Crossing The Same River
Chapter 11
It was a tired Jennifer Coates that cracked open the apartment door at just gone nineteen hundred hours, but Harm looking up from where he had been idly flicking through the pages of a three month old copy of 'Flight' magazine saw that Jen's sunny nature had reasserted itself.
Dropping the magazine onto the table and almost leaping to his feet he took the few steps necessary to close the distance between them and scoop her into arms.
Knowing what was coming, and eagerly responding, Jen wound her arm around Harm's neck and raised her face to his as he welcomed her home with a kiss that made her go weak at the knees and give silent thanks that she had him to hold on to.
"So… You ended up having a pretty good day, after all?" he asked once the kissing had, temporarily, stopped.
"M'mm…" Jen replied softly, gazing up into his eyes, her smile just enough to hint at the dimple in her right cheek, "Yep, Gibbs called in a favour for me and got a shrink to see me this afternoon, and I'm cleared for full time duty. Effective immediately."
"Wow… That was fast work!" Harm replied approvingly.
"Yeah…" Jen regretfully dropped her arms from around Harm's neck, and taking him by the hand led him to the couch. It took a few seconds for them to get themselves comfortable, Harm sat at a roughly forty degree angle in the corner of the couch with his arm draped around Jen's shoulder, while she curled up, her feet tucked sideways under her butt, and her head resting comfortably in the hollow of Harm' shoulder.
They stayed there sharing a comfortable silence for about twenty minutes, when on the verge of dropping into a doze Jen reluctantly stirred and murmured, "I need to take a shower… How about fixing us something to eat, please?"
Harm felt too comfortable to move but he grinned and grumbled at the same time, "So… not only do I have to buy the food, I have to cook it too?"
"Uh-huh," Jen agreed, untwining herself from both Harm and the couch's embrace, "Something light for preference…"
"Mushroom omelette and a salad?" Harm offered.
"M'mm… sounds great," Jen agreed, standing and stretching. "I'll be about ten minutes in the shower…"
"Ten minutes, aye!" Harm responded, hauling himself upright.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Harm drained the last of his glass of sparkling cider and looked across the table at Jen who was just chasing the last few scraps of her omelette around her plate, "So… How did Gibbs manage to get you cleared for duty so quickly?" His forehead creased in a concerned frown, "Are you sure that it wasn't perhaps too quickly?"
Jen looked up, momentary anger sparking in her brown eyes, "Don't start, Harm!" she warned him.
"Hey, cool your jets! I'm not starting, as you put it and I have no intention of acting out Harriet's worries, but don't forget I do know how it feels to shoot a guy at pistol range, remember?"
Jen anger subsided as quickly as it had flared, "Yeah, I remember… And since you're asking, Gibbs made a personal call to a Doctor Cranston. She's worked with the team before and either she owed Gibbs a favour, or he got her to grant him one, because she practically dropped everything and rushed to the Navy Yard to see me."
"Well, that explains the happy face when you got home… or is there another reason?"
"Besides knowing that you were here waiting for me?" Jen smiled, "Yeah, I suppose there is… It looks like we may have gotten a major break in the case…"
"Which is?"
"The suspicious death of a Marine Scout/Sniper may, I repeat, may be connected to looted artefacts from a state museum in Afghanistan. And if so, and if the evidence leads us where we think it will, then you will… well, JAG will… receive a bumper crop of cases for court martial. We've already established that at least one Marine lied to the ME about the bullet that killed our Staff Sergeant. But that's about all I can tell you, and I probably shouldn't have told you that much," Jen finished on a slightly troubled note.
"Just as well, from what you've just told me, I don't think I want to know any more. And now for something completely different… have you got any plans for tomorrow?"
"Why?" Jen asked a shade suspiciously.
"Well, I was thinking we might have a look at a couple of more houses…"
"Oh… Would you mind if we didn't? Tomorrow is my only free day this week, and I'm on call anyway, so what I'd rather do is a little bit of light cleaning, the laundry… stuff like that and then just take a chill pill and drowse around for the day watching you fix lunch and dinner. But I would like to go for a run first thing tomorrow morning, maybe a little bit further then we usually do, just to make up for today…"
"Sounds good… how about we hit the seven mile trail at Rock Creek Park?"
"Seven miles?" Jen asked in some dismay.
"Yeah, we do the seven miles together, we'll just need to take it a little slower than we normally do… and we can just jog the last mile back to the car… use that mile as a cool down. How about it?"
"We'll have to take it a bit easier?" Jen asked sceptically.
"Yeah, we… like I keep telling you, I'm not as young as I used to be," Harm replied.
"H'mm… it didn't seem that way a couple of nights ago," Jen riposted mischievously.
'So she's hoisted her battle ensigns has she? Well, we'll just have to see about that!' Harm told himself as he replied through his grin, "And if you're a very bad girl, it won't seem that way tonight either!"
"Yeah, promises, promises," Jen scoffed.
"Remember, I don't make promises I don't intend to keep!" Harm reminded his errant fiancée.
"Yeah, well, you bring it on, and we'll see how young you are in the morning – that is if you last the night!" Jen threw down the challenge.
"'Bring it on'?" Harm queried and then snorted, "Anytime, baby!"
Jen blushed but then rallied, "Just as soon as you're ready!"
The rest of the evening passed in an atmosphere of sexual tension, the accidental brushing of hands together as they washed and dried up the dishes seemed to Jen to give off visible sparks, and from the way Harm jumped, it seemed that he felt the same. The kitchen squared away, Harm and Jen made coffee and carried it to the living area where they sat on the couch and made stilted small talk while the neglected coffee grew cold in the cups, until at last Harm growled, "The hell with it!" and almost lunged at Jen, who almost simultaneously had launched herself at Harm.
A frenzy of passionate kisses and caresses culminated in Harm slipping an arm under Jen's knees and accompanied by her squeak of surprise as she wrapped an arm around his neck for support, he heaved himself, Jen now safely cradled in his arms, to his feet and stumbling in his haste made for the bedroom, Jen's free hand already fumbling at the buttons of his denim shirt. Her patience didn't last long enough to undo all the buttons, and the survivors of her initial attack flew all over the bedroom as she practically ripped his shirt from him.
Harm's hands weren't idle either, the second Jen dropped onto the bed, his busy fingers grappled with her belt buckle, and that once loosened then he tugged her jeans and panties down her legs until she could kick them free.
