Chapter Seven
Court, Diamond and Arena
For yet another evening Catherine Bachman, Mark Esposito and Jeremy Cintron are transported back the half hour journey to their cell, the thirty by thirty steel trap where they and their loved ones have been imprisoned for the past week. Each time they're moved they're silenced and blinded by ball gags strapped tight about their heads and by black bags drawn firmly about their necks.
Inside the trap their feelings of hopelessness have grown daily. Their clothing has long ago been replaced by plain gray shifts, for all the difference in material they're little more than long gunny sacks with holes cut out for head and arms, obvious in their captors' intent to humiliate and demean. The three scientists fare only slightly better, if one can call white lab coats over too long worn underwear an improvement.
Chloe has been treated for her rifle wound only after a stalemate of wills; none of the scientists would work until the girl had decent medical attention.
Frankly they're all still surprised that the stand off had worked.
But the work progresses slowly. The scientists had determined what had gone wrong with the device they're being forced to build: the hard won plans are not complete, and the quality of many of the parts are inferior. It will take many days work to correct the shortages.
At least that's the lie they've told their captors.
x
"We can not finish building this thing," Jeremy Cintron whispers as quietly as he can, yet his intensity burns the air between them and their families.
"We have to," Catherine Bachman declares. As soon as they were set free of their restraints she'd gone immediately to her daughter, as she had every day, cradling her in her arms as the girl lies upon the steel floor, motionless lest any activity undo the First Aid which is the best they were able to do for her. "They shot Chloe as an example," she grates with her arm about her wounded daughter. "These Techs are not stupid. They're not scientists, they follow the plans we and the others made but they have brains. What do you think will happen if someone realizes we're dragging our feet?"
Their loved ones, so many, look on, silent witnesses to an argument tested too many times with no more progress to a resolution than there is hope.
"Better than finishing this," Cintron insists.
Mark Esposito declares "You can talk, Jeremy. Not your family in here." He'd been friends with the black man but this horror strains too much.
Jeremy puts his arm about the silent woman beside him. "You think I don't care about Rita? And about your families? That's bull. But if this bastard gets hold of Dragonfire, we're talking Armageddon. The PDC is the Ultimate Weapon. There's no defense, zero survivability. Once that madman has control of it, that's it. Endgame."
Neither scientist considers contradicting him. You can't contradict the truth.
xxx
"Eric," Callen calls as he and Sam cross the long Operations Center, "Nell is supposed to have hacked Kanyicska's security cameras to loop them so no one would know she was there, but to miss the one in his suite."
"You can't think she–"
"Of course not," he cuts off the man's outrage. "But if she could do what they say she did, how would she? And could she have missed the one in his suite?"
"I don't see how. You'd have to hack the Server, make the changes to all the cameras but specifically exclude the one in his rooms."
"Double check. Prove that one isn't on a separate system."
"You've got it," he declares, turning to his computer, his tight muscles screaming their need to assault someone, starting with Burgoyne and working outward.
xxx
Nell is escorted by Lori Berkshire across and down the street from the Police Station to Room 7-3, the third of the seventh floor Municipal Building Court rooms, five in a long row across from the elevator bank and around a corner, the corridor too crowded for her taste. However, she's gratified to see Henrietta Lange rise from a bench to meet them. Hetty has always, to her mind, been like an atomic bomb, small in stature but devastating in effect.
"Hetty," Berkshire greets the diminutive woman.
"Lori, once again thank you for your help."
"No problem. Meeting the woman who took down one of the biggest Arms Dealers in the world is something I would never have missed."
"Wait a minute!" Nell's shocked. This woman is supposed to be on her side.
"Oh, I don't mean you," she says. "I mean I'm looking forward to seeing who actually did it."
"Well," Hetty says, "let's get through this one first."
"Again, no problem. Simple bail hearing, we'll be out in twenty minutes."
x
They enter Room 3, and it's forty eight minutes of hearing cases from within the gallery before the Bailiff announces "Case 38297-3, People vs. Nell Jones, Murder in the First Degree."
Nell had thought she was ready, but to hear the words freezes her in her seat. This is real. They really think she did this. They're going to try to prove it. It takes a pull from Berkshire and a nudge from Hetty to get her on her feet, and she walks in as straight a line as she can. She's grateful as she steps through the wooden gate between gallery and well that Berkshire remains on her left and especially that Hetty bolsters her on her right. They step behind the table to her left.
"ADA Hanna?" The judge could have gone for so long without saying that. She hadn't paid attention to his name before, but the suited man to her right is under thirty and a thin five eight.
"Your Honor, the accused is suspected of acting with predetermination and deliberation to murder Mr. Grekor Kanyicska in his home by smothering him in his bed. To accomplish this, she purchased certain materials which were subsequently found in her home. She broke into the decedent's home, is on film having done this and leaving after the event. The People move for Remand pending Trial."
'How long will that take?' she thinks. The way the Courts are booked, this could take months.
The Judge looks to his right. "Counsel?"
