"How much further are you going to make us go?" McGee snarled. DiNozzo, his arm barely hanging onto McGee's shoulder, was almost unconscious. McGee hitched him up straighter, trying to support more of the man's weight.

"I can always kill you right here," Aiello offered.

DiNozzo roused himself. "I hate caves," he mumbled, sagging into McGee's grasp even as he tried to hasten his steps.

"Not too far," Beck replied, almost cheerfully. "And no, I don't intend to kill you unless you make me. I have a far better use for you."

"What is it?" McGee couldn't help asking.

"I'd be interested in that myself." Aiello sounded casually suspicious—and dangerous.

"The buyer has let me know that there's a terrorist cell located a few hundred miles from here that's looking to do a little fear-mongering. They've kept a pretty low profile up to now but seem to think that kidnapping and torturing a couple of local cops would be a good way to strike fear into the area, something like what's being done in the Middle East." Beck gestured at the two NCIS agents. "If two locals are good, I figure that two NCIS agents would be even better, with the added attraction of pulling attention away from you and I as well as adding a few thousand dollars to line the proverbial purse. What do you think that Agent Gibbs will believe when this pair turn up on the local news channel a couple of states over?"

Aiello nodded his head. "Not bad," he admitted. "If we give 'em our dog tags and let 'em drop those at the site where the two bodies are, everyone will think that we've been captured and killed as well, just that our bodies haven't shown up yet. It'll help us to disappear."

"Good thought," Beck approved. "Win-win situation. I'll suggest it to her." He gestured to the two NCIS agents. "In there."

'There' was a deeper pocket inside the large cave that they'd already entered. McGee didn't want to even try to estimate how far down into the ground they'd traveled already; it had been almost twenty minutes of crawling over rocks and small rivulets of moisture, dragging DiNozzo along with him. It was a toss up, McGee decided sourly, as to whether he wanted to simply throw DiNozzo over his shoulder or not. Either solution would end up with the two of them toppling down to the water-slick floor of the cave.

The cave pocket that Beck dumped them into was large enough to qualify as a master bedroom, without the requisite furniture. A large boulder along one side of the cave was the only feature, if one didn't count the several crates that lined up beside it. The shadows leaped out tall in the light of the electric torch that Beck carried.

On top of one crate was a small bag with a trace of gray cloth hanging out. McGee tried not to stiffen: it had to be the prototype that had been stolen!

Aiello hurried them both along with a small shove. "Down on the floor," he ordered. "Hands behind your back." He tugged out a long hank of rope from one of the crates. "Can't have you going anywhere," he smirked, "and I wouldn't bother screaming if I were you. It's a long way to the surface, and the captain and I will be in the next cavern over. We'll hear you long before we see you try to crawl out."

"Just hurry it up," Beck advised, now finally showing a hint of nerves. "She'll be along any moment."

Aiello finished tying up McGee, putting an elaborate knot onto the ropes around his ankles and tugging at the wrist bindings to make sure that they were tight. "One down, one to go." He yanked at DiNozzo's feet to pull them together, forcing out a groan from the injured man. "This one'll be easy."

Ziva was riding shotgun in Gibbs' car, headphones to one ear, listening to the reports coming in. "ComSec reports that the subject has left her residence," she told him, eyes staring straight ahead at nothing. "Subject has entered her vehicle. Subject is putting on her seatbelt—"

"Just the roads, Ziva. I don't need to know how safe a driver she is."

"In another hour or two, such skills will be irrelevant," Ziva muttered under her breath. It was a promise more than a prediction. "Have Tony or McGee called in yet?"

"Not yet. Lieutenant Commander Lord promised me that he'd get a squad of MPs out there before nine to relieve them. He'll tell 'em to meet us close to where she lands."

"It's already eight, Gibbs."

"Then Lord doesn't have much more time, does he?"

"You had to go and get yourself shot," McGee grumbled, fumbling with the ropes that encircled his wrists. He wasn't able to see in the almost total darkness, but that didn't matter. His hands were behind him, and he wouldn't have able to see them in the first place. "Ow! These rocks are sharp." He glared at his partner, covering up the worry with anger, not caring that the glare was wasted through lack of light. "You were guarding the locker, for Pete's sake. Didn't you look to see who was coming?"

"Sorry if I didn't expect the officer in charge of a naval research facility to walk around the corner and shoot without warning me that he was coming," DiNozzo snarled back.

Lying down, not having to move, had done a world of good for the man, McGee noted. DiNozzo sounded a lot stronger, a lot less likely to simply pass out from lack of blood and pain. Not that it would be of any long term help since Beck's plan called for the torture and death at the hands of a hidden terrorist cell located in a nearby state, but little things such as the temporary reprieve were what McGee and DiNozzo had to be satisfied with. "Big deal. There wasn't anything in that locker. You were guarding an empty room. How apropos."

