Chapter 2

"Talk to me, McGee," Gibbs said.

Tim gulped. Tony and Ziva had left to conduct their suspect into interrogation and the evidence down to Abby. Gibbs was in one of the moods that made Tim wish he had someone to hide behind. No one being present, he took a deep breath and began.

"This is the file that came up when I accessed Stan Burley's file." He clicked on the plasma.

"That's not Stan Burley."

"I know, Boss. Tony told me. He told me that I needed to find the real file...but that's the file that comes up."

"That's the same guy who is down in Autopsy."

"Really?"

"No, I'm joking, McGee," Gibbs growled.

"Yeah...I mean..." Stop stammering, McGee! "...I thought that this would be a problem with the files...not with the person. Um...So...I...did more searching. I sifted through some of the layers by..." Gibbs was glaring. "...and you don't need to know how I did it. Anyway, Tony was right. This is the file that came up when I finished looking." He clicked again.

"That's Stan."

"Yeah. That's the file, but the number's been changed, and you see how there's an X just before his last name? That would throw off a search, not an in depth search, but for someone just verifying a record...like what I did first, it would do the trick. This false file would come up in place of the real one. There are some idiosyncrasies in it that you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for them. Whoever did this was good...but not an expert. ...and, Boss..."

"What, McGee? Spit it out!"

"They would have had to have been part of NCIS...or at least had access to our servers in order to change the files. It could be done from outside, but...but I don't know if they're good enough to have done it that way."

"Well, this guy was serving as Agent Afloat for the last six months."

Tim's eyes widened. "That long? Boss, what about–?"

"No one noticed he was missing. What are the last places Stan was stationed?"

"Which one?" Tim asked.

"Both of them, McGee!"

"Right!" He began scanning the files.

"Boss!" Tony called. "Wright wants to talk to the agent in charge. He seems to think we're all out to get him."

"You get me the info I need, McGee."

"Yeah, Boss." Tim nodded, hoping he would.

"Tony, you and Ziva head over to Stan's apartment. See how long it's been since anyone was there. Sublettor, whatever."

"On it, Boss!"

Gibbs stalked toward interrogation.

"Well, Probie?"

"There's a dead body down in Autopsy. It's the fake Stan. He was serving as Agent Afloat."

Tony actually gasped in unfeigned shock. "Those tours are supposed to be for six months. Stan's been missing for that long? No wonder el Jefe is in a bad mood."

"Abby was not happy with getting evidence from Norfolk," Ziva reported.

"Gibbs isn't happy about Stan Burley being missing...and his doppelganger being down in Autopsy," Tim said, typing furiously into his computer.

Ziva looked at the two men in surprised silence. "We have something to do, do we not?" she asked.

"Yeah, gear up, David," Tony said. "We're going to Stan's."

Tim watched the two of the leave and swallowed. He hated being left alone when Gibbs was in a mood like this. It reminded him unpleasantly of the first time he had met Gibbs...and he had stuttered then, too.

Focus, Tim! Then, Gibbs won't have anything to hate you for.

He plugged in a few more queries and then gulped.

"Oh, no."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I was really surprised that he didn't ask me to sublet the place. He usually does when he's off on duty. Signs the proper forms and everything. Stan is a good tenant. I didn't like leaving the place empty, but he kept paying the rent every month; so what do ya do?"

"He was paying rent?" Tony asked. "How?"

"Check in the mail, like clockwork, every month. In fact, I should be getting one in another couple days."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah. As sure as I can be, but Stan's pretty reliable. Never bounced a check, never late."

"When that check arrives, I want you to give me a call. Here's my card."

"Why?"

"NCIS business."

"Okay. Anything else you need?"

"We'll let you know." Tony closed the door and looked around the empty apartment.

"No one has lived here in quite some time," Ziva said, taking in the dust, the general unlived-in feeling of the place.

"Yeah. Well, let's take a gander."

"Is a gander not a male goose?"

"It's also a look."

"Odd." Ziva pulled on her gloves and began to investigate.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Petty Officer Wright, you admit to killing the NCIS agent on board your ship?" Gibbs asked.

