Gibbs made his usual silent entry into Abby's lab as she typed furiously on her computer keyboard, the music to some ungodly loud alternative rock band blasting away in the background.
"Abby," he called to her with a slightly raised voice, getting no response he tapped her shoulder and signed for her to lose the music.
"Hi Gibbs!" She smiled cheerfully as only Abby could do, hitting the remote, bringing silence to her lab.
"Can't you listen to anyone like Waylon Jennings?"'
"Who?"
"Never mind. What'ya got for me Abs?"
She turned away, then back to him, holding up pair of glass specimen jars, each containing the bullets from their latest homicide.
"This is soooo cool. These bullets were fired from a vintage Webley revolver, .38, Mark 4. Here's a bit of history...It was officially adopted for military service by the British in 1942 and was initially a scaled-down version of the .455 Mark 6 revolver, chambered for .38 S&W cartridge, and developed by Webley & Scott in 1923 for police use. These guns were regarded obsolete in 1963. The official British .38/200 ammunition was based on early, black powder .38 Smith & Wesson cartridge, and was used with heavy 13.4 gram bullet, leaving the muzzle at relatively slow velocities of about 650 feet per second. Is this not awesome or what?"
"Depends, that type of gun is going to be a kicker to trace...too many vintage gun collectors out there."
"Ah you speak too soon, there's not that many dealers in vintage revolvers like this." Abby smiled, "I did some checking and there's a gun dealership in Dumfries that specializes in rare guns from World War I and II, specifically British issue."
Gibbs smiled, producing a jumbo caf-pow from behind his back, sealing his thanks with a quick peck to her cheek.
"Thanks Abs, good job."
He headed to the elevator, and up to the squad room, holding out the piece of paper that Abby had given him at arms length, not bothering to take out his reading glasses.
"McGee, I want everything you can find out on Taylor Vintage Weaponry, in Dumfries. Check recent gun sales for a Webley revolver, .38, Mark 4."
"Got it Boss." McGee set out, typing furiously on his keyboard, and in a few minutes had his answers.
"Yes there was a recent sale to a Callum Donnacha, two weeks ago."
"Hey that's the same weird name as the victim..." Tony blurted out.
"Do ya think Di Nozzo."
"Got a home address McGee?"
"Already have it Boss," he smiled, holding up the post-it note, and seeing Tony sneering at him.
"Di Nozzo, quit making faces and go get the car ready." Gibbs tossed him the key, as he gathered up his things. "Well, let's go people, saddle up, what are you waiting for, Christmas?"
"On your six, boss," Tony called out, practically crawling up the mans butt.
This time the rest of them hustled, making it to the elevator right behind Tony and their fearless leader. Di Nozzo casting a smirk, having beaten the others inside.
.
"Heading to the home address boss?" Tony asked as he started up the sedan.
"No first to the gun shop." Gibbs was always a man of few word.
"Right Boss," Tony said as he pulled out of the lot.
Dumfries was a small sleepy sort of town, its population just a little over five thousand. The businesses were somewhat spread out along Main St. with most of them catering to the nearby Marine base of Quantico.
They pulled up in front of the gun dealership, but at first glance it looked closed. Gibbs pressed his nose against the glass, seeing some back lights on.
"Sign on the door says it's closed boss," Tony pointed out. "Wonder if they knew we were coming? Your search couldn't have tipped them off Mc Geek, could it?"
"Nooo way Tony, all I did was Google," McGee protested.
"Well we can get inside easily enough, " Ziva smiled, holding up her tools to pick the lock.
"What if there's an alarm," Tony asked.
As Ziva knelt preparing to work on the lock, Gibbs reached over, turning the handle and opening the door.
"Pays to check," he said as he moved inside with his Sig drawn. As soon as they stepped inside they were hit by the telltale odor of other's followed suit, each taking a section of the store and searching it, whispering 'clear' as they finished.
"Over here!" Ziva called out. "We have a body."
A man lay sprawled out in the back room of the gun shop with a single bullet wound to the head, exactly like Lieutenant McDonald and the Scotsman, Michael Donnacha-Skye.
"No signs of robbery, the cash register is closed tight.
Tim pressed a 'no sale' button and the drawer opened, revealing plenty of cash in side. "Money is there and none of guns seem to have been disturbed, they're all locked in place." McGee called.
"DiNozzo you wait here for Palmer. McGee, you and David with me."
They headed out to the address of Callum Donnacha's residence, on Tallowwood Drive, located in a more residential section of Dumfries. Pulling up in front of a small innocuous grey house set back from the street in a quiet neighborhood;Gibbs,McGee and David cautiously approached it with their weapons drawn.
Jethro signalled for Ziva to take the back, and after giving her a few minutes, he pounded on the door.
"NCIS open up!" Nothing happened, and he kicked the door open. Once inside, it was obvious there was no one home, and a quick search confirmed that.
The interior of the house had been trashed, and looked like the occupant made a hasty retreat.
"McGee I want a bolo issued on this guy now."
"On it Boss."
Once the scene had been secured, and fingerprints lifted. They returned to headquarters.
Some time later Palmer, having finished his autopsy, the results of Abby's tests arrived and confirmed the gun store owner had been killed by the same Wembly handgun.
Mc Gee was typing away on his computer keyboard, when he suddenly stopped, cursing under his breath.
"What is it McGee?" Gibbs looked up from his desk.
"Yeah, spill it McGoogle." Tony quipped.
"Boss, Callum Donnacha boarded a flight bound for Heathrow at 8:40 this morning and landed about two hours ago. I'm afraid we've lost him."
Gibbs shook his head. "Okay what are you waiting for McGee, notify Scotland yard that we have a British national as prime suspect in a triple homicide, of two civilians and a member of the U.S. military. And get me a more detailed background on this Donnacha fellow. I wanna know if he's related to Michael Donnacha-Skye."
"Already have it boss." McGee put it up on the plasma.
"Michael Donnacha-Skye, born on the Island of Skye in Scotland, he's the heir to a 20,000 acre estate in southern Skye, he's the son of the late of Lord Simon Donnacha-Skye. I guess they refer to him as a Laird. His mother, Lady Aileen Donnacha-Skye currently runs the estate. He was to have taken over the Lairdship on after his twenty-first birthday. They even own a castle...Armadale Castle.
"Welcome to Clan Donald Skye, a magnificent 20,000 acre estate in south Skye. Enjoy an outstanding holiday experience, exploring the historic gardens and woodland trails around Armadale Castle, learning about highland history in our fascinating Museum of the Isles or staying in our self-catering lodges" Tim read that aloud, realizing it was just an advertisement at that point..
"And Callum Donnacha?" Ziva asked.
"He is first cousin to Michael. And by rights of succession would be the one to inherit the estate now..."
"Well there's our motive to have killed his cousin but what about Lieutenant McDonald.?" Tony asked.
"A victim of circumstance, perhaps?" Ziva proposed." I checked and the Lieutenant had just started dating him only three weeks ago. Apparently her parents were from this place, Skye and emigrated here in the 1950s. Morin Mac Donald was born in Scotland, but became a naturalized citizen."
Gibbs knew Ducky was going to be staying in the area near the Isle of Skye, and contemplated giving him a call.
