The team had finished at the crime scene – not much to do there – and put their bags in the room they would be using that night before being led by the petite woman to the kitchen, where they had proceeded to heat a simple but satisfactory meal. Tony was smiling warmly at Dr. Burns. A bit too warmly, Ziva thought; he's up to something.

"How many workers are there on the island?"

She looked up at the question. "We have twenty-three workers, four scientists and a… specialist, you might call him."

"Specializing in what?"

"I wish I could tell you." She smiled apologetically, her expression reading true to her words.

"Don't worry about it." He waved a hand nonchalantly.

"I didn't see enough room for twenty-eight people in the dorms," Gibbs commented quietly.

"The workers come every morning and leave every night, Mondays to Thursdays. They come by boat from a small fishing island about thirty miles south of here."

"So it's just the five of you?"

"And the five of you." She paused. "Oh, and Dr. Malcolm."

Tim looked confused. "Who is he, another scientist?"

"Oh, no. Well, he is, but he doesn't work for us."

"So what is he doing here?" Tony flashed her a smile.

"Our main investor sent him here to make sure everything is going well, safely. Ensure it's satisfactory, or something like that." She poked her food around her plate. "He generally does lectures and theoretical papers, but the investor wanted him, of all people, to evaluate us."

"'Of all people'?"

She looked flustered. "I- I mean, it isn't that he isn't a capable scientist- He's certainly nice enough-"

"…But?"

Her stammer ceased. "…But he wouldn't have been my first choice to evaluate our type of facility. That isn't to say that he isn't qualified, of course," she added hastily.

"What does he write these papers about?"

"Well…" She pursed her lips. "He says he's a Chaotician."

"Wow." Tim seemed impressed.

"McGee." Gibbs' one-word inquiry was automatically met by a condensed explanation.

"Chaoticians study Chaos theory, boss. The general premise, as you would understand it, is that there is no reason for anything. Anything can happen in the world because it's an action/reaction thesis."

"That's depressing." Tony made a face.

"It's a widely accepted theory, and the basis for several successful experiments," Tim pointed out. He then turned back to Dr. Burns. "What's the name of the Chaotician again?"

"Dr. Malcolm."

He appeared surprised. "As in, Dr. Ian Malcolm?"

"Yes, how did you-"

"I follow him closely. I'm a fan of his early mathematics approach. Actually, he gave a lecture when I was at MIT."

"You went to MIT?"

"Yes." He smiled.

"That's why you can follow along with the science speak." Understanding dawned in her face.

"McGadget here can follow along with a lot of stuff. He had a great education. Unfortunately, he makes up for by having no social skills to speak of."

"Thank you for that."

"Any time. Now, Dr. Burns, when you say there are four scientists who live here, are you counting yourself?"

She blushed. "Yes, I am."

"What kind of scientists are they?"

She hesitated for just a moment.

"You don't have to answer that, Dr. Burns," called Stockett's now-familiar voice.

"You like to come in just when things are getting good, don't you?"

"I'll take 'getting good' to mean 'disobeying a direct order to stop poking around' and answer yes, Agent DiNozzo."

"Hey," he raised his hands defensively, "There's a lot of confidential stuff around here. Way too much for me to keep up with, anyway. How am I to know what question breaks some kind of law?"

"I think you know exactly which questions you shouldn't ask."

"You'd love to prove that, wouldn't you?" She hid it well underneath a composed mask, but Tony could tell exactly how annoyed his cocksure smile made her. That only made his grin broader.

"Dr. Burns, if you're done eating, the lab results from our most recent genetic strands are in." Without waiting for an answer, she grasped the younger woman firmly by the arm and half-led, half-dragged her away. The loud echoes of her footsteps expressed her chagrin at DiNozzo's antics.

"She's hiding something."

"Thank you for that, McStateTheObvious."

"We need to talk to the staff," Gibbs said, ignoring the immaturity of his two senior field agents.

"Good luck with that."

The deep voice came from the entrance to the kitchen. The man leaning on the doorway was tall and lean, with tan skin and pale blue eyes. His hair, peeking out from under an Indiana Jones-esque hat, was the color that comes from being light brown with near-constant exposure to sun, rendering it in-between brown and blonde, and he was dressed in tan shorts and a white T-shirt exposing a muscular frame.

"Alex Dylan, I live here."

Ziva looked curious. "Your accent is…?"

"South African," he clarified. "I'm the head game hunter here."

"Game hunter?" Gibbs' forehead creased in confusion.

"Oops, forgot. Not supposed to say anything." He didn't seem too concerned. "Patricia got us all together and made it clear that you weren't to know anything. To be honest, I think it's ridiculous."

"I like this guy," Tony whispered to his cohorts.

Dylan sighed. "She does get carried away with her clearance sometimes, and she can't stand it if she doesn't get her way, but if she gets used to you… Well, then she's not so bad."

"I don't think we'll be around long enough for that to happen."

"True enough." He lifted his hat to rub his temples with his index finger and thumb. "Look, if it was up to me, I'd be straight with you, but… She'd notice if I was missing. She'd keeping tabs on everyone until you're gone."
"Do you think she'll let us take statements from the witnesses?" Tim looked a bit concerned.

