"Conference Room"
McGee waited until Gibbs stopped the elevator between floors before opening the file folder he had in his hands. His boss stood like an emotionless stone. "First, I tried to access the traffic cameras, but there was a power outage this morning because of the storm. All the cameras got knocked offline when a transformer got hit by lightning. There aren't any pictures of the GW in the area where Tony was run off the road."
"No one's come forward with a cell phone video on YouTube?" Gibbs asked.
"Uh, no. Not yet. And you know about YouTube?"
"McGee –"
"I got lucky, Boss. I was able to get some information off that non-existent undercover operation I thought was the key. That led me to a few other places, and once I found a few files containing the name Carlisle, I could tell that one person had changed all of them. I started doing a search with particular file changing behaviors, cross-referencing them with Peoria, Chicago, drug dealers, the months prior to the newspaper date, and then finding the times when they were created and changed –"
"Just give me the facts, McGee," Gibbs said, his voice uncharacteristically undemanding. That only meant one thing – Gibbs was trying to hold in his anger, not loose it on the rest of the team. That meant he was overcompensating.
In other words, Gibbs was worried, and he didn't handle worry well. He might have guessed the truth from the moment he saw the photographs, and now all he needed was the confirmation.
McGee cleared his throat, then pointed toward the first page where a mug shot was prominently displayed. "This picture is Thomas Pullman. He's got a juvenile record, was in and out of juvenile hall multiple times as a teen on various counts like destruction of property, vagrancy, truancy, vandalism, joyriding –"
"How'd you get juvenile records unsealed, McGee?" Gibbs asked.
"Uhm… I didn't exactly get them unsealed, Boss."
"Right. What happened to him?"
"He fell off the radar for a few years until he turned up in Cincinnati. He was homeless, got arrested on a trespassing charge when he found an abandoned warehouse to sleep in. Got probation for that." McGee realized Gibbs wasn't really interested in the little details there. "There are a few other arrests along the way. Then he was arrested in Illinois in '97 on drug charges. He got a year in Joliet on a plea bargain when he testified against his boss but according to the records, he was killed in a jailhouse uprising before he was transported to the prison."
"According to the records, McGee?" Gibbs asked, a bit irritated.
"Yeah, Boss. It turns out that almost every bit of that information I just quoted was fabricated by the FBI. It all looked okay on the surface, but once I started digging a little deeper, some things didn't add up. I cross-referenced what I could figure out with some local newspapers and police reports –"
"McGee," Gibbs stopped him.
"Right." McGee pulled up another picture. It was Thomas Pullman, only it was a much older version of Thomas Pullman. "Uh, according to some FBI files I wasn't supposed to ever get into, this man's name is Edward Carlisle. Not sure which is the real name and which is the alias since the files have been reconstructed a number of times. I'm still trying to figure out who's who. Anyway, his records state that he was born 1962 in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He was the head of a major drug smuggling cartel, but he's like a ghost. No one was ever able to pin anything on him or make any charge stick. He walked out of court every single time. He eventually moved his entire operation to Illinois. The Feds tried several times to catch him, but he was too smart for them. Finally, the Feds decided to try a different tact. Carlisle had some trouble with local LEOs. A couple were killed, and some reports speculate that it was because they wouldn't back off an investigation and got too close. They couldn't prove it though. Several civilians were killed in drive-bys and shootouts as well. Again, no proof, no reliable witnesses, nothing to prove Carlisle was behind any of it. The Feds kept quiet about what they knew. They didn't tell any police department what they knew about him. So, completely independent of the Feds, some local LEOs in surrounding cities got wind of his setting up his drug operation in the general area and sent in undercover agents. A few of them were discovered and killed. Only one police officer managed to stay undercover and get the goods on Carlisle."
"Tony?" Gibbs asked.
"Tony," McGee told him. "He was a Narcotics detective in Peoria, was undercover about five months in Carlisle's crew – this is during that time when the records show he was doing traffic detail. That has to be a cover. His testimony would have put Carlisle in jail for life."
That got Gibbs' attention. "Would have? The case didn't go to trial?"
"No. This is where Carlisle and Pullman's records literally collide. Records show that Carlisle was killed in an uprising a day after he was remanded to Joliet. He was being transferred to another facility. There's a record of a body being taken to the morgue and being buried at the local cemetery, but satellite images show that the particular plot is assigned to another family altogether."
Gibbs understood how that would get any investigator's attention. "And the FBI records are wrong?" she asked.
"Rewritten, actually. The FBI isn't as good at covering their tracks as I am at finding them. Both Pullman and Carlisle are recorded as being killed on the same day in the same way, but the files are kept separate so anyone researching one wouldn't have come across the other and start putting the pieces together."
"What are the pieces, McGee?" Gibbs asked.
