[Chapter 2]

Leon Vance glared at his phone as if it had grievously offended him, which, in a way, it had. He was speaking to the Police Commissioner, the man in charge of DCPD, who claimed that he didn't know anything about someone authorizing what was now being called 'shred-gate'.

"I don't care what they thought. I don't care who's responsible. Done is done and can't be changed. I just want whoever fired, blackballed, and off the force. Make sure that everyone from the department head to the janitor knows that paper evidence is evidence and is to be treated as such. Recorded, documented and preserved." He smirked at the phone. "If you like, I'll send one of my experts down to retrain everyone from top to bottom. Although you won't like dealing with Dr. Sciuto in a snit." He hung up, then rubbed his face with both hands. "What a mess."

He settled down to read reports and deal with foreign affairs until someone could explain the latest insanity. He wondered where he'd gotten the idea that a totally electronic department was a good idea. His little talk with Tony about balance had opened his eyes. He was still restructuring teams and finding that the solve rate of the agency had risen by .05 percent. This didn't sound like much but, agency wide, it was nearly one hundred cases more a month that were solved. Granted not all were murders, but they were all important to someone.

He looked up at the sharp knock on his door. Only a few people were privileged just to knock; Cynthia announced the rest. "Enter." Jethro Gibbs was one of those people and now entered the room, bearing coffee.

"Here. I swear, I'd think you'd get some decent grind in here." Gibbs handed over a cup of his favorite sludge. "So, now what?"

"I'm not sure. Thanks for the coffee." Vance took a sip. "I tried to get some of my own coffee in, but it kept disappearing. Got expensive quick. So ... crap, unless someone brings me something fit to drink." He took another sip. "As to what next? We keep Tim under casual surveillance until we either catch this nutjob or figure out it's just some over-the-top fan blowing smoke."

Gibbs agreed. "Yeah. That's not going to be as much of a problem as you might think. He lives with Tony and Jimmy. The rest of us are in and out all the time. His publishing house is sending everything to us now, electronic or otherwise. Abby's having a cow. I think she actually is planning on doing something really nasty to that Pedderson guy. What? I don't want to know. That woman is seriously scary when she's pissed." Gibbs took a sip of his coffee, then sighed. "I also know that Tim is pissed. He's a really easygoing sort, until you light his fire; then ... well, I'd rather be in another time zone."

Vance gave Gibbs a disbelieving look. "He's such a quiet sort."

Gibbs grimaced. "Man, the louder they are, the less they'll do. The quiet ones will have you waking up in hell wondering what the fuck happened. Tim's quite capable of messing someone up bad. The only ones in the Pod he hasn't whipped are me, AJ, and Remy. Me because I've got a PD on him, AJ because ... well, AJ's just a BAMF; I've drawn with him more often than not. Remy's just so damn big Tim can't get leverage on him. So ... I'm not that worried about a physical attack; I'm more worried about IED's or drugs." He paused for more coffee. "And you would not believe the shit people send him. Weird."

Vance, who'd taken a look at the inventory, shook his head. "I read the inventory. Hell, if my daughter sent some of that stuff to someone, I'd ground her until ... eternity. Although, I think she's got better sense." He mentally added, 'I hope.'

Gibbs eyed his now-empty cup for a moment, then said, "I'm wondering if we have a real problem, or two or three small problems adding up to something that looks worse than it is. That was why I was wanting Abby to go over all the letters herself. This text-speak shit has me going in circles. I don't understand half of it. What the hell is lol, anyway?"

Vance sighed. "I really think the best thing to do is have someone translate everything into real English, then send it to the Psych boys for a once-over."

"Well, I hope Cryptology has better luck than I did." Gibbs stood up. "I'm goin' for coffee." With that he left, shutting the door quietly on his way out.

Vance decided it was a good thing that Gibbs hadn't waited long enough for him to say, "Cryptology, my ass; I'm just sendin' it to the youngest secretary we've got." He wondered if Gibbs would have slammed the door out of its frame or just burst something.

.

Shelly Evens was 20 years old and just out of secretarial school. She was so happy to get a job at NCIS. Her aunt and mother both worked here and it was on their recommendation that she'd gotten the job. They both told her it was up to her to keep it. So she was both excited and a bit scared when Director Vance himself had set her up in a tiny broom closet of an office and told her that she was to transcribe a lot of email and text and Twitter messages into what he called real English.

