Chapter 11

Davenport scanned through Ducky's autopsy report in his study. He'd managed to obtain an unauthorised copy from an associate at the FBI. DiNozzo had been right, Caller had been killed, and by a drug only manufactured by one company – CS Pharmaceuticals. The FBI had paid a visit the firm to find out who had access to the drug. They were currently working through a long list of two hundred employees.

"Stupid." He said aloud.

DiNozzo had also been right about it getting out of control. No one was supposed to die, in fact everything he'd tried to do was to stop people dying, but obviously an interested party had decided to take it into their own hands. He surmised that their rationale was to close the FBI case quickly and quietly, and they'd almost succeeded, until Gibbs had ordered his ME to review the autopsy report. Now Gibbs had just made things a hundred times harder.

Davenport picked up the phone.

"Tell me you had nothing to do with his death." He said when Kellock picked up.

"Whose death?"

Davenport sensed a quiver of excitement in Kellocks voice. He wondered if he thought he was referring to DiNozzo. "Colin Caller."

"Oh." Kellock failed to hide his disappointment. "I've never heard of him. Who is he?"

"Maybe I should speak to your wife, because I'm sure she will have heard of him. He died from a drug manufactured by her firm. Tell her from me, her interference is putting everything in jeopardy and I will not sit around and let innocent people get murdered. If anything happens to Agent DiNozzo, I'll be sending the police straight in your direction. And if you're lucky, they'll get to you before DiNozzo's boss."

"My wife did not murder anyone. Let us be perfectly clear on that. I suggest you turn your unfounded accusations elsewhere Davenport. So far you have not covered yourself in glory and I wonder how well you will fit in to any new administration."

"Please don't threaten me Senator. I would walk away from this job tomorrow if I thought it would save even one innocent person being killed. If you thought otherwise; you've misjudged me completely. Not one more person is to be caught up in this web of deceit, Kellock. What we are doing is no better than what we are trying to contain. Innocent people were harmed then and innocent people are being harmed now. If we are the victors in this battle, it will be a pyrrhic victory; the toll is too high."

"That is where you and I differ Davenport. Any victory worthy of the name has casualties. Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. If this Caller was a casualty then I am sorry. If Agent DiNozzo becomes a casualty then I am sorry. But it does not negate the victory. Nothing ever does."

OOO

Tony opened the door to his apartment, his gun already to hand. He'd not yet been reissued with his NCIS SIG, but after yesterdays attack and Davenport's declaration that others were after him, he was glad he carried his own. He stepped into the lounge and quickly checked each room, letting out a short, sharp breath when he found them all clear.

He flung his keys into the tray by the door and headed straight to the kitchen and the fridge, grabbing himself a chilled cola. He'd have liked something stronger. Today had been as hellish as expected. Nova was an ass, but he hadn't expected anything less. Gibbs and the team were his worry.

At least his trip to see Davenport had been more useful than he'd anticipated. Davenport had seemed genuinely shocked that Caller had been murdered, which told him two things: that Davenport wasn't a complete asshole and that people more powerful than the Secretary of the Navy were somehow involved. Which made sense, but gave him little comfort.

Davenport had also disclosed that the real assailant was locked up in a mental institution, which had led him to call Steve on the way home and ask him to look into patients at local mental hospitals who had a tattoo the same as Mrs Vance's assailant. Steve had been working the late shift and had offered to do it as quickly as he could.

Tony walked towards the bedroom ready to pack an overnight bag. He knew he couldn't stay at his apartment. Coming back for a change of clothes and to feed the fish was one thing, but after the attack yesterday he'd didn't plan on spending the evening waiting for them to come around to finish off the job. He was barely keeping it together as it was, another night without sleep may just tip him over the edge.

As he passed the side table he saw the red flashing light from his answer machine. He dropped onto the sofa next to the phone and pressed play.

"Hey Tony it's Brad Pitt. Just had a call from a Professor Betsy Norman asking for your medical records to be released. She's apparently fascinated by you having the plague and wants to find out why you survived. Told her it beats me, but it might have something to do with you wanting to whip my ass for breaking your leg back in '92. If you're okay with it, give me a call and I'll get the Medical Office to send them over. Oh, and make sure you come by the clinic again in a day or two like you promised. I want to do another blood test; just to be sure."

Tony made a mental note to call him tomorrow from work. A second message started to play.

"It's Steve. What's wrong with your cellphone? I couldn't get through. Anyway slow night here so I managed to get the information you wanted as quick as a Buckeye with a girlfriend's father chasing his ass. The only guy matching the description you gave, with the tattoo, has been in Jefferson Mental Facility since he was 15. His name's Fredrik Williams. No record of him ever escaping though. There's no next of kin, no background information at all actually. The only details on his file are that the doctor who signed off his committal papers in 1981 was a Doctor Langton Mahoney. You need anything else, you know where I am."

Tony almost dropped the can of cola. He immediately played back the last message, not sure he'd heard it correctly the first time.

"The only details on his file are that the doctor who signed off his committal papers in 1981 was a Doctor Langton Mahoney."

He needed to call Gibbs. If his situation was related to the murder of the chaplain, Gibbs needed to know, whatever the consequences.

He picked up his cellphone, but remembering the battery was dead, resorted to the home phone. He dialled the number which continued to ring out before going to voicemail. Tony put the phone down and looked at his watch. It was only just before ten. Gibbs was probably in his basement and ignoring his calls. He contemplated ringing the cellphone, before stopping himself. What would he tell Gibbs? That the dead chaplain in Ducky's morgue was the same guy who signed committal papers for the person who'd approached Mrs Vance and who was seen outside Celina Grantham's apartment block; the person he'd told everyone, wasn't important. Anyway, Mahoney was a psychiatrist; he probably signed off hundreds of committals. Probably half the patients in Jefferson Mental Facility had been sent there by Mahoney.

He quickly drank down the dregs of his drink. There was suddenly somewhere else he needed to go that evening, one more person he needed to speak to. Then he could go to Gibbs with answers. He owed him that much.

End of Chapter 11