"It took me a little while to get these last bits of information into some coherent and logical order," he explained as he pulled out another paper indicating a timeline of the lives of the two men, "but once I got the dates of the original files, I was able to put them in chronological order. Some of this is still speculation, but from what I was able to pull out of the databases, I think Pullman used the name Carlisle professionally, as a drug dealer. He would use the name Pullman and pretend to be a member of his own crew. I guess it was to make sure no one was plotting against him or just to keep track of what was going on in his organization. The FBI files don't list any reason why he did that, but the hidden Peoria police records show that Tony had discovered that Pullman and Carlisle were the same person early on in the undercover op. The sting went down at a storage facility, arrests were made, Pullman was brought in with some of the other cartel soldiers. Here's another point where the information gets murky and I'm still trying to make sense out of a lot of it. It looks like the FBI stepped in and made a deal with him. They'd dismiss the charges, fake both Carlisle's and Pullman's deaths, give him a third identity, let him set up an operation elsewhere and he'd hand over information on other drug dealers, gun runners, diamond brokers, black marketers, you name it. The Feds could arrest them and he'd get to continue doing business. There was one hitch."
"Tony and the Peoria P.D.," Gibbs said.
"The Peoria district attorney's office had no idea what the Feds were doing and were going ahead with the prosecution. I can't find anything that shows that the FBI and the Peoria police department had any conversation or agreement about Carlisle yet. I can't find any deals with the district attorney. So far, there's nothing. Tony's testimony would have been the most damning testimony the DA had. When I talked to Ellen Roberts earlier – she's an ADA with the Peoria District Attorney's office – she told me to drop everything, so maybe the DA's office does know something but there's no paper trail to confirm it?"
As confusing as the information could be, he knew that what he had to say next would make everything painfully clear. Maybe.
"I was able to get a copy of the psych profile the FBI made on Carlisle. Actually, they made more than one and they all sort of contradict each other. One thing they agree on is that he takes betrayal seriously. The FBI knew that if Carlisle found out that anyone in his crew was an undercover cop, they'd be in danger. The fact that he'd killed the other undercover officers is proof of that, but Tony was still walking around and that would have been unforgivable as far as Carlisle was concerned. When the Feds sprung Carlisle from the local jail, faked his death and gave him his walking papers, they left him on his own. The Feds didn't do anything to protect Tony or warn him that he might be in danger. I think Carlisle decided that he was going to make sure there were no eyewitness accounts of his business transactions, so he went after Tony."
McGee brought out another picture. It looked similar to some of the pictures from the album, the one of the beat-up Chevy Nova lying at the bottom of a hill, the passenger side full of bullet holes. It was eerily reminiscent of Tony's car when it was in the catch pond earlier.
"This was hidden in the police report that had multiple erasures and rewrites done to it. It says that on 17 August 1997, someone unknown allegedly shot at Tony's car, passenger side, and forced him off the road. When he woke up in the hospital five days later, he told his lieutenant that it was Carlisle, but by that time, the Peoria police department was claiming that Carlisle had been killed during the transfer. The Peoria police didn't have any leads to go on, so it's still an open case."
"And the reason it's still open?" Gibbs asked expectantly.
McGee took a deep breath. "Part of the reason is because Tony was certain that it was Carlisle, a dead man, so the police claim to not have an actual ID on the shooter. Then there are other police officers who have a little trouble believing the official version. The LEOs didn't like learning that the Feds knew all about Carlisle but didn't say anything. Some of the LEOs thought the Feds were up to something more than just catching a drug smuggler. At first."
"At first? There's more to the story?"
"There may be. I'm still tracking down files and information," McGee told him. "Anyway, I called the hospital and talked to the neurologist who was taking care of Tony after the car crash. He wouldn't tell me much, doctor-patient confidentiality rules, but he did tell me that after the crash, he was worried that Tony's memory had been affected, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary and not enough to worry anyone. Tony was released from the hospital, and he moved to Philadelphia within a few weeks. That's the end of the officially sealed, buried and rewritten version that the FBI have hidden in their files."
Official version. Sealed version. Hidden files. The truth was going to be far worse. He handed Gibbs the envelope with the pictures. It was the boss' turn.
"You saw the date on the obituary page?"
"Yeah, Boss."
"The postmark on the packaging was three months ago, August 17th. It got misdirected and forwarded back here. If Carlisle's the one behind all this, why come back after all these years? Why wait months after mailing a package to Tony? And why did he think Tony was still the team leader?"
