Chapter 3 – Winter's Grip
Monday, January 18
Vance checked himself, just before he realized he was about to bump into someone else trying to go through the automatic doors into NCIS. The person was moving slowly on the not-entirely-ice-free walk, and Vance saw now that he was on crutches. "Agent DiNozzo! I'm sorry; I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Please, go ahead of me."
"Thanks, Director," Tony grinned, but his face looked strained. He hobbled inside.
"Is this your first day back?"
"Yep. I'm glad to be back, although me and field work won't be a good mix for awhile."
"Understood. You take what time you need."
"Thanks. Has my team gotten along without me?"
Vance thought fast as he held the elevator door open for the agent. So his teammates hadn't told him about Stan Burley filling in! This would be interesting…but Vance had too much to do this week; no time to be a possible witness to a train wreck. This is what his middle managers, like Gibbs, were paid to handle. "They're managing," he said, simply, then added "Have a good day," when Tony got off at two.
When the elevator arrived at three, Vance did allow himself a look-down from the balcony. Burley wasn't in yet. DiNozzo was settling into his desk, unawares. Oh, there came David and McGee, seeing Tony where Burley would be sitting, and looking speechless. Go on, Leon; go into your office. This is not your affair.
While wanting to argue mildly with himself that everything that concerned his employees was his affair, Vance nonetheless turned back and went where he belonged. As he remembered, Leslie had a busy week lined up for him.
Gibbs waylaid him that afternoon, sneaking into his office while Leslie was taking a coffee break. "You saw DiNozzo this morning," he said without preamble.
"I did, coming in," Vance admitted. He rather liked seeing employees come in and go out. Vance was not one of those managers like the fictional Mr. Waverly on The Man from U.N.C.L.E. who came and went by his own private entrance. That was pompous and unnecessary. A good manager made himself appear to be available, even if availability was harder than that. "Is he holding up okay?"
"Yep. After a little surprise that Burley was sitting in his desk. I think Tony thought he'd take that desk to his grave. Stan graciously moved to the desk next to McGee's; Gerri Feldstone's, who's out on maternity leave, you know."
"Will he work okay with Burley?"
"As well as the other two, I guess. Tony'd actually met Burley six or so years ago, on a case. He finds Burley pretty impressive. But that's not the reason I'm here."
"Oh?"
"Your office is warmer than the squad room," Gibbs laughed, and then grew serious. "Leon, something's got to be done about the heat in big rooms like that one."
"Gibbs—"
"I know, it's an unusually cold and snowy winter. But people aren't just grumbling; they're suffering. Some are wearing their coats while they work. There are space heaters everywhere; I worry about blowing circuits or starting fires. People keep plugging them into the wrong outlets and McGee has to go around fixing the computers when a circuit fries. People are actually becoming ill. They—"
Vance wearily signaled him to stop. "I know it's cold. Gibbs, there's no money to do anything more than provide space heaters. And even doing that is having to dip into funds that I wish we wouldn't touch."
"The heating system should be replaced."
"Got a rich uncle?"
"Are you serious that we're that cash-strapped that all we can offer is space heaters and mittens?"
"I didn't authorize mittens. Yes, we're that cash-strapped. It's this old building," he sighed. "It was a forge, you know, way back when. No one would have complained of the cold weather then! And they wouldn't have foreseen that someday this would all be offices. This beautiful old building with the funny orange walls," he sighed again, a touch fondly.
"They weren't always orange, did you know that? It was Morrow's predecessor, no, wait; the one before that. MacInnerny. He had the white walls painted orange for just that reason. To make the place seem warmer in winter."
"A bit of trivia I didn't know," Vance nodded. "Well, if we were to move to a more modern building with lower ceilings, we'd lose most of the weather problems."
Gibbs froze. "Are you seriously thinking of moving HQ?"
"The SECNAV has made a few noises about that. There's space opening up in Quantico; new buildings going up…"
"Quantico! That's an hour away from DC!"
"Um hmm."
"And you're considering it?"
"Everything's on the table, Gibbs. Always is, always will be."
"But our cases…"
"The field office would stay here aboard the Yard. All the teams would probably move into Building #200. But this is all only a vague possibility."
"I think I'd rather stay here in the cold."
Vance thought I would, too but refrained from saying it.
"Leon, isn't the decision on move or don't move up to you?"
"Largely. Not entirely."
"When will you decide?"
"Not before we have a budget, anyway. Can't move without money to move. Gibbs—" he added, curtly, "Not a word of this to anyone, you understand?"
"No one will hear this from me. I don't want to be lynched."
"Keep it that way. If word on this gets out, I'll come looking for you."
"I'll be huddled by my space heater. And I have my own mittens," Gibbs smirked as he went out.
Tuesday, January 26
The cold spell that gripped much of the US had not broken. Wags announced they would skate across the Anacostia River (which, despite the bravado, was not frozen over). Little snow fell; the days were sunny, but…cold.
NCIS HQ had no nurse on the premises. There was no need for a comparatively small staff; "Ducky" Mallard did first aid in emergencies, but was too busy to see to people's endless run of sore throats and coughs. The people who looked truly miserable were sent to the health unit midway across the Yard; those looking not so pitiable were merely given the opportunity to take sick leave and go home, perhaps to see their own doctor.