"Those suits were there an hour ago, Probie. How was I supposed to know that the Squad from Hell took them for a joy ride?"

"Let's see: they were suspects. They're all expert marksmen, expert in stealth even before putting on their new gray jammies. Any one of 'em could have off-ed their commander, and Dr. Dovely beside—"

"All right, all right!" DiNozzo growled. "Next time I'll put you in charge of guarding the stealth suits." He paused. "Do you think that Gibbs knows yet?"

"All depends on how fast the MPs get there."

"Which means: probably not." DiNozzo lapsed into glum silence. "McGee…" He trailed off. Then: "Tim…"

"You actually know my first name?"

Moment gone. "Look, Probie, all I'm saying is that if you get a chance to escape, then take it," DiNozzo ordered.

"Frankly, Tony, I intend to."

"Oh." Pause. "You do?"

"Yes."

Scritching noises in the dark.

"I hope that's not a rat, McMousetrap."

"So do I, Tony. I don't think it's a rat."

"Do you know what a rat sounds like?"

"No."

"Then how do you know that it's not a rat?"

"Because," and McGee grunted with effort, "it's me."

Suspicious. "What are you doing, McGeezer?"

Something bumped up against DiNozzo, and he almost yelped in surprise.

"Hush up, Tony. It's only me," McGee ordered. "Can you feel your hands?"

"No. But I can feel my wrists. They hurt. The circulation is cut off."

"Well, you better start feeling something. Dig into my pocket."

"What's in your pocket?"

"My multi-use computer tool."

"Hate to break it to you, McGeek, but there's no computer in here with us. Wish there was. I could use the light from the screen. No, on the other hand, maybe I don't want light. If there are rats in here, I'd rather not know it. Ever see the movie Ben, McGizzard? Hundreds and thousands of rats, crawling all over you—"

"Get out the tool, DiNozzo."

"Why?"

"Because it's got a wire stripper on it. Hey, that tickles!"

"Sorry. I'd offer to keep my hands to myself, but I don't think that's really called for here. Got it!" he grunted. "Which one of these things will cut through rope?"

"Try the third one in. It's pretty—"

"Ow!"

"—sharp," McGee finished. "Getting the feeling back in your hands, Tony?"

Another glare wasted in the dark.

"What do you mean, they aren't there?" Gibbs roared. "Where the hell are they?"

Ziva didn't need to transfer that question into her cell phone. The sheer volume crossed the intervening distance without benefit of cell towers.

"Commander Lord states that he arrived at the Heisenberg Research Facility and found that both Tony and McGee left at approximately six o'clock," she said, repeating the information that Lt. Cmdr. Lord was giving her. "He questioned the privates on guard duty in front, and found that Agents DiNozzo and McGee left in the company of another man. Neither private knew the other man's name."

"One of the sergeants?"

"Possibly."

"Which one?"

Ziva's silence gave the answer as clearly as if she'd spoken.

"Could it have been someone else?"

"That is also a possibility, Gibbs. Neither guard saw the man's name tag, nor is the exiting signature legible."

Gibbs groaned in disgust. "The suits?"

"Also missing."

"Get DiNozzo on the phone," Gibbs ordered. "Ask him why he isn't where I told him to be." More concern. "See if he answers. And then try McGee."

Ziva pushed the buttons. "Voice mail," she reported, and then spoke into the phone. "Tony, this is Ziva. Call me or Gibbs back immediately."

"I think that was my artery you cut. I feel blood dripping out of my wrist."

"It's your own fault, McGyver. Who ever told you that you could escape using a multi-purpose computer tool?"

"If you have a better idea, Tony, I'm open to it. Ow!" McGee complained. "That really did hurt."

"Sorry." Tony didn't sound sorry at all. 'Frustrated' and 'scared' covered the emotions with a great deal more accuracy. "I…think…I've…got it. There!"

"Finally." McGee reached around, feeling for Tony's hands in the dark. "Give me the damn tool so I can free my feet."

DiNozzo went for a more serious tone. "Remember what I told you, McGee. Get the prototype suit and get out of here. Don't try to pull me out; I'll only get you caught again. This is national security, McGee."

Gibbs straightened up, rubbing his fingers together. "Blood."

"Whose?" Ziva didn't voice the names that she feared were the recent owners of the blood.

"Good question." Gibbs looked around. The locker room where the stealth suits had been kept was, as Commander Lord had said, empty. There was a single bullet casing that had rolled to one side of the corridor, and there was a smear of blood nearby, trickling from knee height on the wall down to the floor. The locker wasn't large, but it was the size of a small dressing room. There were four cabinets where each suit had been locked, and each cabinet drawer was empty. That was something that Gibbs had verified, first thing, using latex gloves in case someone had foolishly left fingerprints behind. Gibbs didn't think so. Gibbs fully expected to find only the fingerprints of the suspects, and the deceased.

