, for allowing Kate free….
He deplaned with a smile. He was going to get a new agent – he was certain of it – and a good one, and then he was going to his basement, where he was about eighty percent sure Agent Lessing would be joining him for a drink. It would shape up to be a good night, all around. He spotted Kate Todd walking away from the scene, and he ran after her, determined not to let her get away.
"I heard you quit, Agent Todd," he said as he came level, and they both stopped.
"Happy news gets around fast," she said bitterly. "Yes, I resigned," she said with a sigh. "It was the right thing to do."
"Yup," he said brightly. "Pull that crap at NCIS, I won't give you a chance to resign."
"Is that a job offer?"
He said nothing, but his ride showed up in a convertible – his latest fling. He knew she wouldn't stay the night at his place, and he didn't expect Chloe to be around until quite late, so he would go about his life as usual until she showed.
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Chloe's hands were shaking as she knocked on his door, tucking her hair behind her ear. She'd never been to Gibbs's house before, but it hadn't been difficult to find out where he lived. She waited, but there was no answer, and for a while she thought perhaps she'd misunderstood. Maybe he wasn't expecting her at all.
Then she sighed and muttered to herself, "You idiot, he said basement."
She tried the door and was a little nervous to find it was not locked. Then, on the inside, she realized it didn't have a lock. She called out his name, and he called back from somewhere below her. Once she found the stairway down to the basement, she went down, and was surprised to find him sanding the frame of a boat with the television on.
On the television, even more astonishing, was Fornell speaking to the press.
"Federal agents working in unison with the Secret Service were able to foil a terrorist attempt to assassinate the President while he was on board Air Force One. The body of the terrorist is being delivered to the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology, where FBI forensics experts will endeavor to identify him."
"Was it Al-Qaeda?" a reporter asked.
"That's all we know at this time."
Chloe hummed, and she started when Gibbs turned off the television, gesturing for her to come in. She sat on the bench where he cleared a space for her, and he poured them each bourbon. Chloe didn't drink it usually, but she didn't mind it. She and Abby drank their way through the whole alphabet of alcohol in college, and the only thing she struggled to understand was tequila. Somehow, she didn't think Gibbs was a tequila sort of man.
"Cheers," she said, taking her drink.
"Your friendship with Fornell," he said, watching her take a healthy gulp of the bourbon. She'd never understood sipping, and she didn't waste good alcohol by downing it in one – that was an insult to the distillery.
"What about it?"
"Was he your boss?"
"No," she said, stretching her legs. "He was my cousin's boss for years, and when I…. Well, he was the contact in the FBI for the…loan I was on, in England. I didn't answer to him, but he kept the records, so to speak."
"Did he recommend you leaving?"
"Actually," she said, frowning, "he tried to talk me out of leaving. Tried every way he could think of."
"Smart man."
Somehow, those two words, more than anything Gibbs had ever said to her, made her chest grow warm with pride and relief. In some measure, Tom was right. Gibbs wasn't rubbing in his victory, he was sharing it with her…like an equal.
"You don't like Agent Todd," he said, again not a question.
"I don't really know Agent Todd," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "She just…reminds me of someone I never particularly…understood."
"Who's that?"
"My mother."
Gibbs laughed, and he topped off her glass before refilling his own. Chloe glanced at the dark television screen and said, "We worked well this time, didn't we?"
"Chloe, we always work well together. I don't know what it is, but I don't think I've ever worked with someone who understood the way I work so quickly."
She frowned, and a flash of a face filled her memory, a face she'd been trying to forget for some time now. The harder she tried, the more it haunted her. She took another drink of her bourbon to keep from saying what had popped into her mind….
It was her gift, understanding how people worked. Finding a way to work with them, to work for them. It involved admiration, and the danger of being able to admire anything done well.
Ability and, it had been said, curse.
She smiled tightly and said, "Tell me about your boat."
Gibbs was intelligent. He knew she was opting not to say something, but whether he had even an inkling of what it was, he kept hidden. Instead, he took another drink of his bourbon and began to tell her the history of this boat frame, from the very first bit of wood he purchased for it to the sanding he'd been doing when she walked in.
A/N: So, we've now see Chloe and Gibbs "work" together, we've introduced Kate and Fornell, and Chloe has now seen Gibbs's basement. Want to let y'all know, I'll be skipping Hung Out to Dry, and going straight in for Seadog. Not every episode will be covered (some are just irrelevant to my plot), and not every chapter will be an episode from the show. There will be some completely original snippets. Also, not all episodes will feature Chloe heavily. Some will feature Nathan Wells, the Internal Liaison. Some will feature both. They've both got their own plots and secrets, but Chloe's the main event.
Also, as we hit review targets (first one being five reviews, then ten, then fifty, etc.), I will start posting background drabbles-as-chapters in a companion story to this. So, want to know about Chloe's childhood, college and grad school, and eventually her mysterious FBI mission in London? Review, review, review!
Review Prompt: Chloe doesn't like Kate. Is this going to be a lasting issue, or one like where Abby initially didn't like Ziva? Which do you think it is, and which would you prefer?
Q&A: PLEASE ask questions. I'll answer any/all questions here! Don't be shy!
-C