"Special Agent Lori Berkshire, your Honor, NCIS Legal, San Diego; Licensed in California, Nevada, Oregon, and Washington. Your Honor, the accused is a United States Federal Special Agent with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, who has been Vetted by the Department of Defense and issued a Security Clearance of 'Top Secret', their highest Classification. She is not a Flight Risk and looks forward to clearing herself of these Charges. Defense requests Bail."
He looks to Hetty. "And you are?"
"Henrietta Lange, your Honor, in Charge of NCIS' Office of Special Projects and Special Agent Jones' boss. NCIS will guarantee such bond as you shall set." It always helps to use positive and progressive terms.
The robed man consults a book upon his bench, turns two pages, picks up a pen and makes an entry, then addresses Berkshire. "Trial date is set for October 10. In the meantime, I set bail in the amount of $20,000. See the Court Clerk." He bangs his gavel. "Bailiff, call the next case."
"Case 38361-2, People vs..." is the last thing Nell cares to hear as the three women step from behind the table and move to the desk at the left corner.
xxx
The sun, even in Daylight Saving Time, is well upon its downward course by the time two cars pull into the drive outside the converted (and Condemned, according to the sign by the door) Water Works Administration building, now NCIS Headquarters. But before any of the women can open the main door it flies inward, yanked by a tall and very anxious man. "You're back!"
"I'm back," Nell confirms, not altogether sure he didn't track her from the moment they'd left the Municipal Building to be down here at the right second.
She can see he wants to give her a more fervent greeting if only he dared. Perhaps later.
Definitely later.
Upstairs in the Operations Center with the Field Agents, she discovers he's dared one thing: there's a tall vase of red roses beside her keyboard. Set in the cluster's center is a single pure white one.
Surrounded by so many people, she can only communicate by eye contact with her partner.
x
Hetty pulls their attentions to business. "We need to consider where we stand."
"Violated," is Nell's succinct conclusion.
"That they have manipulated events is obvious," Hetty says.
"The reason behind the reason is what concerns me," is Callen's position.
"Excuse me," Deeks asks. "The reason behind the reason?"
"That someone in his organization hit Kanyicska," Hetty says, "is plain. Burgoyne is at the top of my very short list. In fact, his is the only name on it."
"But if it was a palace coup," Sam asks, "who the hell would care? I mean, Intelligence would have to expand an already existing dossier on Burgoyne to put him in the big chair, draw a new chart of the top brass, but beyond that usual bit of work, who'd care how the job was done? Hit Kanyicska or leave him alone, everybody knows who did it without tripping a single alarm."
"Why go through the complexity of framing Nell?" Callen asks. "What's to gain?"
"They know we'd bend every effort to clear her," Deeks says.
"Distracting us from what?" Kensi asks.
"Let us consider how it was done," Hetty directs. "That may prove revealing as to 'why'."
"According to the files," Deeks says, "she supposedly bought Flex-Seal, gloves, rope that was blackened with shoe polish, which was also found on the thick pair of gloves."
"I have shoe polish, of course."
"But the key is they claim their Security system was hacked," Eric says. "I'm still working on analyzing that. So far, I can't see any way of accidently missing the camera in his suite. You have to actively exclude it."
"Where precisely were you while Kanyicska was getting killed?" Sam asks. It's important to get the details exact to make certain Berkshire knows what she's up against.
"Throwing up my guts."
x
Nell had come into work on July 31st already sick. Kensi tells the Lawyer that "When she came out of the bathroom for the third time at 0840 looking like a truck hit her, Hetty asked me to drive her home."
"It was an adventure," Nell declares. "For that and the next day I was sicker than a dead and decaying dog."
The image, for the hyperbole, does convey her situation. "You were alone all the time?" Lori asks. She doesn't miss the micro flicker of her eyes, that if she'd allowed it Nell would have glanced at the tall, deeply concerned man at her side.
"Eric wanted to come over after work, but I didn't want to see anyone. It was only on the 2nd that I managed to drag myself in, but I didn't feel okay until midway through the day."
"What did you take?" Callen asks.
"A whole bottle of Pepto-Bismol. It didn't help."
That much of the potent medication should have done far more than 'help'.
"So let's look at it," Berkshire says. "You go home alone, Kanyicska dies that night, you're home the whole next day into the following, no witnesses."
"Gotta love the timing," Sam says.
"Mr. Deeks, you and Miss Blye check everything in that apartment," Hetty orders. "Need be, we'll ship the whole thing to Abby Sciuto's lab in DC. I understand that she works 16 hours per day, she should turn up something in a reasonably short time."
"Good thing it's a small apartment," Nell says, liking the situation less with every word.
"As for tonight, you cannot return home and I do not want you alone. There's plenty of room in my home."
"Oh, I know." She'd been there as Hetty.
"Or if you want," Kensi says, "you could bunk with–"
"She'll stay with me."
The force turns all eyes to Eric.
x
"Well that is - I could - we could - I have plenty of - we could keep - I'd be able to - we could keep working, on the - well, I mean there's–"
"I guess I'll stay with Eric. Thank you, Eric."
"Don't mention it."
"I won't," she assures him.