Poised above her, he panted, "Ready?"
"God! Yes!" Jen howled as they came together in an ecstasy of wild, unbridled passion.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Harm stopped next to the Lexus his hands on his hips as he breathed deeply and he threw a mischief filled glance at Jen who stood straddle legged, head down and with her hands on her knees as she too sought to replenish her oxygen levels.
"So… you think you wore me out enough last night to slow me down?" he teased her,
"Bastard," Jen said between two gulps of air, "No, I didn't… but it wasn't through lack of trying!" She straightened up and grinned back, "But next time, old man…" she left the threat unfinished, leaving Harm uncertain as to whether she had running or the other, infinitely, more enjoyable indoor games in mind.
"It was good, though, wasn't it?" Jen suggested with a twinkle in her eye.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Once they returned to the apartment Jen waited just long enough for Harm to close the door before she stripped off her sweat shirt, closely followed by her t-shirt but then when she saw the appreciative gleam in Harm's eye she chuckled, "Not this morning! We've got too much work to do."
"Fair enough," Harm agreed as made his way to the bedroom, "If I'm too much for you…" he finished suggestively.
"No such thing!" Jen replied hotly, as she sat down on the end of the bed and removed her running shoes, "But if we start any shenanigans then the work will never get done!"
"Yes, dear," Harm replied mildly, drawing a dagger like look from Jen before she let her sense of humour rise to the surface again, "You are impossible!" she exclaimed.
"I know… and it only takes that little bit extra effort to graduate from being difficult," Harm preened.
Jen merely sniffed in pretended outrage and wrapping herself in her blue terry cloth bathrobe, stalked with immense dignity into the bathroom, where she turned on the shower and after adjusting the temperature to her liking – Harm always preferred the shower to be much hotter than Jen liked – she dropped the bathrobe onto the bathroom stool and stepped under the stinging needles of water coming from the shower head. She still couldn't figure out how Harm had fixed the shower the way he had, but every time she used it, she silently blessed his name for rigging it so that it was just about the most powerful shower she had ever used or even heard of.
Now her hair thoroughly wet, she squeezed a dollop of her jasmine and vanilla scented shampoo into her hand and eyes shut tight against the possibility of the shampoo getting into them, she started to massage it into her hair and scalp. A couple of minutes vigorous massage left Jen feeling that her hair was clean and her scalp invigorated so she ducked back under the spray, eyes sill screwed tight shut, to rinse the shampoo of her head, groping for her shower gel, ready to hand on the shower cubicle shelf. Her reaching hand found only empty space, but before she could safely open her eyes, she felt a strong, gentle hand on her shoulder and then the comforting feel of a gel impregnated sponge starting to work on her shoulders and back.
"Harm…" she whispered in remonstration.
"Hush, just relax and enjoy…" Harm's voice had a soothing quality that almost compelled Jen into relaxing and placing herself entirely in his hands.
Those same gentle hands held her firmly in place when he suddenly dipped his head and kissed the pulse point on her neck.
"Ohhh…" Jen murmured, and twisted in Harm's hands to turn to face him.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
"You are sooo bad…" Jen murmured nearly an hour later as she and Harm lay on the twisted and tangled sheets of the bed. Harm's arms holding her safely close to him while her head rested on his chest.
Harm chuckled quietly, a sound that Jen not only heard, but also felt deep in his chest.
"That's not what you said twenty minutes ago," he reminded her with a smile, just before he kissed the top of her head, relishing the scent of jasmine and vanilla that came off her hair.
"I know… I know…" Jen sighed happily, "but we really do need to get up… apart from everything else, we both need another shower – separately this time! And these sheets now definitely need a trip to the washing machine, and far, far more important than all that: we haven't had breakfast yet, and having worked up an appetite, I'm starving!"
"Well… we can't have that!" Harm agreed as he reluctantly unwound himself from Jen, "So… if you strip the bed, I'll go jump in the shower, and while you're showering I'll make a start on breakfast…"
"Pancakes, eggs and bacon?" Jen suggested.
Harm wrinkled his nose at the thought of cooking meat, but it was for Jen, and she didn't ask very often, so…"Okay, considering this is Sunday, pancakes, eggs and bacon it is! And how about a couple of sides… grilled tomatoes and mushrooms…"
"Grilled tomatoes for breakfast?" Jen asked, mildly surprised.
"M'mm… it's a taste I picked up in England a few years ago…"
"You do realise that you are going to have to tell me, someday, about all your adventures in Europe, don't you?" Jen asked as she sat up and looked around for her bathrobe, until she remembered that it was probably still draped across the bathroom stool.
"Someday," Harm agreed placidly as he grabbed a towel from the closet and wrapped it around his waist.
"And before we're married!" Jen warned him.
"Yes, ma'am," Harm replied meekly. A tone of voice that didn't fool Jen for more than just a second.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Breakfast was quiet, the odd almost inconsequential comment was passed, but mostly there was a smiling, contented and loving silence, until Jen pushed her empty plate away from her and reached for her glass of OJ, "F'lup," she commented.
"I should say so," Harm smiled. That had always been one of the things he loved about Jen. She was a girl who liked her food and wasn't afraid to show it or say so. Of course, she watched her diet, exercised regularly and avoided junk food like the devil avoids holy water, but he still he wished that he could convert her to a strictly vegetarian diet, or so he told himself; there was a little voice making itself heard from the back of his mind, 'Hey, if you do convert her, then she won't be the Jennifer with whom you fell in love!'. Harm smiled at the contrary nature of his thoughts until he was suddenly called back to the here and now.
"Harm?" and from the intonation in Jen's voice, he could tell that this wasn't the first time she had tried to attract his attention.
"Yeah?"
Jen shook her head, "Where were you? That's was the third time I called your name!" she scolded him.
"Oh… I wasn't anywhere really, just thinking about how much I love you!"
Jen's jaw dropped open, her cheeks reddened and all she could find to say was, "Oh…" before she rallied and said, "What I was trying to do was to call your attention to the time. Half the morning's gone, and we haven't so much as lifted a finger, and there's a lot to be done today, Mister!"
Which is how twenty five minutes later, with the washing up completed, the kitchen policed and the bed made down with fresh bed linen, Harm, in accordance with Jen's directive, found himself in the rickety elevator with a pocket full of quarters and the bathroom hamper full of bedding and clothing in need of laundering, heading for the washing machines and tumble driers in the basement.
