He was losing his patience with Elijah, time was of the essence and his partner in the biggest and most important task given ever given to man was having problems knowing his duties. It had been thousands of years since they had been chosen, maybe Elijah would need some assistance in remembering what he was chosen for and why he had to finally die.

Enoch maneuvered the massive truck to the side of the road. Losing Brown had delayed his plans but he knew of one man who would give him assistance, David Goforth, otherwise known as Moses to most of his friends. He would help him in preparing Elijah for his destiny, the assignment given to him by God.

He reached into his jacket, pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial to call his friend in Arkansas. Enoch was just hours away from the man's farm, a place where they could get Elijah ready and he could continue with his duties of separating good and evil.

His third victim had been secured away, all he needed was a private place to finish the process of eliminating the sinners in the way he had been taught. He looked at his watch to see the time, then smiled when his friend answered the phone, the third victim would be laid out by sundown.

NCIS

Gibbs rounded the corner of the bullpen, his mood much worse than when he had left to get a replacement cup of coffee. "Anything yet McGee?" he growled, referring to the surveillance tape.

"Actually boss I might have something. I have a friend who lives near Tony, he has a CCTV video camera set up in his back yard and in his garage. He has had some problems with some recent thefts in the neighborhood which he thought was related to recent gang activity, even though it is a nice neighborhood." McGee was attempting to explain but was cut off by a very gruff voice.

"McGee!" Gibbs' stare was actually worse than the sound of his voice.

"Sorry boss." He hit a button on his computer and up popped a picture of a large eighteen wheeler, no identifying markings, no distinct color. It was a gray colored bed pulled by a white truck, void of any markings.

Tim then pulled in on the driver, which was more like a blur of black and white. " This truck pulled into his camera's view approximately three and a half minutes after the mark in the first video that showed the top of the truck. It has to be the same vehicle, boss." McGee was feeling fairly confident in his deduction but disappointed in the fact that the vehicle had no identifying marks.

"This is better than I had hoped for McGee." Gibbs approached the screen, his mood changing before their eyes. " How rare is a semi truck without any markings."

Ziva spoke up, " It seems as if would be very rare." She was remembering when she had spent time in an eighteen wheeler with Damon not too long ago. "Actually this could be the one thing that would stand out the most. Yes?"

"Exactly." Gibbs responded, " Get this out on a APB and get the video down to Abby, I bet she will be able to pull off more information." Gibbs actually felt a glimmer of hope that they might be able to get closer to the killer and the man who was holding Tony.

Autopsy Room

Ducky was giving the utmost respect to the man on the table. The Gunny Sargent had fought off his attacker with great might, but he had been drugged, repeatedly, given the differing levels of drugs in the man's system.

Palmer had taken samples to Abby to determine the types and levels of drugs given but the injection sites were evident. There were many, more than thirty at last count, but they had also been ingested. The lining of the stomach was saturated.

Ducky was concerned, because he also noted that the man had been intubated, roughly and sterile technique had not been used and that terrified the forensic pathologist. Tony wouldn't do well if this had been done to him, his scarred lungs would be more than susceptible to infection.

He covered the body and walked over to his desk, taking a seat he pulled out the profile of the killer, Enoch. What would be the killer's plan be for Tony if he thought he was truly Elijah? He discarded his gloves and began to read again, the diary of a mad man.

Dan Brown had described in detail each murder that had been committed, each time looking for the second witness, each time feeling they had found the man who would assist Enoch at the end, only to be disappointed when their blood tests had come up short.

Ducky found this passage very interesting. What type of blood tests were they running? Suddenly it dawned on him. Could it have something to do with the plague that Tony had suffered four years earlier? Were they looking for a man who had escaped ultimate death.

He reached down, pulled out his Bible and opened it to find the significance of the two witnesses. As he thumbed through the index he could not help but to have his own thoughts regarding the killer, that somehow Enoch could use Tony's bout with the plague to cast out the evil in the world concerned him.

Though the virus had died, maybe Enoch had found something in Tony's bloodwork or in a biopsy of Tony's lungs that gave him hope that he could use this horrid disease to do his work, of killing mass numbers of people. Could it be even possible? Could Enoch reconstitute the disease if it had gone dormant in the lung tissue instead of dying?

Ducky started reading, he had to attempt to figure out the killer's motive, Tony's life depended on it.

Unknown Location

Tony was shaken awake by the roughness of the ride, confirming in his mind that he was in a moving vehicle. He was no longer lying on the small cot but on the cold floor of his prison. The drugs were still making his mind foggy, his thoughts seemed slow to come.

He lifted his head up in the darkness, attempting to figure out where he was, the small room was shaking back and forth dramatically. Then suddenly the motion ended, and he attempted to stand but his feet, no his legs, would not tolerate the weight of his body.

All he felt was the urge to vomit, that similar feeling when he rode in the car with Gibbs, motion sickness, throwing him off balance and all he wanted to do was to go back to sleep.

He rolled over, attempting to catch a sound, a voice, but all he was met with was silence, complete silence. 'This can't be good.', he thought to himself as he again attempted to stand, a voice inside his head telling him he had to fight, that his life could depend on it.

"Okay Anthony the killer will kill you if you don't act, so get your ass up and work on getting together a plan." he spoke it out loud to himself as a self motivation but again he could not get his weakened body to move.

Sweat and the stench of death filled the small room, maybe it was his own death that was pending that he could smell. Either way he knew his time was almost up, his own body betraying him in the end. A deep string of coughs took over, and when he was done he could feel the sticky blood on his hand, and his mind went back to his days of the plague and a new fear gripped him.

Well. Maybe another chapter by the end of the day...if I am prodded.