Chapter 8: The Meeting
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Next day…
Tim turned on a few more lamps in his apartment to ward off the encroaching darkness of evening. Dinner was over, Jethro had been walked, the dishes had been washed and put away. For once, he was just going to sit and watch some TV…
There went the door buzzer. Tim looked through the peephole, and then, hiding his grimace, opened the door. "Charlie!"
"Good evening, monsieur!" Charlie grinned and bowed. "I'll bet you've already eaten, but I brought a tiramisu and a six-pack. It's Friday; we can watch the Nationals game on TV and hang out."
Tim stood in the doorway, not moving to let him enter. "How—how did you find my address?"
Ott was still grinning. "Why, you gave it to me, Tim."
"No, I didn't. We hadn't made any plans to meet up, so why would I? How did you find it?"
"Oh, come on. You've probably just forgotten you gave it to me." Ott elbowed by him into the apartment.
"I don't think so. And my phone's unlisted." On the advice of my publisher, in case fans found out my real name, but I haven't told Ott about Thom Gemcity, either.
"Well, who can keep track of things," Ott said breezily. "Anyway, I'm here. Let's celebrate the week-end!!"
Tim shrugged. "Have a seat, then. I'll get some plates and forks for the tiramisu."
After a few tasty bites and small talk, Ott asked, "So…do you ever work from home, Tim?"
Tim chewed and swallowed. "Sometimes. Not often."
"Oh, so NCIS allows that? The DoJ doesn't. They only want face time."
"I don't think many people at NCIS work from home. I was given permission to awhile back."
"You got any of your projects on your computer here, or on a flash drive?"
"Nope. I go through the firewall to work. It's as if I'm there."
"But you could log on now if you wanted to."
"Sure. But it's the weekend."
Ott opened a second beer. "I'd sure like to see what you're working on, as long as I'm here."
Tim laughed. "Charlie, top-secret means just that. Only the Director and the Deputy Director know what I'm working on. Gibbs knows it's a project, but he doesn't know what it is. I can't tell you about it; sorry."
For a long few minutes, Ott watched the start of the baseball game on TV. Then he said, "Have you ever thought about making more money, Tim?"
"I suppose. But my day job takes most of my energy."
"But what if you could make it in the same hours…using a little job knowledge?"
Tim pulled back. "What are you saying, Charlie?"
"You learn things…facts, figures, and so on…every day. There's a value to information, Tim…"
"That sounds like espionage, Charlie!"
Ott waved a hand. "Aw, is it really? I mean, it's just a bunch of encoded numbers and such. If you give it to someone, is it your fault if they do something with it?"
"Are you saying you've done that, Charlie?"
Ott didn't answer that directly. "These projects Director Vance asked me to do…they're entertaining and all, but there's more to life than that."
"You mean, 'money'."
"I like good things, Tim. Good things cost a lot."
"So what are you asking of me?"
"I still can't get past the NCIS jargon. I've tried; it's not coming fast. If you could help me out…point me to the, let's say, important stuff, I'd make it worth your while."
"Important stuff."
"Yeah. Like the projects you're working on. They're worth something, I'll bet. Probably a huge amount of money. I'm a master at covering tracks, Tim. You just get me in and I'll make it look like you were never there."
Tim gave him a sour look. "People at NCIS have lost money lately. Were you behind that?"
"What if I was?"
Tim looked at Ott, sitting across from him, and saw now that he had drawn a gun. His eyes widened.
"I don't want to use force, Tim. But I'm determined to get what I came for. Log on, and get me what I want."
"Charlie…"
"I'm not just a geek, Tim. I think I can use this gun if I need to."
And my own is across the room in my desk drawer. "Charlie, why did you come to work for NCIS?"
Ott laughed harshly. "Because I cleaned the Department of Justice out of everything of value. It was time to move on. I've kept a watch on government personnel doings over the years, and when I heard that the legendary Randall Klemp was coming to DC, I thought I'd like to try on his job."
"You…killed Klemp." He'd guessed it all along, but the full revulsion and horror now hit Tim.
"I emailed him, introduced myself, and met his red-eye flight. Took him out to breakfast. Doctored his orange juice when he wasn't looking."
"You disgust me."
"I really am a good, friendly guy, Tim. But I have my limits. Now, get on the computer."
"That's enough, Ott. Hold it right there."
That was Vance, speaking, as he, Gibbs, and Special Agent-in-Charge Knightly of the DoJ stepped out of their hiding place in Tim's bedroom; guns drawn.
Slack-jawed, Ott didn't drop the gun until the second command to do so. "How did you…"
"We were expecting you," said Gibbs, handcuffing him. "In your eagerness to find out McGee's address, you resorted to hacking the personnel files this afternoon. You tripped a silent alarm. The funny thing is, NCIS is like a family. We trust each other. You could probably have asked half the workers at HQ, and any of them probably would have told you his address."
Agent Knightly sighed. "We at the DoJ are going to be spending a year repairing the damage this guy has done. Ever since Agent McGee called us, and we started looking, we've been in a state of shock."
"Lose any top-secret stuff?" asked Vance.
Knightly glanced at Ott, and then pursed her lips. She wouldn't say anything, not in front of him. Vance nodded, understanding.
"We'll need Klemp's body exhumed. Do an autopsy," said Gibbs.
Vance sighed. "Yes. I hate to put the poor family through that, but it has to be done. Good job, McGee."
Tim brightened, for the first time since his suspension. "Thank you, sir." He noticed that Gibbs didn't say anything, but smiled slightly at Tim, before he phoned Tony and Ziva to come in and take Ott away. That was good enough for Tim.
"This changes things quite a bit," said Vance. "I trust you've had a nice little…vacation, McGee. We'll see you back at work Monday morning. Of course your back pay will be reinstated and this will be wiped off your record."
"Thank you, Director."
"Still jealous of Ott, McGee?" Gibbs asked with a smirk.
A long-gone twinkle returned to Tim's eye. "Let's see…he's going to prison, and I've been exonerated…no, no jealousy there, boss."
Gibbs did level a finger at him. "No more hacking, McGee. I mean it. You come to me first with your suspicions."
"Will do, boss." It felt good to say it, and really mean it.
