AN: Thanks for all the reviews! I might be a little tardy replying to any on this chapter, but I promise it's not because I'm trying to dodge the Gibbs-slaps I deserve for the ending. ;) The group of papers where I work is launching new websites and apps tomorrow night, so I'm pulling some wacky shifts the next few days, including an overnight one tomorrow. Since Caf-Pows aren't real, I'll probably have a Gibbsian coffee intake. Replies to all reviews to come as soon as I'm coherent again. I'll post replies for the guest reviews on the last couple of chapters in the author's note for Friday's chapter. Now, on to the story...


Chapter 8

Tony leaned against his desk and looked down at Bishop's pile of papers on the floor. "What do you think you found?"

"All the shelters that are getting the extra money also have a Navy connection, a former sailor or Marine involved in running them," she said. "And all of those shelters run by former sailors and Marines have one thing in common: They all served former sailors and Marines who filed paperwork to get benefits through the Pax River JAG office."

"What about the other shelters?" Tony asked.

"Some of them have veterans who filed appeals for benefits, too, but they didn't go through Pax River JAG," she said. "Some went through Annapolis, some went through another branch and some didn't go through JAG at all, but went straight to the VA." She looked up. "I checked with McGee. He said that the grant program funding these shelters goes through a particular VA office, while the other programs go HHS."

"So you're thinking we have a JAG-VA connection to the extra money," Tony said.

"I'm thinking that somebody's pulling some strings somewhere to make sure these shelters get funded, and the connection has to be at JAG." Bishop popped up to standing and Tony suppressed a sign at the lack of clicks and creaks from her knees. "More importantly, it has to be at the Pax River JAG office."

"Capt. Coleman again," Tony said. Before he could say anything else, his phone rang. "Go get a car from the motor pool. I'll meet you downstairs." As she left, he answered. "OK, McTraveler, what do you have?"

After he finished talking to McGee, he headed for the lab.

"Abbs, need the spy glasses," he said.

"Tony, those are for Vance to wear tonight. He doesn't need them now," she said.

"I'll have them back before then," he said. "We'll meet in the evidence garage at 1700." He took the glasses from her lab table and left before she had a chance to ask him anything. A quick stop in autopsy to brief Ducky, and then he was on his way to meet Bishop.

He found her waiting at the car, her laptop open on the hood as she bent over it.

"Find something?" he asked.

"Maybe," she said. "Faith Coleman has four brothers. All five of them have served in either the Navy or the Marines. Their father was a machinists mate in Vietnam, stayed in for his 20. Not a lot of money for a family that big, but all the children had their education covered by the service when they served."

"She went the JAG route. What about the others?" Tony asked.

Bishop smiled. "That's where it gets interesting. The only one younger than her was a SEAL. Malachi Coleman finished his training and was assigned to a team in August 2001."

An old memory pinged Tony's brain. "'Everybody thought because the Taliban fell quickly, it was a cakewalk,'" he repeated. "She wasn't just talking about Petty Officer Curtin."

"What are you talking about?" Bishop asked.

"Old case," Tony said. "Long story." He frowned. "So her brother went into Afghanistan as a baby SEAL after Sept. 11. Did he survive?"

"He did," Bishop said. "That mission, and the one after it and the one after that. He went on more than 50 missions in his first four years as a SEAL. Then one went bad. He made it out, but his swim buddy didn't. Half his team didn't."

"PTSD," Tony said, not even bothering to ask.

"Yes," Bishop said. "About that time, his sister was promoted to full Commander and shifted her focus from the criminal side of JAG to the administrative side. She moved to the office that deals with the status hearings. Her brother Malachi was still keeping things under control, but his supervisors had started to note issues in his records. Within two years, he was out of the service, with a medical discharge. A year after that, he still wasn't getting services from the VA and he was living on the streets."

"And I'll bet that's when the commander started volunteering at the shelter," Tony said.

"It's not in her personnel file, but I'm sure you're right," Bishop said. "Last year, she was promoted to captain and given command of her branch of JAG. She oversees all the JAG teams in the world in that field, but she makes sure to keep her hand in with a few cases." Bishop hesitated. "Tony, back in the fall, she got a commendation because one of the regional JAG offices had been the one with the slowest processing times for those status hearings. She went out there for three weeks in the spring. Within a month, they were among the top units in all of JAG, and they've stayed in the top five since then."

"This is personal for her," Tony said. "She sees her brother in the men who come to the shelter, and she wants to help them." He pulled the glasses from his shirt pocket. "We're recording this session for Ducky to review. She knows I don't wear glasses, so you get them this time." He headed for the driver's-side door. Once they were on their way, he glanced over at Bishop, who was examining the glasses.

