Chapter 9: Speak Evil of No Man

"You failed to mention that both his legs were broken!"

Tim jumped at the voice. He looked at Tara with something beyond loathing. She chose not to acknowledge his expression. Instead she focused on Carew.

"You also failed to mention that the apraxia was not permanent. I should have known that right away. How am I supposed to fix this if I don't get the information I need?"

"It was supposed to be permanent as you well know," Carew answered. "That's how the process was designed. It's not my fault they stole a faulty set. It apparently lasted for about a day before Agent McGee could move again."

"Well, we'll have to strap him down then. We can't have him writhing while I'm fixing him."

Tim glared at the two of them. The way they were talking about him rather than to him got on his nerves. They do know exactly what caused this. That's why they know how to fix it. How could he trust them now?

"As you wish," Carew said, calmly. "Let's not dally, however, Tara. NCIS won't be in the dark for long."

"They won't find us here."

"This is the mistake you continually make, my dear," Carew replied. "You continually underestimate your opponents. You underestimate the power of loyalty, the abilities of the NCIS people, even Agent McGee himself."

"Yes, well, I learned from the best," she said with a nasty edge. There was no real respect in the tone.

Tim looked back and forth between the two of them...and a thought, an impossible thought, rushed through his head. He made a sign at Carew and then pointed to Tara.

"See? I myself have underestimated Agent McGee again."

"What? What did he say?" Tara asked.

"And you said that it would be a waste of time to learn sign language." Carew then walked back to the wheelchair and pushed Tim through the house. So far...it looked normal...

Tara opened the doors to a room that had probably been an amazing ballroom once. Now, it was all stainless steel and flickering lights...and it was frightening. It was like the horror movie version of Autopsy. Tim wished that he could run away...but even had his legs been whole, he would have been powerless to do so.

"All right, Agent McGee. Up on the table."

She reached out to help him and he flinched away from her touch. A look of surprise crossed her face and then quickly disappeared.

"Fine, do it yourself, but let's get a move on. I'll explain the process as we go along."

Tim carefully maneuvered himself from the chair onto the table. He sat on the edge and ignored Tara's hints that he should lay down.

I will not put myself in your power until I know what you're going to do to me, Tim said, silently, staring at her with a stubborn expression.

"Lay down, Agent McGee."

No. Tim fell back on one of the few signs he knew because it seemed childish for him to simply shake his head over and over. Besides, his legs were two trunks of pain at the moment. He was with two people he trusted about as far as he could throw them. His attitude wasn't the best, to say the least.

"I take it, that means no," she asked Carew.

"Indeed. Although I'm sure that were he able, Agent McGee would add a few other words to that declaration," Carew said grinning. "Oh, tell him what you're going to do. You might as well get it all out now."

"Fine," she said, and the way she said it only cemented Tim's thought. The thought that followed the first one made him look around the room for further confirmation. There was no one else there.

"Agent McGee, if I could have your attention."

Tim looked back at her, bringing the mask over his features. He'd let her know how much he hated her, but he could try and be as cool as the two other people in the room...At least, I could if my legs weren't broken.

"What happened to you is simple. You were injected with a synthetic drug that shut down your Broca's area. It's very experimental and developed by...the CIA."

"So modest," Carew said softly. Tara glared at him.

"It is done by injecting the drug directly into your frontal lobe in the Broca's area. It isolates the communication functions of that part of your brain and makes speech, writing and reading impossible. The reason the drug was not discovered when they ran tests on you is that it is absorbed directly into the brain tissue and essentially acts as real tissue."

Tim was appalled. Why would anyone want to develop a drug like that?

"Returning you to full brain function is a simple task. We simply inject another drug into the same area that breaks up the first. However, because we need to be able to monitor your brain waves and the level of functionality in your brain, you must remain conscious and unmedicated. This would have been the case in the first instance...which is more than likely the reason they chose to run you down first. Are there any blank spots in your memory?"

Tim signed yes. He refused to make this easy for her. The fact that Carew knew what he was saying was irrelevant.

"As near as NCIS can tell, you were missing for a day and a half. It probably took that long for them to get you to a secure location and set up all the equipment. They would have had to drill a very small hole in your skull in order to get the needle in. If the doctors missed that, it is because the hole would only be the size of a needle. Fortunately, we won't have to do that again. Instead, I'll just use the already existing hole and follow the same path down."

Tim struggled not to wince. This sounded extremely unpleasant.

"It takes about five minutes because I don't want to screw up the rest of your brain getting to the Broca's area. It will hurt, but the most painful part of the procedure is not the needle."