She'd nearly passed out when she found that they were all to Thom E. Gemcity. She'd nearly thrown up when she'd started to read them. As she translated "lol" into "laughing out loud" and "wtf" to "what the fuck?" she realized that some of these messages were just stupid, while others were truly frightening. She bit her lip, then took her courage in both hands and searched Instagram and several other sites for more. It was dismaying that so many rang an 'oh, shit' bell. She called her supervisor and asked him to come to her tiny office for a consultation.

"Well, Miss Evens, what has you so flustered?" Mr. Tims was a genial man who genuinely enjoyed his work as the supervisor of the secretarial pool. He didn't allow his 'ladies' to be abused, and God forbid that you called them 'females' or 'girls'. No one but the newest, rawest agent, or the dumbest, stepped over his line.

Shelly took a breath then began her explanation; when she was finished she looked up and said, "So, I'm not sure what to do. This is ... some of it is just stupid; the sort of stuff you'd expect from hormonal teenagers of either sex, but the rest? Frankly, I'm worried. It's psycho at its worst. Is this agent really going to be safe?"

Mr Tims looked at a few of the pages in his hands then said, "Don't worry about this. You did a fine job, even going so far as to find the newest threats. We're to turn it all over to Human Resources for a thorough Psych Eval. They're profiling the perp, as the agents would say. If you come across any more, just send it on. Also, I don't think you should look for more yourself without official permission from someone higher up. Run down to Forensics and speak with Miss Sciuto. And do not let her run over you or scare you. She's just the sweetest thing, she just doesn't like strangers in her lab much." He handed the pages back. "Now, you bind that up nicely and take it to ... Dr. Oberg, I think. Ask at the front office in HR. Then go speak to Abby." He got up and left, leaving Shelly to finish the job.

Shelly bound up all the pages in three neat ring binders with tabs and notations, then took it to HR. The receptionist pointed to the proper door, but said the Doctor was out now, so Shelly just put them right in the middle of the blotter with a note on them, then headed for Abby's lab. The doctor came in half an hour later, took the binders and shoved them into his book case without looking at them, grumbling about secretaries who didn't do their jobs. It would be a week before he realized where the letters he was supposed to analyze had gone.

.

Tim eyed his car with some disfavor. It was in the process of being searched for bugs. He was expecting the technicians to take it apart, as they were circling it like vultures over a juicy kill.

He was surprised to hear, "Okay, people. First, this is a very expensive car. Second, it belongs to Special Agent McGee, not some scumbag shit bum, so treat it like it's yours. We're going over it to look for bugs, so let's get going."

Tim stood and watched as the techs began to go over the car. They ran sensors over it, looked under it with mirrors, then opened the engine compartment, doors, glovebox, and trunk. He waited for them to begin pulling out the carpeting or take off the door panels. Instead, they ran the sensors over everything again, and used the mirrors to check under the dashboard. The only thing they took out was the floor mats.

It took them over an hour, with Tim watching all the way. The team supervisor finally walked over to Tim to tell him, "Not a damn thing. No fingerprints that we can't ID, no bugs, odd wires, nothing. That's good, I guess, but no clues. So ..." he dangled the keys in front of Tim. "Here's your keys. Park it somewhere safe, okay?"

Tim took the keys and nodded. "I will. Ducky's gotten a shed built behind his place, room for all our babies." He grinned. "Have you seen his Morgan? That's one beautiful piece of machinery."

The tech grinned back. "Yeah. That's next on our list, then Gibbs' SUV, and DiNozzo's Hummer. Stretch even. Wonder what sort of hiding places that has?"

Tim thought for a second then admitted, "Not sure. But be really careful with it ... um ... and Gibbs' SUV. Both Jet and AJ are a bit nuts, no telling what kind of ammo or explosives they've got."

The tech shuddered. "I've already gone through rucks. SEALs are nuts. Gibbs is too. There was one other ruck that was just nuts." He eyed Tim. "You. I swear, I never saw so much electronic shit in my life. And Palmer carries a hospital. Crazy."

Tim just shrugged, pocketed his keys and left to let the tech team finish their job.