"The camera's in the frame," Tony said. "Good thing these heavier plastic frames are a style choice for some these days. Just keep you focus on where Coleman is — without staring — and Ducky will be able to see the entire interview when we get back to the office."

"Do you really think Capt. Coleman is a killer?" Bishop asked.

"No," Tony said without thinking. Then he paused. "No, even if she's changed some from the last time I dealt with her, she's not a killer. She could do it in self-defense, but this was a cold-blooded attack. That's never going to be her. She's too by-the-book."

"She can't be that by-the-book if she's the reason the shelters are getting money they shouldn't be getting," Bishop said.

"Shouldn't is a strong word," Tony replied. He focused on the road ahead as he talked through the thoughts that had been bouncing around in his head all day. "We ask a lot of military personnel in this country, and we don't give them a lot in return. That's been especially true lately. We make all these promises of benefits and services, then when those start to cost too much, they get cut and veterans wait years for what we told them we would give them in exchange for their service." He hesitated. "I didn't become a cop for the money. If I'd wanted that, I'd have gone into business like my father wanted. But I have enough to live on, more than enough. If I have to go out on disability, that money will be there for me. I never need to worry it won't be. Our veterans can't always say that. A petty officer might be making more than he ever could have in a small town with no job prospects and no college options, but when we break him and then let him go without any training or medical care, a lot of people would say as a country we should be helping them."

"You sound like you're arguing for whoever is moving the money over to the shelter," Bishop said. "Even if that's stealing?"

"We don't know that," Tony said. "Sure, I've worked for Gibbs long enough to know that sometimes the ends do justify the means. Until we know the money actually was misappropriated, we have to be careful. Maybe somebody on Capitol Hill cut a deal."

"And if we do find out the money was stolen?" Bishop said.

"I don't know," Tony said. "Let's make sure it was before we worry about that."

As he continued the drive out the Pax River, he wondered just what NCIS would do if they were right.

~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~

Gibbs didn't say anything else, but as soon as they were out of sight of the Briggses house, he pulled the car over. "Talk, McGee," he said.

"They had copies of the letters from Briggs on the piano," McGee said. "I took pictures of them, and I'm going to check them against anything I can find with his handwriting in his files."

"He wasn't coming to see them," Gibbs said. "You think he wasn't writing to them either?"

"The man Marques described to us this morning didn't sound like he was together enough to fool anybody, even just in writing," McGee said. "Whether they're from him or not, we need to know."

"Bishop?" Gibbs asked.

"She found a JAG connection to the shelter and others like it," McGee said, explaining the money trail he had found and she'd traced. "We don't know where the money is coming from, but it can't be a coincidence that they all have the JAG office connection in common."

"Rule 39," Gibbs said.

"Exactly," McGee replied. "Now, there has to be something there, and we think Briggs might have gotten too close to it and gotten killed. Marques, the shelter director, said he was starting to clean up his act. In Briggs' case, that would mean he was going to file for his benefits, but we can't find any paperwork with his name on it in the system."

"Trashed?" Gibbs asked.

"Or he realized something was wrong when he sat with the JAG volunteer to fill it out. That's the only connection we can think of," McGee said. "Maybe she got a phone call and he realized something was hinky."

"She?" Gibbs turned to face him more fully.

"Faith Coleman volunteers at that shelter, and she's the one who signs off on all the paperwork for those type of requests," McGee said. "She's in charge of that department at Pax River now."

"Not Coleman," Gibbs said.

"We didn't think so either," McGee said. "But how else would all of this happen if she wasn't in on it?" He hesitated. "The Faith Coleman we've dealt with before was in criminal law, and she was fastidious — practically OCD. Volunteering in a homeless shelter isn't something I could see her doing. Donating money, yes, or helping behind the scenes. Someplace where she could keep all her pencils sharpened. Maybe working in a domestic violence shelter for women. But not talking to men with psychiatric disorders, alcohol issues and other problems who sleep on the streets."

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

"That's what we need to find out," McGee said. "I'll call Tony, see if he's gotten any more details on that since the last time we talked."

"Shelter," Gibbs said.

"He's got a plan for that, too," McGee said. He hesitated, but figured Gibbs was going to shoot the messenger at some point, and that meant he was screwed no matter what. "Abby has an in through her nuns. She and the director are going in tonight as volunteers. Tony can't go since Marques knows him, so he and Bishop are going to stay in the van, work tech." He held his breath, waited to hear what Gibbs was going to say, if he was going to kill him — and how.

"OK," Gibbs finally said. "Vance will keep her safe. So will DiNozzo."

But McGee noticed that Gibbs' hand was gripping the steering wheel until the knuckles turned white. He maybe wouldn't mention that when he called Tony.

"What's the JAG-money connection?" Gibbs asked. "They don't have any more than we do."

