"Whadda'ya got," barked Gibbs as he entered the bullpen.
Ziva looked up from her desk and shrugged. "Not much. It seems that most of the club members used an alias and paid cash. I am not surprised given the nature of their activities, but I can not find anyone to interview. McGee is trying to track them down via cell phones and the few credit card receipts we have."
Gibbs looked over at McGee. "I need that information now."
"I'm working on it, boss. Most of the cells are throwaways and practically all of the cards are under aliases. I can get the real information on the card holders but it's gonna take some time for me to hack into the banks."
"Time we don't have, so why are you talking. I want those witnesses found."
"Y..y...yes boss," stammered McGee as he bent back over his keyboard and started typing feverishly.
Gibbs turned to Tony who had been obviously preening while he waited his turn. "DiNozzo, please tell me that look means you've got a lead."
"Interviewed the club manager and he gave me some interesting information. I gotta tell you, boss. That is one unique dude. Very Nathan Lane in Birdcage."
"Tony, did you learn anything helpful," said Gibbs with a distinct edge to his voice.
"I'm getting to it, boss, has any one ever told you you're very impatient?"
Gibbs reached over and swatted the back of Tony's head, causing the younger man to yelp, but also to get back on track. "Nathan, uh... oops ... Mr. Bennett, told me that all of the vics came to the club dressed in some sort of uniform as their costume."
"D.C. police said that both the prior victims had military backgrounds as well," contributed McGee.
"Maybe the killer has a uniform fetish," said Ziva.
"Or a military kink," suggested Tony.
"Dammit! Do I look like the FBI," asked Gibbs. The team shook their heads in confusion at this question. "Then why are you giving me profiling? I want facts and I want them now!" Before the team could protest, he stomped off in search of some coffee as a way to hide his frustration.
Unfortunately the afternoon produced few new leads. McGee did manage to locate the names of a few witnesses but the interviews were not very productive.
Gibbs: Did you see Captain Sewell at the club last night?
Witness: Who?
Gibbs (growling): Captain Sewell, the victim ... he was dressed in a uniform.
Witness: Oh, you mean military man. Yeah, I saw him dance with (talk to, drink with ...) the slave boy (roman soldier, guy in harem pants ...).
Gibbs (slamming his fists on the table): Names!
Witness (quivering): I don't know. Almost no one gives their real names.
Gibbs: Then give me a description.
Witness: I can't. They were wearing masks. Most of us do. Please, you won't tell my wife (boss, family ...) will you? I'd help if I could but ...
The scenario was repeated over and over. Not one witness was able to give any concrete information. Gibbs' patience was beginning to fray but finally even he had to admit defeat and sent the team home for the day.
The next morning, the team was almost quivering with anxiety as they awaited Gibbs' arrival. Even Tony had made it in early in the hope of blunting Gibbs' wrath at their lack of progress. They were all hard at work when Tony startled them by smacking his hand against his desk in frustration.
"Dammit, there's nothing!" he exclaimed before turning to McGee. "Probie, please tell me you've got some new information, 'cause if we don't come up with something I wouldn't want to lay bets on us surviving the morning."
"I've correlated all the receipts from the nights before the murders - and there are plenty of repeats. The problem is that the club seems to have lots of regulars so I don't think it means much."
"I would think that our perp is a regular," said Ziva.
"Yeah, but my list is still twenty-three people long and that doesn't include the ones that paid cash. We have no way of even identifying them," pointed out McGee in a defeated tone. "Tony, you've been looking for other related crimes. Have you found anything?"
"Other than the fact that there are a lot of sick people out there? I've found a killer who uses snakes, one who's into riding crops and you wouldn't believe this guy with a thing for chickens ..."
"Tony," growled Ziva," I do not think we need to hear that."
"Yeah, right. Interesting reading but I've got nothing ... zip ... bupkas. If our killer has done this before, it didn't make it into the database. I'll call Abby. Maybe she has something." He dialed the lab and then held the receiver away from his ear as music came blasting out. "Abby ... jeez, turn that down for a minute so I can put you on speaker." When the noise level decreased, he hit the button and Abby's voice floated out into the bullpen.