Oh, really? That sounded ominous.

"What hurts more is the fact that we have not yet been able to keep the drug from crossing the blood-brain barrier. Some of it will circulate through your system just like any other drug, but you can expect to feel intense pain and more than likely some burning sensations. Those are the side effects reported in previous trials." She spoke clinically, and Tim couldn't decide if he was impressed or if he was simply horrified that she knew all this, had apparently had some experience with it, and possibly had been in on its inception. "Now...will you please lay down?"

Tim looked at her. He looked around the room in a slow methodical manner. This was why he had come with Carew in the first place. While he little wanted to suffer more pain at Tara's hands than he already had in the past, he was certain that no one else could effect a cure. Finally, he nodded and gently swung his legs up onto the table, biting his lips against screaming. Before he lay down, Tara indicated that he should remove his shirt. He suddenly remembered that he hadn't had a shirt on when the others had done this to him before. He removed it carefully and lay down. Immediately, Tara began to place straps and sensors all over his body but mostly on his head. Two blocks were moved onto either side of his head, wedging it place. Then, another strap across his chin and one over his forehead, along with more sensors. Tim now had no peripheral vision. He couldn't move any part of his head except for his eyeballs and his mouth.

Within two minutes, Tim couldn't have moved any part of his body if he had wanted to. He was one with the table. Tara disappeared from his view and he heard soft whispered voices off to the side. He couldn't discern what they were saying. Then, Tara was back. A long, a terrifyingly long needle passed in front of his eyes as she prepared to begin.

"Here it comes, Agent McGee. Feel free to scream."

Tim was determined not to. He felt Tara's fingers probing gently across his scalp, searching for the hole. Tim felt a small prick. Then...then, the needle was sinking slowly through his skin, through his skull, through his brain. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly. As Tara had said, it hurt, but not unduly...it was just awful to know what was going on and to know that he couldn't do anything to stop it...and that he wasn't supposed to stop it.

"There we are," Tara said, almost purring. Her voice was so different from when she had been speaking to him. "One...more...there. Brace yourself, Agent McGee. The time it takes for the side effects to begin varies. It is quite quick, however." Her voice became clinical again. "I need some gauze. Thank you."

Then, the needle was slipping out of his head again. It was gone, but no one spoke. No one removed the straps. No one did anything at all. Tim waited...and waited. He wasn't sure how long it was before he felt the first stirrings of approaching pain.

In seconds, or so it seemed, he went from feeling faintly uneasy to complete agony. He gritted his teeth against the pain. The throbbing from his legs was completely irrelevant in the face of this new pain. He could hear Tara speaking again, saying something about monitoring his brain activity, but Tim couldn't focus long enough to understand her.

There were no words in his head. All that remained was pain and the creeping feeling of all his limbs being on fire. He could no longer hold back and he began to scream, pulling against the restraints as his body tried to writhe away from the agony. There was no escape from it and it continued to get worse and worse until finally, after an eternity of pain, Tim's body decided it had had enough and Tim passed out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"They insist that Director Carew has been 'unavoidably detained,'" the tech reported. The disbelief was heavy.

"As I expected. Thank you. Tell your contact that I have some very important things to discuss with him should he care to surface again. Use those exact words, please," Jenny said, smiling.

"Yes, ma'am."

Jenny removed the headset and walked out of MTAC. So...Carew had Tim, but why? He had refused multiple times to tell her his reasons, always with that faint smile on his face. She shivered slightly. It was an unnerving expression which was probably the point. Carew obviously relished the effect he had on others. Jenny walked passed Cynthia without really noticing her as she mulled over the possibilities. That Carew had been impressed with Tim was a point. He had offered a job...but not seriously because he knew that Tim wouldn't take it. He had seen, firsthand, what Tim's friends were like and he must know that they wouldn't stop until they found him. He must also have allowed Tim to make that drawing. Why? Why allow Tim to leave clues? Perhaps Tim didn't go under duress this time.

"I didn't think he was under duress last time either," Jenny observed to herself. A similar situation? He wasn't under physical duress? A threat to others? A threat to himself? She discarded those thoughts. The report from Tim's therapist revealed someone unwilling to live under the kind of burden he had before. No, if someone had tried to threaten Tim, he would have allowed himself to be killed rather than work for them again. What would make McGee go with Carew willingly?

The answer, when it finally came to her was so obvious that she wondered why it had taken her so long to think of it...why none of them had thought of it the moment they found him gone.