Jen watched the apartment door close behind Harm and with a housewifely gleam in her eye, she retrieved her box of cleaning materials from its stowage under the kitchen sink and with a determined "Right!" marched herself into the bathroom, where donning her rubber gloves she set to work with a vengeance, determined to get as much as possible done before Harm returned with a load of clothing, bed sheets, pillow cases and duvet covers that would all need ironing before being put away until needed the next time around. As she considered that chore, a faint smile appeared on her face. If there was one household task Jen hated it was ironing, but it just so happened that not only did Harm not particularly dislike the job, he was damned handy with an iron and would doubtless finish the job in about half the time it would take her!
So the morning passed. Jen finished the bathroom and gave the kitchen a quick once over – Harm kept on top of kitchen cleanliness on a daily basis, even cleaning the oven after each and every use, so that when he returned with the laundry he had space enough to rig the ironing board, while Jen tackled the lounge area.
Their late breakfast meant a late lunch, which suited both Harm and Jen right down to the ground, as it gave them time to finish their tasks, leaving them the prospect of a leisurely lunch and a lazy Sunday afternoon, curled up on the couch either with a book in their hands, or maybe watching one of Harm's classic movies on DVD; he could never get enough of either 'Casablanca' or 'The African Queen', but when Jen suggested that he went to the local video store to buy or rent 'Midway' on the grounds that it was about naval aviation, he had cringed, "No! There is no way I will ever watch that God-awful movie again! I saw it as a teenager and it seemed okay, but then I saw it again years later, and the historical inaccuracies I had missed as a youngster just about leaped off the screen at me! No. There is no way in hell I will part with my well earned money to but that sort of dreck!"
"Uh-huh… rant over?" Jen inquired teasingly.
Harm felt the tips of his ears burn and grinned sheepishly, "I guess… but there are some movies that should never have been made."
"For instance?" Jen inquired as she browsed the shelf.
"Well… 'Pearl Harbor' for instance. If you want to watch a movie about that… well, the classic would have to be 'From Here to Eternity', or for a more action filled version 'Tora! Tora! Tora!" but the latest remake 'Pearl Harbor' is not only poorly made, poorly acted and poorly directed it suffers from CGI overkill!"
"Not a fan of CGI. Then?" Jen asked innocently.
"No… not really," Harm replied eying her suspiciously. That tone of voice was just a shade too innocent.
"So… you didn't like the Lord of the Rings trilogy, then?" Jen asked in the same voice, knowing full well, that there had been a major tug of war between Harm and Mattie as to who was going to watch each movie first.
"Uh… that was different…" Harm responded. "The CGI in that film was used to bulk out the mass armies…"
"Oh… Gollum was an army, was he?" Jen asked with a laugh.
Harm just glowered at her, but broke into a helpless chuckle when Jen grinned and batted her eyelids at him. "Go on then, what do you fancy watching?" he asked her.
"H'mm… how about 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' or 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof?'
"'Breakfast at Tiffany's', that's Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard, isn't it? Who's in the other one?"
Jen looked at the DVD case, "Elizabeth Taylor, Paul Newman, Burl Ives…"
"'Breakfast at Tiffany's!" Harm said decidedly, "I'd much rather watch Hepburn than Taylor, and besides, it's much lighter in tone than the Taylor film, if I remember correctly."
"You do!" Jen confirmed as she loaded the DVD into the players and returned to the couch to snuggle up to Ham, but with a semi-serious warning, "Behave yourself, this time, sailor! No liberties this liberty!"
"No, ma'am," Harm agreed with a smile as Jen's head took up its accustomed place against his chest, and once comfortable she pressed the button on the remote control to start the movie rolling, and they settled down to watch.
They hadn't watched very much of the movie when to their joint annoyance, the phone shrilled its demand for attention. Jen sat up and thumbed the 'pause' button, while Harm irritably reached for the phone.
"Rabb!" he snapped.
"Hello Harm…" a well-remembered voice drifted through the earpiece of the phone and into his brain, triggering a whole host of memories, while his eyebrows practically vanished into his hairline.
"Mac!?" he asked for confirmation in a half incredulous tone, making Jen sit up straighter, a look of grim determination covering her face as she held her hand out in an imperative gesture to be given the phone, but before Harm could decide what he wanted to do, Mac's voice sounded in his ear again.
"Yeah, it's me… Don't put the phone down, Harm, just hear me out, please… oh and I'm not Mac any more. I'm either Sarah or Miss MacKenzie…"
"What do you want, Ma… uh… Sarah?" Harm asked quietly.
"Is Coates there with you?" Mac asked.
"Yes, what of it?" Harm asked and repeated his question, "What do you want Mac?" while waving away Jen's attempts to take the phone.
"If she's with you… can you put this call on speaker phone, please?"
Taken slightly aback, Harm replied, "Okay…" and leaned forward to switch on the speaker phone, raising his own eyebrows in answer to Jen's questioning look. "Okay, you're on speaker phone." Harm said.
"Thank you. I'm calling because I heard scuttlebutt that the two of you are getting married. I would have made that a question, but seeing that you're spending your Sunday afternoon together that would be a redundant question."
"And you'd never ask a question you didn't know the answer to, right?" Harm asked with a slightly acid edge to his tone.
Mac merely chuckled, "There are some things you never forget and rule one for attorneys is probably the best example I can think of. But that aside, I'm calling just to wish you both well and future happiness."
To say that Harm and Jen were startled at the words themselves and the warmth in Mac's voice, would just about qualify as the understatement of the year.
"Not that I'm really surprised by the news, You two were obviously meant for each other, right from the get-go," Mac continued, this time Harm could definitely hear the laughter in Mac's voice, even if it had a wistful quality. "I always thought you had more decided feelings towards Jennifer than you ever dared to acknowledge, even to yourself, and Jennifer… well you practically hero-worshipped Harm from that first Christmas when you stayed with me, and then when you moved in with Mattie – oh, I bumped into her at North Island a couple of weeks ago. I'm on inactive reserve now, but I still have access to the Corps, it helps keep me sane. But as I was saying, when you moved in with Mattie I could see that the hero-worship was maturing into something deeper. I guess I wasn't the only one to see that, but… well, there were some raised eyebrows. Not mine, I knew you both well enough to know that you wouldn't cross the line, but I understand that you're a civilian now, Jennifer, so there are no lines to be crossed. You told me once that you wanted a career, a good man and maybe even a couple of kids, just like the rest of us… well it seems like you've got two out of three, which you said at the time wouldn't be bad. So, once again, congratulations to you both, and I do wish you all the happiness in the future. Goodbye, Harm, Goodbye Jen…"
"Uh, yeah, goodbye, Sarah," Harm and Jen chorused and heard a click as Mac replaced the phone in its cradle on the other side of the continent.