McGee thought for a moment. "I think I know why he's here now," he said quickly as he brought out another piece of paper for Gibbs to see. It was a hidden FBI report of the 'death' of Detective Anthony DiNozzo. "Carlisle thought Tony was killed in the car crash twelve years ago," McGee told him. "The FBI files are pretty clear on the fact that they told Carlisle this. Then they moved Carlisle to the West Coast where he started up a new business, Tony was on the east coast, the chances of either one finding out the other was alive were pretty slim. Something must have tipped off Carlisle, and since those FBI psych reports all say that he takes betrayal seriously, he might be here for revenge. But that might not be the worst part."
Gibbs paced the small space, thinking out loud. "Tony and the Peoria police department were lied to by the FBI, and a known killer, a cop killer at that, was allowed to go free in exchange for his help catching other criminals. What's worse?"
McGee pulled out more paperwork. "The FBI tried to make this entire case just go away. They buried it. Every person killed just sort of disappeared in the system. Arrangements were secretly made so families could get their insurance payouts and pensions from the deceased, some just disappeared altogether. Two of the people killed had almost every bit of their existence erased." He showed a picture of a young woman, smiling in what appeared to be a group shot for a yearbook. The wording underneath showed that it was a picture of the soccer team. "Charlotte Jenkins, goalie for the soccer team, worked in the library, graduated from Ohio State, accounting major, top of her class. Right after graduation, she moved to Peoria and got a job at a small accounting firm. She got married a year after that to Peoria police officer Anthony DiNozzo."
The utter quiet in the elevator was almost palpable.
Gibbs took the picture and carefully looked at the woman. She wasn't a beauty queen, but she was pretty, her eyes shining with laughter and mischief. It was the same look Tony had in his eyes so often. "So Tony was married?"
McGee nodded his head, looked at Gibbs who stood silent. "There's no record of it I can find, no marriage certificate, no death certificate. She got caught up in the FBI sweep. That's another reason the Peoria police department hasn't closed the case. Some of them knew Charlotte. Still, I've only found a few bits of evidence of her existence. One is this college photo. Another is a hospital announcement of babies born in a given week." He pulled out the newsletter. "Jesse Augustus DiNozzo, born to parents Charlotte Jenkins DiNozzo and Anthony DiNozzo." McGee let the information sink in. "The only bit of evidence I've found on their death is the newspaper sent with the pictures. The online Peoria newspaper database has been altered too, so I had to call the Peoria library and have them look at hard copies of the local paper. They found the August 18th edition. It announced that Charlotte and Jesse DiNozzo, ages 26 years and 8 days respectively, were killed in a drive-by shooting when their car was forced off the road. The driver of their car, Anthony DiNozzo, was in critical but stable condition at the hospital. No information was given on the shooter."
"Married and had a son," Gibbs muttered, mostly to himself. "But Tony never said anything about it! He never mentioned them."
"Tony talks a lot about some things, but he really doesn't talk about his past. Every now and then he'll say something that nobody was expecting. Normally, I tune him out," McGee explained. "But this… he didn't have anyone believe him when he said it was Carlisle."
"He's got us now," Gibbs said. "Have you got anything else, McGee?"
What could McGee say to that? "Not yet. I'm still searching, Boss. The FBI has this information buried ten ways from Sunday. Some of the files are encrypted. I have to be careful. If the FBI realize what I'm doing –"
"I'll have your six," he said. "While you're at it, get me any of the names of the FBI agents in Peoria at the time," Gibbs ordered as his phone rang again.
"Gibbs…. He is? I'll be there soon." He looked at his watch – it was 3:30 in the morning and so much had already happened in a mere half hour - and started the elevator again. "And get me the names of the agents on the West Coast who dealt with Carlisle. I want a list of the names he's helped put behind bars. I want dates, details, everything. Fast."
"I've already started working on the agents' names, but those files have been altered too. It'll take time to put the pieces together. Ziva's working on the people he's helped put behind bars, Boss."
Squad Room
Gibbs and McGee walked silently back into the squad room. Ziva was on the phone speaking in Hebrew. She held up a bag and waved it as McGee passed by. Ah, breakfast. Good thing Gibbs wasn't hungry. No one had brought him breakfast.
"That was one of my contacts in the Midwest," Ziva explained. "This Carlisle is well known in certain circles. Some years ago, he was the largest drug dealer in that area of the country. He was killed in an uprising when being transported –"
"Which we now know is a lie," Gibbs finished for her. "Anything else?"
"There was a rumor of an FBI operation starting in '97 to pound out as many drug dealers, smugglers, gun runners and other types of criminals as possible."
McGee looked up from his sausage and biscuit. "Uh, I think you mean round up, not pound out."
"I prefer my version," Ziva told him. "The operation had a measure of success and several of the larger drug dealers were arrested and convicted. Interpol also investigated a few international dealers. He's e-mailing me the list of names now. That is all that is known at this time."
"That's all your informant knows," Gibbs muttered. Someone somewhere had to know something more. Who was behind all this? He heard furious typing across the way. "McGee? Anything new pop up?"