"Tony, what can I do you for?"
"I was wondering if you had found something on the Sewell case?"
"I found lots of somethings. In addition to all the trash you sent in, I have the DNA of at least eleven different people and more than twenty sets of footprints."
"Any of it helpful?" asked McGee.
"Well yeah, McGee, if you bring me a suspect, I can probably put him at the scene but as far as identifying him? I might as well use a Ouija board to try to tell what all the trace evidence means."
"You are sure there is nothing, Abby? Gibbs is due in any minute and he is not going to be happy if we still do not have any leads," said Ziva.
"I can run every test in the book and they'll tell me who was there but they can't tell me what they were doing. Well, in the case of the used condoms, I guess I know what they were doing ..."
"Eew, Abby, enough with that visual," said Tony as he made a disgusted face. "I already had to collect them; I definitely don't want to talk about them. Did you get anything off of Captain Sewell's clothes?"
"All the trace was either from him or from the bushes where they were thrown. I did get a few prints off the leather, but given that the man was hanging out at a sex club, I don't know that they mean much. I'm running them through AFIS now but I haven't gotten any hits yet."
"Well, call us right away if you do," said Tony before he hung up the phone.
Just then, the elevator dinged and the entire team looked over, their anxiety plain on their faces.
McGee glanced at his watch. "That's gotta be Gibbs," he said in a worried voice.
"Perhaps we should have gotten him some coffee," said Ziva.
"I don't think coffee'll help. To bad he doesn't drink on duty, because a few fingers of bourbon might do the trick," said Tony.
They waited with baited breath for the doors to slide open. When they did, Gibbs emerged with a coffee in his hand and a smile on his face. Over his shoulder he carried two garment bags. When he reached his desk, he hung the bags over the divider and turned to his team, who were regarding him with amazed looks.
"Report," he said.
In an attempt to preserve his unexpected good mood, Tony, Tim, and Ziva scrambled to their feet in front of him anxiously speaking over the top of each other. "I found ...," "There aren't ...," "Abby says ..."
"One at a time," said Gibbs with a grin. "You start, McGee."
"I found the names of twenty three club goers who were present on the nights before all three murders. Ziva and I have already interviewed half of them by phone but so far no one remembers anything unusual. Also, there were lots of cash customers I have no way of tracing. Sorry, boss."
"No problem, McGee. Tony, whatcha got."
Tony had to make an effort to close his gaping mouth before answering. He wasn't sure what had happened to the real Gibbs, but he was pretty sure he liked this replacement better. "Oh ... uhm ... I've gone through the national sex crimes database but so far I haven't found any other incidents that match up. I think our perp is just getting started."
"I agree. Ziva, anything new from Abby?" asked Gibbs with his small smile still intact.
"She says she has a lot of evidence but no conclusions - unless we can bring her a suspect."
"Well, then that's what we're going to do," declared Gibbs. He picked up the garment bags and after inspecting them for a moment, handed one to Tony. "Put this on and meet me down in the lab so Abby can wire us up. We're going undercover." He turned and left the bullpen, his team staring after him in shock.
"What is in the bag, Tony?" asked Ziva, unable to contain her curiosity in light of Gibbs' unexpected behavior.
Tony unzipped the carrier, revealing a marine's uniform, complete with some impressive fruit salad on the lapel.
"D'ya thinks Gibbs is just happy to be getting back into uniform?" asked McGee.
"More likely he is happy to be getting Tony into uniform," taunted Ziva with a laugh.
Tony blushed and tried to swat her to cover up his embarrassment but she danced out of his reach. "The only problem is that I don't think he ever looked at the 'uniform' Captain Sewell was wearing."
"Yeah," said McGee, "I bagged it and sent it to Abby while he was still looking over the body. So who's gonna tell him that these outfits won't work?"
"Tony is the one wearing it. It is his job," said Ziva. "And I want to be there when he does it."
