The conference room in the Embassy was not the most ideal location for this type of work, but Ziva reflected that it would have to do for the moment. She looked up from the item of clothing that she was sealing into an evidence bag as the man on the other end of the video conference call wailed in protest.
"Watch what you're doing there! You're going to contaminate nearly every piece of evidence in that case before I even get it!" He seemed to be nearly frantic and Ziva thought that even Abby had never acted quite so hysterically over evidence as this man.
"Freddy, relax." Rhian didn't even look up as she absently soothed the aggrieved lab tech. "We don't have the luxury of waiting until we get this back to London to go through it. It has to be done now. Don't worry, anything that's actually destined for your lab will be properly handled. The Yanks are good for something at least."
Ziva watched as a muscle in Tony's jaw bunched. She knew he badly wanted to fling a scathing comment back at her. But this woman and her superior had information vital to the case. It would not do for them to wind up on Wilson's bad side before they had even found out the unfortunate female victim's name. So they contented themselves with carefully examining each item as they bagged and tagged them, making an inventory list for Gibbs.
"There are an awful lot of business clothes in here for a romantic getaway, are there not?" Ziva bagged her fourth suit after checking the pockets carefully.
"Maybe that was a cover. Or maybe she was here on business and the romantic little hook-up was just a bonus." He looked at the pile of makeup and began to bag each item separately after opening each one and giving it a sniff. "I'll never understand women and makeup," he mumbled softly.
"Do you prefer your women without makeup, then?" Ziva asked, curious now.
"No. But that doesn't mean I understand it." He uncapped a bottle of perfume and took a whiff, jerking his head back from the pungent scent.
"Don't like perfume, either, Tony?" Ziva laughed, causing Rhian to frown at them in disdain. Tony bagged the bottle as he smiled in the British woman's direction. "I like perfume. I just don't like that perfume," he said emphatically.
Wilson entered the room abruptly. "Well, have you found it yet?" He ran a hand through his rapidly thinning hair and looked expectantly at Rhian.
"No, Sir. But she would hardly have kept it in plain sight, and I'm just getting to the bottom of her suitcase." She passed the last few items off to Ziva who handed them to Tony. Tony set them aside. Neither NCIS agent wanted to miss the big reveal.
Rhian glared over at them briefly but it carried no real heat. Instead she turned back to her task, pulling a knife out of a sheath at her ankle and pressing it into the crease between the side and back of the suitcase.
"False bottom," Tony said softly. Ziva merely rolled her eyes at his statement of the obvious.
Rhian pulled away the covering to reveal a shallow compartment containing only a passport and an international driver's license. "Damn, you Helena! What did you do with it?"
Freddy chimed in from the forgotten vid screen. "Did she burn it? You said there was something burned in the ashcan in the hotel."
Rhian and Wilson both shook their heads. "She'd never have risked that. She'd either have kept it intact here, or she'd have destroyed it elsewhere," Wilson said. "She should have left something, though."
"Without a photograph or a name we'll never find her contact. And unless there's something we've missed somewhere, six months of work ends with this." She threw up her hands in a frustrated gesture before turning to Tony and Ziva. "I certainly hope your dead captain can tell us more than our dead agent."