Chapter Seven
Tim and Ziva
Tim McGee sat at his desk, his eyes locked on his computer's monitor, his mind unusually divided. He was thinking about two things instead of narrowing his focus to the task at hand. In one sense, he was glad to be back at his computer, but at the other hand he was sorry to be away from the Convention.
Still, the pleasure of this weekend had soured immensely. This Memorial Day Weekend was something he had been looking forward to for months, but now….
He couldn't in all good conscience fault anyone. Certainly Leslie Greene and Cathleen Disla hadn't intended to meet their so gruesome ends as they had. But right now his focus was not on either young woman. His attention was, in fact, on Nancy McCarren, the third member of the 'Superheroine Trio'. He was certain that she would not be found wandering the exhibits and panels of the Convention. More likely, she had not escaped the torment that had afflicted her friends. He had to work quickly and efficiently if he was to prevent her from meeting their end.
So it was a jarring break when he became aware of a soft breath tickling his left ear. He looked up, startled to find Ziva David bent close to him. Very close indeed. "Ziva?"
"Yes, Tim?" she asked, not looking at him. She was, in fact, staring at the names that flashed across his monitor's screen.
"You're tickling my ear." She looked at him and gave him a smile that seemed to say volumes; if only he could possibly read the exotic woman the way Tony DiNozzo claimed he could.
x
If truth be told, Ziva would much rather have Tim read her. "Sorry," she whispered, her warm breath tickling his ear even more. "It is just, I told you before, I am trying to sharpen my skills … computer skills. It is a rare treat to learn from the Master."
He turned to face her. She was just inches away. "That's very flattering, Ziva. Thank you."
"You are welcome, Tim," she replied softly, warmly.
She straightened up, and started to take a step back. Or did she just pretend to?
"Ziva?"
"Yes, Tim?" She came closer again.
"I – that is –." She was so close, so delectable he could barely think. "I just wanted to thank you for.…" He couldn't say what he was really thinking. "For keeping my secret," he covered instead.
"It is my pleasure, Tim."
He blinked, looked up into her eyes, inches now from his, tried to decipher the curious subtext in her tone. But she turned away, and was again unreadable – just like every woman was.
x
She returned to her own desk across the aisle from him, and suddenly it felt like a much further distance than it usually did, than it actually was. "What are you doing now?" she asked.
"I'm comparing the Convention's pre-registration database with the too-many sex crimes databases. It's days like this that I wish the world had one big database."
"To list all the men guilty of being sex maniacs?" she asked with a wry smile. "No computer could hold the list." She caught the steel in his gaze. "Present company excepted, of course."
"I should think so." He turned his attention back to the lists flashing across his screen while Ziva, well aware of the problems that arise in conflicting Israeli and American sensitivities and expectations, struggled to think of a way to make things right again.
"The problem is in the number of 'Care-of's and P.O. Boxes. The C.O.s are usually minors, but I can't rule anything out. P.O. Boxes I'm flagging as 'most likelies', but I'm still in the same situation. I think Abby and Ducky are going to pin down DNA and blood work long before I can come up with anything definitive."
"Is that a bad thing?"
He turned to her, trying to keep the irritation he felt out of his tone. "No, it's not a bad thing. It doesn't matter who solves this, just that it is solved. The problem is that Convention Registration lists only cover the pre-registrations, not the better than 60% who come through the door and pay cash. And the one-days are going to be a nightmare. It would be more helpful to have the Hotel's Registration list, but my warrant request is running through the system like molasses."
"I am on it," she said, turning back to her own computer. "I will see what I can do to kick it in the balls." She caught his look out of the corner of her eye and turned back. "That would be 'butt', would it not?"
"Better," he agreed, trying not to smile at her faux pas. "At least less intimidating."
They returned to their respective duties.
x
Ziva was vastly relieved that he'd bought her cover-up. She'd said 'balls' because, close as she had been to him, that was what she'd been thinking. She decided to concentrate more on the case than on the man opposite her before she truly embarrassed herself.
x
"I am sorry you got dragged away from your Convention, Tim," she said a few seconds later, unable to not talk to him. They were alone in the Bullpen, and such moments were rare. She also far preferred to talk to him than to DiNozzo.
"Don't worry about it. I'm going back, though not to the things I'd been looking forward to. On the whole, it's kind of soured for me."
"I am sorry," she repeated, not entirely sure what she was apologizing for, just feeling the need to do so, to commiserate. "I must say, though, that I am surprised. I did not take you for …" she searched for the word she wanted - for too long.
"For what? I have a life outside of NCIS, you know." He couldn't contain his irritation. Of all people, he'd thought she would be able to understand. He thought she had earlier? Could he have been so wrong?
"I know you do, Tim." She bit her lip. Everything she tried to say was coming out wrong. "It is just.…" She couldn't continue, not and be sure of being safe, but somehow she had to get out of this. "Well, you look better there than most of the others did. No wild costuming, no odd shirts – not like DiNozzo," she finished, referring to his Super Bowl XL Steelers t-shirt.
"I'm not a tee-shirt kind of guy. I do have an MIT t-shirt, but not much else."