McGee looked up, his sausage and biscuit forgotten, "Not yet, Boss. I'm putting in some new searches and cross referencing them with FBI personnel assigned to the sites. I've expanded the parameters to include international arrests and investigations. If they all have a common denominator, the searches should be able to find it."
Computer searches. Gibbs knew computers had their uses, but he preferred good, old-fashioned 'police work' as Tony would say.
"All right. Both of you, keep on it. Pitt called me in the elevator. I've got to get back to the hospital."
FBI Headquarters
Fornell marched into his office. Agent West was already there, sitting at Fornell's desk.
"Get your feet off my desk, get out of my chair and explain to me why you called me at 3:00 in the morning to come in to my office."
Quickly, West raised his hands in submission and stood up. "My apologies. I'm sorry about the early phone call, but your assistance is now needed."
"Don't tell me, let me guess," Fornell said as took his seat, "NCIS is now creating a bigger jurisdictional quagmire by looking into something you don't want them to look into or investigating something you don't want them to investigate, right?"
"Right," West handed Fornell a file titled Operation Lasso. "Time to read you in to the whole thing."
Fornell opened the file folder and scanned the operation summary. Then, he closed the file. "Forget this. Talk to me. What's this about?"
"It's about Edward Carlisle," West explained as he sat down. "He was a drug dealer, the FBI had no luck trying to catch him, but the local LEOs in Illinois sent in undercover officers to gather evidence. As you read, it worked."
"The Peoria PD sent in DiNutso. No surprise there. As much as I hate to say anything complimentary about him, he is a good undercover agent," Fornell grudgingly said. "That still doesn't explain why I'm here at," he looked at his watch, "3:45 in the morning."
"Using the name Patrick Evans, DiNozzo joined Carlisle's gang, and he was the one member of law enforcement to find out the truth about Carlisle and gather enough evidence to put him behind bars for life."
"The FBI had other plans," Fornell stated.
West shifted uncomfortably. Fornell briefly wondered if the chair had a broken spring or if West didn't like answering direct questions.
"Yes, the FBI had other plans. With the cooperation of the DEA and some assistance from the Federal Marshals, we made the deal with Carlisle to set him up elsewhere as long as he provided us with names of other criminals and helped us capture them. He agreed. We thought the case was closed from that standpoint."
Fornell opened the file again. "You told Carlisle that DiNutso was dead from a car crash twelve years ago?"
"Yes. That story held up until this year. We're not certain how, but Carlisle found out that DiNozzo was alive. Things got out of hand. He became focused on revenge. Carlisle's psych profiles are in the folder. They indicate a desire for revenge against anybody who turned on him."
Fornell opened the file again. What he saw was more than disturbing. "You think Carlisle's here to kill DiNozzo, you've known this for months, and you didn't warn him?"
West cleared his throat. "The information is classified, Agent Fornell."
"How is Carlisle moving around DC?"
"Unknown, but we do have a few theories," West explained. "We believe he had access to funds that we weren't aware of. We believe that that –"
"You believe?" Fornell was having a hard time believing what he was hearing. "What do you know, Agent West? And how long have you known it?"
West seemed to think for a moment, then answered, "We know he's here to kill DiNozzo. We're here to stop Carlisle."
"Stop him from killing DiNutso or just stop him?"
West stood up. "Our priority is to stop Carlisle. DiNozzo is expendable."
Fornell looked at the file pictures. Tony DiNozzo sitting on a front porch swing, a Chevy Nova lying at the bottom of an embankment with a shot up passenger side. He read the information and details of Operation Lasso. Then he saw the autopsy photos of Charlotte and Jesse DiNozzo. He couldn't go on to the next pictures. "Expendable? Like they were? A young woman and a baby?"
"Do you know how many lives we've saved –"
"Save it," Fornell almost yelled. "This is why you wanted me involved in this. You want me to run interference with Gibbs when you tell them in person that you knew about all this."
"No, Agent Fornell. I'm not telling them about any of this. You and I are going to the Navy Yard because we've been alerted that Agent McGee is asking questions he shouldn't. Also, I have reason to believe that Agent McGee is finding his way into files he has no right to be in. I need you in your FBI capacity to put a stop to all of it."
"Don't bet on it," Fornell could almost hear what would be said and what would happen when all this hit the fan. "McGee probably already knows everything your little division has been up to which means Gibbs knows. You step in there, believing as you do that DiNutso is expendable and they will tear you inside out. The only thing you can do is fess up to your part in all this - go over to NCIS and tell Gibbs you followed one of his people, took pictures of him and put them in a file, then lied to him about the death of the man who killed his family. I just want to know one thing."
"What's that?" West asked.
"It's been a while since I've Gibbs perform a vivisection on someone other than me. Mind if I watch?"