As this included searching Tony's Hummer, Remy's SUV, Ducky's Morgan, Dean's Silverado, Jimmy's S250, Cosmo's Jeep, and Gibbs' Ram, not to mention Abby's Ford Coupe hotrod, they had a busy day. And a rather fearful one; they discovered no bugs, but Tony, Remy, Dean, and Gibbs had C-4 and ammo up the wazoo. One of the techs announced, "I'm never searching their anything ever. No."

They all snickered and joked as they turned the keys over to Abby to return to everyone.

Abby took them and thanked the techs for doing such a quick job. She trotted off to return keys. Lucky for Shelly, she stopped by her lab first.

.

Shelly stood just inside the lab door. She wasn't sure exactly what to do, as Abby wasn't in the lab. Should she wait? Or leave a note? Or just go back to her tiny office and call down? She regretted her office a bit; she was sure to be sent back to the pool—not that there was anything wrong with the pool, but having her own office was a cachet she was sorry to lose. She was still dithering when Abby got back.

"Oh, hello. You are?" Abby wasn't as obsessive about strangers in her lab as everyone thought. She just didn't like agents in there alone, as they tended to fiddle with everything in sight and messed up test results, her babies, you name it.

"Shelly Evans, ma'am. I brought this down. I also ... um ... Made another database. In real English. I was thinking that maybe it would be helpful?" Shelly eyed Abby then realized that Abby was just looking at her. "Something?"

Abby frowned. "You look familiar. But ... I'm sorry, I don't remember where from."

Shelly frowned. She was sure that she would recognize Abby if she'd ever seen her before. "Sorry. I don't recognize you. I'm sure I'd remember you. No offense."

"None taken. I am a bit ... different. so ... never mind that. Database ... what do you have?" Abby took the DVD and ring binder.

Shelly explained about the translation and what she'd done, ending, "So, since it was all digital, I made a secondary file and translated that, then dumped it all into a spreadsheet sort of thing. It's searchable by sender, key word/phrase, date, and anything else you might be able to think of and apply. I hope I did okay. I mean, I know HR is doing an eval but ... I just thought that you and ..." She waved a hand, "Someone on the investigating team might want it, too."

Abby couldn't help but hug her. "That is brilliant. Great job. I've got all sorts of filters I can run it through. Don't know what I might find out, but anything's better than what we've got at this stage. I'm sending a commendation to your supervisor. Now ..." Abby stuck the DVD into a drive. "I'm going to up-load everything and start ... doing a forensic analysis of the key words. You can take off if you like. But ..." Abby turned away from her computers. "Keep an ear out, okay? You've done a fine job of locating a lot more stuff ... Facebook, Instagram, what the hell else. Keep sending anything you find down with the memo TEG. Thanks."

Shelly knew a dismissal when she heard it, but she wasn't offended; she realized that Abby was just worried about her friend and co-worker. "Okay, I'll keep sweeping for anything that looks ... um ... of interest to the investigation. I'll email it to you with links. Bye." She turned to go, grinning at Abby's absent-minded, "Bye, y'all."

Shelly returned to pack her office, but found a handwritten note from Director Vance telling her to run searches on several things and write a report for him or various other department heads. There were also a couple of emails asking her for info. She realized that her skills as an internet researcher had garnered her the tiny office and a pile of fascinating work. She dove in.

.

Tim snarled as he reviewed the cold case. Since he was under threat watch, they weren't allowed out in the field until further notice. Vance had said the same thing Gibbs and AJ had: they didn't want a repeat of the Todd incident, nor the Sciuto stalker thing. He also didn't want a repeat, nor one of the Landon incident, where a psycho fan killed several people from Tim's books and nearly got Abby.

He tried to concentrate on his work, but he couldn't; all he could do was worry about who was after him now, and why. So he was on edge, pissy and not in the mood.

This was when some knucklehead decided to pick on the geek.

"Hey, McGeek, I need a search done." The transfer agent tossed a half sheet of paper at McGee. "Get to it."

Tim just balled the paper up and tossed it in the trash. "You want a search done, do it yourself. I'm busy." He gave the agent bitchface and went back to work.

"Look, I've got real work to do and I don't have time to argue with some tech geek. Just do your job," the agent smirked at Tim like he'd made some major point.

Tim stood up, "You do yours, I'll do mine. Mine does not include catering to some jacked-up jerk who doesn't know how to start a simple search." He walked in the direction of the head but a hand on his arm stopped him.

Remy moaned, "Oh man, you so did not."

Tim looked down at the hand then up at the agent. "Excuse me."