"Well, most of them have gone by now. They left with the U.S.S. New York when it shipped out this morning. If you want to interview the live-ins, though, then that depends."

"On what?"

"On who asks. Here's a hint: pick a person who hasn't managed to get on her bad side."

XXX

Ziva poked her head into the women's bathroom cautiously before entering, an old habit she had picked up during her pre-NCIS days. She had considered breaking it, but decided that old habits die hard, and she would rather appear paranoid than have her particular skill set get rusty. She noticed under one of the stalls the shoes of Dr. Stockett and entered the small room, approaching the sink.

She began to wash her hands about the same time as the doctor exited her stall and did the same.

"I didn't know you were in here."

"I just came to wash up after dinner," Ziva explained, smiling at Stockett. She actually smiled back, an act that surprised the Israeli.

"This may be hard for you to believe, Agent David, but I'm not an angry woman. You smile, I smile back. It's as simple as that."

Inwardly, Ziva frowned. She didn't realize her emotions were displayed on her face. Maybe I am getting rusty.

"I understand. Gibbs is not an easy person to get along with." The last sentence was almost an afterthought.

"Is he always that mule-headed?"

"Sometimes." She cringed on the inside, hoping that he never found out she said that. It's just for the case, she reminded herself.

"I do have one question, however."

"Go ahead."

"Well… would it not be easier to say that we did our report if we actually did our report?"

"You aren't going to talk me into reading you in, Agent David."

"That is not what I meant. Might it seem better on paper for you and for I if it at least appeared that we did our job? Maybe put a few witness statements in the file?"

Stockett narrowed her eyes. "The witnesses already left."

"Not all of them."

"You wouldn't be able to get anything. The things they would reveal in their statements are the very thing we're trying to keep a secret."

"Gibbs is a hard man to work for. He has expectations of us. Let us have ten minutes with each of them, if for no other reason than letting us feel like this entire trip has not been a massive waste of time."

The older woman sighed, a contemplative look crossing her features. "You can have ten minutes. No more," she warned, and her tone backed up the impression that she was not messing around.

"Understood," Ziva replied.

Once she left the bathroom and was out of Stockett's sight, she crinkled her nose and squeezed her eyes shut in a triumphant expression, pumping her fist in the air in silent victory.

XXX

"Dr. Henry Price."

"Yes. Just out of curiosity, why am I here?"

"I'm here to take your statement about what happened here two nights ago."

"But I thought you weren't supposed to know that."

"This is a formality, just like the whole trip."

"I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Special Agent Timothy McGee."

"I don't think I have anything to add to what you already know."

"We don't know anything."

"Exactly."

XXX

"Lincoln Carpenter?"

"Doctor Lincoln Carpenter, please.

"Lincoln? Wow. I didn't think anyone was named Lincoln anymore."

The nervous-looking man pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "Can I help you, Agent…?"

"DiNozzo, and yes. What happened Tuesday night?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean…"

"I think you do."

"I want a lawyer."

"We don't have a lawyer here."

"Then I have the right to remain silent."

"You aren't under arrest."

"Then I'm free to go."

XXX

"Why am I here, Gibbs? You can't possibly expect me to tell you anything."

"I don't."

"So you just enjoy wasting my time, then?"

"By rights, I should be asking you that."

Gibbs fought his hardest to hide his smirk at her glare.

XXX

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Dylan. Due to your advice, we were able to secure interviews with all of the staff."

"Anything to help." He had a charming smile.

"I don't know if they'll do any good, as the people here seem to be scared of Dr. Stockett, but… It's better than it was before, right?"

"Much better."

"So, were you there when it happened two nights ago?"

"I was right at the front. Saw the whole thing."

"So you could, in theory, tell us everything."

"Yes, I could. But I won't."

"Why not?"

"Because Stockett is watching us. She's hidden cameras."

XXX

Tony sighed tiredly. It had been a long day. He ran his hand over his face before pouring his fourth cup of coffee.

The interviews weren't going as well as they had hoped. It seemed that Stockett had them all scared to say a word. Then again, Gibbs hadn't tried to intimidate them yet, but Tony had a feeling that these characters needed a more delicate touch.

"Oh, hello, Agent DiNozzo."

"Dr. Burns."

"Long night?" She inclined her head towards the steaming cup on the countertop in front of him.

"You could say that." He leaned against the counter. "We haven't seen you in the interviews yet."

Nervousness flashed across her features. "But I wasn't even there."

"That's true. I guess you couldn't tell us a thing." He sipped his coffee, wishing he had cream and sugar. He hated it black. "Not that you would talk to us anyway."

"Agent-"

"Please, just Tony."

"…Tony… If it were up to me, I would tell you."

"It is up to you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ah, nothing." He looked away nonchalantly and let her ponder what he had said. He hoped she would take the bait.

"Look," she began in a hushed tone, "I'm not authorized to tell you this, but there is something you should know about what's in that building."

"I'm listening." His volume was equally low.

"Well…"

"Any coffee left, or have you drunk it all, Agent DiNozzo?" The older woman's tone insinuated that she wasn't thinking about coffee, and her expression supported that theory. Anger was reflected in her words.

Without another word, Burns silently left the room, passing Stockett to do so, visibly trembling as she went.

Alone once again, Tony sighed. He had been so close.