Chapter Thirteen
Picking up a Fare
"DiNozzo, get on the line–"
"With Greyhound, any cash paying customers out of Webster Springs."
"Palmer."
"Still researching Alan Slaters. There are five on the East Coast; I've eliminated an 82 year old man and a 21 year old who's confirmed as a student overseas, Eaton. Still tracking the other three."
"How are you coming with that BOLO?" He'd ordered a 'Be On the Look Out' on both names Robert Ventura alias Alan Slater.
"Checked ten minutes ago, no hits."
"Check again. Ziva, assume he didn't take Greyhound, what other ways out are there?"
"Checking, but I agree with the Sheriff."
"So do I. He'll pay cash, lay low. DiNozzo, what are the routes of busses running through Webster?"
"No good news, boss. The buses go each way, twenty-four stops north with driver turnovers in two depots winds up in Trenton, New Jersey, while if he made a scheduled connection with another southbound bus he could've gone on clear to Savannah, Georgia."
"How're you gonna narrow that down, DiNozzo?"
"Depends on Palmer's BOLO," he replies, managing to divert focus down the room.
"The BOLO," she replies, "covered the Washington/Virginia/Maryland area. I'm expanding them now to cover from New Jersey through Georgia."
"If Ventura left on the 20th, it'll take him 'till tonight to get to either end of the lines."
"I do not believe he is doing that," Ziva announces.
x
"Why not?" Gibbs demands when she leaves the pronouncement hanging.
"The natural act of a frightened fugitive is to put as much distance between himself and his pursuers as possible. But Commander Ventura is not a frightened fugitive."
"No, he planned these details for months."
"If it had worked," Ziva continues, "he was going to be the grieving widower of a wife who died of unknown causes while he was miles away being seen by dozens of people all over town. He had a haircut, bowled two games, ate out and when he got home Darla Ventura would have been dead."
"And he would have been blameless," Michelle agrees.
"Though Cheryl Keitt did suffocate - and Michelle and Darla Ventura almost did - Ducky found no evidence of murder on or about the body. Before the plot was discovered, Ducky was on the verge of declaring the Cause to be 'Undetermined'. Further, the most Ventura should have had to fool woild have been a small town Coroner, not NCIS' premier M.E."
"Alan Slater was Plan B," Gibbs wraps it up. "If Darla Ventura didn't die, he was going to concoct some reason to be at that open guard rail and he would disappear. He had the lumber, the body, the Will and Insurance."
"Sounds great," DiNozzo concurs. "All we have to do is find him."
"Well?"
DiNozzo is caught short. "Well, what, boss?"
"Find him."
"I think I have," Ziva announces triumphantly.
x
"Are you going to make me say a magic word?"
"I thought that was the Probette's bag."
"Not smart, DiNozzo."
"There are 5 Alan Slaters on the East Coast," Ziva reminds them, getting a stranglehold on the discussion and unwilling to relinquish it, "but re-including the two Michelle has excluded, only 4 have been showing consistent financial activity over the past year. The Alan Slater who resides at Brown Square, Rochester, New York has not."
"Rochester, New York?" DiNozzo's disgusted tone sums up all their feelings, and a look to Michelle and her answering shrug confirms the reason. Western New York is beyond the range of even the expanded BOLO.
"In fact, he has only in the past three months begun any significant activity of any kind."
"DiNozzo, how long will it take him to reach there?"
"Amtrak and the like out of New York you need photo IDs, same with planes. There's a record by name. But he could connect with an Amtrak along the route and might bypass the ID - or he could be using the 'Slater' ID, more likely that. He can be Slater by paying cash and using Slater's photo ID." He types quickly and uses the mouse to open and shift through various web pages. "Laying low and paying cash instead of a credit card trail, he could hook up with a train toward Niagara Falls and that train, leaving New York City in the early morning, would take about seven hours to reach Rochester. He could be there by late today."
Gibbs opens his cell phone, speed dialing Norfolk Base. Norfolk is two hours away as anyone else on the road drives. "Gear up."
xxx
While the agents rush to the base, a word that takes on special significance when applied to Gibbs, who is intent upon obtaining fast air transport to Rochester Airport, Sheriff Jung contacts them.
/You were right. Lauber's gone, just the box left. Family's gonna throw a fit./
Gibbs had never doubted the grave would be empty, and it's just another piece of the puzzle confirmed and slipped into place.
/Groundskeeper would never have noticed if not that spring grass had begun to kick in and he made his rounds today. Grave is fresh dug./
"Can you fax us his records?" He'll give DiNozzo's PDA code, the fax will come in electronically. "Was he autopsied?" He doesn't think so; Ducky would have discovered that immediately.
/No Autopsy. He was Jewish. Death was expected, his doctor had been treating him for a couple of eeeks but it was a losing battle. Died in the morning, in the ground by sundown./
'Cremated two months later,' Gibbs won't say it, though he's pretty sure that that funeral custom is why Lauber was chosen to serve as Ventura's decoy. The Commander knew that the ME's finding a previously autopsied body would've given the conspiracy away immediately. Too bad he hadn't thought it through well enough to know the plan couldn't have held together. It had fallen apart when the wrong woman had been killed. Also, it the body hadn't been so thoroughly burnt, even Palmer would've found the embalming. Still could, in fact.
Gibbs gives Jung the fax number that will run the papers through DiNozzo's unit and doesn't forget his thanks this time before breaking the connection.
xxx
Rochester, New York in the flatlands near the state's western end, is not far from the Canadian border. It's so close, in fact, that Gibbs is certain 'Alan Slater' will one day take a vacation there and a third person will take up Canadian residence. How many identities will NCIS be obliged to trace? He won't guess at the plan, for it ends now.