"Get back to your desk and get that search started."

Tim eyed him for a moment, noticing the plastic pass on a lanyard around his neck. He reached out and fingered it, then read, "Special Agent (probationary) Zachariah Mellon. NCIS NYC" Tim looked up again. "Well, Zachy. This is the way it is. I'm havin' a really bad day. That makes me cranky. When I'm cranky, I'm not much for being touched, it makes me even more cranky. So ... you've got two choices; one, take your hand off me, apologize for existing and take off. Or two, meet me in the gym in half an hour and I'll rip your head off for you. You've got two seconds."

Gibbs loomed behind Agent Mellon. "There a problem here?" His tone said there'd better not be.

Agent Mellon pointed at Tim. "I need geek-boy to do a search and he's just standin' there."

Gibbs eyed the agent then glanced at Tim; he mouthed 'geek boy' then shrugged. "Just don't kill him."

Tim glanced around and realized that Dean, AJ, Jimmy, and Remy were standing nearby with various 'deer in the headlights' looks on their faces. "What!?" He glared at Mellon then snarled, "Well? I'm waiting."

Mellon ignored the looks assuming, wrongly, that they were all worried about Tim. "I'll meet you in twenty minutes. Have to let my team lead know where I am."

Tim snorted and muttered, "Bet he's not that worried." He picked up his ruck and headed for the gym, Gibbs, , in tow.

Word got around that Tim was going on the mats with some probie wannabe super agent, and the gym was crowded. The trainers had actually pulled out the collapsible risers that were used for the basketball games. They filled quickly as the rumor mill ground; everyone who could manage sneaked away from their desks to watch.

Tony helped Tim put on the MMA gloves all the Pod members favored over boxing gloves. "Okay, you wanna fuck 'im up good an' fast. Do not play with him. We don't know how good he is."

Tim eyed Tony for a moment then drawled, "Well, damn, AJ, I was hopin' for a bit of stress relief. I'm about to jump out of my skin. That jackwad deserves to be played with."

Tony cracked up, laughing loudly. "Okay, McSmackdown; I'm your corner man."

Jimmy snorted. "No, dude, you are most certainly not. I'm a highly trained doctor with a speciality in Emergency Medicine, so I'm the corner man. Deal." His snooty tone made the other two men snicker.

Tim went into the locker room and changed into NCIS regulation sweat pants and official t-shirt. He usually wore a gi now, but he didn't have it with him today.

Tony followed him in. "Game plan?"

Tim shrugged, settling his shirt across his shoulders. "Don't really have one, yet. Get a feel for the jerk, then mess him up. I'm really getting tired of being the 'walk-on-him geek'. I don't know how you kept up your mask for so long."

Tony grinned, "Some days I'd go home and want to kill someone. Kate wasn't so bad; she treated me just exactly like her brothers. You? Some days good, some bad. But Ziva could really yank my chain. Don't know why, just could. So ... If he hurts you bad, I'm gonna mess him up good." Tony slapped Tim on the shoulder and left to take up a place on one corner of the mats with Jimmy.

Tim joined them after a quick consultation with one of the trainers. They wanted to make sure that Tim wasn't going to kill the guy. Although one did voice the opinion that the obnoxious jerk was getting what he deserved. It seemed that the man had made no friends in the office and several enemies. Even Abby hissed, "Tim, kick his ass," as Tim walked by.

The senior trainer called Tim and Zac to the mat. "Ok, I want a good, clean fight. No biting, no eye gouging. Stay away from the kidneys and balls. MMA rules. When I say break, you fuckin' break. When I send you to your corner, you damn well go." He nodded to Tim and eyed Mellon sharply. "Mellon. Last time you were here there seemed to be some difficulty with your understanding. Not on my watch. Tim?"

Tim nodded. "I got it." Tim went to his corner and stood with Tony and Jimmy while the Senior Trainer spoke with Zac.

He didn't bother to keep his voice down so most of the gym heard. "I don't want any dirty fighting. This is a clear-the-air match. Last time you had one of these, you hurt your opponent more than you should have. Not this time."

Mellon just shrugged. "If you can't take the heat, stay out of the kitchen. Can we get this show on the road?"

Oakley just nodded. "Your funeral. Places." Tim came to the middle of the mat. "Shake hands." Tim bumped fists with Mellon, who'd chosen boxing gloves, heavy ones. Tim sneered at him, displaying his bright blue mouthguard.