"Well, now that that's settled," Hetty says, managing to keep a smile from pulling at her lips, "Miss Berkshire, I happen to own several properties, so you need not concern yourself with lodgings. You can review all the case materials we have, as well as what is contained on the LAPD's flash drive. Mr. Deeks, Miss Blye, considering the timing of Miss Jones' illness, I want you to collect everything that she ate, drank or touched and immediately ship it to Miss Sciuto's Forensics Lab in DC. I shall contact her." She looks up to Callen. "In the meantime, a moment of your time if you please."
A questioning glance to Sam provides no revelation, so he follows the woman out the door and downstairs to her enclave, where he takes the seat before her desk.
x
Settling herself, she reaches for a short stack of mail. "This came this morning, mailed from Headquarters three days ago, but in light of what is happening I was going to set it aside. Now I am not as certain that I should." She passes the envelope to him and he draws out a single folded sheet. At the top, in Old English print, large and bold, he reads 'Declaration of War'.
It's just outré enough for him to read the impressively formatted ancient text.
"The Warriors of DC NCIS, by these presents, declare a State of War against the forces of LA OSP NCIS, Battle to be joined on the First Monday of September, known in the barbaric calendar as Labor Day at high twelve upon the Field of Honor, otherwise known among the plebes as the Navy Yard Baseball Diamond, for a 9 Part Contest of Skill and Courage. For the Director; Abby Sciuto." He sets the paper down. "They're challenging us to a baseball game? Now?"
"Well, in fact three days ago. I called the Director, and it seems this stemmed from a similar contest held earlier this summer, the men against the women."
"How'd that turn out?"
"I'm told the ladies, the 'Enkiss Angels', decimated the gentlemen in an abbreviated game, by a score of 7 to 1 in the middle of the 2nd."
"And now they're looking to try their luck with us?"
"Well, it is my understanding that that game had been something of a Grudge Match, while this one would be more on the order of a Charity Exhibition."
"Well, who's getting the charity, and who's gonna be on exhibition? You know, never mind, we don't have nine to spare."
"I reminded her of that, and they have agreed to supply to us a Pitcher and Catcher out of the previous contesting teams.
"Now, as I said, I was going to put this aside with our regrets, particularly in light of our current dilemma, until I learned that tickets will be priced at $25 and all proceeds of the contest will be turned over to the Deceased Agents' Children's Fund."
Callen gives her a rueful smile. "They've got us by the short ones, don't they?"
"So it would seem." She looks into his thoughts, developing so well on his face. "So, shall I respond to this challenge in the rousing Affirmative?"
He hands the paper back. "We'll decimate them."
xxx
In DC, Alpha shift is ending when Tony DiNozzo steps off the elevator, turns right and sees Gibbs coming off the steps from four to enter the bullpen a second before him. Tony's attention is on getting home at a reasonable hour and a familiar sense has him drawing odds on his chances as he watches Gibbs hand Ziva a file folder an instant before he passes behind the boss.
"DiNozzo, just in time," is how Gibbs greets him. He hasn't even reached his desk and as he turns he can see his chances of a relaxing evening with Jeanne Benoit winging their way through the skylight.
"Always in time, boss," he replies briskly. He has a feeling that the bright tailed, bushy eyed routine isn't going to help him fight his fate.
"You and Ziva get on to the Maryland Women's Prison. Interview McFadden, find out what she knows. Ziva will brief you on the way."
He sees McGee's attention pulled off of whatever is on his own screen and his distress lights the room. That had been his assignment a few hours ago.
"Boss, we were just there," McGee protests.
Gibbs doesn't glance at him, but the expression on Ziva's face is eloquent and it makes DiNozzo anxious to be gone. He follows the rapidly walking woman, ready to learn what's going on when they're safe inside the elevator.
x
"Boss?"
"You're not going, McGee." He can hardly believe the man would question him.
"But–"
"Come here."
McGee leaves his desk and, when the man gets close he gives him a resounding head slap such as he hasn't dealt out in years.
"Did you think you were going to get away with that?" He's been restraining his temper since leaving Shepherd; now there's no need.
"Boss, I'm sorry. She was pushing my–"
"She didn't push your buttons - she owned you, McGee."
"I'm sorry. I–"
"What were you going to do? Forge papers from Justice, get her to open up and then pull the rug out from under her?"
The essence of making such deals as the man had unilaterally made is that the good guys always go through with them, because if ever it got out that the good guys' Word wasn't worth anything, a valuable resource in Criminal Investigation would vanish, possibly forever across the board, so McGee's answer obviously would never be
"Yes."
x
Gibbs is halted, surprise overwhelming anger. "Revenge, McGee?"
"Why not? If anyone deserves–"
The rage he'd been letting filter out explodes. "It isn't bad enough NCIS already has one Agent arrested for Murder, you go and pull a stunt like this? Her lawyers would slaughter you, and when Justice found out you forged their paperwork–" Another wake up call, harder than the first, staggers the man. "You do something like this again, I'll have your badge. You got that?"
"Got it."
"Get out."