She was surprised. "What is a 'my titty' shirt?" The look he gave her spoke volumes and she bit her lip, turning away. "Oh."
x
Now, having completely humiliated herself, she was too embarrassed to say anything more. Her thoughts had been too divided between the case and the man. She turned to her computer, locked her attention on her own work. A few seconds later, Gibbs strode in, finding his two Agents absorbed in their searches.
"What have you got for me?" he asked. McGee answered first.
"A whole lot of nothing, Boss. We're just in the exclusion phase right now." McGee gave him a brief rundown on what they were doing. "It's slow at this point, just too many names, and I really can't exclude any based on gender or age."
Gibbs opened his mouth to say more, and what seemed to emerge was the ringing of the phone. Ziva tried very hard to repress a grin. Turning back to his desk, he picked up the receiver. "Gibbs."
"It's Ducky, Jethro. I know time is of the essence for you, so I have a preliminary report on our Miss Disla, a.k.a. 'Wonder Woman'."
Gibbs pressed the Speaker button on his phone, hanging up so his two Agents could hear as well. "Go ahead."
"Well, the tests for intercourse came back positive as well as in Miss Disla's case, and she did have a broken neck from the fall. But the Cause of Death was massive coronary failure."
"Heart attack? Could electrical shock be the cause?"
"Go to the head of the class, Jethro. Particularly in cases of massive and extended Direct Current electrical shocks, the heart loses its rhythm and never regains it. The heart goes into fibrillation and the victim dies."
"So the shocks killed her."
"Apparently. Miss Disla showed the same signs of having been tortured for a considerable period prior to death. Abby's here now receiving the samples I collected. We'll have a conclusive report for you by the end of the day."
Gibbs looked at his watch. It was already well after 3:00. "An hour, Ducky." Change of Shift or everyone's staying double overtime.
"Yes, we can have another preliminary for you in an hour."
Gibbs sighed. His friend's tone carried his, and Abby's, usual admonition: 'You can't rush science.'
"I'll be waiting."
x
This was that part of the process that Gibbs hated the most. His Field Agents, Medical Examiner and Forensics Scientist now had a plethora of clues to examine and process – he himself was checking on the backgrounds of Leslie Greene, Cathleen Disla and Nancy McCarren, seeking what they had in common. The leg work, except for DiNozzo's continued efforts at the hotel, was just beginning. For the moment, it was time to focus on the mind work.
Fortunately, his own efforts proved to be quite fruitful. The three women had a vast collection of links extending all the way back to Junior High School. To say that they were fast friends was a vast understatement. From McGee he confirmed the three had reserved admissions to the Convention for over seven months, and were booked to appear at both yesterday's and tomorrow's 'Costume Calls'. He wondered which of them had the idea to do so naked.
He looked across the room. David had already obtained the Search Warrant through their former team mate Lee, now up in Legal, for the hotel's registration records. A call to DiNozzo would soon result in that list being electronically delivered to McGee.
His own search had resulted in a trail of the three young women he could follow from Junior High through last week. Unfortunately, nothing could point to the present location of the missing Nancy McCarren, or even to a clue as to whether or not she was alive.
"Ziva? Get Lee back on the phone. I want a warrant to search the hotel – every guest room. How many are there?"
"17 floors," McGee answered instead, "35 to a floor, 594 excluding #818."
"Already called, Gibbs," Ziva had anticipated his decision and answered his original order. "I'm waiting on the fax."
Gibbs wondered if he should get on Ducky or Abby. Better not. Each would call if they found anything definitive. Until then, asking for information would only slow down the search for it.
Once again, there was nothing to do but continue work.
x
Fortunately, some time later, just before Gibbs' patience broke Tony DiNozzo stepped off the elevator. He made a bee-line for his desk, not even pausing as he said "Here you go, Probie," and tossed him a black diskette. McGee caught it, examined it for an instant and then slipped it into his computer's drive.
DiNozzo wasted no time pealing off his white dress shirt, tossing it over the back of his chair before sitting down, now looking more coordinated, if not better, in his dusty Steelers shirt.
"What have I got, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, more annoyed that he had to ask.
"You've got me; wandering around a swanky hotel with a bunch of dweebs, geeks, freaks and meeps, dressed in a white dress shirt and a pair of eight year old jeans."
"It's not that bad, DiNozzo," Ziva put in with a teasing smile. "You're just jealous that Tim wasn't wearing 'my titty' shirt." DiNozzo stared at the woman. She gave him a sphinx-like smile.
"Don't go there," McGee advised.
DiNozzo turned to him, no less puzzled. "I'm scared to even imagine where 'there' is."
x
"Perhaps a better 'there' is answering my question!" Gibbs reminded him, too far away to whack DiNozzo in the back of the head with his hand, having to settle instead for doing it by voice.
"Well, boss, I spent most of the day on top of Goodbody-."
"Her name's Hinley," Gibbs said, cutting him off. "Cathy Hinley."
"I knew that," DiNozzo, who most emphatically did not know it, said.
"Then use it!"