"I don't know," McGee said. "But I'll call Tony, and if he doesn't know, I'll get on it." Gibbs just nodded and turned back to face front, starting the car and pulling away from the curb. McGee dialed his partner's number.

"Yes, McTraveler?" came the reply on the other end.

"Did Bishop connect the money trail?" he asked.

"Not yet," Tony said. McGee listened as Tony explained they were heading to Pax River. "That one's on you, Tim."

"I'll let you know," McGee replied. "See if you can get video of the meeting with Coleman."

"Why?" Tony asked.

"You can't bring Ducky, and you shouldn't do this on MTAC, but I'll bet Ducky can give us some more information about Coleman," McGee said. "There has to be something we're missing here if Capt. By-The-Book has gone rogue."

"Good thinking, Tim," Tony said. "Call you later."

After the call disconnected, McGee looked up to see they were back at the store. He got out and headed inside to find Gibbs was sweeping up.

"Boss, I'm going to try and connect the dots," he said.

"Good, go." Gibbs said.

McGee sat down and hooked up his laptop, dialing in to get a secure connection. Then he starting investigating. When he looked up again, it was dark and Jack was swapping the sign on the front door to closed.

"Now, Tim, don't forget to eat," Jack said. "Dinner will be ready in about half an hour, then you can do whatever it is you do as long as you want."

"Thanks, Jack," McGee said. "I'll be up in a few minutes."

But then two dots connected and he was on a whole new trail.

~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~NCIS~

Capt. Faith Coleman looked up as they walked into her office. "Agent DiNozzo, I didn't realize you had more questions," she said.

"Neither did I," Tony replied. "Agent Bishop, Capt. Coleman. Now that we're in person instead of on an MTAC screen."

"It must be important to change things from an MTAC conference to a drive over here," Coleman said. "How can I help NCIS?" She put her pen down, setting it perfectly parallel to the edge of her desk calendar. Tony wondered where the truth was and where were the lies. She certainly seemed as OCD as ever.

"We have a few questions about paperwork that's gone through this office," Tony said. "Hearing requests and paperwork for benefits."

"We're only charged with handling paperwork for active-service members," Coleman said. "I thought the case you were investigating involved a veteran."

"Yes, but this JAG office processed lots of paperwork from veterans at that shelter, and at three other shelters in the city," Tony said. "Care to explain, counsellor?"

"Explain what?" Coleman replied. She folded her hands on the desktop, her spine straight. "We don't typically handle that paperwork, but we can. Since many of the JAG members have experience with this sort of paperwork, many of us volunteer at shelter, just as I do."

"And you process the paperwork?" Tony said. "You're just a one-stop shop for these sailors."

"Just because JAG doesn't typically handle paperwork for veterans doesn't mean we can't be the intake agency," Coleman said. "I've encouraged people to send the paperwork through me, as I know people at the VA agency and can send it straight there. It's complicated and confusing and as you've no doubt heard, many of the claims can get backlogged behind the Agent Orange claims."

Tony could feel, rather than see, Bishop's surprise. "The U.S. finally decided to issue blanket eligibility to Vietnam servicemen in the past few years," he explained to her. "Anybody who served in Vietnam is assumed to have been exposed to Agent Orange, so if they later develop Parkinson's or other neurological disorders associated with exposure, they don't have to prove to the VA that they were in a location where Agent Orange was used."

"You stay on top of these things, I see," Coleman said. "Yes, and the backlog from all the Vietnam-era veterans who are filing for claims has meant that the relatively straightforward claims from Iraq and Afghanistan veterans often get stuck behind them solely because of the large stack of paper."

"So you've been expediting them," Tony said.

"My office handles the requests for status change hearings," Coleman said, straightening up just that little bit more. "Many of the soldiers who suffer from PTSD and were discharged for substance abuse issues need to go through that hearing before they can go to the VA. We handle one, and then we send on the paperwork to my friend in the Baltimore claims office."

"Baltimore has one of the biggest backlogs in the country," Bishop said.

"Yes, and the men and women my office helps would be waiting an extra six to nine months if we didn't expedite things," Coleman said. "For many of them, that six or nine months makes the difference between getting help in time or letting the demons in their minds destroy them forever."

"So you step in to help," Tony said. "How else do you step in and help them?" He leaned forward a bit in this chair.

"I volunteer two weekends a month at the shelter," Coleman said. "I told you that this morning."

"Is that it?" Tony asked. "No grant applications or other financial aid?"

"I donate a portion of my pay to the fund St. Teresa's set up to help the shelter," Coleman said. "I don't know what else I could be doing."

"So you aren't helping the shelter apply for VA grants?" Tony asked.

