Chapter 11 - Teamwork

"Ahh, he's sending essential medicines offshore," Ducky surmised when Palmer relayed the news the next morning. "Not unusual."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, quite common. You see the armed forces provide free medicine to active servicemen and women and their families."

"Even their families overseas?"

"Ah, no," Ducky conceded. "Usually it's confined to families living on base but most dispensaries are known to hand out, say, contraceptives pills to a male serviceman in the knowledge that it is going to his wife. Why I know of one Airforce pilot who was forced to endure a lecture on the benefits of fibre because his wife suffered from pre-menstrual constipation - nearly caused a divorce."

"But Matt didn't even have a girlfriend."

"And there weren't any contraceptives in there, were there?"

"Ah no."

"No, you friend wasn't so much acquiring drugs for family members but sending them overseas to some doctor in Africa who really needs them – laudable but not strictly legal."

"His brother's a doctor in Africa," said Palmer suddenly. He knew he'd heard Matt mention a country somewhere in that continent. Where had that recollection been hiding and why didn't choose to reveal itself when he was talking to Abby so he could look knowledgeable?

"Ahh, well - that might be a connection we should mention to Gibbs."

"He seemed like such a good guy," said Palmer quietly.

"He was good, Mr Palmer," said Ducky sternly. "Make no mistake about that: a good person and a good doctor. The Hippocratic Oath is open to all sorts on interpretation. This sort of thing goes on all over the world: an undocumented government aid program. Back when I was serving in...well never mind. Let's just say there are a lot of people around who wouldn't be alive without this sort of help. Everybody in the forces 'knows' they just don't know the exact details."

"The Base Commander knew."

"Which makes him a suspect – and since the box was not found on the body…"

"Or in the dumpsters near the body…"

"The chances are that your friend Matt was killed for his package by someone who knew about the delivery."

Jimmy's eyes widened excitedly. "That guy in the dispensary was short!"

"How short?"

"Short enough."

"Let's have a look, shall we?" Ducky replaced his tools carefully, peeled off his gloves and walked towards the computer.

"Ahhh, how?" asked Palmer, following behind.

"They are a medical facility on the base, are they not?"

"Well, yes…."

"Well then, they'll be…," Ducky prompted.

"Connected to us on the base medical intranet!" Palmer finally twigged.

Ducky pulled out the chair in front of the computer and motioned for Palmer to sit.

"Don't you want to drive?" Palmer offered.

"I'll let you have the honours, Mr Palmer," Ducky replied. "Youthful fingers are far more dextrous. Besides – I'm the brains in this operation: you're the brawn."

Palmer took a moment to flex his brawny fingers and then sat down in front of the monitor. Grabbing the mouse, he narrated his actions. "Base Facilities, Dispensary, ah, here we are: staff." He clicked on the link but was suddenly disappointed: the picture on the screen was not of the man he had met. This man was middle aged. Strong and sturdy, his square head looked like it had been nailed onto his square body bypassing the need for a neck completely.

"But that's not him," he said, disappointed.

"Must be the previous incumbent," Ducky grumbed. "You said the dispenser was new. How tall was this one?"

"Ahh, here's his bio and stats…. No good: 6 ft 2 marine."

"Well, he didn't do it – unless he was on his knees at the time."

There was a pause as the two men studied the picture, then Palmer squinted and leaned in close to the image. "Dr Mallard," he said, "Is that thing behind him what I think it is?"

Ducky removed his glasses and inspected the picture carefully. Then his eyes came alive. "You know, I bet you're right."

Ten minutes of fruitful net surfing later, Palmer sat back in the chair and smiled at Ducky. "It's got to be him."

"I agree," said Ducky.

"Shouldn't call the agents and tell them."

Ducky shot him a withering look. "How long have you been working here?"

"Nearly five years, why?"

"When does anyone 'just call' around here? No, if you want to get people's attention in this place, you spend countless hours creating absurdly complex models and simulations to convey information which could be easily summarised in two sentences. At the very least, you need to provide an in-house demonstration - it's show boating. To use a cricketing analogy - we have to be on the front foot. "

"So what do we do?"

"We give them a mysterious phone call and instruct them to come down here: puts us in the seat of power."

"Ohhhh," said Palmer, unconvinced.

Ducky merely smiled inscrutably and picked up the phone. "Jethro? Mr Palmer and I have something here you should see. Come on down – and bring the team."

Author note - the constipation story is true.