"I think I'll let Abby explain," said Tony with a wince. "I wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea - and I definitely don't need you two there. Guess I'd better get changed and prepare for the fireworks." He sighed and headed for the men's room. "Just when I thought I might actually make it through this day alive ..." he muttered to himself as he left.
When Tony finally made it down to Abby's lab, he found that Gibbs had already arrived. Abby was dancing around him, snapping pictures with her phone while Gibbs tried unsuccessfully to talk to her. Tony could sympathize with Abby's excitement; Gibbs cut quite an imposing figure in his uniform. He seemed to stand taller and be imbued with an added dignity. Not to mention the fact that there was something about the neat tailoring and crisp creases that was just so damn sexy. All that perfection just begged to be mussed. No matter how tight or revealing the clothing, there was just no other outfit that could compete with a man in a uniform, especially a marine uniform. Tony smiled when he remembered that he was in uniform as well and walked into the room with his shoulders squared. He couldn't wait to see Gibbs' reaction.
"Oh my God, Tony, you're wearing one too. This is my lucky day. C'mere quick, I need a picture of you both together."
Tony kept his eyes on Gibbs as Abby grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over. The functional mute seemed truly speechless as his eyes wandered over Tony. Finally he shook himself a little and emerged from his daze.
"Not bad, DiNozzo," he said with a smirk, "But thanks to the hair no one will ever believe you're a real marine."
Before Tony could answer, Abby had shoved him up next to Gibbs and stepped back to take a picture. Tony could feel the tension radiating from the other man and knew it was mostly due to his closeness. Tony had been attracted to Gibbs for as long as he could remember but recently he had come to believe that the attraction might be mutual. Gibbs, mulish marine that he was, seemed determined to ignore it. The entire team could see it. Even clueless McGee saw it, although Tony could tell every time the thought crossed the younger agent's mind by the blush that spread across his face at the same time. Gibbs, however, was holding the line and Tony did not dare cross it. Better that he was tortured by Gibbs' presence than devastated by a separation. All he could do was wait and hope the man came to his senses sooner rather than later.
"I can't believe I have both of you in uniform," squealed Abby, bringing Tony out of his reverie. "To what do I owe the honor?"
"We're going undercover. I need you to wire us for sound and video," answered Gibbs.
Abby's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Undercover for what?" she asked.
Oh no, thought Tony, here we go.
"For the case. If you can't find leads you gotta make them," explained Gibbs.
"You're going to Unzipped dressed like that?" Abby was incredulous.
"Perp's got a thing for military men in uniform. Now he'll have two to choose from."
"Uh, Gibbs, have you seen the 'uniform' that Sewell was wearing?" asked Abby. Gibbs raised his eyebrows as Abby continued, "It wasn't exactly regulation."
"Just what was he wearing?" asked Gibbs, suspiciously.
"Look, you're determined to do this, right?" asked Abby, looking back and forth between Gibbs and Tony.
"I don't see any other way we can get a break," said Gibbs. Tony just shrugged. After all, it wasn't his idea.
"Okay. You need to leave it up to me. I know just where to go to get what you need." She bustled about turning off machines before grabbing her coat and bag and heading for the door, rubbing her hands together in anticipatory glee. "Finally I get to have some real fun," she said to herself as she walked out the door.
"Uh, Gibbs, are we really gonna let Abby dress us. Nothing against her fashion sense but she does wear a lot of leather ... and spikes ... and boots. I don't think I could carry off her boots, boss."
"Do you have a better alternative, Tony?"
Tony thought for a moment. "Nope."
"Then yes, we're gonna let her dress us." Gibbs turned and headed back up to the bullpen.
Tony found himself staring at Gibbs as he walked away, mesmerized by the view of his uniformed backside. And, he admitted to himself, tantalized by the idea of Gibbs outfitted in Abby chic.
"DiNozzo!" barked Gibbs, startling Tony out of his fantasy. "Move your ass already."
Tony blinked once then hurried to catch up.
