Friday morning, tension made knife cuts in several people's minds.

At NCIS, Gibbs, having arrived early, changed his mind 100 times about what he would say to Schultz' team when they arrived, knowing that he had to say something, since Jenny certainly wouldn't.

In Georgetown, Klara Schultz rose at her usual time, remembered she didn't have a job to go to, snarled at the bag of coffee beans in her freezer for being almost empty, and settled down at the table with a legal pad to jot out her plan of attack.

In the in-law apartment somewhere, Tim worried and worried as he sat at the edge of the bed.; His heart raced like a NASCAR engine, and he wondered if death by heart attack would be preferable to death in the fashion Lieutenant Peskarev experienced. Or did she likewise become desperate, and triggered her own death? Will I get to that point?

And in the upper floors of that same house, Nels Johansson, the only happy one in this group, hummed an old gammal dans tune while he dressed and prepared to make a drive to the place he'd gone to once or twice a week for close to a year.

- - - - -

"Klara 's resigned?!" her team member Balere said in disbelief Friday morning. "Why, Gibbs?"

Perched on Schultz's desk, Gibbs met Balere's eyes, and then Joe's, then Mickey's. "Personal reasons," he said, hoping that would end it.

"Did she have a run-in with the Director?" asked Mickey.

"She resigned," Gibbs repeated, stifling a sigh. "Until a new team leader is appointed, it looks like you'll be working with me." The high school principal. "Keep up with what you were doing yesterday." He eyed the three agents, who were clearly still in shock. They'll get used to it, in time. It's not like Schultz is dead.

Tony trotted down to that end of the squad room. "Boss, the acting commander of the Anacostia base just called. That scientist who visits the base a lot—Nils Ekerot—has arrived there."

"Fine. You and, uh, Joe—go pick him up for questioning. I want to hear his story."

- - - - -

Ekerot looked quietly confident in the interrogation room. Gibbs' long reading of his face didn't appear to unnerve him at all.

"I still don't understand why you brought me here," said Ekerot, a blond, balding, paunchy man of about 60, wearing glasses and business casual dress. He spoke with a very slight Scandinavian accent. "My papers are all in order. I have been in the US on a work visa since early 2006. It doesn't expire until 2012. I am confident it will be renewed then, if my work here is not finished."

Gibbs looked again at the copy of Ekerot's passport. "H-1B visa. Who do you work for, again?"

"Myself, as I already told you. I conduct my own research."

On the other side of the window, Tony voiced what the others were thinking. "Wrong-o. An H-1B isn't issued for the self-employed." Ziva left to call up Ekerot's visa file.

"What brings you to the Anacostia base so often?" Gibbs asked.

"My specialty is electronics. I obtain permission, now and then, to do studies there."

Gibbs didn't bother asking for details of the studies yet, knowing it would be beyond him and there was no guarantee that Ekerot would be telling the truth. He changed tacks.

"Do you know this man?" He pushed a picture Ekerot's way.

"That's the base commander. Enrique Alvarez. A pleasant person."

"When did you last see him?"

Ekerot thought. "I think I saw him the last time I was on the base, before this…Monday, perhaps?"

"What did you talk about?"

"I don't think I did speak with him. I usually don't."

"Who do you see when you come to the base?"

"One of the supply officers. Several people know me by now. Am I being charged with something, Agent Gibbs?"

"I haven't decided. I'd like to see copies of your studies."

"I'll have to decline that, Agent Gibbs. My work has to be kept highly confidential. My processes are not quite at the patentable stage, yet."

"We'll get a court order, if necessary. Are you aware that Commander Alvarez was kidnapped? It's been in the news."

"I only watch the national TV news. Local news is so…local and uninteresting."

"It's been on ZNN, and the other national wires."

"I don't even watch the national news much. I am, ah, not much of a news seeker, outside my field. That is a shame about Enrique Alvarez, however."

"Where were you at 8:20 a.m. Monday?"

"I was…on the base, in the lab. I try to collect data Mondays, then study it for the rest of the week. If you have the base records, you'll see that I most often visit on Mondays."

"What about Tuesday, around 5 p.m.?"

"I would have been in my lab in Maryland. Check the base records, if that concerns you. You will see that today was the first time I have been here since Monday. Can I go now?"

"Not yet. How can we get in touch with you?"

"I am renting a house near Bethesda. Here is the address. I am surprised that you did not get that from the base, You seem to know everything about me."

"Oddly enough, the address the base had on file for you doesn't exist."

"Hmmm. Someone must have written it down wrong."

Gibbs gave him a last, reading look. "All right, Doctor Ekerot. That's all the questions we have for you today. But we may be back in touch."

While Ekerot was being escorted out, Gibbs left the interrogation room with a stony face. "Everything about him is a lie. I can feel it."

"The H-1B visa is genuine," Ziva said, "although it was issued for work with a company called ScannerByStarlight, Inc. That's a shell company, started by Ekerot."

"Figures. What else you got?"

"AFIS is working on a fingerprint match," said Mickey. "I've got a hunch that Ekerot isn't the only name he uses. Ekerot has left too little a trail for someone who's been here for a year and a half."