"Well… that was a surprise," Harm said rather lamely.
Jen nodded, "Yeah, but the really odd thing is that she sounded like she meant it, when she congratulated us and wished us happiness…"
Harm shook his head, "It's no good looking at me for answer; even when we were best friends, I never could figure out just how Mac's mind worked!"
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
In a small, comfortable house overlooking the ocean on the outskirts of La Jolla two women looked at the phone on the end table next to the couch.
"That looked like it was rough," the shorter of the two replied.
The taller of the pair brushed her brunette bangs away from her face and smiled mistily, "It was. So thanks for being here for me. I don't think I could have done it without your support. But it needed to be said; it was long past time… That relationship – if that was what we had – has been folded in tissue paper with a sprig of rosemary for long enough. It's more than time it went to Goodwill
"Yes, of course, you're right, but… rosemary?"
"Hamlet… Ophelia's line, 'Rosemary, that's for remembrance… And there's pansies, that's for thoughts'… so do you see what I mean?"
"Yeah," the other woman nodded thoughtfully, "I guess I do…"
The tall brunette smiled, "I hope you won't think me an ungracious hostess, but I think I'd like to be alone for a little while…"
"Of course! I'll call you later, just to see how you are… And Sarah… you're not going to do anything foolish, are you?"
"What? Get drunk? No… if he couldn't drive me to drink all those years we were driving each other mad, he's not going to make me turn to the bottle now." She sighed, "You know, at one time, I really thought we might have had something together, but we screwed the pooch so many times, and that last time so badly, we missed our chances… oh, yeah, there were more than one, and we successfully managed to miss them all. But now, if you don't mind…"
"Sure," the shorter woman stood up and leaned over to give her long-time friend a hug and fleeting kiss on the cheek. "I'll call later."
"Yeah, okay," Sarah MacKenzie smiled and waited until her friend had closed the front door behind her before she slackened her iron control and let the silent tears run down her face, as she grieved the loss of what might have been
Outside in her mini-van Harriet Roberts inserted the key in the ignition and then slammed the side of her fist onto the steering wheel in frustration, "Damn it!" she cried out loud, "I wish I knew what interfering busybody told Sarah about Harm and Jen – I could kill them!"
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Jen walked into the bull pen on Monday morning with a cheerful smile for everyone, except Gibbs and DiNozzo. Gibbs hadn't yet arrived and DiNozzo was still on sick leave nursing his dog bites and his broken wrist.
Ellie Bishop looked up at Jen's cheerful "Good morning!" and smiled.
"Someone had a relaxing Sunday, she remarked.
"Oh, yeah, we went for a seven mile run in Rock Creek Park and then some light housework, but the afternoon we just curled up and watched movies," Jen replied with a smile of reminiscence.
"Well, it's time to curl up and get stuck into this investigation," Tim McGee chimed in, but with a smile to take any possible sting out of his words.
"Of course!" Jen agreed, securing her sidearm in her desk drawer and placing her cell phone to hand, "Anything new since Saturday?"
"Commander Greenwood e-mailed us a statement, repeating what she'd said about the Sergeant Major lying to her concerning the nature of the fatal bullet," Ellie Bishop answered, so I'm making out an arrest warrant on a charge of making a false official statement, plus a warrant to search his accommodation and any and all his vehicles…"
"It probably won't stick," Sam Hood said, sounding a note of caution.
"No… but it might just rattle some cages down at the Thirty Second Battalion," Tim added.
"Sounds good to me," Jen agreed, "When do we go?"
"You go when I say you go, and not before!" Gibbs rounded the screen into his team's area of the bull pen, his inevitable container of coffee in his hand. "How are we doing on those warrants?" he demanded of Ellie.
"All made out, Boss. I just need to get them checked by Commander Arnold in Legal and then get them across the street for a judge's signature."
"Well, what are you waiting for? Go!" Gibbs directed the blonde.
"I'm gone, Boss!" And while it might have been an exaggeration to say that Ellie Bishop fled the bull pen, it wouldn't have been much of one.
"Try Admiral Sebring!" Jen called after Ellie, receiving an upflung hand in reply.
"Agent Coates?" Jen looked around to see Pete Jones, one of the NCIS Messengers hovering at her elbow, "Special delivery, Agent. It needs to be signed for…" he finished somewhat lamely proffering an electronic tablet and a stylus.
"Thank you," Jen gave the youngster a smile that had him immediately promising himself that if he could ever do anything for the attractive brunette Agent then he would do so without hesitation.
Jen took delivery of the padded brown envelope and working a finger under the flap tore it open. A small, clear plastic bag sealed with evidence tape fell on to her desk, leaving her to pull two sheets of paper from the envelope. The first piece of paper was from the evidence room Sergeant of 49 MP Company, attesting to the fact that enclosed fired round had been registered as the bullet that had killed Staff Sergeant Keeler of the Thirty Second marine Battalion, and had a tear off receipt at the bottom of the sheet, while the other piece of paper was the record of chain of evidence for the bullet.
"Boss!" Jen called out.
"Yeah?"
"The mysterious bullet has arrived, together with its chain of evidence record."
"Good, get it down to Abby. I want to know who made it, when it was made, where it was made, what weapon fired it… I want to know everything about that round from the day its ore was dug out of the ground right up to the day it was dug out of Staff Sergeant Keeler's chest!"
"On it, Boss!" Jen grabbed the bullet and the chain of evidence log, and pausing only to shove her cell phone in her pocket and clip her sidearm to her belt she headed for the elevator to take her down to Abby Sciutto's forensics lab.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Harm strolled into his outer office, where to his surprise he saw that Yeoman Second Class Letterwood was still frantically opening and date stamping the incoming mail. Usually by the time he arrived she had the first sight file all ready for him. Stopping by her desk he waved her back down into her seat as she made to stand up and replied to her stifled, "Good morning, sir!" with a pleasant smile and a nod.