"Fight!" Oakley slashed his hand down between the two men and stepped out of the way.

Tim just stood and watched as Mellon went through a series of moves meant to scare him. He wasn't impressed and just waited for Mellon to get serious.

That took a bit as Mellon feinted and dodged around, trying to find an opening in Tim's defense. The observers took exception to this and began to chant, "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" Tim ignored them, but it pissed Mellon off, which made him stupid.

Tim watched in disgust as Mellon let loose with a roundhouse swing that missed, just ruffling his hair. It didn't hurt that Mellon telegraphed his punches; he might as well have shouted his intentions. Tim faded away from the punch, ducking slightly and turning a shoulder to protect his head. Another roundhouse, this time a feeble left, was treated the same way.

After that bit of stupidity, Tim led the man around the mats by the nose, ducking his swings and backpedaling just enough that Mellon thought he had a chance of connecting.

Finally, after about ten minutes, Gibbs yelled, "Damn it, Digimon, stop playin' with 'im. There's work to do."

Tim just nodded once then returned his attention to the combat at hand. "Ok, Mellon, Jet just told me to wind this mess down. So." He grabbed one flailing arm and tossed Mellon over his shoulder in a judo throw. Mellon hit the mat with a loud thump.

"You little ..." Mellon scrambled to his feet and took a poke at Tim. You couldn't really call it a punch.

"Christ on a cracker. You punch like a ... I would say girl, but I know girls that punch better than that." Tim grabbed Mellon's wrist and threw him again. The crowd snickered as Dean and Cosmo solemnly held up sheets of paper with numbers written on them.

Dean loudly announced, "I gave a 5 because there was good height, but the distance was lacking."

Cosmo argued, just as loudly, "He deserves a 7. Style counts too, you know."

Mellon nearly had an apoplectic fit when he heard that. "I'm gonna hurt you."

Tim shrugged, keeping an eye on the man, then said, "Well, talk me to death or do something. Bring it."

Mellon tried, but Tim was bored and ready to take a shower. When Mellon took another wild swing, Tim finished the fight. He simply stepped inside Mellon's reach, grabbed his shoulders, kicked him in the back of the knee and, with a grunt of effort, flipped him as he fell, then knelt in the middle of his back. "Pin."

"No! You can't ... I'm not ..." Mellon didn't get much farther in his rant as Tim wrapped one arm around his neck in a choke hold. He gave up, going limp and slapping the mat with one hand.

Tim stood up and stepped back, giving Mellon room to get up, and himself room if Mellon decided to be stupid.

Mellon got up, eyed Tim then stalked off without a word. Tim watched until he was in the locker room then shrugged. He jumped when a voice right in his ear hissed, "You wanna pull that shit with me?"

"AJ, damn it. What?" Tim knew he shouldn't gloat but it felt good to put a jackwad like that in his place. Then he turned to look at Tony, who did not look pleased at all.

"Showin' off 'll get you killed. Mats ... now." Tony was royally pissed and showed it.

Remy mumbled, "Damn, AJ's hacked." He thought for a moment then said, "Don't really blame him, in a way. On the other hand..." he shrugged. "Well, shit."

Tony just dumped Tim on his ass. Tim knew he was in for a real fight, but he wasn't going down easy. He knew that apologizing or making excuses wasn't on, but he said, "I shouldn't have played with him but ... it was fun. So."

Tony snarled, "I told you not to mess around. You should have cold-cocked him at the least."

Tim blinked at that. "Um ... okay?" He ducked under a grab and kicked Tony in the gut. Tony backpedaled a bit then unleashed a flurry of kicks and punches that kept Tim moving to block or avoid them. He managed to get inside Tony's reach and grapple with him, which was a mistake he soon regretted as Tony nearly pinned him; only a rather frantic eel-like wiggle got him out of trouble. But he managed to throw Tony off and roll away. Instead of trying to escape, he turned and launched a kick at Tony's head that connected with his shoulder instead. The dull thump echoed around the now-silent gym. Tony yelped but was on his feet and ready to fight in a second. Tim eyed him then said, "And you're fucking around now, not me."

Tony just backed away a bit, made a 'bring it on' motion with one hand and waited. Tim knew he was screwed, but he never gave up; someday he'd actually get Tony, just not today, and he knew it. He gave it the ol' college try, punching and kicking; it was just ― Tony was better.