"Good. Okay, let's—"

"Boss," Tony cut him off. "You didn't ask him about McGee."

"You have work to do, DiNozzo. Get to it."

"Why didn't you ask him about McGee, boss???"

Gibbs only turned and walked away, knowing there was nothing he could say that wouldn't risk getting him fired. And if I get fired, who will lead this group in time to save McGee and Alvarez?

Joe held Tony back. "It's not you, Tony. He's obviously prevented from saying something. It may be tied into why Klara quit.

Balere nodded. "You want to take your anger out on something, baby? Work on solving this case."

- - - - -

At the living room table, Tim picked at his breakfast eggs and sausages without tasting them. He was afraid to move; afraid that any action would further the hallucinations.

"Look, girls; he's hardly touched his food."

"Oh, the poor dear. What do you suppose we can do?"

"Who was that Marta he was mentioning? Maybe she can help."

It's not real, Tim told himself. I didn't just hear that. He hadn't told Alvarez about his latest development; didn't want to add to the commander's troubles. If Alvarez had likewise had any new developments, he hadn't shared them with Tim, either.

Doubts surged through his mind. What is NCIS doing to find Alvarez? If I could figure that out, then I might be able to plan an escape for us, or at least, for Enrique… But of course the agency would not make that public.

- - - - -

Gibbs paid a visit to Autopsy, and Ducky was not surprised to see him. "The blood tests aren't back yet, Jethro. I wouldn't expect them before tomorrow at the earliest. I'll log on from home over the weekend, and come in to NCIS if the data does arrive. But that's not why you're here, is it, dear boy?"

"No, Duck," Gibbs said, his arms crossed. "You heard that Klara Schultz quit?"

"Ah, of course. I am not without my resources along the grapevine. I heard she quit after a stormy session in Jennifer's office with you. Does it concern Timothy?"

Seeing Gibbs look around, Ducky said, "Palmer's cleaning out the van. We're alone."

If there was anyone Gibbs would trust, it would be Ducky. "Schultz quit when Jenny all but said that McGee was expendable. Well, technically, she quit after socking Jenny for saying that."

Ducky seemed unruffled by the revelation. "Go on."

"I asked DiNozzo to try to get into McGee's mind, to determine what he might be planning."

"Assuming Timothy and the commander are still alive, Jethro."

"Yeah." Gibbs was silent for a moment. "But we've got to assume they are. I don't think DiNozzo can do this analysis. Maybe the psychosis would throw us off. I need your evaluation."

Sticking his hands in his lab coat pockets, Ducky looked thoughtful. "It's so hard to say, Jethro. I don't know how, or if, the paranoia has progressed. Is he still afraid of us? And if so, more so? Have other symptoms emerged? Alvarez is more than 20 years older than him and may be more debilitated, If so, Timothy may be saddled with caring for him."

"I suspected that. But I need to know this: based on your knowledge of McGee, do you think he has it in him to try to escape?"

"Escape? If Timothy has any rationality left at all, he'll be trying to escape. He's not a quitter. In fact, he's too determined, most of the time. In my opinion. Unless he has a reason that we can't fathom yet; something that's keeping him there."

- - - - -

Again Tim and Alvarez met under the roar of the fan. At least the fan drowns out the audio hallucinations, Tim thought.

"I've been thinking of escape plans," said Alvarez, and seeing Tim's nod, went on. "I think it needs to happen sometime while they're taking you out to Nels' lab."

"Right. We'll create an excuse for you to leave the room and get to the first floor. Then you get out the door and run for help."

"What? No! You're a generation younger, and in better shape, and—"

"And I have broken ribs and can't run, remember? There's more, Enrique." Tim's eyes turned sad. "If Nels' plan is to do something really large-scale dangerous, my only way of stopping him is to be on the inside, learning about it. I'm getting close, Enrique. It's something to do with communications systems. I just haven't narrowed it down yet."

Alvarez' eyes measured Tim's face in a way that reminded him of Gibbs. "You need medical treatment. So do I," said Alvarez. "We know we've been infected."

"And I don't know how long I can keep doing this. But what if Nels' plans are almost finished? What if he's ready to launch them in the next week? I've gotta be in there to try to stop him."

"It could kill you. He might still be planning to kill you."

"Well…it sounds trite, but this is my job."

He jumped then as he thought he felt a soft hand on his arm. These hallucinations are becoming far too real. With a gulp, he turned his head and saw Baking Nell standing there, and he relaxed, but not without first snapping, "Why did you barge in here?!"

"Clever," the 50-ish woman said. "Blocks out the sound. Yes, this room is bugged. Why wouldn't it be?"

"What do you want?" Tim asked, though not before taking a cookie from the tin she held.

"You want to escape, don't you, dear?"

They only gawped at her.

"I'm not one of them, not really," she said. "And my name's not Nell."

"No?"

"No. It's Marta."

"Listen to her, Timmy," Tim heard a soft, female voice say, and other voices murmuring. He looked around the room, his eyes growing wide at the sight of the barely-visible grandmotherly figures.

His Marthes were here.