"A little behind schedule this morning, Yeoman Two?" he asked.
Diane Letterwood blushed, "Yes, sir. The O Street gate is shut so the lines at M and N streets are longer than usual."
Harm frowned, "I don't recall seeing anything that told us a gate would be shut today?" he made the statement into a question.
"No, sir. Neither did I. If I would have, then I would have told you and left home twenty minutes earlier than usual."
Harm frowned again as a thought occurred to him, "Letterwood, put that stuff to one side for a few minutes, make us both a cup of coffee and then come in to my office, I want to speak with you!"
Letterwood looked alarmed, "Sir, I truly am sorry this is so late this morning, but I really didn't know…"
"Relax, Diane… it is Diane, isn't it? You're not in trouble, but it is about time we had a little talk!"
Letterwood could only stare at him, her mouth agape, so stunned by the totally unexpected use of her first name by a four-ring Captain that all she could manage by way of reply was a squeaked, "Aye, aye, sir!"
Five minutes later a nervous knock at the door spurred Harm to call out, "Enter!" and as was her habit, using her hip to push the door open, Letterwood backed into the office, a mug of coffee in each hand. Crossing the floor she carefully placed Harm's coffee on his desk and stood nervously holding her own cup.
Harm nodded towards one of the chairs arranged in front of his desk and smilingly said, "Sit down, take a couple of deep breaths and try to relax. I'm pretty sure that this won't hurt."
"No, sir," Letterwood agreed as she gratefully sank into the indicated chair.
"Now… you just said that had you been aware of the gate closure you would have left home twenty minutes earlier. Now, as things stand you are in the office before me, and I'm usually pretty punctual. So what sort of time do you usually arrive?"
"Um, about zero seven thirty, sir."
"I see, and you live where?"
"I share an apartment with three other girls, on Oates Street North East, sir."
"Okay… and how long does it take you get in to work?"
"About twenty to twenty five minutes, depending on the traffic, sir."
"And you're here before me… and from what you said out there…" Harm tipped his head towards the outer office, "it takes you what, twenty to thirty minutes to open the mail, sort it and get it into the first sight file?"
"Uh… I haven't timed it, sir, but probably about that."
"So…" Harm did a quick mental calculation, "You generally arrive sometime between seven twenty and seven thirty hours… and this just that you can have the first sight file ready for my arrival?"
"Uh… a little earlier than that, sir…" Letterwood gave a nervous little laugh, "I need an extra ten minutes to brew and drink a coffee… sometimes it just gets too frantic at home… Four of us all trying to get showered, dressed and get breakfast all at the same time…"
Letterwood's words sparked a long-buried memory in Harm's mind. He seemed to recall Jen making pretty much the same complaint years ago, just before she moved in with Mattie, "Not a pretty sight, Letterwood?" he asked with a grin.
"No sir! But… but… how did you… Oh! Sorry, sir!"
Harm grinned and shook his head dismissively, "Just something a young Legalman said to me many years ago about sharing with other female petty officers. Have any of your room-mates broken your hair dryer yet?"
Letterwood was startled into giving a little gurgle of laughter, "Yes, sir! About six months ago, but she did go right out and replace it that same day!"
Harm nodded, "Right… now back to business. You have been getting in to the office at about seven fifteen, seven twenty in the morning, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Duty hours for this billet are zero eight until seventeen hundred, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then, I don't want to see you or hear of you being in the office more than five minutes before that time. Is that clearly understood?"
"Yes, sir! But… the first sight file and our morning coffee and…"
Harm held up a hand, "Letterwood, Letterwood, Letterwood… I can wait an extra twenty minutes for the first sight file… in fact I can wait an extra thirty minutes for it if I'm well supplied with fresh-brewed coffee!"
"Sir," Letterwood said faintly.
Harm leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, "Diane, you cheerfully gave up your Saturday this past weekend for no other apparent reason than I was working. You do not need to impress me with your efficiency or your work ethic; you have already done that and I am deeply appreciative of the fact that I have such an efficient, hard-working, willing and cheerful Yeoman. You are a young woman, and there should be more to your life than work and sleep. Slow down a little, look around, smell the flowers, understood?"
"Understood, sir," a bemused Diane Letterwood replied. That was the second time in under thirty minutes that the Captain had called her by her first name.
But Harm wasn't finished yet, "So… go on now, and finish off that first sight mail, but before you do… another cup of coffee wouldn't go amiss!"
Recognising even an informal dismissal, Letterwood surged to her feet, and took Harm's empty coffee cup from his desk before freezing into a brace, "Aye, aye, sir!" she announced crisply and then about-faced and marched out through the office door.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Gibbs looked around at the two remaining members of his team as the elevator doors slid closed on Jen's heels. "Well? Anything?"
Sam Hood covered the mouthpiece of his telephone, "I'm on to Aberdeen proving ground right now, Boss. They're going through their records to finds out whether they received any body armour from the Thirty Second, and if so when they received it…" he held up a hand to prevent Gibbs from saying anything and then spoke into his phone, "Yeah, got that!" Okay… and when can you let me know for sure? Thirteen hundred? Today? Thank you. That's great. If you do find the armour, please secure it and we'll send a couple of agents to take custody of it. Thanks again!" Hood put the phone down with a satisfied grin and looked across at Gibbs. "They'll be able to let me know if they received Staff Sergeant Keeler's body armour, and I they did, what has happened to it, and they promised to get that information to me by thirteen hundred hours, Boss."
Gibbs nodded, "Yeah, I heard. McGee, anything hinky in any of the Thirty Second's command element financials?"
"Nothing that doesn't tie in to their LES, Boss. Well, not so far…"
Gibbs glowered at McGee for a moment and then snapped, "Okay… widen the net. Check their spouses and parents and children's financials. If the cadre have anything to do with looted museum treasures then they can only profit by selling them on and if they sold them, then the money must be somewhere!"
Ellie Bishop walked back into the team's area just in time to hear Gibbs' instructions to Tim and offered, "Boss… if there was a sudden influx of artefacts onto the collectors' market, wouldn't the FBI Art Theft unit have some word of it?"