Vance asked Leslie to get him recent statistics. They were unsettling. Last week, 8% of the HQ work force took sick leave. With worries about H1N1 flu going around, Vance had Leslie obtain the wash-your-hands posters from the Center for Disease Control, and then hang them all over the building. The posters were even orange; a harmonious color, given the walls. More anti-bacterial dispensers were obtained and also put up everywhere. That purchase came out of Vance's pocket, although he kept mum about that. He knew Leslie wouldn't say anything. Vance would hold onto the receipt, and hope to get reimbursed, some bright day, when there was a budget. If not…well, the possibility of having 30% or more of his staff out sick was nightmarish. Prevention was the way to go.
Coming out of his office at one point, Vance spent a few minutes looking down on the squad room from the balcony. Tony's voice was loud and joking, and so was Burley's. Even the head slap that Gibbs gave Tony only calmed the agent down until Gibbs left the squad room, at which point Tony and Burley started up again. Ziva appeared to be trying to ignore them, and Tim looked either pained or annoyed.
Leslie had said as much to him, in passing—that Tony and Burley seemed to get on really well. "DiNozzo looks up to Burley. I think in his eyes, Burley is an agent's agent." Vance found that interesting; that Tony, who was no slouch in the ego department, should hero-worship a man who was fighting to restrain his own ego. Well, people were funny.
Even if Ziva and Tim weren't satisfied, they could surely put up with the situation for four months.
Vance did take an unplanned detour through the squad room later than day, however. Gibbs was not around; he wouldn't tolerate the horseplay that was going on. Standing a short distance away, Vance watched.
"…so the XO comes in, and she says, "Gentlemen, are these your boxers? Because I don't think they belong to me!" Stan said, his face pink with suppressed laughter.
Tony howled. It was the kind of nearly bawdy story that he loved, and tame enough so that it wouldn't get anyone into trouble at work. "Oh, God!" he wheezed in laughter. "I wish I could have been there to see that!"
Looking like they didn't appreciate the distraction, Ziva and Tim only sent cold looks Stan's way. Then Ziva saw Vance, and sent a glance Tim's way. Tim then noticed Vance, too. Neither of them sent any warning signals Stan's or Tony's way.
So that's how it is, Vance thought, and moved closer. He couldn't have his MCRT warring. They had to be able to trust each other and rely on each other. "Funny story?" Vance asked Tony and Stan.
"Oh! Director! We were just…something came up that reminded Stan…we should probably get back to work," Tony floundered.
"Good idea," said Vance, moving on, but noticing the glare that Tony sent Tim and Ziva.
Friday, January 29
Vance looked up, startled, when the alarms rang at 10:38 a.m. Fire!
There was no test, no drill scheduled. This must be real. Leslie already had the canned announcements going. May I have your attention, please? A fire has been reported in the building. While this is being checked out, please exit the building by your identified evacuation routes in a calm, orderly manner. Do not use the elevators. Repeat, do not use the elevators…
The Director locked his computer and, grabbing his coat, hat and gloves, left his office. Leslie was stowing things in the safe; Vance threatened to pick him up and carry him out if he didn't leave.
Looking down from the balcony, Vance saw people scurrying for the stairs; some in coats and some not. There was a commotion in the MCRT area, though…
Vance went down the stairs to investigate, seeing Gibbs run off to do his Safety Warden duties (seeing that people didn't linger in a stairwell, and that the disabled got out). Tim was standing over Tony, imploring him.
"Tony, here's your coat. Come on; we've got to get out of here, now!"
Tony gave him a lazy smile. "Nah. You know as well as I do, Probie, that this is probably just a drill. Why go out into the cold for that?"
"Because if you do not move, I shall…I shall use my knives on you," Ziva threatened. "I think I smell smoke. It is not wise to take a chance, Tony."
He shook his head. "Hello! Broken leg here! They won't let us use the elevators, and I can't use the stairs on crutches!"
Tim shook his head. "I know I used crutches on stairs once. It's doable. I don't remember how I did it, but…"
"Forget it, McSmokey. You kids go play in the cold. I'll be here when you get back."
"Tony…!"
And then Burley got into the fray, with a roar. "Tony, what's this crap about you taking a damfool risk? That's not what a good agent does! Now you get to the stairs and start climbing down. Hold the handrail with one hand, hold your crutches in the other, and hop down the stairs on your good foot. Here's your crutches. Now, move! Move! Move!"
And DiNozzo, startled, did move. The foursome waited until the crowd had gone down the stairs, and then went down together; Tim having Tony hold his shoulder in lieu of Tony carrying the crutches, Burley as an additional "spotter", and Ziva bringing up the rear, carrying the crutches.
Vance hadn't missed the fact that both Ziva and Tim looked pleased that Burley had spurred Tony to action. Maybe this was a turning point.
Fire trucks came. The Yard fire department found a small fire in a conference room where someone had brought in a space heater and left it running, igniting an old, dusty stack of carpet squares. The damage was minimal and the carpet squares burned very slowly.
Still, it was a blow on several fronts, from the building security to employees' feeling of safety. The fire department confiscated all of the building's space heaters for testing. They would try to return them on Monday, they said. Vance sighed and sent everyone who was not considered "essential" home for the rest of the day.
He then got Leslie to check for heating systems contractors who would come by and give them a quote. He figured he could spend up to $10,000 to get some heating systems work done.
It was $10,000 that the agency didn't really have. They would have to make do, somehow.