A/N: I know some of you might have waited a long time for me to update this story. Thank you for you patience! I hope to finish up with it soon, so you can look forward to a resolution! Thank you for reading, and enjoy. Cheers!
At Gibbs's signal, the screen in MTAC changed to reveal two men in tactical gear. Both were bald, but one was tall while the other was shorter and more stocky in build.
"I'm Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS," Gibbs said by way of introduction.
"I'm Sergeant Greg Parker, and this is Constable Ed Lane of the Toronto Metropolitan Police Strategic Response Unit," the shorter man said while the taller one loomed behind him. "Your agent called us about one of my men possibly being involved in the death of a seaman?"
"Yeah, that's right. Look, I understand your concern, Sergeant Parker, but the circumstances of the case are still murky at best." Gibbs wanted the Canadians to cooperate, but he didn't want them to interfere, either.
"That's fine, Agent Gibbs. We're willing to cooperate with you, but please tell us what is going on down there," Parker requested, his voice shaded with polite helpfulness. "A few of us are getting a bit worried."
Gibbs knew that tone; in this case, 'a bit worried' no doubt meant 'very concerned.' Parker was no doubt very good at controlling his emotions, but Gibbs had been at his job too long to be taken in. "The body of a seaman was found in an alley this morning. Your constable was found next to him," he said baldly, watching for their reactions as McGee posted one of the photos he took at the hospital.
The reaction was immediate and intense. "What the hell - is he alright?" demanded the taller man, Ed Lane, stepping forward, his eyes blazing with anger and fear - concern for the well being of a friend. Gibbs relaxed a little inside. He'd been hoping for this.
"Ed," Parker quietly cautioned his teammate before turning his attention back to the Americans. "What is Constable Scarlatti's condition, Agent Gibbs?"
Gibbs held a private moment of triumph. They had a name. "He's in a coma at the moment, Sergeant. What was he doing in D.C.?" In the corner of his eye, Gibbs saw McGee typing madly away at the computer terminal, no doubt gleaning all he could on their former John Doe.
"He was attending a law enforcement computer forensics conference. Constable Scarlatti is Team 1's technical expert. He was supposed to be take a red eye back to Toronto this morning." The bald sergeant paused a second, and Gibbs saw just a flash of inner fear in his eyes. "How bad is he, Agent Gibbs?"
"It's touch and go at the moment. I suggest you notify any family he has," advised Gibbs stoically. He didn't miss Ed Lane's expression of guilt and grief, either.
"Thank you, Agent Gibbs. Is there anything we can do to assist with your investigation?"
"Does he know anybody here in D.C.? Any contacts at all?"
Parker frowned and shared a look with Constable Lane, who shook his head. "None that I'm aware of. He didn't say anything about running into old friends at the conference, either."
"And he would if he did," Lane observed forcefully, turning his gaze on Gibbs. "And Spike certainly doesn't know any American Navy guys."
"Constable Scarlatti's a good cop, Agent Gibbs," Parker stated firmly. "Every time we're called out to an incident, we put our lives in each others' hands. I think you know what that's like, how well you get to know a person, how much trust we have in each other. Find out what happened to him."
"Thank you for your cooperation, Sergeant Parker." With a slight nod, Gibbs broke the connection. "McGee," he said, stepping over to his agent's workstation. "What do you have on Constable Scarlatti?"
The younger agent smiled victoriously. "His full name is Michelangelo Scarlatti. As far as I can tell, 'Spike' is just a nickname. His parents are Italian immigrants. His father died recently of cancer. He's not only the technical expert for Team 1, he's their bomb technician as well."
"Explains the scars," Gibbs remarked, pleased at the confirmation of his gut.
"Yeah. The Strategic Response Unit had record numbers of call-outs over the past few years, and a few high profile incidents, including one in which they took down a gun supplier responsible for a third of the weapons supply in Toronto. The most recent big incident was a bombing against a weapons tech firm. Several people were injured, but no one was killed, and despite the danger, Constable Scarlatti successfully disarmed the bomb that would have taken down the entire building. As far as I can tell, he's an outstanding cop, Boss," McGee shrugged.
Gibbs grimaced in frustration. "So, we've got a model seaman and a model cop, from two completely different places, don't know each other at all, meet in a dark alley in the middle of the night. One ends up dead and the other seriously injured. Is there something missing here, McGee?"
McGee's eyebrows shot up. "Maybe... another person? Someone else was there?" he speculated.
"Ya think, McGee?" Gibbs said as he stalked out of MTAC. "Find the evidence!"
NCIS/FLASHPOINT
He was back in the building, trapped below ground, facing the bomb with only a few seconds left on the timer. Only this time, he couldn't type in the access code (425462!) fast enough, his fingers trembled too much, and the bomb exploded, taking him into darkness once again.
NCIS/FLASHPOINT
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Abby crowed over her computer, jumping up and down in triumph.. "I got you now!"
"Whoah, Abby, don't give yourself a heart attack there," Tony advised, eying the large number of CafPow! cups on her desk.
The forensic scientist looked at him disbelievingly. "Really, Tony? I just break the case, and that's all you can say?"
"Really?" Tony's eyebrows came together in surprise. "Then you're doing better than Ziva and I did. The victim's motel room was a bust." He heaved the suitcase onto the evidence table. "We got nada."
Abby grinned, not hiding the glee at her success. "Well, then, Tony, I'm about to make you ecstatic." She whirled back to her computer, pigtails flying around her head. "I was finally able to clean up the prints on the pipe, and guess what?"
"They don't belong to either of our victims," Gibbs declared, startling DiNozzo out of his skin by his sudden appearance behind him.
"Aw, Gibbs, you spoiled the surprise!" Abby seemed momentarily disappointed, but threw it off a second later. "But you're right," she smiled brightly. "I just matched them to this guy, Robert 'Little Bobby' Freeman."
A mugshot appeared on the plasma screen on the wall. 'Little Bobby' was a scrawny looking punk, grinning insolently at the camera.
"He's been busted several times by D.C. Metro for petty theft, and once for mugging with this guy, Tommy Cassidy," Abby continued, pulling up a second mug shot.
"What is this, The Princess Bride?" DiNozzo said in bemused observation. "It's like Fezzik and Vizzini, D.C. style!"
Gibbs turned around and stared at Tony steadily.
"It's just that one's small and the other's huge and..." Tony trailed off. "Shutting up now, Boss."
"Anything else, Abs?" Gibbs asked, turning back towards the excitable forensic scientist.
She grinned in victorious satisfaction. "Just that both of them got picked up by D.C. Metro this morning at Washington Hospital Center."