"Mebbe," Gibbs grunted and then relented slightly, "That's not a bad thought…" He slumped back into his seat and reached for his phone, his fingers almost without conscious direction punching in a long-familiar number.
"Fornell."
"Tobias, this Gibbs…"
"What do you want, Jethro…" Agent Fornell's voice was heavy with resignation.
"Hey, just calling in an old favour from way back…
"Hell, Gibbs, the last time you called in a favour, I got shot in the ass! Hell! It was you that pulled the damned trigger!"
"Tobias, my old friend, for this favour you won't even have to stand up out of your nice, big, padded, leather chair..."
"The only reason I have a padded chair, Gibbs, is because you shot me in the goddamned ass!" Gibbs winced and held the phone away from his ear as Tobias Fornell vented some of his frustration, but even while he winced, Gibbs was grinning. Truthfully, he did feel some remorse for shooting his friend, unfortunately at the time it was the only option he had, but at the same time it felt pretty good to tweak the senior FBI agent's nose from time to time.
"Finished your rant, Tobias?" he inquired genially.
Tobias Fornell let Gibbs sweat for a couple of seconds and then with seeming reluctance he sighed and said, "Yeah, I guess so… So… what is you want?"
Immediately Gibbs was all business, "Who heads up the stolen art unit or units that covers DC and Virginia? And what are they like? I mean are they likely to be co-operative, or resent interference?"
"What's your problem, Gibbs?"
"We're on the trail of about a hundred middle eastern antiquities that vanished from an Afghani Province Museum late last year and may be linked to the possible murder of a Marine Corps Staff Sergeant."
"These antiques… I take it they are valuable?"
"If they are anything like the one we've recovered, then yeah, they are. The one we have is gold with rubies set in it. All the items are small and easily concealed and transported."
"Okay…" Fornell had been checking the FBI internal directory on his computer screen while he and Gibbs had been talking, "The guy you want to speak with is Agent Dusty Rhodes, he's the SIC Art Theft for Northern Virginia and Maryland. His office is in Baltimore, hold on and I'll give you his number, ready? Okay… 410 559 3637. Got it?"
"Yeah, got it, thanks, Fornell… that's one less favour you owe me!" Gibbs let his lop-sided grin show for a second as he hung up.
Tim McGee looked across the space separating his and Gibbs' desk and shook his head in disapproval, "I really don't know why Agent Fornell still talks to you, Boss."
"Why… Hell… that's an easy one, McGee, it's because of my loveable nature!" Gibbs retorted, his grin widening as his ears picked up the stifled sounds of his team desperately trying not to laugh out loud. Then the grin disappearing, he became all business again, "Bishop did you get that warrant signed?"
"Yes, Boss… Coates was right on the money with that name! The only changes that Commander Arnold made was to add 'garages, sheds, outbuildings on any and all properties owned by the person named above' to the warrant."
Gibbs nodded his acknowledgement and looked across towards the elevator as Jen re-joined the team, "Well?" he snapped.
"Abby says she's on it, and will get back to you as soon as she has anything definite. On the plus side, she said that because it was an AP round it wasn't too badly distorted by its passage through the body armour and Staff Sergeant Keeler's chest…"
"Okay… Get set for a trip back down to Quantico. We leave as soon as Aberdeen proving ground gets back with any information on the body armour. Make sure you've got plenty of spare plastic ties with you. If everything goes according to plan, we may need 'em!"
With that, Gibbs reached for his phone and punched in the number for the FBI Arts Theft Team in Baltimore.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Harm had gritted his teeth and despite his intense dislike of paperwork had worked steadily for about forty five minutes when the buzz from his desk top intercom unit disturbed him. Gratefully seizing the chance to lay the first sight file aside for a few moments, he pressed the answer button, "Yes, Yeoman Two?"
"Sir, Lieutenant Commander Coleman is here to report for duty."
"Thank you, Yeoman Two, send her in please."
The door opened and Faith Coleman marched across the floor to halt, in a quivering brace, one pace away from the front of his desk. Harm looked her over carefully. She didn't seem to have changed much in the years between his court martial and today. Still the same stony expression on the freckled face, and still the bun of hair drawn back so tightly that it seemed to draw the skin of her face taut over her cheek bones. Her presentation, as he had expected it to be was flawless, her service dress blues immaculately pressed and her rack of ribbons he was willing to bet were accurately placed to within a millimetre.
"Lieutenant Commander Faith Coleman, reporting for duty as ordered, sir!" she rapped out.
"Your orders, please, Commander," Harm requested quietly, accepting them in the folder she had tucked under her left arm. "Thank you. Won't you please take a seat," he invited her.
For a moment, just a fleeting moment, Harm thought he saw surprise flash across Faith Coleman's features before her customary impassive expression was back in place. Nevertheless she did as she was invited and sat, bolt upright, in the way that Harm remembered, on the very edge of her seat.
"Relax, Faith… You don't mind me calling you Faith, I hope. We are going to be working quite closely together for the foreseeable future."
"Uh… no, sir…" she replied, and this time Harm was sure he saw a flicker of surprise.
"I'm very glad to have you on board, Faith. We have a hell of a job ahead of us, one that requires sustained number crunching and the attention to detail of which you are so capable. But before I go on to brief you on our primary task, let's clear the air, shall we? Now, before we begin, can I have my yeoman get you a coffee?"
"That's very good of you, sir, and thank you. Yes, please. Just coffee, no sugar, no milk or creamer."
"Very well… I warn you though, I have gotten used to drinking it Marine grade… that's pretty strong if you weren't aware of the term."
"I have come across the term once or twice, sir. And yes, I prefer my coffee strong.
"Good! Bear with me a moment, please." Harm stretched his hand out and stabbed the intercom unit's call button, "Yeoman Two?"
"Sir!"
"Can you organise two cups of coffee please, both plain black and my usual strength."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"And when you bring them in, can you bring in that hours worked spreadsheet with them, please."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Now… clearing the air… First off, Faith, let's make it plain that I have absolutely no ill feelings towards you. I'm sure you wondered if I was attempting some form of payback after my court martial. Well, I'm not. Just after the trial I admit, I considered having you charged with dereliction of duty in that you provided me with an inadequate defence. But that was then, this is now and I've moved on since then. True we didn't put up much of a case, but that was my fault as much as yours. I made myself look guilty, and I didn't give you much to work on. Besides that, I have in the intervening years taken the opportunity to read up the transcripts of those nine acquittals you won. They weren't very challenging cases, and of the nine, five of them should have been dealt with as an Article Fifteen or at an Article Thirty Two hearing at the utmost. The other four could have been won by a first year law student. And none of that was your fault! Neither was it your fault that you were detailed to represent me. With the benefit of hindsight, I'd say that whoever detailed you to the case…?" Harm's rising inflexion at the end of his sentence turned it into a question.