'Well, so much for faking it.' DiNozzo thought, coming out from behind his desk to stand before Gibbs'. "Anyway, we picked the brains of all her staff, but we're no closer to ID-ing 'Electro', or even ruling out any other suspect. The best picture we have was taken from the floor level up to a stage. He was alone, so we don't even have a reliable scale for height. We can't lock him in as a suspect, can't rule anyone else out. But we did find plenty of those aluminum filings in 818 once Abby told us what to look for. Patterson, Salk and I trailed him to the bank of elevators."
"And?" Gibbs prompted, annoyed that the narrative had ended at that point.
"Where we lost him."
Gibbs kept his hands below the level of his desk in an effort not to throttle the man. "You lost him?" His voice dropped to a quiet tone; always a danger sign. DiNozzo shrugged.
"Sorry, boss. It's an upscale hotel; that means the staff keeps the place spic-and-span. By the time word got to the cleaning staff not to vacuum the hallways, they'd already done it."
Gibbs' hands were longing for the feel of DiNozzo's throat. "I trust you gathered and tagged the bags."
"Already on their way to Abby's lab."
"Well, that's something." He thought of Abby, already well burdened with DNA testing, identifying the source of the particles already discovered as well as researching and identifying dozens of other traces and samples found upon the bodies of Greene and Disla, and decided he should bring her down another large cup of 'Caf-Pow!'
x
McGee got up from his desk and Ziva, seeing the conference moving on to close quarters, followed. "Boss, I think we're going about this the wrong way."
"What way should we go about it?"
"We're treating this like a regular crime scene, but it's not. It's a collection of twelve thousand completely unrelated individuals who, unless we find a reason to hold somebody, are going to be going their separate ways in barely twenty four hours."
"Barely?"
"The second 'Costume Call' is scheduled for 4:00. It's supposed to be bigger than the other one, larger prizes, and almost fifty are registered already. After that draw, everyone's going to scatter for homes all over the country. The dinner with the Celebrities is 'Reservation Only', an extra fee, so only about four hundred took advantage of it."
"What do you have in mind? A lockdown?"
"Nothing so drastic – at least not yet. But the fact is, this is a sub-culture and we are just not blending in. We look like NCIS Agents investigating a murder. We need to blend in better if we're going to get any answers."
"What's your idea?" He was running out of patience with the man's preliminaries.
"We need someone to get in on the inside, maybe even undercover. Someone who doesn't look like NCIS. Further, though the 'Costume Call' is scheduled for 4:00, people will be starting to get ready early tomorrow afternoon. They'll be going for $2,500, so people will want to impress everyone as much as they can for as long as they can; drum up the votes."
"And just who do you propose we put on the inside?"
Tim looked at DiNozzo. DiNozzo, wanting no part of the idea, looked at Ziva between them. Tim shifted his own gaze. Ziva looked left, looked right, shook her head and wished she were back in Israel. "No-no-no-no-no."
x
"I can see you as a great Black Canary." Tim said coaxingly.
She turned to him, suddenly intrigued despite herself. "A Black Canary? What is a 'Black Canary'?"
"A woman, of course. An exceptionally beautiful woman, I might add."
"Well, thank you, but…"
McGee, on a roll, would not be put off. "Her costume is this black body suit, more of a bodice actually, black boots, black fishnet stockings and short black leather jacket."
"Yeah, but isn't she a blonde?" DiNozzo asked. They both looked at him and he hesitated, feeling the need to defend herself. "That is, I kind of noticed, and, well, isn't she?"
"Diana Lance had black hair; Black Canary wore a wig."
DiNozzo looked at the woman between them, scanning up and down appraisingly while Gibbs, seated before them, mentally reached 'ten.' for the second time and started yet another slow count.
"I don't know, Probie, I think she'd make a better Black Scorpion."
"All right," Ziva decided to 'bite the bullet'. "What does she wear?"
Gibbs reached 'ten' a third time, took a deep breath and started over again.
"She had this black half mask made of leather," he paused, taking another appraising look up Ziva's body. "Black boots, fishnet stockings, a really tight black leather push-up bodice body suit that only came up to …" he held his hand about mid-way up Ziva's breasts.
"No one is dressing Ziva up as a Black ANYTHING!" Gibbs exploded, startling the three of them into back-stepping. "Find another plan."
"Yes, boss," DiNozzo said. Finding great wisdom in making themselves scarce, the three headed for the stairs which would lead to the MTAC level and its exit.
"You know," McGee said to Ziva as they walked. "I really see you more as Zatanna."
"How does she look?" Ziva simply could not resist asking as they ascended the stairs.
"She wears a tuxedo – tails, actually – and top hat. But the tux is just a white shirt, white vest and black tuxedo tails – you know, the short black waist length jacket top, long in the back, along with high heels and black fishnet stockings." They started along the long ramp.
"Stockings? No pants?"
"No, just the jacket and these really, really short black pan–" A crumpled ball of paper bounced off the side of his head. Tim, not breaking stride, glanced down to the lower level at Gibbs, seated at his desk clear on the other side of the room and shrugged.
They started out the door. Before it closed, the last words Gibbs heard from Ziva were "I am starting to sense a pattern with you and black fishnet stockings…"