Gibbs left the bullpen for Autopsy, saying he needed to confer with Ducky, and would meet Frost downstairs. Frost continued to unpack her duffel and set up her desk, while DiNozzo called the Naval Port Authority. McGee, typing furiously on his computer, kept stealing glances over the top of it at Frost as she worked, until she finished and turned towards him.
"Is there something I can do for you, Agent McGee? You seem overly distracted," she offered.
Starting at being called out so quickly, McGee cleared his throat nervously.
"No, it's just that, ah, it's a little strange to see someone else at that desk. Our last co-worker held it for about four years, and only vacated it a month ago. We were rather close as a team. Oh, by the way, your shield and gun need to be kept in a desk drawer while you're in the office. It's one of the safety rules," he offered.
Frost nodded, removed her badge and gun, checked to make sure the safety was on, and stowed them in her top drawer. "The rule makes sense. We have a similar custom at Interpol's main office. It prevents accidental shootings. Anything else?" She glanced quickly at Tony, who was still on the phone, and then back to McGee. "Are you comfortable with a woman filling this post, for example?"
DiNozzo covered the phone's mouthpiece with his hand, and glanced over at Frost. "My last partner was a woman. That isn't an issue here. McCurious here is just trying to get to know you a little; he isn't comfortable with strangers," Tony clipped, then went back to talking on the phone. Both McGee and Frost could hear the words: "lockdown", "immediate", and "call them back".
Frost nodded at McGee. "Fair enough, since we are going to work together. I am originally from Iceland, am an only child of an Icelandic mother and an American father, and I'm fluent in Icelandic, German, English, and Scots-Gaelic, in that order. I went to school in Reykjavik, and transferred to Glasgow University. I have a Master's degree in Criminal Psychology. I have never married, have no children, and am not currently dating. I sing soprano. Will that do?"
McGee blinked in surprise. "Iceland? Is your last name…"
She regarded him cooly. "Yes, it is a translation. Most Anglos can't properly pronounce my native surname, so I make things easier going by its Anglicized version. It saves time and stammering. Now, could you provide me with a schematic of the building, so I can find my way around? I need to get down to your autopsy, and catalogue the latest victims."
McGee stood. "I can do better than that: I'll take you downstairs. Autopsy is in the basement, and Forensics is the next level up. I don't think your retinal eye print is in the scanner yet; you'll need another agent with you to use the elevator until you do." McGee stepped around his desk, passing by Frost's on the way to the elevator. He felt something brush past him, but did not turn around until he had reached the elevator and scanned himself in. When he did turn, Frost was not at his elbow, as expected. In fact, she was nowhere to be seen!
Puzzled, he walked back towards her desk. It was empty. He glanced over at Tony, who was staring at the emergency stairs door, eyebrows high. Tim pointed at Frost's desk, and then at the slowly closing door, and gave Tony his best "What's going on?" look. Tony merely shrugged, finished his phone call, and stood up.
"That was weird," said Tim. "What do you think that was about?"
Tony frowned thoughtfully. "She took one look at the elevator, had a small spasm, and hit the stairs." He looked down at her desk; the manila evidence folder was gone. "At least she had presence of mind to grab her evidence files before she bolted. Come on," he offered, "I'll go down to autopsy with you. I'm going to need to see this, anyway."
The two of them stepped into the elevator, and Tony hit the 'B' for basement. "Maybe she's claustrophobic," offered Tim. Tony just shrugged.
"I guess we'll find out one way or another," he said. The elevator took them down. "But if it gets in the way, the Boss is going to be pissed."
Moments later, DiNozzo and McGee stepped out of the elevator and into Ducky's lab. They found Gibbs already there with Officer Frost, examining one of the small corpses Ducky had pulled out of refrigeration. A sheet covered most of the child's body; only her head and shoulders were exposed.
Frost bent over the dead child's small face, and passed a hand across the top of her shaved head. The men stood quietly, not wanting to disturb the officer; when she finally stood her eyes were moist and her voice husky.
"You did not shave her head, then, Doctor?" she asked, continuing to stroke the bare scalp. "By the feel here, it was done at least one week before her death."
"You are correct, my dear, I did not. And I concur with your timeline on the shaving. There are no marks or nicks from any cutting implements, and her hair had already started to grow out when she was killed," Ducky offered. "Our other victims were likewise shaven. Is this something you have seen in your other victims?"
Frost nodded. "It is, but only in the last two sets. I have yet to figure out why; it might be important." She sighed and rubbed her head. "The men doing this didn't bother to shave adults, only juveniles, and then only juveniles of color. I notice this child looks at least part African, or perhaps Middle Eastern." She paused, then looked up at Ducky. "May I see her feet, please?"
