"My apartment," said Tony. "My car. NCIS. The drugstore. My car again."

"How did he get his hands on footage from NCIS security cameras?" Ziva asked, as she watched Tony stretch his mouth into a pixilated grin on the plasma screen. The recorded light of the flickering images highlighted her pupils. No one answered her.

"The laundromat," said Tony.

The phone on Tony's desk rang, and he hesitated before switching it to speakerphone and answering.

"Special Agent Dinozzo," he said.

"Did you watch my movie?"

No one needed to tell McGee to start tracing the call.

"Mr. Tarentino? You finally got my letter," said Tony. "I loved the biblical theme in Pulp Fiction. It's a classic. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee."

"That's funny, Special Agent Dinozzo, but I know you're stalling so that Special Agent McGee can triangulate my location." The voice was neutral. It didn't betray gender, age, or emotion.

"What do you have against me?" asked Tony. "Did I send you to prison? Sleep with your girlfriend? Look at you the wrong way?"

"You didn't do anything. Special Agent Gibbs killed my son."

Tony glanced at Gibbs, but when he spoke, there was faith in his voice. "Gibbs doesn't kill anyone who doesn't deserve it."

"My son didn't deserve it. Your agent hasn't traced my call yet, has he?"

"No, he hasn't. Let me get this straight. You're stalking me because Gibbs pissed you off?"

"Didn't you hear me?" The voice asked. "I said he killed my son."