"The Secretary of the Navy," Faith replied stiffly.
"Ah… That would explain a lot!" Harm declared, "Well with the benefit of hindsight I'd say that the then SecNav looked at your hundred per cent record, without looking into the nature of the cases you defended, and decided that you were the right officer for the job. But you weren't were you, Faith? It seems to me, looking at your past fitreps that your strength doesn't lie in litigation, and that you would be much more beneficially employed in research and policy making.
Faith Coleman's startled eyes flew to Harm's face as he somewhat brutally outlined her skills as he saw them, but she was forced to admit to herself that he wasn't so very far off the mark, so she gulped and nodded her head, "Yes, sir. I've never really felt at home in the court room… and I too have taken the liberty of reading up on some of your past cases, and I could never have won the half of them. I am much happier doing legal research and arguing tort cases."
"Well, tort cases, I have none. But once you have completed your primary task then we'll see what we can find for you to sharpen your teeth on… ah, and talking of primary tasks…" Harm broke off what he was sating to call out "Enter!" as his Yeoman rapped on the door frame.
Diane Letterwood had the required spreadsheet folder tucked under her arm, her hands being occupied by a small tray on which sat two mugs of steaming coffee, which she placed on the coasters Harm nudged clear of his desk blotter and then handed him the file.
"Commander Coleman, this is Yeoman Two Letterwood, my right hand man. Anything you need to know about JAG HQ here in the Navy Yard, she's the go to person! Yeoman Two, Commander Coleman will be taking over the research and compilation of the budget implications on NJS throughput."
"Aye, aye, sir! Welcome to the Navy Yard, ma'am!"
Unused to being addressed so cheerfully by enlisted members of the Navy, Faith was taken aback, but managed a slightly stiff "Thank you, Yeoman."
"Now, Yeoman two, is there any news from Admin for an office for Commander Coleman, or the provision of a Yeoman for her?"
Diane Letterwood shook her head slightly, "Nothing heard, sir. I can try to nudge them, though, sir?"
"Do that, thank you," Harm smiled, although he could feel his frustration beginning to mount.
"Right, drink your coffee, Faith, while I try to explain what this file…" he tapped it with a long forefinger, "means! Basically, the JAG is concerned about the way that the JAG Corps is bleeding officers. There have always been a certain percentage of officers who resign the minute they have completed their obligation to the Navy, but we're seeing wastage far above and beyond the usual rate. There seems to be two root reasons for this. Firstly with deployments to places like Afghanistan and Iraq, we suddenly have a plethora of geographical widows and widowers which gives rise to a certain amount of discontent, but coupled with that we now have a situation where those JAGs remaining in post in CONUS are being pressured to work ridiculously long hours, so much so that see almost as little of their families as those JAGs who have been deployed. And the longer these conditions pertain the worse the situation becomes. NJS run three courses for twelve candidates per year, but the number of graduates from each session is not sufficient in either numbers or experience to make up for the steady loss of disenchanted officers. It is the JAG's wish that NJS run another school per year and raise the number of candidates on each school to sixteen. Your job is to work out how much extra JAG would need in its budget if those extra officers were commissioned into the JAG Corps, and the resultant increase in manpower stemmed the flow of those officers quitting the Navy by fifty per cent. It's not exactly calculus, but it is going to mean a lot of number crunching, and accurate number crunching at that. You have a fine record of paying attention to detail when it comes to research and investigation, and I... No, we, the JAG and I, are hoping that you will be able to bring those skills to bear on this problem! We need accurate figures so that we, JAG Corps, can go to the Navy's budgetary office and justify a claim for a bigger slice of the cake. It's a hefty responsibility, but I am sure that you are up to shouldering this burden, and if it comes off, you will have earned yourself a pretty good reputation throughout JAG Corps officers, as well, I suspect, as a load of gratitude from spouses who will be seeing a lot more of their partners than was hitherto possible!"
"I… I shall do my best, sir!" Faith Coleman uttered as the enormity dawned on her of the task which Captain Rabb had just so casually thrown at her.
"I know you will! Now, excuse for me a moment…" One again Harm stretched put a long finger and stabbed the intercom's call button, "Yeoman Two?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Any news on Commander Coleman's office or her Yeoman?"
"No, sir. I was waiting until you'd finished speaking with the Commander… I've just gotten off the phone with Chief Yeoman Browning in Admin, and he tells me that there are no Yeomen available for the Commander, and neither is there any suitable vacant office space… sir," Letterwood finished almost miserably.
"I see," Harm said evenly, "Not your fault, Yeoman Two. Who is OIC down there, and what's his phone number?"
"Uh… Lieutenant Commander Campbell, sir. He's on extension Two Four One Three."
"Thank, you Yeoman Two!" Harm released the intercom button and turned to the grave-faced Lieutenant Commander sitting opposite him, "You heard all that?"
"Yes, sir."
"H'mm… when did you land back in the States, Faith?"
"Yesterday evening, sir."
"And your accommodation is all sorted out?"
"Yes, sir. I have a house on Georgetown…" and seeing Harm's slightly surprised expression added "I inherited it from my parents when they died, sir," surprising herself by volunteering more than she was asked and revealing more of her personal history than she had ever done, but there was something about the tall Captain sitting behind the desk. Even years ago, although she had then managed to maintain her acerbic, emotionless front, she had felt a certain… something… in regards to her then client. Mentally giving herself a good shake Faith Coleman snapped back into focus just in time to hear Harm's reply.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Harm said gently.
"It was a long time ago, sir. I was at college when it happened," Faith said without the slightest hint of emotion. 'And there I go again! Revealing unasked for personal information! What the hell is wrong with me today?!'
"I see… Well, seeing that Admin seem to have screwed the pooch, I suggest that you go home now, get yourself organised at home, get some sleep and we'll see you at zero eight hundred tomorrow, and believe me, by that time you will have both an office and a Yeoman.