"Of course," Ducky offered, and he gently pulled back the sheet from the child's feet. Frost ran a finger down the callused soles, and traced the chipped and discolored toenails. "Fungal infection here, and a great deal of damage and hardening to her soles. She went barefoot a lot in her life, perhaps by necessity."
"Homeless, or an orphan, perhaps," offered Tony. "I've seen the pictures. Shoes are sometimes a luxury most children do without."
"Very good, Anthony," intoned Ducky. "Her bloodwork was interesting as well. This one and a few of the others show signs of malnutrition, only recently corrected: Koishoiker, caused by a lack of protein in the diet. She ate better in the last six months or so of her life, than she had while she was free."
"Which might indicate that she was picked up or lured by humanitarian-sounding promises, instead of force," offered McGee.
"A humanitarian rapist is still a rapist, McGee," snapped Gibbs. "This monster, or monsters, original means were just a cloak to disguise his real intent: to rape and kill. Never forget that. Compassion can be a disguise, too."
"An excellent point from both of you," noted Frost, still stroking the child's head. "Knowing the collector's MO, or something of it, may help us identify him later. Plus, since I suspect a layer of suspects, the original collector may not know the exact ending of his victims. He may actually be acting under an assumption of humanitarian aid, or simply romance, in the cases of the older women. Oh, thank you, Doctor, you can put her back to bed. I'll need copies of all of your observations for my records, of course."
"Naturally, my dear. Come now, child, let's get you tucked back in." Ducky steered the table back towards the refrigerator, and Palmer stepped up to help him put the body away.
"Autopsy next?" Gibbs asked Frost. "You said you had evidence our lab would find interesting."
"Yes," murmured Frost, staring at the disappearing head of the dead child. "Now, why is he shaving their heads?" she murmured, to no one but herself, but Gibbs caught the remark. He stopped as well, and looked back into the autopsy room, and thought.
"When I joined the Marines, one of the first things they did to me in processing was shave my head," he offered. "It keeps lice and flea problems to a minimum, and serves to make us all…the same."
Frost looked up at him. "It destroyed your individuality, made you part of a unit."
"Yes. That might be part of it," Gibbs mused. "It might also be a simpler way to handle colored children's hair. Plus, if these girls are being held on a Navy ship, having children's hair suddenly 'turn up' is going to get attention. We should mention this to Abby," he offered, "my forensics expert. Come on," he said, and stepped to the elevator, but when he turned back to talk she was already gone. Only DiNozzo stood there, and his face was troubled.
"DiNozzo, what the hell is going on?" Gibbs demanded. "Are you pulling some sort of snipe hunt with her, just because she's new around here? She isn't even a member of the team!"
DiNozzo spread his hands. "Don't look at me, Boss. McGee and I were set to bring her down by elevator, and even had the door open. She took the stairs on her own. She's doing it again now. McTherapist thinks she might be claustrophobic, so he's following her on the stairs right now to talk to her."
Gibbs glared at the closing stairwell door for a moment. "This isn't claustrophobia. The stairwell is narrower than the elevator. It's something else. Keep your ears open, DiNozzo, and keep me posted.
"Will do, Boss. What next?"
"I'm going to the lab. You get back upstairs, and utilize some of your other talents," Gibbs ordered thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing.
"My other talents, Boss? Which ones in particular?" DiNozzo could guess, but he wanted to hear Gibbs actually give the order, and his grin widened.
"You have an enquiring mind, DiNozzo. Use it! Find out what you can about our visiting Interpol officer," Gibbs ordered.
DiNozzo's grin widened to a leer. "On it, Boss!"
Frost stepped out of the stairwell, half-supporting McGee, who clutched his stomach and gasped for air. Looking around, she saw no-one, and heard only music blasting. She stepped forward and yelled:
"HELLO! IS ANYBODY HERE? WE NEED SOME HELP, PLEASE!"
The music cut off, and Abby quickly jogged around a corner, pigtails bouncing. "What is it…MCGEE! Ohmygod, what happened to McGee?" Abby pounced to the side not receiving assistance, and started probing his stomach. "Are you cut, or stabbed, or something? I don't see any blood. Do you want me to call Ducky?"
McGee gasped for air, and waved off Abby's probing hands. "I'm find, Abby, just got the wind knocked out of me, that's all. Nothing broken."
"I sincerely apologize, Agent McGee. I really did not know you were there." offered Frost. "In the future, please don't sneak up on me like that. I am more than a little, how do you say it? Jumpy."
McGee nodded, and the trio walked into Abby's lab. Frost set her folder down on Abby's countertop, and McGee grabbed a chair. Motioning to the two women, McGee made the introductions.