"No," Coleman said. "I help with my time and with whatever clout I can offer from JAG, and I help with my money through the church. I don't know enough about the grant process to help with that, and I don't know anybody who does."

"What about the other members of your branch here at Pax River?" Bishop asked. "Do any of them help with that?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Coleman said. "I do keep an accounting of the time they spend on these cases so that I can break it out if the Admiral ever asks how I'm spending my office's time. I've been trying to make the case that JAG should automatically transition all of these status hearing cases to the VA and expedite the paperwork, but to do that, I need to show what it would take and what the benefits are. I've been tracking the data for the past six months, but with the current budget situation, I can't even think about asking."

"So you have records of every case and all the time spent by your staff for the last year?" Tony asked.

"Yes."

"All color-coded and highlighted, I imagine," he said. "We'll need a copy of that."

"Do you have a warrant?" Coleman asked.

"Do we need one?" Tony replied. "You were planning to use them as evidence in budget hearings, which means that they'll be public records soon enough anyway. And if you obstruct our investigation, well, you know how Gibbs is about that."

"It's hardly obstruction if you don't have a warrant," Coleman said. She eased back just an inch or two in her chair. "But I don't really feel like a visit from Hurricane Gibbs, so I'll send copies to you."

"Send them to Agent McGee," Tony said. "He's the one working on this angle."

"So you're just here to see if you can annoy me?" Coleman replied.

"Something like that." He stood and grinned, the biggest smile he had. "Ciao."

He looked over at Bishop as they were leaving and glared as she opened her mouth. "Later," he said once they were outside Coleman's office.

Sure enough, back at the car, Bishop spit out words from the time they entered until they were off base. Tony let her run down, then said, "Which question do you want me to start with?"

"Why are we just taking her word on this?" Bishop said.

"We're not," Tony replied. "Trust me, McGee's going to cross-reference those records six ways from Sunday to see what he can dig up. All we really needed to do with this visit was see how she reacted."

"And?" Bishop said.

"She didn't act like she was guilty, but she definitely also thinks everything she's done is completely within bounds," Tony said. "I'm no lawyer, but at least some of that is at the edges of what JAG, or her branch of JAG, does. So if she's managed to deceive herself about that..."

"You wonder if she's done the same thing about anything else," Bishop said.

"You're learning, Probie," Tony said. "Now, let's get back to the Yard before we have to let Abby loose undercover."

Tony checked his watch as they entered the main NCIS building. He had 20 minutes to brief the director before they had to meet Abby for the op. "Bishop, get the van ready. We'll meet you there," He said. "Drop the glasses off with Ducky and Jimmy — Ducky can be analyzing the footage while we're at the shelter."

"Sure," she said. "Anything else?"

"Yeah — keep Abby from bouncing off her shoes in excitement," he said, grinning. But as soon as she was in the elevator down, he dropped the smile. This was bad — really bad. He still wasn't smiling when he walked in the director's office a few minutes later.

"Report, Agent DiNozzo," Vance said.

"We've got a problem," Tony said. "A big one." He outlined what they had. "At best, we have a major scandal brewing that will bring down all sorts of Congressional hell, especially with all the debates about the sequester, the budget and the debt ceiling," he said. "That's on top of what it will do to the men and women who use these shelters if we have to shut them down. If that's not handled the right way, we could have dead veterans all over Washington and everybody in the country will be demanding answers."

"And your dead petty officer is the key to this?" Vance said.

"We don't know," Tony replied. "That's what you and Abby need to find out. If he's not, it's one hell of a coincidence, and I don't need to tell you what Gibbs thinks about those."

"No, you don't," Vance said. "Not real fond of them myself. They never seem to work out as actual coincidences."

"So what do we do?" Tony asked.

"Right now, we run this op," Vance said. "We get me and Miss Scuito in and out of there alive, unharmed and hopefully with answers to as many questions as possible." He paused. "Gibbs back tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir," Tony said. "I don't think he wants to be in Stillwater any longer than he has to — especially if it means interrogating former classmates."

"When he and McGee return, we all sit down," Vance said. "We've got to do this right or you're right about what will happen — we'll have a full-scale mess on our hands that will make us wish we were just dealing with Gibbs and a feuding ex-wife."

Tony smiled. "You've met more than just Diane, I see."

"No, but I've heard the stories," Vance said. "Now, let's get this op on the move, before anything else goes wrong."

Tony followed the director down to the evidence garage, where Bishop was waiting with the van.

"Where's Abby?" he asked.

"I don't know," Bishop said. "She wasn't here, and nobody's seen her. Jimmy said he'd gone up to the lab about an hour ago and couldn't find her."

"Abby's missing?" Tony said. He could hear Gibbs now. "Director-"

"I know," Vance said. He stepped aside and made a phone call.