She pulled out her phone. "Jethro, I know why McGee is gone."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"McGee would never go with Carew. He hates the CIA," Tony said.

"Yes, but he may have hated his loss of speech more," Jenny said. "Carew told me that McGee's former employers were responsible, which we had already figured out...but..."

"I don't see how that could be possible, Director," Abby said. "There's nothing I know of that could cause aphasia without leaving any traces."

"That's the point, though, isn't it?" Jimmy put in. "We don't know of anything."

"Who's to say that the CIA doesn't?" Ducky agreed.

"Why, though?"

"Interrogation, torture, to keep secrets," Ziva listed. "There are easily found reasons, although this particular method is one I have not heard of before."

"Carew's prints aren't anywhere in the room and there's no sign of him on the security cameras," Abby reported. "And the other prints are all either Tim's or else the medical staff."

"No big surprise there," Tony said and deepened his voice. "'These guys are trained to be ghosts...'"

Gibbs smacked his head.

"Right, not the time for movies, Boss," Tony said quickly.

"How likely is it that this is the reason Carew took McGee?" Ducky asked.

"That this is the only reason?" Jenny asked, smiling sardonically.

"Slim to none, I take it?"

"I think just 'none,' Ducky."

"He needs McGee for something, but what would that be?"

"To catch those guys again?" Abby suggested. Everyone stared. "I mean, he did it once. Wouldn't they think he could do it again?"

"And they would have the perfect tradeoff," Ziva said, anger suffusing her voice. "His words in exchange for his help."

"So...did Carew do it himself?" Jimmy asked, hesitantly. "Or is he just...uh..."

"Taking advantage of the situation?" Jenny finished. Jimmy nodded. "Unfortunately, I think either possibility is equally viable. Carew is something of an enigma. As Director of the CIA, he has to have a public persona, but beyond that, he's a blank slate."

"Abby?"

"I don't think so, Gibbs," Abby said. "Whoever Carew is, whatever his background, it's not in the CIA system...at least, not that I can find...maybe..." She stopped and didn't finish the thought.

"If Carew does have him, and actually can reverse the aphasia, where would he go?" Ziva asked.

"Not CIA Headquarters," Tony said. "But they've already proven that they can set up shop pretty much anywhere, including the suburbs." He snapped his fingers. "Hiding in plain sight, like before, Boss. ...but if that's the case..."

"How do we track him?"

Everyone sagged again. They knew who. They might know why. They still had no idea of where.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim opened his eyes. It was dark. He rolled over and moaned. The pain was muted, both from his legs and from everywhere else. So, the monsters had some pity on me after all, he thought wryly. His entire body felt stretched and worn when he moved...so he stopped moving. Then, recent events suddenly caught up to him and he sat up quickly...and then lay back down just as quickly when the room started to spin.

Can I talk again? Tim asked himself. He felt no different than before. Was this all a big joke, another twist of the knife, an extension of the game? He looked around. He was in a rather ornate bedroom. The bed was very comfortable. That was something. Then, he looked at the bedside table. There was a phone. He picked it up and heard a dial tone. Tim sat up again and looked at the phone. Can I talk? Why would they leave a phone there if he could? He was so afraid to try. He was afraid that if he couldn't talk, he wouldn't be able to take it.

Trembling, he reached out and began to dial. Even if he couldn't, they would hear his voice and know it was him. They could trace the call.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Another day almost over. Another day with no idea where Tim could be. No one wanted to leave again. No one wanted to admit that they couldn't do anything. Everyone felt guilty.

Gibbs looked around the room. Tony was sitting at his desk, looking at something on his computer screen...probably not actually seeing anything. Ziva was looking at Tim's drawing. For some reason, she had latched onto it and didn't want to leave it anywhere. Jenny had gone to see if she could find any clues in MTAC, but Ducky and Jimmy were both still in the bullpen, now in their street clothes. Abby was sitting at Tim's desk...well, on Tim's desk. Ducky was sitting in the chair. It was as if they were all waiting for something.

They needed to find something, as much for their own sakes as for Tim's.

His phone started to ring. He thought about ignoring it, but whatever the problem was, it wouldn't go away if he ignored it. He had an obsessive ex-wife to show the truth of that statement.

"Gibbs."

There was no sound on the other end of the line...just soft breathing.

"Hello?" Gibbs asked. The others looked up.

Still, only breathing.

"If there's no one here, I'm hanging up."

"...B-Boss?" Then, a soft exhalation...almost of disbelief.

"McGee?"