There were two full size mirrors in the room as well, for the wearers of the suits to admire themselves in before the suit caused them to vanish into the dusk. If all four suits had been stolen? Gibbs didn't want to contemplate that scenario. Just having the prototype in the hands of the enemy was bad enough.

It sounded as though it did need to be contemplated. Bottom line: no one knew where the four suits were, and the inventor of the stealth technology was dead. If that wasn't the definition of a disaster, then Gibbs would need to conduct a discussion with a dictionary. He focused on the lieutenant in their midst, the man in charge of facility security. "Has anyone tried to reach Captain Beck?"

"Yes, sir. No answer, sir."

"You call his house?"

"Yes, sir. Mrs. Beck hasn't seen the captain yet, sir. Says he's late coming home, sir." The sergeant knew the stakes as well.

Which meant two possibilities: either Beck was in on it, or the perpetrators had taken him along with DiNozzo and McGee. That his men had been kidnapped was obvious to Gibbs; neither one would have left the facility unless forced, and the blood tended to bolster that opinion. Getting a sample to Abby would help narrow down who it belonged to, but that could wait. Priority: locate and acquire those suits. Much as he cared about his team, Gibbs knew that national security demanded the return of the technology before anyone else could get their hands on it.

Gibbs turned to Commander Lord. "I'm going to need the use of your men, commander. We're going to go on a little hunting trip."

Commander Lord, a youngster with more than a little intelligence gleaming in dark brown eyes, smiled tightly. "Yes, sir."

There was almost no light, but by now both sets of NCIS eyes had adjusted to the lack and the crates and the boulder stood out dimly in the meager glow seeping in from the cave next door.

"You need to get moving," DiNozzo hissed. "That's the priority, Probie! Get the damn suit back to Gibbs."

"Hush up. You want them to hear us?" McGee scolded. "Here. Bite down on this."

"What are you doing?" DiNozzo was suspicious.

"I'm going to move you into a better spot, and I don't trust you not to make a lot of noise before you pass out."

"I'll have you know—" DiNozzo's voice cut off with a barely stifled groan as McGee tried to hoist him up. The groan dwindled away into nothingness, and the body in McGee's arms went limp.

"Tony? Tony?" McGee bit his lip. "At least you won't feel this."

"You see anything?" Gibbs took down his field glasses, the things almost useless in the dark.

They were back on the private property outside of the Heisenberg Research Facility, their only light the few stars that managed to squeak out from between the darker clouds. Even the moon had chosen not to appear tonight; possibly a new moon a little later on, Gibbs thought, but not enough to help with this evening's outing. Smirnakov had planned it well but then again, Gibbs reflected, counter-intelligence agents and black market gun runners tended to plan things well. If they didn't, they didn't last in their chosen profession.

"Nothing, Gibbs." Ziva likewise dropped her own set of binoculars from her eyes. "There is no campfire such we observed on the previous occasion; no dancing, no chanting. I don't understand it."

"But they're here." That much was obvious. There were half a dozen vehicles parked along the roadside at the edge of the property. "Where are they?" Gibbs thought a moment more. "Commander Lord," he said, addressing the third member of their party, "do you have any infra-reds in your gear?"

"One set, I think."

"Go get 'em."

"Yes, sir."

Ziva narrowed her eyes, a look that was wasted in the dark. "Gibbs?"

Gibbs knew what she was asking. "She knows that we're after her, Ziva. She's sending out chaff."

"Chaff—? Oh," Ziva realized what Gibbs was telling her. "Ah; the members of her 'circle' are her cover."

"Yup. How much you want to bet that she's got 'em 'meditating' in separate spots, with no light?"

Ziva nodded. "We will need to hunt down each one and remove them individually from the vicinity."

"And quietly, Ziva. Too much noise, and she'll vamoose."

Ziva agreed, having deciphered the meaning of 'vamoose' from the context of Gibbs' statement. "There are ten acres of land here, Gibbs, and many caves to hide in. There will be no way to trap her, no way to encircle the area."

"Exactly. Plus, if she has one of those suits, she can just put it on and slip away without us ever seeing her."

Lord returned with the infra-red goggles, handed them over to Gibbs without a word.

It took less than a moment. "First one sighted, a quarter mile away, at roughly one o'clock relative to us. Ziva, bring him or her in." He looked further. "Number two, at ten o'clock, probably about half a mile. Commander Lord, do the honors. Just keep it quiet." He glanced over at the commander. "You've got your people stationed by the cars?"

"Yes, sir."

"Keep 'em there. I don't want your people roaming around quite yet. It'll muck up the landscape. Keep 'em by the vehicles, and have 'em monitor the civvies that we drag off the lot." Gibbs indicated the infra-red goggles. "Once we pull out all the innocent civilian chaff, what's left will be the people with the suits. Go to it, people."