"Abby, this is Officer Brynja Frost, from Interpol's Human Trafficking Division. She's here to help us with our case. Officer Frost, this is Agent Abby Sciuto, our forensics and firearms expert. We just came up from Autopsy, Abby, and this case is worse than we imagined. There's probably more than one perp, and there have been a lot of more bodies." He stood up, still limping a little, and headed for the door. "I'll let you two ladies get acquainted. I need to visit the men's room."
Abby watched McGee leave, and then turned furiously on Frost.
"What the hell did you hit him for? McGee is one of the sweetest guys in the office," she demanded. "I can't believe you thought he would hurt you!"
Frost spread her hands. "I never even knew he was in the stairwell, Agent Sciuto! If he spoke, I never heard him. One second I thought I was alone, and the next, someone grabbed me by the arm. It was quite sudden. I struck him in the solar plexus to make him release me, and only then realized who it was." She shook her head, and swallowed once. "I have had to work this case, alone, for the past three years. I have not had people around me I could trust, and sometimes," she took a deep breath, "things have gotten rough. Whoever is doing this may have identified me. I have to be very careful."
Abby's face puckered. "You were attacked? Does Gibbs know?"
Frost shook her head. "No, I did not discuss that in my initial read-in; I did not think it relevant. I believe the assaults were intended to frighten me away from the investigation, nothing more. They did not succeed. I will not stop until the men responsible for these crimes are brought to justice. When that day comes," a distant look appeared on her face, "I'm going home for a while. I'll take the time then."
Abby nodded. "I can understand that. So, you have some evidence, and I have my own little platoon of computers. What have you got?"
Frost opened her folder.
DiNozzo looked around the bullpen, and saw that everybody else was bent over his or her desk. He had intended to snoop into Frost's effects at the first possible opportunity, that's what he did anyway, but it was interesting to have the license to do it from Gibbs. He started rifling through her desk, but found it still empty, even spartan.
No chance yet to accumulate crap in her drawers, he told himself. She's only been here an hour. Finding her purse, he sat down at her desk and started pulling out the contents. Let me see: hairbrush, makeup, restaurant receipts-that's useful, Swiss Army knife-Gibbs will approve, PDA-now that's more like it, DiNozzo! He activated the device, and found pages of notes, many with dates and times, but Crap. It's all in Icelandic. Shoulda thought of that one, Tony.
A loud THUD snapped him out of his reverie, making him jump. DiNozzo looked up to see the Director's hand on a file folder, and the Director glaring down at him, toothpick in place. Tony's eyes widened; he was SO busted!
"Looking for this, DiNozzo?" Vance growled around the toothpick, his eyes steady. Tony gulped.
"I can explain, Director," he began, but Vance cut him off.
"Don't bother, DiNozzo. I know exactly what you're doing. I work here too, remember? Just sit at your own desk and read." He stood up, and Tony could see the older man was concerned. "You watch yourself around that little spitfire, understand? She's been working this case alone for three years now, without any help from us. Six months ago our office in Turkey offered her a bodyguard, which she accepted, but the day she left the country he was found dead. Stabbed."
DiNozzo had already moved to his desk and started rifling through the paperwork, but at the mention of the stabbing, his head snapped up.
"Was his body found in an elevator?"
Vance's eyes narrowed. "Yes." His hands flipped through volumes of paperwork to find the date. "Here, in a report from our Izmir office. He had been stabbed in the neck with a pencil. Why do you ask about the elevator?"
DiNozzo looked up. "She won't use one. She actually looked afraid to get into it. McGee thought she was claustrophobic, but Gibbs thinks not."
Vance 'hmmmmed' around his toothpick, and read more of the report, and looked up at the big screen, where the battle group still floated. "Six months ago that group was in Izmir, and so was she. Our office assigned her a marine for protection, Izmir's a tough town, and supposedly she vanished without communicating with our office there. They assumed she had dropped the case, and without evidence, so did they. The battle group pulled out of port a week later." He flipped through pages. "The marine's body was found a day after she vanished, in a hotel service elevator. Multiple stab wounds, contusions, and blond hair wrapped in his hands." Vance looked down at DiNozzo. "What does that tell you?"
Tony read swiftly through the report. "Looks like he attacked her. It would fit: why she hates us so much, and why she won't get in an elevator. Yes, it says here his belt was undone. The bastard! No wonder she's so cold."
Vance nodded. "It's going to take a lot to earn her trust back, DiNozzo. Do you think you can turn off the frat-boy side of your personality?"
Tony looked up. "Consider it done." He stood up. "I need to go tell Gibbs right away. You know about him and sneaking up on people."
Vance nodded. Tony headed for the elevator.