Finally, Tony put Tim in a hug-choke hold that had him flat on his back, half in Tony's lap, with no way out. He slapped Tony's thigh to signal surrender. Tony let go and Tim got up. He turned and offered his hand to Tony to help him up.

Tony staggered as he got up and they wound up holding each other up. "Damn it, Digimon, you're getting harder and harder to beat. Good work."

"Yeah? Well, thanks ... I think. Shower?" Tim panted softly, he was exhausted.

Tony was nearly as tired, and he hurt where Tim had kicked him. He nodded, "Yeah ... shower."

The trainers chivvied the spectators out of the gym and back to work while the Pod retired to the showers; Tim and Tony actually to shower, the rest to hang around in the locker room and shout rude remarks at them. Remy actually hung out in the door to the showers and spent the ten minutes it took, critiquing the fight; in vivid and crude detail.

Tim finished first, due to not using conditioner, and elbowed Remy in the gut on his way to his locker. "Jerk."

Remy's indignant, French, "Je ne suis pas, vous êtes!" made every one laugh.

Tim opened his locker and froze. "Um ... we've got a problem."

Gibbs was right behind him in a second. "What?"

Tim pointed. "I don't wear white boxers, ever." He pointed to the top shelf where he kept his underwear, aftershave, and deodorant. "And I don't use that brand of cologne or deodorant."

Gibbs eyed the bottles and garment for a moment then said, "Well, fuck. AJ? ... where the fuck is he?"

Dean nodded his head in the direction of the showers. "Conditioning. Whadaya need?"

"Evidence bags, gloves, seals." Gibbs pointed in the general direction of his locker on the other side of the room. "Should be some in my ruck. And I'm callin' Abs, so everyone get dressed."

Dean got Gibbs' ruck while Gibbs called Abby. While this was getting done, Tim got dressed; no one commented on the fact that he went commando and stole Dean's A-TAC's, not even Dean.

Abby clomped in, snarling, "Oh, grow up, you don't have a thing I haven't seen," at some guy who protested her entry. She took the bag, gloves, and seals from Gibbs then said, "Okay, what's going on?"

Tim pointed to the top shelf. "Have you ever known me to wear white cotton baggies? And you know damn good and well that I hate that particular scent. I'm also not wearin' anything in that locker until it's ... ever. After you're through with it, burn it all."

Abby blinked, then turned to give the contents of the locker a wide-eyed look. "Oh, my giddy Aunt Liddy. What the ... I'm on it." Abby pulled on the gloves and carefully lifted the pants, shirt, t-shirt, tie, and socks out of the locker. She put each garment into a separate evidence bag which Gibbs held open for her. He sealed each bag, then handed it off to Dean, who noted what was in it, time of collection, etc. and then dropped it into the box at his feet. When she got to the boxers, she actually used an inside-out bag to pick them up. "Not even; I don't like the look of these at all." She also used that trick to pick up the deodorant and cologne bottles. "I don't know who thought you'd ever use Brut. Really? Seriously? Only idiots and players wear that."

Tim shook his head. "There've been several letters that suggested I should; maybe we need to give those particular letters a second look?"

Gibbs snorted. "Not gonna do us a damn bit a' good. The originals were shredded, remember?"

Abby scowled at that reminder. "Yeah, I sent a letter to the Chief of DCPD and raked him over the coals. I also told him to forward as necessary. If I ever ... and I mean ever, get my hands on that guy, he's toast. What we could have learned ... well, done is done. Just ..." her little scream of frustration made them all chuckle.

Remy patted her on the shoulder. "Do'an fuss. Do'an do no good. Just ... we'll get more evidence. Dat sort never go 'way."

"Too true." Abby eyed the locker. "Swab and fingerprint everything." She picked up the box. "I'm going to get started. I expect you'll have the rest of the stuff soon?"

Gibbs nodded absently as he began to swab the locker for trace. "I'll do it myself."

It didn't take long for word to get around that someone had tampered with Tim's locker; this led to everyone wanting to come in and check their lockers. Gibbs put Dean and Cosmo on the door to tell them to come back when Tim's locker was cleared and that anyone who thought their things had been tampered with was to inform Gibbs or their team lead. There was a bit of grumbling from the office personnel, but the agents all nodded their understanding and went away until later.