Faith rose to her feet, "Aye, aye, sir!" she responded crisply and turning, headed for the door, thankful for the opportunity to get her thoughts back in order and refocused. 'He must have been more right than he knew,' she thought, 'And I must be more tired than I thought to let that much slip!' Comforted by that thought, Faith was able to nod a non-committal farewell to Letterwood and let herself out into the hallway where she could breathe more freely.
Once alone Harm let his carefree mask slip. He very rarely pulled rank on anyone, preferring to work amicably with those around him but he was a by-God Captain in the US Navy and he wasn't about to have his orders flouted by a Lieutenant Commander!
Picking up his phone, he dialled the extension number given to him by Letterwood and drummed his fingers for the time it took the phone at the other end of the line to ring four times before it was picked up.
"Admin, Lieutenant Commander Campbell speaking, sir!"
"Campbell, this is Captain Rabb!"
"Sir!"
"Why have you not complied with my written instruction of last week?"
"Written instruction, sir? Which instruction, sir?"
"The instruction stating that an office and a highly numerate Yeoman were to be provided for an incoming officer, a Lieutenant Commander Coleman, who reported for duty today to find that she has nowhere to work, and no-one with whom to work! Can you explain that, Mister?"
"Uh… Yes, sir!" Campbell suddenly sounded desperate to please. "You see, sir, there is no suitable office space for Commander Coleman until we have organised some shuffling around to free up an office commensurate with her rank, it means evicting a Lieutenant Commander from his office, and then another one to make room for him, until we finally have two Lieutenants sharing an office, but all this takes time sir, and is of course disruptive… sir…"
"Bullshit!" Harm exploded "There is a perfectly good office three doors down the hallway from the Chief of Staff's Office, my office. Commander Coleman is here to work on a task that both the JAG and I consider to be of the utmost importance and urgency and we need her close at hand, not stuck in some six by eight cubicle on the first floor. Now listen very carefully, Commander Campbell. I shall say this only once: You will have that office prepared for Lieutenant Commander Coleman to start work in at zero eight hundred hours tomorrow morning. That means fully furnished, cleaned and ready for occupancy by herself and her Yeoman including having two fully functional and netted in computers. Is that understood?"
"Understood, sir… but the timescale… I mean these things take time… and as for the IT, I believe there's something like a four or five day wait for the services of the ITS guys, sir."
"Commander, stop wasting my time with excuses as to why what I need to be done can't be done. Instead, spend your time figuring out how it can be done and then do it. And if that means that you, personally, have to work all night dusting, sweeping and vacuuming that office, then that is what you will do. The same applies to the ITS people. I don't care if they have to work from now until sunrise tomorrow. That office will be fully functional and with a qualified Yeoman waiting for Commander Coleman by zero eight hundred, or you, Commander, will find yourself facing charges of disobeying an order and dereliction of duty. Now… do I make myself plain?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Good. Get that office squared away!"
"Aye, aye, Sir!"
Harm slammed the phone down with a wordless exclamation of frustration and after drawing a deep breath once again stabbed the call button on the intercom, "Yeoman Two?"
"Sir?"
"Any chance of you being able to organise more coffee?"
For a moment Diane Letterwood thought to point out that Harm had already had two more cups of coffee than was usual for any given morning, but there was a hard edge to his voice, even distorted as it was by the intercom that nudged her into replying, "Coming right up, sir!"
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Having secured the promise of co-operation from the FBI Arts Theft Unit, Gibbs replaced his phone on its cradle with a satisfied grin and looked up to find Sam Hood looking over his desk. To be fair, the former Marine didn't mean his presence to intimidate, but he was just so tall and so broadly built through the chest and shoulders that he couldn't help have that effect on people, including Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Although Gibbs would rather have died than admitted that to anyone, even under the worst torture the CIA could devise.
"You got something, Hood?" he grunted.
"I do, Boss! I've just had Aberdeen proving ground on the horn. They have Staff Sergeant Keeler's body armour, and they are sending it over to us by vehicle. It should be with us tomorrow morning, first thing!"
Gibbs nodded in satisfaction and opening his desk drawer he grabbed his sidearm and clipped it to his belt, "Okay, people, saddle up! Coates with me. Tim, you take Hood and Bishop in the truck, and I don't give a damn who drives!
There was a sudden flurry of activity as the agents grabbed their backpacks and weapons and surged towards the elevator.
"C'mon, people!" Gibbs yelled, "Move it! We've got a Sergeant Major to arrest! Bishop! You got that warrant?"
"Got it Boss!"
"Good! Now, move it! Move it! Move it!
Gibbs seemed to remain tense and hyped up, Jen thought as she covertly observed his body language. That is until the NCIS sedan hit the I-95 south to Quantico, then he relaxed slightly.
"Call McGee on your cell, and then when you have him, put it on loud hailer!" Gibbs instructed her.
Thirty seconds later Tim's voice came crackling through her phone. "Tim, you're on speaker," Jen cautioned him before anyone at the other end could say anything disrespectful about Gibbs, and from Gibb's grin, he was well aware of what Jen had just done, and why she had done it.
"Now, listen up, all of you! I had a pretty good talk with the FBI art theft agent in charge. He tells me that small number of significantly Middle Eastern artefacts – that's expensive bits and pieces of antique jewellery – have made an appearance on the private buyers and sellers' market. He's had his eye on one particular guy, a Terence Connolly, and is sending agents to bring him in for questioning. Okay, Connolly isn't exactly a common name, but it isn't exactly rare, either, so I'm willing to bet that there's a connection between his guy and our Sergeant major. Connolly isn't the only lead the FBI have, but it looks like it's the only one that might tie into our man! Now hear this, no-one is to mention Terence Connolly to the Sergeant Major, until I do when I interrogate him. Is that understood?"
The "Yes, Boss!" chorus was a little on the ragged side, but Gibbs smiled in satisfaction as he heard the three distinct voices emanating from Jen's cell phone.
"You got that too, Coates?"
"I got, Boss," she confirmed.
"Good. Switch that thing off now!" he nodded at the cell phone that Jen had held against the facia. "When I interrogate Connolly, I want you in the observation room. Doc Cranston tells me that you're already well on the road to becoming a good psychologist, so you should pick it up when he starts lying!"
"When, not if, Boss?" Jen queried.
"When, not if," Gibbs confirmed.