The Amtrak station on the edge of the city is cool in post mid-March, but the crispness of the early afternoon air invigorates the body and sharpens the mind. One can forget the size of the city, forget the urban and urbane surroundings and relax, far away from Washington.
Outside the depot, a huge parking lot is skirted by a taxi line, each cab approaches the depot's entrance under the direction of the dispatcher posted near the main door.
The grey haired man with clipboard and company jacket turns to the man just now exiting the building. "Cab, sir?"
"Yes, to Frankfort Street, Brown Square." The dispatcher quotes a price. "Fine."
Raising the clipboard, the grey haired man signals to a younger, tall, thin man who brings his car, a Rambler, into place and gets out. Receiving the destination, the cabbie takes the suitcase from the middle aged man and stows it in the Rambler's rear, opens the curbside rear door and admits his passenger.
As the driver closes his door, the left rear door opens and a tall, black haired woman gets in. "Excuse me," is as far as the surprised passenger gets.
"Welcome to Rochester, Commander Ventura," the woman says, her exotic accent proclaiming she isn't local.
Ventura feels the blood drain from his face, only partially because of the Sig Sauer pointing at his side.
In the front passenger seat another woman sits up, turns to him, and the Asian woman points an identical weapon at his face. "Takes your breath away, doesn't it?"
He yanks at the doorknob - they can only kill him once - but the grey-haired dispatcher is leaning on the door and his right hand holds the lock down. "I hope you brought enough fare, it's a long trip to Washington."
"And I expect a good tip," the cabbie tells him as he turns, emphasizing his point with his own gun.
xxx
Gibbs, DiNozzo, David and Palmer watch their prisoner through the plate glass window of the darkened Observation One chamber. A jet return was faster than Ventura had wanted, and had undoubtedly added to his own breathless state. No one feels any sympathy.
"Is it just me," DiNozzo asks generally, "or does he seem depressed?"
"You mean because his elaborate scheme fell apart faster than one of your dates?" Gibbs elaborates with a half-smile. "Yep."
DiNozzo withholds his opinion of this jibe - barely. "I'm looking forward to your breaking this guy."
"I'm not going to break him," Gibbs says, glancing through the file folder in his hand by the light of Interrogation One.
"Yeah?" DiNozzo perks up. The only thing better than watching the Master at work is doing the breaking himself.
Gibbs passes the folder to the petite Asian woman on his right. "You are."
Even in the dim light, they see the color drain from Michelle's startled features.
x
"M - m - m - me?" She feels her blood run cold as she holds the file. "B - bu – but–"
"Wasn't a suggestion, Palmer," he tells her. "Get in there and don't come out without a confession."
The fear had only seemed total a moment ago; now she manages to look absolutely terrified. "B - but – sir–"
He cocks his thumb at the door behind them, his hard expression intended to silence her. She doesn't move, he suspects she's frozen and he hardens his glare until she breaks.
"Yes, sir."
Her voice was tinier than he's heard it in months. She walks out so stiffly he thinks she's afraid she'll shatter if she speeds up.
When she's gone, DiNozzo turns to Gibbs. "Five gets you ten she'll be too scared to go in there."
"She will handle it," Ziva predicts.
"Has to learn some day," Gibbs tells them.
"She's scared," Tony maintains.
"She doesn't know it, but she was scared of this bastard before she ever knew he was alive. His trap nearly killed her. She not only has to learn how to interrogate, she has to face him down, or he's going to scare her for the rest of her life."
x
Michelle lets go of Ob 1's doorknob and reaches into the pocket of her skirt, pulls out a Kleenex to wipe her wet palms. Gibbs does all the interrogations, or Agent DiNozzo does, or Ziva does - or Tim does. She hadn't thought - No, it's not that she avoided it, it just never came up. She didn't interrogate - the scary people do it. But she knew, in her mind, the day would come - but in her heart she didn't. It doesn't. It does.
It has.
She stuffs the tissue back into her pocket harder than she needs to, but when she pulls her hand back out, it's still shaking.
'I have to go in there. I have to go in and get answers, however long it takes. How much time do I have? Interrogations take hours. Maybe I'll fail? Maybe I'll do such a horrendous job they'll-. No! No no no! No, I'm not going to fail! Not on my first interrogation. Not ever! No!'
She takes a step toward Interrogation and the orange cinderblock corridor is ten miles long.
x
She's at the door far too soon, reaches for the knob but pulls her hand back. 'I can't.' She backs away. 'Goddess. Venus,' she appeals more fervently to her patroness Goddess. 'Mary, help me.'
The folder tucked under her left arm, she holds her cold, shaking hands to her lips, her tremulous breath hot. She tries to force herself to step forward again. The fear puts up a shield she can't step through.
'Jimmy, help. Please. Someone's going to come out and I'll be humiliated. Special Agent Gibbs will never trust me with anything ever again.' She tries for anger, anger at herself, anger at Ventura. Anger helps break through fear but she's not angry.
xx
"She's not going in." DiNozzo narrates the obvious.
"She will," Ziva predicts, confident in her partner. She can't remember her first interrogation, she supposes it was a training exercise when she was sixteen.
"She's not going to do it," DiNozzo declares a few seconds later, stepping toward the door.
"Sta-ay," Gibbs commands, makes sure Tony obeys both syllables.