Layne was nervous. "Yeah, I do. But it was an accident! He was fighting me for the gun. It went off three times." He looked down. "It's the first time I ever shot someone."

"You're telling me you didn't want to?"

"He left me no choice!" Layne said loudly. "Agent Burley destroyed my reputation and made it so I seemed like I had it in for him. People avoided me like I had the plague! He threatened to arrest me for drugs and said that he'd make it stick if I didn't do what he wanted!"

"What did he want?"

"I had to let him use the armory for...his other stuff."

"Other stuff?"

"He was blackmailing other sailors and he used the terminal in the armory."

"Which ones?"

"I didn't really see most of them."

"Who did you see?"

"One of the guys who worked on deck. He was one of the computer guys."

"Name."

"He..." Layne stopped.

Gibbs pounded his fist on the table. "Tell me his name!"

"Jason Orlson. He's a...a CTT, cryptologic technician."

"Who else?"

"An ET, electronics technician...and a guy...an intelligence specialist. I don't know his name. I just saw the insignia. I tried not to be there. I didn't want to see."

Gibbs held up a photo. "This is Stan Burley?"

"Yeah. That's him. You know what, Agent Gibbs? I don't care that the guy is dead. He was...I don't know exactly what he was doing, but it wasn't good. I just wish that I hadn't been the one to pull the trigger. I know the others hated him, too."

Gibbs held up another photo. "You ever see this guy?"

"No. Should I have?"

"I guess not."

"What's going to happen, Agent Gibbs? Can I talk to my wife?"

"What's going to happen is we are going to investigate. You can call your wife once we're done here."

"What more do you need to know? I shot the guy but I didn't mean to. I was just trying to force him to back off."

"You are going to write down everything you ever saw him do and every person you can remember him talking to. If you're helpful there, we'll take the next step."

"What's the next step?"

"We'll see what it is when we get to it." Gibbs stood up and left, holding the two photos in his hands. Wright had never seen Stan before in his life. He strode to the bullpen.

"Well, McGee?"

"Boss...I have bad news."

"More?"

"Yeah."

"Well, what is it?"

"Stan has been missing for more than six months."

"And you know this how?"

"I'm extrapolating based on when the fake file was created. I checked with the head of the Carolinas field office at Camp Lejeune and he was TAD-ed there for a couple of months after serving on board the Nimitz...and it was the real Stan serving there. That's the last place he was seen...officially.

"So...how long?"

"Just over ten months. The file was created ten months and eleven days ago."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They were shouting at each other now. Stan, for the first time in days, tried to stand. The ceiling was low and his head actually grazed it when he stood straight...not that he had the energy to stretch like that. All he knew was that his mind had clicked on. Neurons and synapses which had shut down were now firing again. Not on all cylinders, but firing nonetheless. He strained to make sense of the muffled voices.

"...you chose... ...loose cannon!"

"He was the... ...don't complain about...can't do...now!"

"...killed? You think that... ...guy down there who..."

"...doesn't... ...can't identify..."

"...not stupid no matter what you... ...want out!"

"No one gets... ...hear me?"

The front door slammed. Stan let himself sink to the ground. Just the brief period had tired him out. He usually tried to operate on as low an energy level as possible and that had taxed his meager reserves.

As he stretched out on the hard pallet he used for a bed, he tried to piece together what had been said. No matter what their plan was, something had definitely gone wrong, and one of them, at least, was having second thoughts.

How wrong can things go before I'm a liability? Stan wondered. He couldn't answer that. He wasn't even sure why they'd kept him alive in the first place. Every so often they would ask him questions but they weren't difficult things. ...and it wasn't like he had family to ransom him. He barely had friends, just because of the life he had chosen.

If they know I'm gone, they obviously have no clue where I am. Of course, neither do I; so I can hardly complain.

Still, he wondered how long he'd been down in the cellar. He'd tried counting the days initially, but after he lost a few, he had stopped, not really wanting to know.

He looked at the hunk of bread he'd horded that morning. He wanted to eat it right then.

No, save it for later. There's got to be something to look forward to.

As small as it was, that was all he could do.